cheerfully. The story of priests who helped
to open the wilderness and who carried religion to savages is a
beautiful chapter of our national life.

Tonty was not at the place where they were to meet him. This was the
mouth of the St. Joseph River, which La Salle named the Miamis. The men
did not want to wait, for they were afraid of starving if they reached
the Illinois country after the Indians had scattered to winter hunting
grounds. But La Salle would not go on until Tonty appeared. He put the
men to work building a timber stockade, which he called Fort Miamis;
thus beginning in the face of discouragement his plan of creating a line
of fortifications.

Tonty, delayed by lack of provisions and the need of hunting, reached
Fort Miamis with his men in twenty days. But the Griffin did not come
at all. More than time enough had passed for her to reach Fort Niagara,
unload her cargo, and return. La Salle watched the lake constantly for
her sails. He began to be heavy-hearted for her, but he dared wait no
longer; so, sending two men back to meet and guide her to this new post,
he moved on.

Eight canoes carried his party of thirty-three people. They ascended the
St. Joseph River to find a portage to the head waters of the Illinois.
This brought them within the present state of Indiana; and when they had
reached that curve of the river where South Bend now stands, they left
St. Joseph to grope for the Theakiki, or Kankakee, a branch called by
some Indians the Illinois itself.

La Salle became separated from the party on this portage, eagerly and
fearlessly scouring the woods for the river's beginning. Tonty camped
and waited for him, fired guns, called, and searched; but he was gone
all night and until the next afternoon. The stars were blotted overhead,
for a powder of snow thickened the air, weirdly illuminating naked trees
in the darkness, but shutting in his vision. It was past midnight when
he came in this blind circle once more to the banks of the St. Joseph,
and saw a fire glinting through dense bushes.

"Now I have reached camp," thought La Salle, and he fired his gun to let
his people know he was approaching. Echoes rolled through the woods.
Without waiting for a shot in reply he hurried to the fire. No person
was near it. The descending snow hissed, caught in the flames. Here was
a home hearth prepared in the wilderness, and no welcome to it but
silence. La Salle called out in every Indian language he knew. D