the
lodge of the chief; the other was the temple, or house of the sun.
They entered the former, and found a single room, forty feet square,
where, in the dim light,--for there was no opening but the door,--the
chief sat awaiting them on a sort of bedstead, three of his wives at
his side, while sixty old men, wrapt in white cloaks woven of
mulberry-bark, formed his divan. When he spoke, his wives howled to do
him honor; and the assembled councilors listened with the reverence
due to a potentate for whom, at his death, a hundred victims were to
be sacrificed. He received the visitors graciously, and joyfully
accepted the gifts which Tonty laid before him. This interview over,
the Frenchmen repaired to the temple, wherein were kept the bones of
the departed chiefs. In construction, it was much like the royal
dwelling. Over it were rude wooden figures, representing three eagles
turned toward the east. A strong mud wall surrounded it, planted with
stakes, on which were stuck the skulls of enemies sacrificed to the
Sun; while before the door was a block of wood, on which lay a large
shell surrounded with the braided hair of the victims. The interior
was rude as a barn, dimly lighted from the doorway, and full of smoke.
There was a structure in the middle which Membre thinks was a kind of
altar; and before it burned a perpetual fire, fed with three logs laid
end to end, and watched by two old men devoted to this sacred office.
There was a mysterious recess, too, which the strangers were forbidden
to explore, but which, as Tonty was told, contained the riches of the
nation, consisting of pearls from the Gulf, and trinkets obtained,
probably through other tribes, from the Spaniards and other
Europeans....

On the next morning, as they descended the river, they saw a wooden
canoe full of Indians; and Tonty gave chase. He had nearly overtaken
it, when more than a hundred men appeared suddenly on the shore, with
bows bent to defend their countrymen. La Salle called out to Tonty to
withdraw. He obeyed; and the whole party encamped on the opposite
bank. Tonty offered to cross the river with a peace-pipe, and set out
accordingly with a small party of men. When he landed, the Indians
made signs of friendship by joining their hands,--a proceeding by
which Tonty, having but one hand, was somewhat embarrassed[3]; but he
directed his men to respond in his stead.

The Indians of this village were the Natchez; and their chief was
brother