the chief stood. Taignoagny, the interpreter, came forward
and entered upon a voluble harangue, telling the French
captain that Donnacona was grieved to see him and his
men so fully armed, while he and his people bore no
weapons in their hands. Cartier told Taignoagny, who had
been in France, that to carry arms was the custom of his
country, and that he knew it. Indeed, since Donnacona
continued to make gestures of pleasure and friendship,
the explorer concluded that the interpreter only and not
the Indian chief was the cause of the distrust. Yet he
narrates that before Donnacona left them, 'all his people
at once with a loud voice cast out three great cries, a
horrible thing to hear.' The Indian war-whoop, if such
it was, is certainly not a reassuring sound, but Cartier
and Donnacona took leave of one another with repeated
assurances of good-will.

The following day, September 16, the Indians came again.
About five hundred of them, so Cartier tells us, gathered
about the ships. Donnacona, with 'ten or twelve of the
chiefest men of the country,' came on board the ships,
where Cartier held a great feast for them and gave them
presents in accordance with their rank. Taignoagny
explained to Cartier that Donnacona was grieved that he
was going up to Hochelaga. The river, said the guide,
was of no importance, and the journey was not worth while.
Cartier's reply to this protest was that he had been
commanded by his king to go as far as he could go, but
that, after seeing Hochelaga, he would come back again.
On this Taignoagny flatly refused to act as guide, and