On the south bank of the river Illinois, a mile or more above the plain where lay the deserted village of the Kaskaskias, a great rock rose sheer from the water to a height of over a hundred feet. Three sides of the rock were like the walls of a medi?val castle. At the fourth side by a rugged pathway one might climb laboriously from behind to the level top where oaks and cedars grew.

In the month of January, 1683, this rock was the scene of busy doings. On the scant acre of ground upon its summit, Frenchmen had felled trees and were building cabins and storehouses and palisaded walls and erecting a fortification about the whole area. Up the steep pathway other Frenchmen and stalwart Indians were dragging timbers to aid in the construction of fort and dwellings. Moving here and there among the men was the dominant figure of La Salle; and yonder were the iron-handed Tonty and his friend Boisrondet. Many of the Frenchmen had been with La Salle on his trip to the Gulf the year before; and the busy Indians were his faithful band of Mohegans and Abenakis.

La Salle had reached Mackinac after his arduous trip to the sea, with little strength left, but with many plans for the future. He had explored the river to the mouth. It now remained for him to make use of the Great Valley. His enemies, the rich merchants of Quebec and Montreal, had become so bitter in their opposition to him that he knew it would be difficult to carry out his plans from Canada as a base. And so he determined to cut loose as soon as possible from the valley of the St. Lawrence and bring his supplies and men by sea from France to the mouth of the Mississippi, thence up the river to the trading-posts which he would found among the tribes along its banks.

Such was the vision that rose before La Salle day and night—a vision of the long river valley held together by a chain of forts and depots for the fur trade, of friendly Indians coming with their canoes laden with furs to exchange with the French for merchandise, of French settlements growing up in the wilderness, of a great post at the mouth of the river, and of swift-sailing ships plying between the Gulf and far-away France.

But to bring this vision to reality La Salle must first repopulate the Illinois Valley and unite the Indian tribes of that region to repel the bands of Iroquois who threatened again to invade the valley of the Great River. So he sent Tonty out from Mackinac, in the fall of 1682, to begin a fort around which they might gather a colony of the far-scattered tribes. Not long afterward, La Salle, hearing fresh rumors of an Iroquois invasion, sent Father Membré on to Canada and France to report the exploration of the Mississippi, and then joined Tonty on the Illinois River.

Many times in their journeyings up and down the Illinois, La Salle and Tonty had noted the high rock rising from the riverside near the Kaskaskia village. What a rallying-point this would make for the scattered people! La Salle was well content to build here his wilderness fort; and without waiting for winter to loosen its icy grip upon the land he put his men, red-skinned and white, at work.

They were many weeks building the citadel upon the rock; and when, toward spring, it was finished, La Salle and Tonty looked out upon the country roundabout with a feeling of great security. In the river below them was a small island, and here they prepared to plant their crops. It was within gunshot of the fort, from which a raking fire could prevent any enemy from landing and attacking the men while at work in the fields. Four heavy pieces of timber were placed so as to project over the edge of the rock, and from these, in case of need, water could be drawn straight up from the clear current of the Illinois River.

The fortress completed, there remained the gathering of the tribes. On a day in March, 1683, Tonty climbed down the rugged pathway and set out across the prairies to visit the Indian tribes. Nearly a hundred leagues he trailed from village to village. In the lodges of the Shawnees he told of the return of La Salle to the Illinois Valley and reminded them of their promise to come and join him.

He visited the Miamis and talked of the Iroquois who had killed so many of their braves. Even now rumors of another invasion were in the air. But if the Miamis would come out to the colony of the French they need have no fear, for Ouabicolcata had come again into the valley of the Illinois and on the bank of the river had built a strong fort to guard his brothers the Miamis.

It was many leagues toward the setting sun that Tonty traveled before he found the tribes of the Illinois. But one day he walked into the camp of his old-time companions and seated himself upon their mats. With great joy they received him and gave into his left hand the calumet of peace and feasted him as they had done three years before in their ancient home.

They were wondering, perhaps, if the ice were now breaking up in the river beside the forsaken village and if the snow were melting down to nourish the white-oak trees on the opposite shore. They saw the whole river again as they listened to the words of the Man with the Iron Hand. Well did they know every bend in its course. And what Indian could forget that great pile of rock on the south side of the river a half-league above their old town? Every crevice and seam in its weather-worn sides came back to them. They saw in their minds the ravine on the eastern side where a little brook ran down to the river. They saw again the rugged path that led to the summit; and they tried to picture Frenchmen climbing to the heights where the fort of La Salle now stood. It was a fort to guard them from the Iroquois, said Tonty, if only they would come back and settle in their old haunts. Nor was it difficult to persuade them. La Salle was their father, they said. Only a year ago he had visited them, told them of his plans, and urged them to forgive the Miamis and join with them against the common foe.

Their fear of the Iroquois called them; their love for their father La Salle and their brother Tonty and for the gifts these men brought called them; and perhaps, not least of all, the old village where they had wooed and married their Indian women, where they had brought home scalps and captives, where they had entertained their friends and buried their dead—their home of other days—called them. Yes, they would come back to the river of the Illinois and raise new lodge-pole............