there were seventeen men who set out on foot, early in january, 1687, to travel from fort st. louis on the gulf of mexico to the other fort st. louis on the illinois river—a journey of over a thousand miles. they knew no trails which they could follow, nor were there bridges on which to cross the rivers; and to a large extent they must gather their food as they went. they must sleep where night found them; and they must trust the indians whose country they were crossing to treat them as friends and give them guidance upon the way, for as far as they knew there was no white man in all the distance between the two forts. yet forth they went bravely—la salle and his brother and two nephews (moranget and the young cavelier), joutel, and father douay, duhaut the elder and his man l’archevêque, whom he had picked up at the isle of santo domingo, liotot the surgeon and hiens the buccaneer, a young boy named pierre talon whom la salle planned to leave at the cenis village to learn their language, and a half-dozen others.
father membré, full of grief, remained with barbier and the party at the fort and saw the slender band of explorers start off across the plains, their five horses loaded with supplies for a long and arduous journey. it being winter in the southland, rains came upon them frequently and swamps and swollen streams blocked their way. sometimes for days they walked drearily along the wet banks of rivers, looking for a place to ford. occasionally they used logs to cross upon, but finally they found the streams so wide that they stopped and made portable boats out of buffalo hides.
there was no lack of game; and the broad paths of the buffalo often served as trails. time and again the party came across indians, with whom la salle almost invariably made friends. sometimes he visited their hunting-camps and smoked with them the pipe of peace. at other times he called them into his own camp to smoke and eat, and then sent them away happy with presents. they came upon indian villages with round huts like french ovens, and stopped to trade beads and hatchets for a horse or provisions or deer-hide for fresh moccasins, listening meantime to the tales of indian wars or of the spaniards from whom their horses first came. they crossed the rivers now known as the colorado and the brazos and drew near to the trinity river.
many were the adventures which joutel and the abbé related to tonty at fort st. louis on the illinois. before they reached the cenis village, they said, la salle separated from them, but intended to follow them soon. he was in good health when he left them. without their leader they had pushed on to the village of the cenis, and from there they went with guides to the arkansas towns.
it was the 24th of july, 1687, three years to a day since they had sailed out of the harbor of rochelle, when they came at last to a village on the shore of the arkansas and saw on the river bank a house built like the houses of frenchmen and the blessed cross rising straight to the sky. out of the house on the shore came running two white men to welcome them. they were jean couture and de launay, two of the men whom tonty had left there on his return from his trip to the mouth of the mississippi the year before. at the village the arkansas danced the calumet dance before the abbé. later couture accompanied the five men as far as the village of the kappas, from which place, with arkansas guides and an indian canoe, they had come up the mississippi and the illinois and reached fort st. louis in the month of september.
such in brief was the tale that the two men—brother and companion of la salle—told to tonty on the high rock of fort st. louis. the man with the iron hand listened to each word with intense feeling. nearly ten years before he had cast his lot with la salle. with him and for him he had literally hungered and suffered and bled. he had given what he had of worldly goods, and his time, his strength, his whole self he had thrown into the balance to uphold the plans of his chief. he knew him as few men did—he knew his faults as well as his great abilities—and he loved him. often he had remonstrated with him over some actions or methods that lost him favor with his men; but he also saw the breadth and power of his leader’s vision.
time and again he had thought his friend lost and dead—as he had been told so stoutly in the days long before when he lived almost alone in the kaskaskia village. in despair he had hunted the great river to its mouth—little dreaming, when he gave the letter into the hands of the quinipissa chief, that la salle was in the wilderness more than a hundred leagues to the west.
but now had come news that la salle was alive and in good health and perhaps coming fast upon the heels of his men to the citadel on the high rock where tonty and boisrondet and other faithful comrades had waited and dreamed of his coming for four long years. yes, he was on his way to the illinois country whose indians never forgot him, but loved him as one of their own great chiefs. he was coming back to the kaskaskias whose home he had restored, to the shawnees whom he had gathered at the foot of his great fort, to the miamis whose chief he had raised from the dead in his own person. it was like the coming back from the dead to tonty, too, after these years of despair. and so, in his joy, he paid little heed to the quiet friar in the gray robe or the mariner teissier, who moved so silently among the buildings of the fort.
the entire colony on the illinois river—indian villages and french garrison alike—buzzed with excitement that winter. nothing was too good for the men of la salle’s party. around the fires in the quarters of the french, men gathered to sing songs and tell stories of adventure and battle and strange countries, and to talk of him who was coming.
especially among the indian lodges was there great good cheer, for the white father was alive and on his way back to their villages and camp-fires. there was joy, too, among the tribes over the raids the illinois were making. it seemed as though the iroquois scourge was being driven out of the valley for good, as band after band of illinois left the lodges to the women and old men and struck out upon the trail of the iroquois. scalps they brought home and captives, and many were the burnings by which they paid interest upon their debt of vengeance. with tonty in new york they had laid waste the iroquois fields, and now their good fortune still continued. so white men and red together were glad.
the five men who had come to the fort in september were anxious to get on with their journey, and tonty promised them all the aid in his power as soon as the spring should make travel possible. but with all their hurry, there was one who seemed even more full of anxiety. the priest allouez, who had recovered from his sickness, did not lose his apparent dread of the approach of la salle. spring, coming on apace, increased his scarcely concealed restlessness; and when in march the way became somewhat open, the black-robed jesuit was the first to slip out of the fort and up the valley to his friends on the lake.
then the abbé with his four companions made ready to go. but they must have means to buy food and transportation on their way to canada and france. so the abbé showed to tonty a letter from la salle, asking tonty to furnish his brother, the abbé, with money or furs. tonty, with the greatest content, supplied them with what they needed for the journey, and late in march the five men of la salle’s party, with guides to accompany them, left the high rock on their long homeward journey.
after bidding the five men farewell, tonty turned his attention to the fort which must be put in readiness for the coming of the master. month after month passed and he hoped each day to see a canoe or canoes cutting the water of the illinois far downstream. summer went by and no la salle. september came without bringing the leader. la salle was now a year behind his advance party. but one day there did appear a canoe on the stream below the fort, and in it were a frenchman and two indians. tonty full of excitement made haste to welcome them. it was not la salle: it was tonty’s man couture from the arkansas post. but surely he came with news from la salle; and so quick questions leaped at couture almost before he was in sound of tonty’s voice.
