It was an exciting and somewhat hazardous passage down the rapids and over the Grand Chute, a fall of several feet; but it was safely passed, and at the approach of evening the boat reached the settlement of the Waubanakees at the head of the Little Chute.  These are the Stockbridge or Brothertown Indians, the remains of the old Mohicans, who had, a few years before, emigrated from Oneida County, in the State of New York, to a tract granted them by the United States, on the fertile banks of the Fox River.  They had already cleared extensive openings in the forest, and built some substantial and comfortable houses near the banks of the river, which were here quite high, and covered for the most part with gigantic trees.

It was determined to ask hospitality of these people, to the extent of borrowing a corner of their fire to boil our tea-kettle, and bake the short-cake which had been now, for nearly two days, our substitute for bread.  Its manufacture had been a subject of much merriment.  The ingredients, consisting of Powell’s black flour, some salt, and a little butter, were mixed in the tin box which had held our meat.  This was then reversed, and, having been properly cleansed, supplied the place of a dough-board.  The vinegar-bottle served the office of rolling-pin, and a shallow tin dish formed the appliance for baking.  The Waubanakees were so good as to lend us an iron bake-kettle, and superintend the cooking of our cake after Harry had carried it up to their dwelling.

So kind and hospitable did they show themselves, that the crew of the boat took the resolution of asking a lodging on shore, by way of relief after their crowded quarters in the boat for the last three nights.  Arthur and Mata soon adopted the same idea, and we were invited to follow their example, with the assurance that the houses were extremely neat and orderly.

We preferred, however, as it was a fine night, and all things were so comfortably arranged in the boat, to remain on board, keeping Edwin and Josette with us.

The boat was tightly moored, for the little Chute was just below, and if our craft should break loose in the rapid current, and drift down over the falls, it would be a very serious matter.  As an additional precaution, one man was left on board to keep all things safe and in order, and, these arrangements having been made, the others ascended the bank, and took up their night’s lodgings in the Waubanakee cabins.

It was a beautiful, calm, moonlight night, the air just sufficiently warm to be agreeable, while the gentle murmur of the rapids and of the fall, at no great distance, soon lulled our party to repose.  How long we had slumbered we knew not, when we were aroused by a rushing wind.  It bent the poles supporting the awning, snapped them, and, another gust succeeding, tent and blanket were carried away on the blast down the stream.  The moonlight was gone, but a flash of lightning showed them sailing away like a spectre in the distance.