THE GATHERING OF THE TRIBES
On the south bank of the river Illinois, a mile or more above the plain
where lay the deserted village of the Kaskaskias, a great rock rose
sheer from the water to a height of over a hundred feet. Three sides of
the rock were like the walls of a mediæval castle. At the fourth side by
a rugged pathway one might climb laboriously from behind to the level
top where oaks and cedars grew.
In the month of January, 1683, this rock was the scene of busy doings.
On the scant acre of ground upon its summit, Frenchmen had felled trees
and were building cabins and storehouses and palisaded walls and
erecting a fortification about the whole area. Up the steep pathway
other Frenchmen and stalwart Indians were dragging timbers to aid in the
construction of fort and dwellings. Moving here and there among the men
was the dominant figure of La Salle; and yonder were the iron-handed
Tonty and his friend Boisrondet. Many of the Frenchmen had been with La
Salle on his trip to the Gulf the year before; and the busy Indians were
his faithful band of Mohegans and Abenakis.
La Salle had reached Mackinac after his arduous trip to the sea, with
little strength left, but with many plans for the future. He had
explored the river to the mouth. It now remained for him to make use of
the Great Valley. His enemies, the rich merchants of Quebec and
Montreal, had become so bitter in their opposition to him that he knew
it would be difficult to carry out his plans from Canada as a base. And
so he determined to cut loose as soon as possible from the valley of the
St. Lawrence and bring his supplies and men by sea from France to the
mouth of the Mississippi, thence up the river to the trading-posts which
he would found among the tribes along its banks.
Such was the vision that rose before La Salle day and night—a vision of
the long river valley held together by a chain of forts and depots for
the fur trade, of friendly Indians coming with their canoes laden with
furs to exchange with the French for merchandise, of French settlements
growing up in the wilderness, of a great post at the mouth of the river,
and of swift-sailing ships plying between the Gulf and far-away France.
But to bring this vision to reality La Salle must first repopulate the
Illinois Valley and unite the Indian tribes of that region to repel the
bands of Iroquois who threatened again to invade the valley of the Great
River. So he sent Tonty out from Mackinac, in the fall of 1682, to begin
a fort around which they might gather a colony of the far-scattered
tribes. Not long afterward, La Salle, hearing fresh rumors of an
Iroquois invasion, sent Father Membré on to Canada and France to report
the exploration of the Mississippi, and then joined Tonty on the
Illinois River.
Many times in their journeyings up and down the Illinois, La Salle and
Tonty had noted the high rock rising from the riverside near the
Kaskaskia village. What a rallying-point this would make for the
scattered people! La Salle was well content to build here his wilderness
fort; and without waiting for winter to loosen its icy grip upon the
land he put his men, red-skinned and white, at work.
They were many weeks building the citadel upon the rock; and when,
toward spring, it was finished, La Salle and Tonty looked out upon the
country roundabout with a feeling of great security. In the river below
them was a small island, and here they prepared to plant their crops. It
was within gunshot of the fort, from which a raking fire could prevent
any enemy from landing and attacking the men while at work in the
fields. Four heavy pieces of timber were placed so as to project over
the edge of the rock, and from these, in case of need, water could be
drawn straight up from the clear current of the Illinois River.
The fortress completed, there remained the gathering of the tribes. On a
day in March, 1683, Tonty climbed down the rugged pathway and set out
across the prairies to visit the Indian tribes. Nearly a hundred leagues
he trailed from village to village. In the lodges of the Shawnees he
told of the return of La Salle to the Illinois Valley and reminded them
of their promise to come and join him.
He visited the Miamis and talked of the Iroquois who had killed so many
of their braves. Even now rumors of another invasion were in the air.
But if the Miamis would come out to the colony of the French they need
have no fear, for Ouabicolcata had come again into the valley of the
Illinois and on the bank of the river had built a strong fort to guard
his brothers the Miamis.
It was many leagues toward the setting sun that Tonty traveled before he
found the tribes of the Illinois. But one day he walked into the camp of
his old-time companions and seated himself upon their mats. With great
joy they received him and gave into his left hand the calumet of peace
and feasted him as they had done three years before in their ancient
home.
They were wondering, perhaps, if the ice were now breaking up in the
river beside the forsaken village and if the snow were melting down to
nourish the white-oak trees on the opposite shore. They saw the whole
river again as they listened to the words of the Man with the Iron Hand.
Well did they know every bend in its course. And what Indian could
forget that great pile of rock on the south side of the river a
half-league above their old town? Every crevice and seam in its
weather-worn sides came back to them. They saw in their minds the ravine
on the eastern side where a little brook ran down to the river. They saw
again the rugged path that led to the summit; and they tried to picture
Frenchmen climbing to the heights where the fort of La Salle now stood.
It was a fort to guard them from the Iroquois, said Tonty, if only they
would come back and settle in their old haunts. Nor was it difficult to
persuade them. La Salle was their father, they said. Only a year ago he
had visited them, told them of his plans, and urged them to forgive the
Miamis and join with them against the common foe.
Their fear of the Iroquois called them; their love for their father La
Salle and their brother Tonty and for the gifts these men brought called
them; and perhaps, not least of all, the old village where they had
wooed and married their Indian women, where they had brought home scalps
and captives, where they had entertained their friends and buried their
dead—their home of other days—called them. Yes, they would come back to
the river of the Illinois and raise new lodge-poles on the site of their
old town in the colony of their father La Salle.
So Tonty returned from his circuit of the tribes and climbed the rock to
Fort St. Louis to report to La Salle the coming of the Indians. Soon the
tribes began to gather. The Shawnees came with some smaller tribes from
the south and settled directly behind the rock. Nor was it many weeks
before the Illinois, trailing back through the valley they had given up,
came in a great rejoicing army, with their women and their papooses, to
the north bank of the river. Strong-armed Indian women raised the poles
for new lodges and laid fresh mats upon the framework. They brought wood
which they laid in piles down the center of each long lodge; and soon
out of holes in a hundred roofs rose the smoke from the fires of the
Illinois. They stirred the soil in the neglected fields and planted new
crops. As best they could they put to rights the desecrated graves of
their dead, and took up again the life they had left off at the time of
the Iroquois invasion.
But it was not quite the same to these Illinois, for the blight of
overwhelming disaster still lay upon them and fear smoldered deep down
in each heart. When they looked up the river to where Fort St. Louis
stood guard like a sentinel upon its high rock, they took courage; but
when they turned away and looked upon the scenes which they had just
redeemed from Iroquois desolation, their hearts sometimes failed them.
Families from all of the tribes of the Illinois Confederacy now gathered
in the village, ready to join hands in a common cause with the Shawnees
and other nations from the south, and eager to ally themselves once more
with the fickle Miamis who were still at their villages to the east.
Only the return of La Salle to the Illinois country had kept the Miamis
from leaving their villages near the foot of the Lake and fleeing to the
Mississippi; and even now, with Fort St. Louis built and garrisoned and
with the Illinois and Shawnees gathered in the vicinity, they were
thrown into a panic by news from the St. Lawrence River that the
Iroquois were on their way to the valley of the Illinois.
The French and Indians at La Salle’s colony having learned of the Miami
alarm, La Salle made ready to go at once to their villages to reassure
them. The Illinois, however, looked with dread upon his going, and they
tried to dissuade him. Perhaps they recalled too vividly the disasters
that followed his departure three years before. Then, too, they had
heard evil rumors. The French at Green Bay had told their traders that
if the Illinois settled near La Salle, he would abandon them to the
Iroquois. The Indians frankly recounted these tales, and La Salle
patiently told them of his enemies at Green Bay who wished him
ill,—perhaps because they were jealous of his beaver trade,—and he
promised them that, although it was important for him to go on from the
Miami villages to Canada, he would come back at once if the Iroquois
should approach.
Partly reassured they let him go. They did not know what grievous
burdens weighed upon La Salle as he took his way eastward. At the fort
in charge of Tonty he had left only twenty Frenchmen, with hardly a
hundred rounds of powder and ball. Again and again he had sent men down
to the Canadian settlements to bring back supplies and ammunition and
French volunteers for his garrison. But they had not come back; and La
Salle rightly suspected that the new governor, La Barre, who had
succeeded Frontenac at Quebec, was in league with his enemies and
willing to wreck his colony by preventing his men from returning with
supplies and reinforcements. His only hope was to go in person to Canada
to secure aid; and this he intended to do after seeing the Miamis.
Finding the Miamis full of terror and ready to fly, he immediately
called the chiefs and elders in to a council. If the Miamis, instead of
fleeing to the Mississippi, would move over and join his colony at the
fort, they would all fight their battles together. He was going East now
for reinforcements; but if he should hear of the near approach of the
Iroquois, he would join them at Fort St. Louis at once. The Miamis gave
attentive ear to La Salle. Was he not their brother Ouabicolcata, raised
from the dead to protect them? The next day they began to move in three
great armies toward Fort St. Louis, while La Salle went on toward the
Lake.
From the Miami camp a hunter started out one day accompanied by his dog.
Following a roebuck, he strayed off from his band and was suddenly
attacked by four Iroquois and fatally wounded. The dog, seeing his
master shot down, began to bark at the top of his lungs. The Iroquois,
in alarm, took to their heels. At once the Miamis were hot upon their
trail. They followed their tracks until they came to a trail so broadly
beaten as to indicate a large army of the enemy. Realizing their lack of
numbers, the Miamis retraced their steps and made haste to combine their
three armies into one before continuing the journey.
The alarm, meanwhile, had reached the colony about the fort, and war
parties of Illinois left their village to meet the oncoming foe. Soon
they encountered an Iroquois party of forty and took one of them
prisoner. With savage glee they brought him into camp. Perhaps he was
one of the hated band that had despoiled their village. It was their
turn now for vengeance. They presented the captive to Tonty to be put to
death. But Tonty replied that it was not the custom of his people to
kill their prisoners of war. Then they offered him to their allies, the
Shawnees, who with savage ceremonies burned him to death.
The Illinois had won a victory over the invaders, but it did not bring
them security. They wished for the return of La Salle; and Tonty sent
off two runners at top speed to tell his chief that if he did not return
at once the tribes were likely to melt away to the Far West and out of
reach of the Iroquois.
It was not long until the army of the Miamis arrived. A league above the
fort, on the north side of the river, was a long rock bluff, and here
they settled and put up their lodges. La Salle, true to his promise,
soon came back to the colony, much to the joy of both Indians and
whites. From his high fort on the rock he now looked down upon Indian
villages, with their thousands of Indian braves gathered like the army
of a mediæval baron, and rejoiced in the thought that a long step had
been made toward the realization of his dream of the Great Valley.