By noon of that day we considered ourselves to be out of the region of danger.  Still, caution was deemed necessary, and when at the mid-day pipe the boat was pushed ashore under a beautiful overhanging bank, crowned with a thick wood, the usual vigilance was somewhat relaxed, and the young people, under the escort of Arthur and Mata, were permitted to roam about a little, in the vicinity of the boat.

They soon came back, with the report that the woods were “alive with pigeons,”—­they could almost knock them down with sticks; and earnestly did they plead to be allowed to shoot at least enough for supper.  But no—­the enemy might be nearer than we imagined—­the firing of a gun would betray our whereabouts—­it was most prudent to give no notice to friend or foe.  So, very reluctantly, they were compelled to return to the boat without their game.

The next morning brought us to Powell’s, at the Butte des Morts.  Sad were the faces of the poor Frenchmen at learning that not a loaf of bread was to be had.  Our own store, too, was by this time quite exhausted.  The only substitute we could obtain was a bag of dark looking, bitter flour.  With this provision for our whole party, we were forced to be contented, and we left the Hillock of the Dead, feeling that it had been indeed the grave of our hopes.

By dint of good rowing, our crew soon brought us to the spot where the river enters that beautiful sheet of water, Winnebago Lake.  Though there was but little wind when we reached the lake, the Frenchmen hoisted their sail, in hopes to save themselves the labor of rowing across; but in vain did they whistle, with all the force of their lungs—­in vain did they supplicate La Vierge, with a comical mixture of fun and reverence.  As a last resource, it was at length suggested by some one that their only chance lay in propitiating the goddess of the winds with an offering of some cast-off garment.

Application was made all round by Guardapie, the chief spokesman of the crew.  Alas! not one of the poor voyageurs could boast a spare article.  A few old rags were at length rummaged out of the little receptacle of food, clothing, and dirt in the bow of the boat, and cast into the waves For a moment all flattered themselves that the experiment had been successful—­the sail fluttered, swelled a little, and then flapped idly down against the mast.  The party were in despair, until, after a whispered consultation together, Julian and Edwin stepped forward as messengers of mercy.  In a trice they divested themselves of jacket and vest and made a proffer of their next garment to aid in raising the wind.