“I too shall be glad to see Stadacona,” he said, “the mighty rock that once belonged to a nation of the Hodenosaunee, the Mohawks, the Keepers of the Eastern Gate.”

“It is the French who have pressed upon you and who have driven you from some of your old homes, but it is the English who have respected all your rights,” said Robert, not wishing Tayoga to forget who were the friends of the Hodenosaunee.

“It is so,” said the Onondaga.

Taking full advantage of the current, and sparing the paddles as much as they could, they went down the stream, which was not bare of life.  They saw two great canoes, each containing a dozen Indians, who looked curiously at them, but who showed no hostility.

“It’s likely they take us for French,” said Willet.  “Of what tribe are these men, Tayoga?”

“I cannot tell precisely,” replied the Onondaga, “but they belong to the wild tribes that live in the regions north of the Great Lakes.  They bring furs either to Montreal or Quebec, and they will carry back blankets and beads and guns and ammunition.  Above the Great Lakes and running on, no man knows how far, are many other vast lakes.  It is said that some in the distant north are as large as Erie or Ontario or larger, but I cannot vouch for it, as we warriors of the Hodenosaunee have never been there, hearing the tales from warriors of other tribes that have come down to trade.”

“It’s true, Tayoga,” said Willet.  “I’ve roamed north of the Great Lakes myself, and I’ve met Indians of the tribes called Cree and Assiniboine, and they’ve told me about those lakes, worlds and worlds of ’em, and some of ’em so big that you can paddle days without reaching the end.  I suppose there are chains and chains of lakes running up and down a hollow in the middle of this continent of ours, though it’s only a guess of mine about the middle.  Nobody knows how far it is across from sea to sea.”

“We better go in closer to the shore,” said Tayoga.  “A wind is coming and on so big a river big waves will rise.”

“That’s so, Tayoga,” said Willet.  “A little bark canoe like ours wasn’t made to fight with billows.”

They paddled near to the southern shore, and, being protected by the high banks, the chief force of the wind passed over their heads.  In the center of the stream the water rose in long combers like those of the sea, and a distant boat with oarsmen rocked violently.

“Hugging the land will be good for us until the wind passes,” said Willet.  “Suppose we draw in among those bushes growing in the edge of the water and stop entirely.”

“A good idea,” said Robert, who did not relish a swamping of the canoe in the cold St. Lawrence.

A few strokes of the paddle and they were in the haven, but the three still watched the distant boat, which seemed to be of large size, and which still kept in the middle of the stream.

“It has a mast and can carry a sail when it wishes,” said Willet, after a long examination.