The little party went upon their way; the persuasions of their simple-hearted friends could not prevail, for the path of duty was before them, and the eye of God above. Having passed through Green Bay, and painfully dragged their canoes over the rapids of Fox river, they reached a considerable village, inhabited by the united tribes of Kickapoos, Miamis, and Mascoutimes. Here they halted for a time, as the mariner, about to prove the dangers of a long voyage, lingers for a day in the last port he is likely to enter for many months. Beyond this point no white man had ever gone; and here, if anywhere, the impulses of a natural fear should have made themselves felt. But we hear of no hesitation, no shrinking from the perilous task; and we know from the unpretending "Journal" of the good father, that a retreat, nay, even a halt--longer than was necessary to recruit exhausted strength, and renew the memory of former lessons among the natives--was never thought of. "My companion," said Marquette, referring to Joliet, "is an envoy from the king of France, and I am an humble minister of God. I have no fear, _because I shall consider it the highest happiness to die in the service of my master!_" There was no bravado in this, for, unlike many from whom you may, any day, hear the same declaration, he set forth immediately to encounter the perils of his embassy. The Indians, unable to prevail with him to abandon the enterprise, made all their simple provision for his comfort; and, furnishing him with guides and carriers across the portage to the Wisconsin river, parted with him as one bound for eternity. Having brought them safely to the river, the guides left them "alone in that unknown country, in the hand of God;" and, trusting to the protection of that hand, they set out upon their journey down the stream.[62] Seven days after, "with inexpressible joy," they emerged upon the bosom of the great river. During all this time they had seen no human being, though, probably, many a wandering savage had watched them from the covert of the bank, as they floated silently between the forests. It was an unbroken solitude, where the ripple of their paddles sounded loudly on the ear, and their voices, subdued by the stillness, were sent back in lonely echoes from the shore. They were the first white men who ever floated on the bosom of that mighty river[63]--"the envoy from the king of France, and the embassador of the King of kings." What were their thoughts we know not, but from Marquette's simple "Journal;" for, in returning to Quebec, Joliet's boat was wrecked in sight of the city, and all his papers lost.[64] Of the Sieur himself, we know nothing, save as the companion of Marquette on this voyage; but from this alone his fame is imperishable.