After a treacherous calm of some six months' duration, the unhappy Hurons again relapsed into a fatal security; the terrible lessons of the past were forgotten in the apparent tranquillity of the present. Watch and ward were relaxed, and again they lay at the mercy of their ruthless enemies. When least expected, 1000 Iroquois warriors started up from the thick coverts of a neighboring forest, and fell fiercely upon the defenseless Hurons, burned two of their villages, exterminated the inhabitants, and put two French missionaries to death with horrible tortures. Then the remnant of the defeated tribe despaired; the alliance of the French had only embittered the hostility of their enemies without affording protection; therefore they arose and deserted their villages and hunting grounds, wandering away, some into the northern forests, others as suppliants among neighboring nations. The greater body of the Hurons, however, attached themselves to the fortunes of the missionaries, and under them formed a settlement on the island of St. Joseph, but they neglected to cultivate the land. As the autumn advanced, the resources of the chase became exhausted, and the horrors of famine commenced. They were shortly reduced to the most dreadful extremities of suffering; every direst expedient that starvation could prompt and despair execute was resorted to for a few days' prolonging of life. Then came the scourge of contagious fever, sweeping numbers away with desolating fury. While these terrible calamities raged among the Hurons, the Iroquois seized the opportunity of again invading them. The village of St. John, containing nearly 3000 souls, was the first point of attack. The feeble inhabitants offered no resistance, and, with their missionary, were totally destroyed. Most of the remnant of this unhappy tribe then took the resolution of presenting themselves to their conquerors, and were received into the Iroquois nation. The few who still remained wandering in the forests were hunted down like wolves, and soon exterminated. The terror of the Iroquois name now spread rapidly along the shores of the great lakes and rivers of the north. The fertile banks of the Ottawa, once the dwelling-place of numerous and powerful tribes, became suddenly deserted, and no one could tell whither the inhabitants had fled. About this time was introduced among the Montagnez, and the other tribes of the Saguenay country, an evil more destructive than even the tomahawk of the Iroquois--the "accursed fire-water;" despite the most earnest efforts of the governor, the fur traders at Tadoussac supplied the Indians with this fatal luxury. In a short time, intoxication and its dreadful consequences became so frequent, that the native chiefs prayed the governor to imprison all drunkards. At Three Rivers, however, the wise precautions of the authorities preserved the infant settlement from this monstrous calamity.