rs old, he led her into the ring and presented her to
Cartier. After her, two little boys were handed over in the same
fashion, the assembled Indians rending the air with shouts of
exultation. Donnacona, in true Indian fashion, improved the occasion
with a long harangue, which Taignoagny interpreted to mean that the
little girl was the niece of the chief and one of the boys the brother
of the interpreter himself, and that the explorer might keep all these
children as a gift if he would promise not to go to Hochelaga.

Cartier at once, by signs and speech, offered the children back again,
whereupon the other interpreter, Domagaya, broke in and said that the
children were given in good-will, and that Donnacona was well content
that Cartier should go to Hochelaga. The three poor little savages were
carried to the boats, the two interpreters wrangling and fighting the
while as to what had really been said. But Cartier felt assured that
the treachery, if any were contemplated, came only from one of them,
Taignoagny. As a great mark of trust he gave to Donnacona two swords, a
basin of plain brass and a ewer--gifts which called forth renewed
shouts of joy. Before the assemblage broke up, the chief asked Cartier
to cause the ships' cannons to be fired, as he had learned from the two
guides that they made such a marvellous noise as was never heard before.

'Our captain answered,' writes Cartier in his narrative, 'that he was
content: and by and by he commanded his men to shoot off twelve cannons
into the wood that was hard by the people and the ships, at which noise
they were greatly astonished and amazed, for they thought the heaven
had fallen upon them, and put themselves to flight, howling, crying and
shrieking, so that it seemed hell was broken loose.'

Next day the Indians made one more attempt to dissuade Cartier from his
journey. Finding that persuasion and oratory were of no avail, they
decided to fall back upon the supernatural and to frighten the French
from their design. Their artifice was transparent enough, but to the
minds of the simple savages was calculated to strike awe into the
hearts of their visitors. Instead of coming near the ships, as they had
done on each preceding day, the Indians secreted themselves in the
woods along the shore. There they lay hid for many hours, while the
French were busied with their preparations for departure. But later in
the day, when the tide was running swiftly outward, the Ind