It was no easy task which now lay before them. The journey
was long, the way difficult. Onward again swept the
diminutive squadron, the shallop outsailing the canoes, and
making its way up the Richelieu, Champlain being too ardent
with the fever of discovery to await the slow work of the
paddles. He had not, however, sailed far up that
forest-enclosed stream before unwelcome sounds came to his
ears. The roar of rushing and tumbling waters sounded
through the still air. And now, through the screen of
leaves, came a vision of snowy foam and the flash of leaping
waves. The Indians had lied to him. They had promised him an
unobstructed route to the great lake ahead, and here already
were rapids in his path.

How far did the obstruction extend? That must be learned.
Leaving the shallop, he set out with part of his men to
explore the wilds. It was no easy journey. Tangled vines,
dense thickets, swampy recesses crossed the way. Here lay
half-decayed tree-trunks; there heaps of rocks lifted their
mossy tops in the path. And ever, as they went, the roar of
the rapids followed, while through the foliage could be seen
the hurrying waters, pouring over rocks, stealing amid
drift-logs, eddying in chasms, and shooting in white lines
of foam along every open space.

Was this the open river of which he had been told; this the
ready route to the great lake beyond? In anger and dismay,
Champlain retraced his steps, to find, when he reached the
shallop, that the canoes of the savages had come up, and now
filled the stream around it.