e was in
company with so great a genius as La Salle, in his account always gives
himself the foremost place.

If Father Hennepin had published no other writings than his account of
the journey on the Upper Mississippi, his reputation would be that of a
traveler who left a most interesting record of his experiences,
embellished with fanciful additions--a not uncommon practice, in those
days--but in the main reliable. Unfortunately for his good name, he
did something more which justly put such a blot upon his character that
many persons refused to believe his story in any of its particulars.
We must give a passing notice to this daring performance.

Fourteen years after this expedition, when La Salle was dead, and with
the evident purpose of robbing him of his just fame as the first white
man who explored the Mississippi all the way to the Gulf, Hennepin for
the first time put forth the astonishing statement that he and his two
companions, on reaching the Great River, turned {295} south and
followed its course all the way to the ocean, after which they ascended
it and explored its upper waters--a truly marvelous achievement, if it
were true, for three lonely men voyaging on an unknown stream among
fierce savages.

Even at the time of its publication, there were those who disallowed
this amazing claim. "Why has he so long kept silence about this heroic
feat?" they naturally asked. Hennepin had a ready answer: he was
afraid of the wrath of La Salle, who would have been furious if any
doubt had been cast upon his claim of being the first explorer.

How, then, do we know the story to be false? In several ways. First,
and chiefly, because what Hennepin alleged that he had done was simply
impossible. In his first book, which was published, let us remember,
during La Salle's lifetime, Hennepin said that he left the mouth of the
Illinois on March 12, and that he was captured by the Sioux, near the
mouth of the Wisconsin, five hundred miles above, on April 11. This
looks reasonable, and no doubt it was true. But, in the second story,
published fourteen years later, he stated that in that same interval of
time he had descended the Mississippi {296} to the Gulf, then,
returning, had traced its course as far as the mouth of the Wisconsin.
One month to accomplish a distance of 3,260 miles! An average of over
one hundred miles a day for three men paddling a canoe, up-stream for
the greater part of the distance! Surely, we