the cameo was a step in the right direction.  Something of the same thought occurred at the same time to the Bishop of Montreal.  Father Xavier’s reports showed the mission to be in a flourishing condition.  The first struggles of the pioneer were over.  Father Xavier must not be left in too luxurious a position.  The Chevalier La Salle was now fitting out his little band designed to explore the lakes and follow the Mississippi from its source to the Gulf.  A most important expedition; it would be well that the Jesuit fathers should share in the honors if it proved successful, and if the little party perished in its hazardous enterprise Pere Francis Xavier could perhaps be spared as easily as any member of his spiritual army.

And so, in the summer of 1679, the Chevalier sailed up the Lac du Dauphin, as Lake Erie was then called, into the Lac d’Orleans, or Huron, carrying letters in which Pere Francis Xavier was ordered to leave his charge for a time in order to render all the assistance in his power to the explorers.  The Bishop of Montreal could never have guessed with what heartfelt joy his command was obeyed.  Father Xavier was tired of this peaceful life, tired of “the endless wash of melancholy waves,” of the short cool summers, and long white blank of winter; tired of inaction, of the lack of stimulating surroundings, of the gentleness of Father Ignatius and Marie’s haunting smile.  Here, too, might be the very occasion he craved of making himself famous and deserving of reward as an explorer.  It was true that he started as a subordinate, but that was no reason that he should return in the same capacity.  Marie had served the noble guests with pleasant alacrity, passing the rainbow-tinted trout caught as well as broiled by her own hand, and the luscious huckleberries in tasteful baskets of her own braiding, and Tontz Main de Fer, the chivalric companion and friend of La Salle, was moved like Geraint, served by Enid, “to stoop and kiss the dainty little thumb that crossed the trencher.”  The salutation was received with unconscious dignity by little Marie; once only was Pere Francois Xavier annoyed by the absence of a display of childish pleasure in an ever-ready smile.

History tells how trial and privation of every kind waited on this little band of heroic men; how hunger, and cold, and fever dogged their steps; how the Indians proved treacherous and hostile; how, having reached central Illinois, after incredible exertion, they found themselves in the dead of winter unable to proceed further, and surrounded by tribes incited against them by some unknown enemy.  A fatality seemed to hang over them; suspicious occurrences indicated that they had a traitor among their number, but he was never discovered.  La Salle did not despair or abandon the enterprise; but when six of his most trusted men mutinied and deserted, he lost hope, and became seized with a presentiment that he would never return from his expedition.  Father Xavier was