ve his lips,
imagined that he was practising some sort of incantation against them.
Angrily they cried out against it, exclaiming, in their own language,
"witchcraft."

Michael Ako, who had no ambition to receive a martyr's crown, entreated
him, if he must say his prayers, to say them in secret. "If you persist
in this course," said he, "you will so provoke the Indians, that we
shall all be inevitably killed." Auguelle, who was more religiously
inclined, joined in these entreaties, begging him to retire apart,
morning and evening, into the forest for his devotions.

But the suspicions of the Indians were aroused. They had a great dread
of diabolical influences. Whenever he entered the woods a party
followed him. He could get no chance to pray out of their sight. At
length he said to his companions:

"I cannot dispense with my prayers, whatever may be the consequences.
If we are all massacred, I shall be the innocent cause of your death,
as well as of my own."

To accustom the Indians to his mode of worship, he commenced chanting
the litany of the Virgin. He had a well-trained, melodious voice. The
Indians were pleased with the novel strains floating over the still
waters. Paddle in hand they paused to listen. Adroitly, he led them to
believe that the Good Spirit had taught him to sing, and had sent him
to them for their diversion. It would seem, on the whole, that the
Indians treated their captives with remarkable kindness. The canoe of
the Frenchmen was heavily laden with articles for trade, and there were
but three to paddle. They therefore found it very difficult to keep up
with the well-manned war canoes of the savages. The chief placed one or
two warriors on board the Frenchmen's boat, to help them stem the
current. It was with difficulty that the little fleet accomplished more
than twenty or twenty-five miles a day.

The savages were collected from various villages, and it was quite
evident that they were still divided in opinion respecting the
disposition to be made of their prisoners. One of the chiefs took the
Frenchmen under his special protection. He caused them, at each
encampment, to occupy the same cabin with him, or to sleep by his side.
But there was another chief who clamored for their death. He had lost a
son, killed by the Miamis. Every night his dismal howlings were heard,
as he wailed piteously, endeavoring to stimulate his own passions, and
to rouse his comrades to kill the Frenchmen, so as t