They built a large wigwam, within which they placed a small moose-skin tent for the use of the priest. At nightfall the whole village assembled in the wigwam. Several fires had been kindled near the tent, and their flames lighted up the expectant faces of this strange assemblage. The priest entered the tent, and as the skins fell over him many voices were heard. Some were barking like dogs, some howled like wolves, and others sobbed as if in pain. After a time these frightful sounds died away, and a perfect silence followed. Then a voice not heard before seemed to show the arrival of a new character in the tent. Henry describes this as “a low feeble voice, resembling the cry of a young puppy.” When it was heard the Indians clapped their hands for joy, for now the chief spirit, the “Turtle,” the spirit that never lied, had come to them. The others had been evil and lying voices. For half an hour sounds of conversation were heard from the tent, and then the priest spoke, saying that the “Great Turtle” was come and would answer such questions as should be asked. The chief of the village desired the priest to inquire whether the English were preparing to make war on the Indians, and whether there were at Fort Niagara large numbers of English troops. When the priest put these questions the tent began to shake violently, and soon a voice announced that the “Turtle” had departed. A quarter of an hour elapsed in silence, and then the voice of the “Turtle” was heard again. After it had talked for some time in a language unintelligible to the audience, the priest gave an interpretation of what it had said. The spirit had, during its short absence, crossed Lake Huron, been to Fort Niagara, and thence to Montreal. At Fort Niagara he had seen no great number of soldiers, but on the St. Lawrence he had found the river covered with boats, and the boats filled with soldiers, “in number like the leaves of the trees,” and these were coming to make war on the Indians. The chief had a third question to ask, and the spirit, “without a fresh journey to Niagara,” gave an immediate and most satisfactory answer. “If,” said the chief, “the Indians visit Sir William Johnson, will they be received as friends?” “Sir William Johnson,” said the spirit, “will fill their canoes with presents; with blankets, kettles, guns, gunpowder and shot, and large barrels of rum, such as the stoutest of the Indians will not be able to lift; and every man will return in safety to his family.” “At this,” writes Henry, “the transport was universal; and amid the clapping of hands, a hundred voices exclaimed, ‘I will go, too! I will go, too!’”