Here was an opportunity not to be lost, and Champlain at once offered to aid the Algonquins and Hurons in making the best disposition of their forces, if they on their part would allow him to join them. The compact was made, and, surrounded by the wild redskins in their picturesque war-paint and other martial trappings, the white men marched in a north-westerly direction—first up the Ottawa, and then, turning due west, past a number of small lagoons—till they came to Lake Nipissing (N. lat. 46° 16’ W. long. 80°), where the natives received them with eager hospitality.

After a rest of a couple of days, the dusky warriors and their pale-faced guests resumed their march, and following the course of a stream now known as the French river, they came to the present Georgian Bay, forming the eastern side of the great Lake Huron, called by the French traders of more modern times the Mer Douce, on account of the remarkable freshness and clearness of its waters. Crossing Georgian Bay in the native canoes near the island of Great Manitoulin, or the Sacred Island, running parallel with the western half of the northern coast, the invaders landed, and, marching northward, were soon joined by a fresh body of Algonquin warriors, with whom they passed several days in feasting and dancing, after which the combined forces turned their steps southward, reaching Lake St. Clair, lying between Lakes Huron and Erie, near the modern city of Detroit, in a few days. Here they came in sight of the first Iroquois fort, a primitive but well-built structure, skillfully defended by rows of modern palisades.

A fierce struggle ensued, in which Champlain was twice wounded, and the Iroquois warriors defended their town with such skill and bravery that the Canadian Indians were compelled to retreat. In this retreat Champlain suffered terribly, having been carried, as was each of the disabled warriors, in a small basket, his body being bound into a circular form with strong cords to make it fit into the cramped space. Released from this unusual position on arrival in the friendly Huron country, our hero and his men begged to be provided with guides and canoes for the return journey to Quebec; but they were refused, and the white men had to spend the whole of the winter among the frozen lakes.

In the spring of 1616, after making themselves well acquainted with the resources of the neighborhood in the frequent hunting excursions in which they took part, the little band of explorers managed to effect their escape, and, accompanied by a few friendly natives, made their way back to Quebec, where, for a time, Champlain had to give all his attention to the internal affairs of the colonies, now large communities, holding within their heterogeneous elements many a seed of discord. Trip after trip to France for supplies resulted in the arrival of many new emigrants, but it was long before peace was sufficiently established for any fresh exploring expeditions to be undertaken. Moreover, the Mohawks, Oneidas, Onondagas, Senecas, and Cayugas, the five nations forming the great Iroquois confederacy, elated by their victory, in spite of the well-organized expedition against them, advanced from their quarters on Lakes Erie and Champlain to within a short distance of the French outposts, resolving to involve the Algonquins and their white allies in one common doom.

In 1626 a noble, but, as it turned out, mistaken attempt at conciliation, made by Champlain, resulted in a terrible tragedy. Some captive Iroquois, who were about to be tortured by the Algonquins, were sent back to their own people uninjured, accompanied by an Algonquin chief and a Frenchman named Magnan, who had instructions to negotiate a peace between the rival tribes. This did not, unfortunately, suit the Algonquins, who had hoped with the aid of the French to exterminate the Iroquois, and they therefore sent a message to the latter, warning them that treachery was intended, and that the Frenchman and his companion were spies.

Arrived at the Iroquois camp, the two unlucky emissaries found a large pot boiling over a fire, and were invited to be seated. The chief was then asked if he was hungry, and on his saying yes, a number of armed Iroquois rushed upon him, cut slices from his body, and threw them into the pot. This awful torture was continued till he died in the greatest agony, when the Frenchman was put to death with torture, though of a somewhat less revolting form.

INDIAN WARRIORS.

Gladly would Champlain, convinced of the fatal mistake he had made, have taken summary vengeance on the savage warriors, but, alas! he was powerless to do so. The few settlements at Ladoussac, Three Rivers, and other advanced points on the St. Lawrence, would have presented an easy prey to the Iroquois, and there were no forces at Quebec or Montreal fit to cope with the thousands who would have swept down upon the whites from the Lakes, at the first sign of weakness among them. At this very time, too, the English were casting longing eyes at the rich fur-yielding grounds of the Canadian backwoods, and would gladly have shared in the cod and whale fisheries of the Gulf of St. Lawrence. A Huguenot refugee, named Kirk, actually obtained a commission from Charles I. to conquer Canada, and for that purpose anchored a little squadron at the mouth of the St. Lawrence in the summer of 1628, sending a summons to Quebec to surrender.

As a matter of course, Champlain, although literally driven to bay, with the Indians on one side and the English on the other, returned a spirited answer of defiance, which, to his surprise, resulted in the withdrawal of his enemies, who were totally ignorant of the real state of affairs. A year later, however, Kirk returned, this time sailing up the St. Lawrence, and casting anchor off Quebec. Resistance was hopeless, and Champlain was compelled to surrender his “capital;” but, struck by the noble bearing of his opponent, and by the courage with which he had evidently so long been waging a hopeless contest with the natives, Kirk granted the most liberal terms to the French, who were allowed to remain undisturbed in their homes, which were, moreover, now secured to them by English troops from the raids of the savages.