Somewhere off to the east the Mississippi River was running down through the Great Valley to the sea; and La Salle’s determination to find it deepened with his discouragements. But first they must make the location near the sea habitable as a supply station for further exploration. To that end a rude fort had been erected near where they had landed, and Joutel with part of the company had been left in charge while La Salle explored the neighborhood. Soon he came upon a site a little farther up the river which seemed more suitable for a permanent fort; and so he sent back word to Joutel to square timbers ready for the new building and join him later at this upper location.

In these widespread sandy plains of the Southland there was no high rock like that of Fort St. Louis on the Illinois. But there was a rising hill near the river, and here with his own hands La Salle laid the outline of the fort and directed its construction. The new fort took rapid shape; and La Salle, after his favorite saint, called it Fort St. Louis, and he named the inlet where they landed the Bay of St. Louis.

Out of squared timbers the men built a large dwelling and divided it into apartments. Around this they built a palisade, and set up the eight precious cannon. It was a pleasant location. The river bathed the foot of the hill on the north and northeast and ran on down to the bay. Across the river was a marshy tract where birds innumerable sang in their season. To the west and southwest, crossed and recrossed by herds of shaggy buffalo, the plains stretched as far as the eye could reach.

Here and there were little groups of trees, including many which remained green the whole year through. From a distance these bits of foliage gave to the lonely colonists the pleasing picture of the groves about country homes in far-away France. In their imaginings they seemed to see the country peopled by white settlers instead of the Indians who prowled about the new settlement and sometimes fell upon their wandering hunters.

The colony had grown steadily smaller: during the summer more than thirty had died of sickness; some had been killed by the Indians; and a few had deserted. Among the sick was the Abbé Cavelier. La Salle, consumed with the desire to hunt for his lost river, only waited for his brother to recover sufficiently to go with him. By fall the priest was well, the fort was established, and La Salle made ready to go. But before he departed he called Joutel aside and gave him charge of the colony, with careful instructions not to receive any of the exploring party if they should come back unless they brought a letter from La Salle himself containing the password: “In the name of the very blessed Trinity.” Then as October of 1685 drew to a close, La Salle, with his brother and a goodly number of men, amid the firing of cannon, set out along the bay with all of the canoes and the bark La Belle to seek what they might find to the eastward.

Joutel, who had been left with thirty-four persons,—men, women, and children,—kept them all busy. Some he sent out as hunters and others he put to carrying wood and completing their dwellings and storehouses. Now and then Indians were seen, but they did not come near the fort. For their better protection Joutel divided the night into watches and with great care posted sentinels—a duty which even the women shared. Weeks passed and the new year came upon them; and still La Salle had not returned.

One evening in the middle of January the men and women, in from their work, were gathered within the palisaded house on the hill, when suddenly the sentinel cried out to them that he heard a voice calling from the river. In great haste the men ran out of the house and down to the shore. Out on the water they could see the outlines of a canoe and in it one lone man, who called out at the twinkling lights of the settlement, “Dominick!”

Dominick was the younger of the Duhaut brothers; and as the voyager neared the shore the men from the fort saw that he was the elder Duhaut who had set out with La Salle nearly three months before. Now he was returning alone, and so Joutel questioned him closely. Had he a letter from La Salle? No. Joutel pondered. “Let no one come back to the fort unless he brings a letter from me with the password in it,” La Salle had said in parting. Should he turn Duhaut away again into the wilderness, or should he throw him into irons until the return of the leader? It was a puzzling predicament which confronted Joutel; but at least he might listen to the man’s story. When Duhaut had finally told of his adventures, the good-hearted Joutel saw nothing wrong in taking him in again as a member of the garrison.

La Salle, so said Duhaut, had coasted along the shore with canoes and the Belle for many days. Once he sent out a party of six to reconnoiter the land. They did not return, and later a search party found their dead bodies along the shore where Indians had massacred them. La Salle was discouraged but not completely disheartened. Gathering meat on shore and drying it for preservation, he loaded it with other provisions on board the Belle, and ordered a portion of his men to stay on the ship and remain out in the bay until his return. Then with twenty men he went ashore, sunk his canoes, and trailed inland—still hoping to come upon the Great River.

The elder Duhaut was one of this exploring party, as was also Moranget, who had orders from La Salle to bring up the rear. Now it so happened that Duhaut’s knapsack and shoes were in bad condition and he stopped to mend them. Moranget, coming up, urged him to move on; and Duhaut in turn asked Moranget to wait for him. Moranget, howeve............