ized that his adventurers had
found a province three times the size of England, one third larger than
France, one third larger than Germany? And they had as yet reached only
one small edge of Canada, namely Quebec.

Heat haze of Indian summer trembled over the purple hills. Below, the
river quivered like quicksilver. In the air was the nutty odor of dried
grasses, the clear tang of coming frosts crystal to the taste as water;
and if one listened, almost listened to the silence, one could hear above
the lapping of the tide the far echo of the cataract. To Cartier the
scene might have been the airy fabric of some dream world; but out of
dreams of earth's high heroes are empires made.

But the Indians had told of that other kingdom, Hochelaga. Hither
Cartier had determined to go, when three Indians dressed as devils--faces
black as coals, heads in masks, brows adorned with elk horns--came
gyrating and howling out of the woods on the mountain side, making wild
signals to the white men encamped on the St. Charles. Cartier's
interpreters told him this was warning from the Indian god not to ascend
the river. The god said Hochelaga was a realm of snow, where all white
men would perish. It was a trick to keep the white men's trade for
themselves.

Cartier laughed.

"Tell them their god is an old fool," he said. "Christ is to be our
guide."

The Indians wanted to know if Cartier had spoken to his God about it.

"No," answered Cartier. Then, not to be floored, he added, "but my
priest has."

{15} With three cheers, fifty young gentlemen sheered out on September 19
from the St. Charles on the _Emerillon_ to accompany Cartier to Hochelaga.

[Illustration: ANCIENT HOCHELAGA. (From Ramusio)]

Beyond Quebec the St. Lawrence widened like a lake. September frosts had
painted the maples in flame. Song birds, the glory of the St. Lawrence
valley, were no longer to be heard, but the waters literally swarmed with
duck and the forests were alive with partridge. Where to-day nestle
church spires and whitewashed hamlets were the birch wigwams and night
camp fires of Indian hunters. Wherever Cartier went ashore, Indians
rushed knee-deep to carry him from the river; and one old chief at
Richelieu signified his pleasure by presenting the whites with two Indian
children. Zigzagging leisurely, now along the north shore, now along the
south, pausing to hunt, pausing to explore, pausing to powwow with the
Indians, the adve