They had escaped for the time; but the Indians agreed among themselves,
that thenceforth no one should give them shelter. At night, pierced with
cold and faint with hunger, they found every door closed against them.
They stood and watched, saw an Indian issue from a house, and, by a quick
movement, pushed through the half-open door into this abode of smoke and
filth. The inmates, aghast at their boldness, stared in silence.
Then a messenger ran out to carry the tidings, and an angry crowd
collected.

"Go out, and leave our country," said an old chief, "or we will put you
into the kettle, and make a feast of you."

"I have had enough of the dark-colored flesh of our enemies," said a
young brave; "I wish to know the taste of white meat, and I will eat
yours."

A warrior rushed in like a madman, drew his bow, and aimed the arrow at
Chaumonot. "I looked at him fixedly," writes the Jesuit, "and commended
myself in full confidence to St. Michael. Without doubt, this great
archangel saved us; for almost immediately the fury of the warrior was
appeased, and the rest of our enemies soon began to listen to the
explanation we gave them of our visit to their country." [ Ibid., 57. ]

The mission was barren of any other fruit than hardship and danger,
and after a stay of four months the two priests resolved to return.
On the way, they met a genuine act of kindness. A heavy snow-storm
arresting their progress, a Neutral woman took them into her lodge,
entertained them for two weeks with her best fare, persuaded her father
and relatives to befriend them, and aided them to make a vocabulary of