The Indians were well treated by the French explorers, who were kinder than the English and far more hospitable. Champlain was anxious to gather twenty-five hundred of them so as to attack the Iroquois. The redskins promised to collect at Montreal at a stated time, and, believing them, the great-hearted Frenchman traveled to Quebec for needed supplies. When he returned, he found, to his dismay and chagrin, a perfect solitude. The wild concourse of Algonquins, Ottawas, and Hurons had vanished, and nothing remained but the smoke of their fires, the skeleton poles of their tepees and the débris from their feasting. Impatient at the delay in waiting for him, they had set out for their villages. Nothing daunted, but greatly chagrined, Champlain determined to journey up the Ottawa to the land of the Hurons, of whom he had heard much, but had never seen. With two canoes, ten Indians, and two Frenchmen, he therefore pushed up the stream, reached Lake Nipissing, and, hearing that a still larger lake was beyond, pressed onward to the country of the Hurons. The scenery delighted him, for here were deep woods of pine and of cedar, thickets full of brown rabbits and partridges, wild grapes, plums, cherries, crab apples, nuts, and blackberries. The Hurons were soon met with; noble-looking, well-fed savages, who took him to their tents, feasted him on com, pumpkins and fish, and welcomed him as the great hero who was to lead them successfully in battle against their hated enemies, the Iroquois. At length many warriors had gathered, and, with many cries of defiance, they put boldly forth upon the broad bosom of Lake Ontario, crossed it safely, and landed near a bay called Hungry Bay, within the borders of the State of New York. The canoes were hidden in the woods, and the warriors walked single file for ten or twelve miles down the edge of the lake. Then they struck towards the south, and, threading a tortuous way through the forest, were soon deep within the country of the Iroquois: their deadly and hated enemies. It was the month of October, the month of the harvest and the month of crisp, joyous days. The rustling leaves were just turning to gold and to crimson as the warriors crept onward upon their mission of death. On, on, they went, until they had approached a fortified town of the enemy, surrounded by plowed fields, in which were pumpkins and stalks of corn. In advance were some young Huron braves, whose zeal out-weighed their common sense. Seeing some Iroquois at work among their crops, they made a rush upon them, uttering a wild yell as they did so.