he faith; and when
he had put aside the weapons that opposed their way, to let his
followers in, his thoughts at once went on to more remote and suffering
regions. During his residence at the Sault, rumors and legends were
continually floating in of the unknown country lying to the west--"the
Land of the Great River," the Indians called it--until the mind of the
good father became fully possessed with the idea of going to convert the
nations who dwelt upon its shores. In the year 1671, he took the first
step in that direction, moving on to Point St. Ignatius, on the main
land, north of the island of Mackinac. Here, surrounded by his little
flock of wondering listeners, he preached until the spring of 1673; but
all the time his wish to carry the gospel where its sound had never been
heard was growing stronger. He felt in his heart the impulse of his
calling, to lead the way and open a path for the advance of light. At
the period mentioned, he received an order from the wise intendant in
New France, M. Talon, to explore the pathless wilderness to the
westward.

Then was seen the true spirit of the man, and of his order. He gathered
together no armament; asked the protection of no soldiers; no part of
the cargo of his little boat consisted of gunpowder, or of swords or
guns; his only arms were the spirit of love and peace; his trust was in
God for protection. Five boatmen, and one companion, the Sieur Joliet,
composed his party. Two light bark canoes were his only means of
travelling; and in these he carried a small quantity of Indian corn and
some jerked meat, his only means of subsistence.

Thus equipped, he set out through Green Bay and up Fox river, in search
of a country never yet visited by any European. The Indians endeavored
to dissuade him, wondering at his hardihood, and still more at the
motives which could induce him thus to brave so many dangers. They told
him of the savage Indians, to whom it would be only pastime to torture
and murder him; of the terrible monsters which would swallow him and his
companions, "canoes and all;" of the great bird called the _Piasau_,[61]
which devoured men, after carrying them in its horrible talons to
inaccessible cliffs and mountains; and of the scorching heat, which
would wither him like a dry leaf. "I thanked them kindly," says the
resolute but gentle father, "for their good counsel; but I told them
that I could not profit by it, since the salvation of souls was at
stake,