tribes, a branch of the Sioux, who received them well.[8] This river
was undoubtedly the Upper Mississippi, now for the first time seen by
white men. Radisson and Groseillers had discovered the Great
Northwest.[9] They were standing on the threshold of the Great Beyond.
They saw before them not the Sea of China, as speculators had dreamed,
not kingdoms for conquest, which the princes of Europe coveted; not a
short road to Asia, of which savants had spun a cobweb of theories.
They saw what every Westerner sees to-day,--illimitable reaches of
prairie and ravine, forested hills sloping to mighty rivers, and open
meadow-lands watered by streams looped like a ribbon. They saw a land
waiting for its people, wealth waiting for possessors, an empire
waiting for the nation builders.

[Illustration: An Old-time Buffalo Hunt on the Plains among the Sioux.]

What were Radisson's thoughts? Did he realize the importance of his
discovery? Could he have the vaguest premonition that he had opened a
door of escape from stifled older lands to a higher type of manhood and
freedom than the most sanguine dreamer had ever hoped?[10] After an
act has come to fruition, it is easy to read into the actor's mind
fuller purpose than he could have intended. Columbus could not have
realized to what the discovery of America would lead. Did Radisson
realize what the discovery of the Great Northwest meant?

Here is what he says, in that curious medley of idioms which so often
results when a speaker knows many languages but is master of none:--

"The country was so pleasant, so beautiful, and so fruitful, that it
grieved me to see that the world could not discover such inticing
countries to live in. This, I say, because the Europeans fight for a