But the _Griffin_ came not back to the waiting party. Nor was her fate ever known; whether she was lost by stress of storm, by Indian attack, or (as La Salle always thought) by treachery of her pilot. Longer delay, however, was impossible: and so, after sending back two of his men to Michilimackinac, and to pilot her, if she still existed, to the Miami fort, his party, numbering 33 in all, was re-embarked, 3rd December, 1679, on the St. Joseph, keeping a sharp lookout along the right-hand shore for the path or portage leading to the headwaters of the Illinois river. This, owing to the absence of the Mohegan hunter, they missed, and La Salle went on shore to look it up, lost his way, and passed a dismal night in a thick snowstorm. Meantime Tonti and Hennepin, growing uneasy, also landed, ordered guns to be fired, and sent out men to find their lost commander, if possible. He was found near morning, and, with the aid of the Mohegan, who had returned, the portage was also found and La Salle, excessively fatigued, turned in, with Hennepin, for a little rest in a wigwam which was covered with mats made of reeds. During the night the cold forced them to kindle a fire, from which the mats caught ablaze, so that before daybreak they were turned out into the cold again, having barely escaped being burned with their shelter. In the morning, shouldering their canoes, they started across the portage to the headwaters of the Illinois—distant some five miles. As the party filed along on their way, a disgruntled man, who walked behind La Salle, raised his gun to shoot him in the back, but was prevented by a companion. Reaching the Kankakee, one of the sources of the Illinois, they floated their canoes on its thin and sluggish stream; and passing through wide areas of swamps, and prairies, glided along at the base of “Starved Rock” near the great town of the Illinois, and on New Year’s Day, 1680, reached the head of the Illinois river, where they landed, and Father Hennepin celebrated the Mass. Four days later they had reached the long expansion—the river now called Peoria Lake, and near its southern end they came upon a large camp of Indians, who received them at first with surprise and enmity. But La Salle and his men leaped ashore, and by his bravery and knowledge of Indian character quelled their fears, so that Frenchmen and Indians were soon seated together at a feast such as the former had not for some time seen. The calumet of peace was exchanged and La Salle explained to his hosts his object and his wish for peace, so that they all retired to sleep in amity. In the morning, however, La Salle found that he was regarded with distrust, and soon learned that Indian emissaries from another tribe had been tampering, over-night, with his hosts—who now appeared quite indisposed to friendship. He saw, in this sudden change of front, the hand of the Jesuits, and when, at a second feast, tendered by one of the chiefs, he was urged to desist from