ll was now joy and gladness. Every one was forward to shake hands with
the strangers as soon as we could reach them, in token of our
satisfaction that they were Menomonees and not Sauks, of the latter of
whom, by the way, they could give us no intelligence.

By noon of that day we considered ourselves to be out of the region of
danger. Still, caution was deemed necessary, and when at the mid-day
pipe the boat was pushed ashore under a beautiful overhanging bank,
crowned with a thick wood, the usual vigilance was somewhat relaxed, and
the young people, under the escort of Arthur and Mata, were permitted to
roam about a little, in the vicinity of the boat.

They soon came back, with the report that the woods were "alive with
pigeons,"--they could almost knock them down with sticks; and earnestly
did they plead to be allowed to shoot at least enough for supper. But
no--the enemy might be nearer than we imagined--the firing of a gun
would betray our whereabouts--it was most prudent to give no notice to
friend or foe. So, very reluctantly, they were compelled to return to
the boat without their game.

The next morning brought us to Powell's, at the Butte des Morts. Sad
were the faces of the poor Frenchmen at learning that not a loaf of
bread was to be had. Our own store, too, was by this time quite
exhausted. The only substitute we could obtain was a bag of dark
looking, bitter flour. With this provision for our whole party, we were
forced to be contented, and we left the Hillock of the Dead, feeling
that it had been indeed the grave of our hopes.

By dint of good rowing, our crew soon brought us to the spot where the
river enters that beautiful sheet of water, Winnebago Lake. Though there
was but little wind when we reached the lake, the Frenchmen hoisted
their sail, in hopes to save themselves the labor of rowing across; but
in vain did they whistle, with all the force of their lungs--in vain did
they supplicate _La Vierge_, with a comical mixture of fun and
reverence. As a last resource, it was at length suggested by some one
that their only chance lay in propitiating the goddess of the winds with
an offering of some cast-off garment.

Application was made all round by Guardapie, the chief spokesman of the
crew. Alas! not one of the poor voyageurs could boast a spare article. A
few old rags were at length rummaged out of the little receptacle of
food, clothing, and dirt in the bow of the boat, and cast into the waves