At the noon-tide meal, or pipe, of the voyageurs, an alarming discovery was made:  no bread had been put on board for the crew!  How this oversight had occurred, no one could tell.  One was certain that a large quantity had been brought from the garrison-bakery for their use that very morning—­another had even seen the sacks of loaves standing in Paquette’s kitchen.  Be that as it may, there we were, many miles on our journey, and with no provisions for the six Frenchmen, except some salted pork, a few beans, and some onions.  A consultation was held in this emergency.  Should they return to the Portage for supplies?  The same danger that made their departure necessary, still existed, and the utmost dispatch had been enjoined upon them.  We found upon examination that the store of bread and crackers with which our party had been provided was far-beyond what we could possibly require, and we thought it would be sufficient to allow of rations to the Frenchmen until we should reach Powell’s, at the Butte des Morts, the day but one following, where we should undoubtedly be able to procure a fresh supply.

This decided on, we proceeded on our journey, always in profound silence, for a song or a loud laugh was now strictly prohibited until we should have passed the utmost limits of country where the enemy might possibly be.  We had been warned beforehand that a certain point, where the low marshy meadows, through which the river had hitherto run, rises into a more firm and elevated country, was the border of the Menomonee territory, and the spot where the Sauks, if they had fled north of the Wisconsin towards the Chippewa country, would be most likely to be encountered.

As we received intimation on the forenoon of the second day that we were drawing near this spot, I must confess that “we held our breath for awe.”

The three Winnebagoes were in the bow of the boat.  Old Smoker, the chief, squatted upon his feet on the bench of the foremost rowers.  We looked at him.  He was gazing intently in the direction of the wooded point we were approaching.  Our eyes followed his, and we saw three Indians step forward and stand upon the bank.  We said in a low voice to each other, “If they are Sauks, we are lost, for the whole body must be in that thicket.”  The boat continued to approach; not a word was spoken; the dip of the paddle, and perhaps the beating hearts of some, were the only sounds that broke the stillness.  Again we looked at the chief.  His nostrils were dilated—­his eyes almost glaring.

Suddenly, with a bound, he sprang to his feet and uttered his long, shrill whoop.

“Hoh! hoh! hoh!  Neechee (friend) Muh-no-mo-nee!”

All was now joy and gladness.  Every one was forward to shake hands with the strangers as soon as we could reach them, in token of our satisfaction that they were Menomonees and not Sauks, of the latter of whom, by the way, they could give us no intelligence.