n, autumn was upon us. From
the hunting lodges on Lake George, and the Williamses of Longmeadow, I
went to the scorched capital of Washington. In the end the Government
helped me with my Indian plan, though when Skenedonk and I pushed out
toward Illinois Territory we had only my pay and a grant of land. Peace
was not formally made until December, but the war ended that summer.

Man's success in the world is proportioned to the number of forces he
can draw around himself to work with him. I have been able to draw some
forces; though in matters where most people protect themselves, I have a
quality of asinine patience which the French would not have tolerated.

The Oneidas were ready to follow wherever I led them. And so were many
families of the Iroquois federation. But the Mohawk tribe held back.
However, I felt confident of material for an Indian state when the
foundation should be laid.

We started lightly equipped upon the horse paths. The long journey by
water and shore brought us in October to the head of Green Bay. We had
seen Lake Michigan, of a light transparent blueness, with fire ripples
chasing from the sunset. And we had rested at noon in plum groves on the
vast prairies, oases of fertile deserts, where pink and white fruit
drops, so ripe that the sun preserves it in its juice. The freshness of
the new world continually flowed around us. We shot deer. Wolves sneaked
upon our trail. We slept with our heels to the campfire, and our heads
on our saddles. Sometimes we built a hunter's shed, open at front and
sloping to ground at back. To find out how the wind blew, we stuck a
finger in our mouths and held it up. The side which became cold first
was the side of the wind.

Physical life riots in the joy of its revival. I was so glad to be alive
after touching death that I could think of Madame de Ferrier without
pain, and say more confidently--"She is not dead," because resurrection
was working in myself.

Green Bay or La Baye, as the fur hunters called it, was a little post
almost like a New England village among its elms: one street and a few
outlying houses beside the Fox River. The open world had been our
tavern; or any sod or log hut cast up like a burrow of human prairie
dogs or moles. We did not expect to find a tavern in Green Bay. Yet such
a place was pointed out to us near the Fur Company's block warehouse. It
had no sign post, and the only visible stable was a pen of logs. Though
negro slaves were