his companions fell into the hands of a Mohawk
war-party. Some were killed on the spot, and the others were carried
up the Richelieu and across Lake Champlain to a more awful fate. First
they were made to run a gauntlet of Mohawk war-clubs; then they were
placed upon a scaffold, where the women lacerated them with knives and
clam-shells, and the children applied fire-brands to their naked
bodies. This torture was repeated in each of the three Mohawk
villages. Goupil, a lay brother, was soon afterwards murdered, and
Jogues lived the life of a slave until some Dutch settlers on the
Hudson effected his ransom and put him on board a ship bound for
France.

In the following year, however, Jogues came back to Quebec, and on
behalf of the suffering city he undertook to negotiate a peace with
the Mohawks. Armed with gifts and belts of wampum, he set out
fearlessly to face his former tormentors. For a short time the wampum
saved him, but he was soon obliged to return to Quebec. The French,
however, were determined to win the Iroquois, politically and
religiously, and no danger was great enough to check them.
Accordingly, in the late summer of 1646, Jogues was again despatched
to the post which by this time had come to be known as the Mission of
the Martyrs; and at last, on the 18th of October, he was foully
murdered in the lodge of a Mohawk chief.

In the preceding winter Anne de Noue, a Jesuit of noble descent and
frail physique, set off from Quebec to minister to the garrison at
Fort Richelieu. In spite of his sixty-three years, he did not shrink
from the perils of frost and snow which lay before him. On his
snow-shoes and with a few days' provisions he set forth upon the path
of sacrifice. A blizzard overtook him on the frozen river, he lost his
way, and some days later his martyred body was discovered kneeling in
the snow.

Meanwhile the dangers farther west were not decreasing. Iroquois
attacks and Huron reprisals were ever threatening the Jesuit missions,
and the last great blow was soon to fall. In the summer of 1648 an
Iroquois war-party crept up to the gates of St. Joseph. Most of the
warriors had gone to Quebec, but the palisade still contained Father
Daniel and close upon a thousand women and children and old men. An
early Mass had crowded the chapel, and the priest, clothed in full
vestments, was exhorting the neophytes to be strong in the faith, when
the dreaded war-cry rang through the village. The panic-strick