The redskins were encamped upon an island in the river, where they were to meet the Algonquins and proceed against a band of Iroquois, who had come there from the south in order to have revenge for the slaughter of the previous year. All were busy felling branches and trees for a barricade, when suddenly an Algonquin paddled up, crying,
“Arm yourselves! Get ready! The Iroquois are not far away and have thrown up a fortification. If you do not attack them, they will attack you!”
With a wild yelp of eager anticipation, the Montagnais took to their canoes, paddled up the stream, leaped to the shore, and were soon running through the woods in the direction of the camp of the hated invaders. As for Champlain, and some Frenchmen whom he had with him, they could come along as best they might. This they did, and, as they advanced through the forest, they heard loud shouts and battle cries. The fight was on in earnest.
The Sieur de Champlain, in armored breast plate and with greaves and arquebus, soon came into a clearing, where he viewed a strong, log fortification. Behind this, the Iroquois were raising an ear-splitting din. They were firing at the attacking party of Montagnais and Algonquins, who were afraid to advance. The Frenchman soon saw how to bring the matter to a successful issue.
“Here, my friends!” said he to the redskins. “You must make a breach in yonder fort. As I and my companions shower bullets at a certain point, you must rush forward, must tear down the logs with this rope, then all can enter and put an end to these invaders.”
The Indians followed his advice. As the Frenchmen advanced and commenced firing, the redskins rushed forward, tied ropes to the logs, and, wrenching them away, soon made a breach in the fortress. Champlain was hit in the ear by an arrow, but he tore it away, although it had buried itself in his neck, and continued the fight. As the redmen worked willingly, a fresh band of Frenchmen approached and began to fire upon the fort from the other side. They had come from a trading pinnace, which had followed Champlain’s shallop, and, hearing the sound of gun-fire, had hurried forward in order to take part in the fray.
Crash! The logs at last gave way. With a wild, discordant war-whoop, the allies rushed forward, brandishing their knives and tomahawks, and followed by Champlain with his men. The Iroquois, frightened at the awful effect of the firearms, made but a slight resistance. Some were shot upon the spot, others ran and were killed at once, still others plunged into the St. Lawrence, where they were drowned, while fifteen were taken prisoners. Not one escaped the fury of the allied assault. It had been a second glorious victory.
Champlain had no further battles with the redmen, at this time; but, a few years later, made a journey up the Ottawa River which brought him in contact with many of them. This was then, of course, an unknown country, inhabited only by bands of Indians, who lived by fishing and by hunting. The Frenchman was the first white man to venture among the native Canadians, so you can well imagine what must have been their surprise and interest in viewing a warrior with a “stick which spoke with the voice of thunder.” They marveled at his ability to travel up the river, which was rapid and treacherous, saying, “You must have fallen from the clouds as you are so far from the great river (St. Lawrence).” They gave him food, showed him their gardens, planted with Indian corn, and sent him on to other Indian villages, with an escort.
“We live here because we fear the Iroquois,” said one chief. “But, if our white brothers will but settle upon the great, blue river to the south of us, so that we may be protected from these fierce warriors, we ourselves will come down there to live.”
After spending some time in exploring this wild and beautiful country, the adventurer erected a great cross, decorated with the arms of the King of France.