ere, Thomas, the interpreter, soon joined him with a
countenance of ill news. In the absence of Champlain, the assembly had
reconsidered their assent. The canoes were denied.

With a troubled mind he hastened again to the hall of council, and
addressed the naked senate in terms better suited to his exigencies than
to their dignity:

"I thought you were men; I thought you would hold fast to your word: but
I find you children, without truth. You call yourselves my friends, yet
you break faith with me. Still I would not incommode you; and if you
cannot give me four canoes, two will Serve."

The burden of the reply was, rapids, rocks, cataracts, and the
wickedness of the Nipissings. "We will not give you the canoes, because
we are afraid of losing you," they said.

"This young man," rejoined Champlain, pointing to Vignau, who sat by
his side, "has been to their country, and did not find the road or the
people so bad as you have said."

"Nicolas," demanded Tessouat, "did you say that you had been to the
Nipissings?"

The impostor sat mute for a time, and then replied, "Yes, I have been
there."

Hereupon an outcry broke from the assembly, and they turned their eyes
on him askance, "as if," says Champlain, "they would have torn and eaten
him."

"You are a liar," returned the unceremonious host; "you know very well
that you slept here among my children every night, and got up again
every morning; and if you ever went to the Nipissings, it must have
been when you were asleep. How can you be so impudent as to lie to your
chief, and so wicked as to risk his life among so many dangers? He
ought to kill you with tortures worse than those with which we kill our
enemies."

Champlain urged him to reply, but he sat motionless and dumb. Then he
led him from the cabin, and conjured him to declare if in truth he had
seen this sea of the north. Vignan, with oaths, affirmed that all he
had said was true. Returning to the council, Champlain repeated the
impostor's story--how he had seen the sea, the wreck of an English ship,
the heads of eighty Englishmen, and an English boy, prisoner among the
Indians.

At this, an outcry rose louder than before, and the Indians turned in
ire upon Vignan.

"You are a liar." "Which way did you go?" "By what rivers?" "By what
lakes?" "Who went with you?"

Vignan had made a map of his travels, which Champlain now produced,
desiring him to explain it to his questioners; but his assurance failed