t a large
quantity had been brought from the garrison-bakery for their use that
very morning--another had even seen the sacks of loaves standing in
Paquette's kitchen. Be that as it may, there we were, many miles on our
journey, and with no provisions for the six Frenchmen, except some
salted pork, a few beans, and some onions. A consultation was held in
this emergency. Should they return to the Portage for supplies? The
same danger that made their departure necessary, still existed, and the
utmost dispatch had been enjoined upon them. We found upon examination
that the store of bread and crackers with which our party had been
provided was far-beyond what we could possibly require, and we thought
it would be sufficient to allow of rations to the Frenchmen until we
should reach Powell's, at the Butte des Morts, the day but one
following, where we should undoubtedly be able to procure a fresh
supply.

This decided on, we proceeded on our journey, always in profound
silence, for a song or a loud laugh was now strictly prohibited until we
should have passed the utmost limits of country where the enemy might
possibly be. We had been warned beforehand that a certain point, where
the low marshy meadows, through which the river had hitherto run, rises
into a more firm and elevated country, was the border of the Menomonee
territory, and the spot where the Sauks, if they had fled north of the
Wisconsin towards the Chippewa country, would be most likely to be
encountered.

As we received intimation on the forenoon of the second day that we were
drawing near this spot, I must confess that "we held our breath for
awe."

The three Winnebagoes were in the bow of the boat. Old Smoker, the
chief, squatted upon his feet on the bench of the foremost rowers. We
looked at him. He was gazing intently in the direction of the wooded
point we were approaching. Our eyes followed his, and we saw three
Indians step forward and stand upon the bank. We said in a low voice to
each other, "If they are Sauks, we are lost, for the whole body must be
in that thicket." The boat continued to approach; not a word was spoken;
the dip of the paddle, and perhaps the beating hearts of some, were the
only sounds that broke the stillness. Again we looked at the chief. His
nostrils were dilated--his eyes almost glaring.

Suddenly, with a bound, he sprang to his feet and uttered his long,
shrill whoop.

"Hoh! hoh! hoh! Neechee (friend) _Muh-no-mo-nee!_"

A