In a group apart stood Jacques Le Ber, Le Moyne de Longueuil, La Chesnaye, de Niverville and Aubert de Gaspé. Some of these men had been the Governor’s most resolute antagonists during his first term of office, and were not at all sure of the ground upon which they were treading or the turn which affairs were likely to take. Now ensued a striking scene, an essential preliminary to the treaty which the Governor-General hoped to conclude with the Indians. Few white men have ever surpassed the Count in skill in dealing with the aborigines. Those who had succeeded to his position after his recall to France had utterly failed in this direction. The only hope of maintaining this little settlement planted in the wilderness was in inducing the other Indian tribes to unite in a determined resistance to the encroachments of the Iroquois. He now listened to their orators with gravest attention, as though weighing every word that was uttered. When, in his turn, he addressed them with an air of mingled kindness, firmness and condescension that inspired them with respect, their expressions of approval came at every pause in his address. Then with the same ceremonious grace with which he might have bowed before Louis the Magnificent, the Governor grasped the hatchet, brandished it skilfully in the air, and in a clear, strong voice, intoned the war-song. To a punctilious courtier the position might have seemed utterly absurd, but Frontenac was a man of the world in the widest sense, and as much at home in a wigwam as in the halls of princes; as a diplomat he retained a clear, logical perception of all the facts of the situation. Many, under such circumstances, would have lost respect by an undignified performance, but the Count’s native tact enabled him to harmonize the most incongruous elements; the faculty of imitativeness, the utter absence of self-consciousness, the determination faithfully to execute a disagreeable duty, served his purpose. Instead of exciting ridicule his achievements delighted the Indians, aroused his friends to enthusiasm, and extorted a reluctant admiration even from the most determined of his opponents. “This poor M. le Gouverneur! he possesses my sincere sympathy. Figure to yourself how these cries and howls, worse indeed than those made by the wild beasts of the forest, must prove trying to the throat,” remarked the Marquise, with a sincere appreciation of the loyalty involved in undergoing so very objectionable an ordeal. The principal officers present followed the example of their chief; indeed, not a little ambition was shown as to who should go through the ceremony with the most perfect accuracy, and some of the younger members of the party, who had become familiar with forest life, displayed much agility and derived apparent enjoyment from the ceremony.