ere, and the blue of
the sky was exquisite.

As they paddled slowly along this lake, keeping time to their songs with
the paddles, there suddenly grew out of the distance a great flotilla
of canoes with tall prows, and behind them a range of islands which they
had not before seen. The canoes were filled with men--Indians, it would
seem, by the tall feathers lifting from their heads. A moment before
there had been nothing. The sudden appearance was even more startling
than the strange canoe that crossed their track on Lake of the Winds.
Iberville knew at once that it was a mirage, and the mystery of it
did not last long even among the superstitious. But they knew now that
somewhere in the north--presumably not far away--was a large band of
Indians, possibly hostile; their own numbers were about fourscore. There
was the chance that the Indians were following or intercepting them.
Yet, since they had left the Ottawa River, they had seen no human being,
save in that strange canoe on Lake of the Winds. To the east were the
dreary wastes of Labrador, to the west were the desolate plains and
hills, stretching to the valley of the Saskatchewan.

Practically in command, Iberville advised watchfulness and preparation
for attack. Presently the mirage faded away as suddenly as it came. For
days again they marched and voyaged on, seeing still no human being. At
last they came to a lake, which they crossed in their canoes; then they
entered the mouth of a small river, travelling northward. The river
narrowed at a short distance from its mouth, and at a certain point the
stream turned sharply. As the first canoe rounded the point it came full
upon half a hundred canoes blocking the river, filled by Indians with
bended bows. They were a northern tribe that had never before seen the
white man. Tall and stern, they were stout enemies, but they had no
firearms, and, as could be seen, they were astonished at the look of the
little band, which, at the command of De Troyes, who with Iberville was
in the first boat, came steadily on. Suddenly brought face to face there
was a pause, in which Iberville, who knew several Indian languages,
called to them to make way.

He was not understood, but he had pointed to the white standard of
France flaring with the golden lilies; and perhaps the drawn swords and
the martial manner of the little band--who had donned gay trappings, it
being Iberville's birthday--conveyed in some way his meaning. The bows