Indians, too, had lagged behind; but, within a week, all had arrived, the navigation was once more free, and they resumed their course.  Toward evening, they saw on their right the mouth of a great river; and the clear current was invaded by the headlong torrent of the Missouri, opaque with mud.  They built their camp-fires in the neighboring forests; and at daylight, embarking anew on the dark and mighty stream, drifted swiftly down toward unknown destinies.  They passed a deserted town of the Tamaroas; saw, three days after, the mouth of the Ohio; and, gliding by the wastes of bordering swamp, landed on the twenty-fourth of February near the Third Chickasaw Bluffs.  They encamped, and the hunters went out for game.  All returned, excepting Pierre Prudhomme; and, as the others had seen fresh tracks of Indians, La Salle feared that he was killed.  While some of his followers built a small stockade fort on a high bluff by the river, others ranged the woods in pursuit of the missing hunter.  After six days of ceaseless and fruitless search, they met two Chickasaw Indians in the forest; and, through them, La Salle sent presents and peace-messages to that warlike people, whose villages were a few days’ journey distant.  Several days later, Prudhomme was found, and brought in to the camp, half-dead.  He had lost his way while hunting; and, to console him for his woes, La Salle christened the newly-built fort with his name, and left him, with a few others, in charge of it.

Again they embarked; and, with every stage of their adventurous progress, the mystery of this vast New World was more and more unveiled.  More and more they entered the realms of spring.  The hazy sunlight, the warm and drowsy air, the tender foliage, the opening flowers, betokened the reviving life of Nature.  For several days more they followed the writhings of the great river, on its tortuous course through wastes of swamp and canebrake, till on the thirteenth of March they found themselves wrapt in a thick fog.  Neither shore was visible; but they heard on the right the booming of an Indian drum and the shrill outcries of the war-dance.  La Salle at once crossed to the opposite side, where, in less than an hour, his men threw up a rude fort of felled trees.  Meanwhile, the fog cleared; and, from the farther bank, the astonished Indians saw the strange visitors at their work.  Some of the French advanced to the edge of the water, and beckoned them to come over.  Several of them approached, in a wooden canoe, to within the distance of a gun-shot.  La Salle displayed the calumet, and sent a Frenchman to meet them.  He was well received; and, the friendly mood of the Indians being now apparent, the whole party crossed the river.

On landing, they found themselves at a town of the Kappa band of the Arkansas, a people dwelling near the mouth of the river which bears their name.  “The whole village,” writes Membre to his superior, “came down to the shore to meet us, except the women, who had run off.  I cannot tell you the civility and kindness we received from these barbarians, who brought us poles to make huts, supplied us with firewood during the three days we were among them, and took turns in feasting us.  We did not lose the value of a pin while we were among them.” ...