My father, my father, this spring Monsieur de La Mothe sent us word that he barred the great river [to us], that he set a barrier there as high as the trees, that no one might make use of this way to come down here. But I said, why does Monsieur de La Motile block up this way against me? Is it not the way by which I go to see my father? What have I to fear since I obey him? And I passed through his barrier. I remembered, it is true, that this way had formerly been filled with ("ferdoches") and with weeds, and that through the wrong that I had done.
Fathers, after the insinuations of the commandant of Detroit, I accepted your invitation with distrust, and measured my route with trembling feet toward this 'Council of Fire.' Your reception proves his falsehood, and that my fears were groundless. Truth and him have been a long time enemies.
