s which he had
shot coming up the river. Then, with his two companions, he built a
fire, hung his iron kettle, and commenced boiling some venison. The
Indians looked quietly on for a few minutes, and then all gathered in a
group to hold a council. Father Hennepin secretly watched their
proceedings with the utmost anxiety. Their speeches were accompanied
with very much action. The debate was prolonged and vehement. He
sufficiently understood the language of signs to perceive that they
were divided in opinion, that while a part were in favor of putting
them to death, others were urging that their lives should be spared.

With one of his men he went to the canoe, took six axes, fifteen
knives, and a quantity of tobacco, and advancing into the midst of the
council presented them to the chiefs. He then took an axe, and bowing
his head, made signs that the Indians might kill him if they wished to
do so. This chivalric deed touched whatever there was of chivalry in
the savage bosom. There was a general murmur of applause. Some of them
had been roasting, at a fire near by, some beaver's flesh. One of the
savages ran, cut a piece of the smoking meat, and bringing it, on a
plate of birch bark, with a sharpened stick for a fork, put three
morsels into the mouth of Father Hennepin and his companions. As the
food was very hot, the savage blew upon it to cool it. He then set the
plate before them, to eat at their pleasure.

Still there was a degree of restraint on the part of the Indians, which
indicated that there was by no means perfect reconciliation. There was
much talking apart, and it was evident that the fate of the prisoners
was not yet decided. The representations, however, which Father
Hennepin had made, induced them to relinquish their contemplated
enterprise, and to turn back from the war-path upon which they had
entered. Just before night, one of the chiefs silently returned to
Father Hennepin his peace calumet. This greatly increased their
anxiety, as it was inferred that it was an act renouncing friendship.

Savages and Frenchmen all slept alike on the ground and in the open
air, by the side of their camp fires. There was no watch kept, and the
captives had no indication that they were abridged of their freedom.
Still they had many fears that they were to be assassinated before the
morning. The two boatmen, Auguelle and Ako, slept with their guns and
swords by their sides. They declared that if attacked they would se