Missouri. A few days later they crossed the outlet of the Ohio,
"Beautiful River," as the Iroquois name means.

All the time it was growing hotter. The picturesque shores of the upper
river had given place to dense canebrakes, and swarms of mosquitoes
pestered them day and night. Now they had a note of danger in meeting
some Indians who evidently were in communication with Europeans, for they
had guns and carried their powder in small bottles of thick glass. These
Europeans could be none other than the Spaniards to the southward, of
whom it behooved the Frenchmen to beware, if they did not wish to pull an
oar in a galley or swing a pick in a silver-mine. Still there was a
satisfaction in the thought that, having left one civilization thousands
of miles behind them, {181} they had passed through the wilderness to the
edge of another. These Indians readily responded to the appeal of the
Frenchmen's calumet, invited them ashore, and feasted them.

On toward the ocean, which they were falsely told was distant only ten
days' journey, the voyagers sped, passing the point at which, one hundred
and thirty-three years earlier, Soto, with the remnant of his army, had
crossed the mighty river in whose bed his bones were destined to rest.
Above the mouth of the Arkansas they were for a time in deadly peril from
Indians. These were of the Mitchigamea tribe, who, with the Chickasaws
and others of the Muskoki family, fought the Spaniards so valiantly.
Canoes were putting out above and below, to cut off the explorers'
retreat, while some young warriors on the shore were hastily stringing
their bows, all animated doubtless by bitter memories of white men
inherited from Soto's time. Once more the calumet saved its bearers.
Marquette all the while held it aloft, and some of the elders, responding
to its silent appeal, succeeded in restraining the fiery young men. The
strangers were invited ashore, feasted, as usual, and entertained over
night. They had some misgivings, but did not {182} dare refuse these
hospitalities; and no harm befell them.

The next stage of their journey brought them to a village just opposite
the mouth of the Arkansas River. Here they were received in great state
by the Arkansas Indians, notice of their coming having been sent ahead by
their new friends. There was the usual speechmaking, accompanied by
interminable feasting, in which a roasted dog held the place of honor.
There was a young Indian who