of my brother Arthur and our
faithful blacksmith, Mata.

This latter was a tall, gaunt Frenchman, with a freckled face, a
profusion of crisp, sandy hair, and an inveterate propensity to speak
English. His knowledge of the language was somewhat limited, and he
burlesqued it by adding an s to almost every word, and giving out each
phrase with a jerk.

"Davids," he was wont to say to the little yellow fiddler, after an
evening's frolic at the Interpreter's, "Davids, clear away the tables
and the glasses, and play _fishes-hornspikes."_[55] He was a kind,
affectionate creature, and his devotion to "Monsieur Johns" and "Madame
Johns" knew no bounds.

Besides these two protectors, three trusty Indians, the chief of whom
was called _Old Smoker_, were engaged to escort our party. The crew of
the boat consisted entirely of French engages in the service of the Fur
Company. They were six gay-hearted, merry fellows, lightening their
labor with their pipe and their songs, in which latter they would have
esteemed it a great compliment to be joined by the ladies who listened
to them; but our hearts, alas! were now too heavy to participate in
their enjoyment.

The Fourth of July, the day on which we left our home, was a gloomy one
indeed to those who departed and to the one left behind. Who knew if we
should ever meet again? The experience which some of the circle had had
in Indian warfare was such as to justify the saddest forebodings. There
was not even the consolation of a certainty that this step would secure
our safety. The Sauks might, possibly, be on the other side of us, and
the route we were taking might perhaps, though not probably, carry us
into their very midst. It was no wonder, then, that our leave-taking was
a solemn one--a parting which all felt might be for this world.

Not _all_, however; for the gay, cheerful Frenchmen laughed and sang and
cracked their jokes, and "assured Monsieur John that they would take
Madame John and Madame Alum safe to the bay, spite of Sauks or wind or
weather."

Thus we set out on our journey. For many miles the Fort was in sight, as
the course of the river alternately approached and receded from its
walls, and it was not until nearly mid-day that we caught the last
glimpse of our home.

At the noon-tide meal, or pipe, of the voyageurs, an alarming discovery
was made: no bread had been put on board for the crew! How this
oversight had occurred, no one could tell. One was certain tha