A fur trader named Joliet, and five other men, went with the priest. They traveled in canoes made of birch bark. On they went, and still on. Many days passed by. No Indians were seen as yet. At last, they saw huts along the shore. These must be the homes of the Red Men. In another minute they heard cries of welcome. The Indians came hurrying to meet their visitors. They had heard of the good Marquette from their friends to the eastward. They asked him to stay with them. They begged him to go no farther or he would surely come to harm. They repeated the stories he had already heard,—the stories of fierce Red Men and of wicked demons which would destroy him. Still Marquette did not fear. He must not stop yet. He and Joliet started out once more. They traveled for many days before they reached the great Father of Waters. At last it met their eyes. How different it was from the river on which they had been traveling! The waters rushed along, making a mighty noise. It was a wonder their little canoe could be kept upright. The travelers now saw a path leading down to the shore. It must be an Indian trail. They left the canoe and followed the trail. They came to an Indian village. Its people were afraid of the white men and ran to hide behind the trees. Some of their chiefs were braver than the others and came out to meet Marquette. They held out the pipe of peace to him and his friend. When the white men had smoked it and handed it back, they knew there was nothing to fear. When the good priest asked about the great river, the Indians told the same old story he had heard so many times before. "You must go no farther. There are very bad Red Men and many frightful monsters to the southward. They will kill you and eat you if you go among them." Marquette and Joliet paid no heed to these words. Before they went on their journey, however, they sat down to a great feast which the women had prepared for them. A dish of mush came first. The Indians fed it to the white men with big wooden spoons. Broiled fish came next, but before it was offered to the visitors the bones were carefully taken out. After this a roasted dog was proudly set before them. It was a great dainty to the Red Men, but Marquette and Joliet would not taste it. "It is very queer," thought the Indians. They could not understand how anyone should refuse to eat roast dog. As soon as the feast was over, Marquette asked the Great Spirit to bless these kind Indians. Then he bade them good-bye and paddled away in his canoe. The river grew wider and wider. Herds of buffaloes were feeding along its shores. Some of them stopped feeding long enough to look at the two white men as they paddled past them.