THE LOST CHIEF

From their winter camp on the river banks eighty leagues below Fort St. Louis a band of Illinois looked up, late in February of 1686, to see their friend Tonty, with twenty-five Frenchmen and a handful of Shawnees, come paddling down the stream. In June of the year before, he had come back to take command of the fort with the good news that La Salle had sailed from France for the mouth of the Mississippi. During the summer he had persuaded their chiefs to join in peace once more with the Miamis.

But with the fall disquieting news had come. Rumor said that La Salle had landed on the shore of the Gulf; that one of his ships was wrecked and pillaged by the Southern tribes who had attacked him; and that he was struggling with Indian foes and sorely in need of food. Tonty, greatly alarmed, had gone up to Mackinac, but had learned little to encourage him in regard to his leader.

Returning to the fort, most of the way on foot, he sent out Indians to the Mississippi River in search of news. But they found none. Then Tonty determined to go himself down the river to the sea in search of his lost chief. He started in the middle of winter with nearly half of his garrison. For forty leagues they dragged their canoes over the ice of the river until they came to open water halfway down to the Indian camp.

Tonty had little time to linger in the camp, but he had exciting news to tell the Indians. La Barre, governor of Canada, had been withdrawn and the new governor, Marquis Denonville, was planning a great war upon the Iroquois villages. He wanted Tonty to gather a band of Western Indians and join with other bands under Du Luth and Durantaye to reinforce the army from Canada, and he had sent word to Tonty to come to Canada to confer with him about the matter. But Tonty had insisted that his first duty was to search for La Salle; the other must await his return. Would the Illinois join him the next spring and help wage war upon the land of their enemies?

Tonty knew well that there could only be one answer to his question. The Illinois, who keenly-remembered the fiendish raids upon their land, now saw their opportunity for revenge; and at once they began to dream of the time when Tonty should return from his voyage. But they were anxious, too, for news of La Salle, and they gave Tonty five of their men to accompany him to the mouth of the river.

With this addition to the party Tonty’s men dipped their paddles into the cold stream and were soon out of sight, leaving the Illinois camp buzzing with excitement. The fleet of canoes soon entered the Mississippi and made swift progress down its broad current. Somewhere above the mouth of the Arkansas River, after Tonty and his men had been traveling many days, they happened upon a war party of a hundred Kappas. The Indians made ready for war at first sight of the canoes, but, finding who it was, brought out the pipe of peace and together the two parties went on to the village.

Here and at the lower Arkansas villages the Indians danced the calumet dance before Tonty and sent him on his way in peace. The Frenchmen made a visit to the village on the lake where the white-robed Taensas welcomed them. They, too, danced the calumet dance and were most cordial to the visitors. But Tonty could not stop long. His canoes were full of food for the hungry La Salle, and he had men and guns to help his chief fight battles. He must hasten on to the sea. At the village of the Coroas he stopped long enough to upbraid the chief for the treachery of his tribe four years before. He passed the village of the Quinipissas without landing.

On the 9th day of April, Tonty and his party came to the sea. Four years before on this same day La Salle had raised the cross and the arms of France and had taken possession of the Great Valley for the king. But now, though he had had nearly two years to reach the mouth of the river by sea, La Salle was nowhere to be found. Nor was there any sign that he and his ships and men had been there. Tonty’s anxiety deepened as he searched in vain the neighboring channels. He made up two exploring parties and sent one east and one west along the coast of the Gulf. Throwing together a rude fort on an island near the mouth, he waited. When three days were gone both parties had returned. They had explored more than half a hundred leagues of the coast, and had come back because their drinking-water was gone. They had seen nothing but wet shores and the salty sea. Nowhere was there sign of the lost chief.

Up in Canada, meanwhile, Governor Denonville was waiting for Tonty to come and confer with him about the Iroquois raid. Tonty took counsel with his men. One thing more might be done. They were a considerable party—a third of a hundred—and they had stout canoes. Why not skirt the coast of the Gulf, round the point of Florida, pass up the eastern shore of the continent as far as New York, and thence across to Canada and the waiting governor? It was a bold plan, but a reckless one, and Tonty did not insist upon it.

With heavy heart he finally began the ascent of the river. The wind and waves had wrought havoc with the arms of the king which La Salle had raised, and Tonty replaced them. In a hole in a tree he left a letter for La Salle, and then went on to the village of the Quinipissas. These Indians were a chastened people, for the years had not wiped from their memory the punishment that La Salle had put upon them for their treachery. Now they sued humbly for peace, and Tonty granted it. Then he wrote another letter to his leader and gave it to the chief of the Quinipissas, telling him to deliver it to La Salle if he ever came into this region. The Indian clung to this letter like a sacred treasure and thirteen years later gave it proudly into the hands of a white chief who had come up the river from the sea.

Tonty and his companions continued their journey. When they reached the mouth of the Arkansas some of the men asked leave to plant a new French settlement on a tract of land which La Salle had granted to Tonty four years before. Tonty was willing; and so Jean Couture and several others pitched camp on the shore of the Arkansas River near its mouth and watched their comrades pass on without them. Then they built a log house with a palisade of stakes around it. It was a small settlement, but it was of strange importance in the story of the next three years.

On the 24th of June the disappointed search party was welcomed on the high rock of Fort St. Louis. But Tonty could not tarry at the fort. Taking with him two Illinois chiefs, he went on up the river and across the Great Lakes to where Denonville waited to talk with him.

Plans for a great gathering of the enemies of the Iroquois took form rapidly. The two Illinois chiefs, who came back from the visit to the Canadian governor late in 1686, were full of tales that roused their people. Runners, sent out from the fort, informed all the tribes that war was to be waged in the spring and asked them to join Tonty at Fort St. Louis.

When April of 1687 came, the fort on the rock saw the smoke rise from many fires, for Tonty was giving a dog-feast for his Indian warriors. Illinois, Shawnees, Mohegans, and Miamis gathered for the fray. La Forest had already set out with a band of Frenchmen; Durantaye and Du Luth were gathering together their warriors over on the Lake; and in the latter part of April, Bellefontaine, left with twenty men in charge of the fort, watched Tonty with sixteen Frenchmen and the band of Indian braves depart for the war in the far East.