Frontier fighters! Frontier fighters! The stirring tales of the men and women who have pushed the frontier of North America ever westward. In the 17th century, France gave to America many great men. Soldiers, statesmen, missionaries, and the great general above all the rest, stands the immortal figure of Sir Robert Chevalier de La Salle. This gentleborn Frenchman's great ambition is zest for exploration and his harshness and quick temper in the face of calamity often got him into predicaments with his associates, his creditors, and the French authorities both in Paris and in Canada. Hard pressed financially, La Salle meets with his former sponsors. The time is early summer of 1681. His twenty minutes late. I promise my wife I'd be home for dinner tonight. So La Salle, you're here at last. About time too. Pardon me for my tardiness. I was detained. What is it this time? Gold again? Yes, Monsieur, gold, much gold, to finance a grand expedition. He wants still more gold, not only for his next expedition, but to pay off his creditors for his last avengerings. You state the case perfectly, Monsieur. La Salle, you won't get a thing away from me. No, me. Monsieur, I implore you. It is for the glory of France. That's what you told us when we financed your silly voyage down the Oire River, to find China. Listen now, you were insane then. You're still insane. China and the Americas. Everyone knows where China lies. Very well. Where lies China? China? China is somewhere south and west. Monsieur, there's your answer. What answer? The answer to all my adventurings in strange places, financed by your gold. When none seem to know where any country lies, I take it upon myself to find it. And what do you bring back to us? Nothing. Monsieur, every hand in the French provinces of Canada is arrayed against me. Every hand, but that belonging to one great noble. Hand, pray tell us. Who is this great noble whose hand is still extended to you in friendship? The governor of his magistral provinces in Canada. Count de Frontenac. To Frontenac, the friend of Joliet, Marquette, and all the others of that deathless band of explorers and trailblazers, went La Salle. Friendless, penniless, hopeless. Here. Yes, Excellency. Must I ask you again for that letter from the king forbidding new land discoveries? I have it here, Excellency. Thank you. I will undoubtedly need it when La Salle arrives. Monsieur Robert, Chevalier de La Salle. I bid you welcome, La Salle. Be seated. Thank you. Monsieur, you appear to have lost your last friend. O'Donnell, bring Bandy. Yes, Excellency. I have lost all my friends but one. And who, La Salle, may I ask, is the lone survivor of your regiment of friends and supporters? You, Excellency. A great honor. Excellency, I stand on the threshold of the greatest venture of my career. Yet I'm a bankrupt. Gold again, eh? Gold, yes. But not so much gold as recognition. With your official approval of my new expedition, I can get gold, plenty of gold. Here, a letter. Yes, Excellency. I have here a letter from the king. I'll read you a portion of it. With regard to new discoveries, you will not address yourself to them accepting in great necessity. Stupid fool. You make no mistake. Our king is not stupid. A bit short-sighted, perhaps. At the moment, Louis XIV is engrossed with other affairs. Women, I'll wager. From one man to another, La Salle, what new adventure is luring you into the wilderness? Gold or no gold, friends or no friends, supporters or no supporters. I intend to sail the entire length of the Great Water. And at its mouth, where it tumbles into the mighty gulf, I will plant the golden lilies of France, and should the need arise, defend them with my life. The Great Water Driven ever onward by that mysterious force which thrusts all great men toward unknown frontiers, La Salle, at the end of August in the year 1681, had raised the funds for provisions and equipment, as well as men-at-arms, geographers, boatmen, hunters, guides, and Indian servants, to share his great adventure. Among the Frenchmen were Chevalier Henri de Tonté, an old and trusted companion of previous expeditions, Father Zenobé, a missionary to look after the spiritual life of La Salle's band, and Dautre, son of the Attorney General of Quebec. Suffering intensely from cold, hunger, and privation, La Salle's party arrived at the mouth of the Illinois February 6, 1682. Detained by more ice in the Mississippi, La Salle remained on its snow-covered banks until February 14, when, the river partially cleared of ice, he resumed his journey southward to the gulf. On March 1, with the wind howling a gale around his shelters on the shore, La Salle hears some distressing news. Monsieur La Salle! Monsieur La Salle! Who asks for La Salle? What is it you desire? Where are you? It is I, Father Zenobé, the Snowflake's blind man. Here, in the willows. Thank heavens I found you. Ah, Father Zenobé, you're Spent Father, what's wrong? Prud'homme, the hunter, he is missing, since yesterday. Do not alarm yourself, Prud'homme, we'll turn up. I fear he's been taken by the savages. What makes you think that? My son, fear being watched, I feel it. That's strange, Father, I have the same feeling. Then you must protect those under your benevolence, is my son. As usual, you're right, Father Zenobé, I must take measures. What measures? I'll start to build a fort at once. A makeshift fort of logs was hastily thrown together, and La Salle's brave band herded inside its rough walls. One of the searching parties found Prud'homme, who had gone after wild turkeys to make broth for a sick Indian child, and had lost his way in the blinding snowstorm. Leaving the warmth and security of the fort, which he named Prud'homme in honor of the hunter, the men of the fort began to search for Prud'homme. In the security of the fort, which he named Prud'homme in honor of the hunter, La Salle continued his voyage down the open channel of the Mississippi. On March 13th, after sailing 133 miles, La Salle's fears of a possible attack by Indians were justified. Monsieur La Salle, monsieur La Salle, rouse yourself. What is it, D'Autre? Thank you, sir, command. Me savages, sir, on the right bank, hark into their war drums. Well, certainly. I see fires, too. The Tondes! The Tondes! Here, the canoe behind you. Come closer. Savages on the right bank. Sir, I hear them. Fires also. Give the signal to beat all the canoes on the left bank. We must prepare for an attack. Aye, monsieur. To the left bank, all canoes. Speak, sir, of the willows. In less than an hour, the explorers had constructed another small log fort in which the entire party huddled, while La Salle and D'Autre watched a canoe carrying three Indians approaching from the opposite side of the river. How soon do you judge the canoe will reach us? In a few moments. Then secure my calumet, pipe of peace. I will offer it to the chief. If he smokes, all goes well. I have your calumet here in my belt. Give it to me. We've reached the canoe. Chief, disembarking. The two paddlers remain with the vessel. Are you composed, D'Autre? Savages are greatly impressed by a serene countenance. My features are composed, but I fear they are frozen not from fear, but from cold. Chief approaches. Let us extend our right hand palm outward. Who is the white chief of the many canoes from the north? Your fearless eyes rest upon him, O Red Chief. Your features tell me not. You bring peace or war? I bring peace. Will you smoke the calumet with me? I will smoke. Quick to taunt the plinths before he changes his mind. Ah. You first, my friend. Now you, my friend, friend of Redman. May the flame of friendship between the white man and the red man never be dimmed. Music Lausalle remained with the Indians three days, replenishing his provisions from those of the Redskins. Native village after village was passed on the southward journey. On April 6th, the Mississippi divided into three branches. Lausalle took the right branch, sending D'Autre on the middle and D'Autre on the left. Six miles further south, the water was salt. Lausalle had conquered again. He had found the mouth of the big water. On April 9th, 1682. The King's Banner, D'Autre? Here it is, Cherebert. Who speaks of banners? I, Lausalle, your commander. But first, the cross of God. The banner, yes. But first, the cross. I plant the cross. The banner can wait. Let us pray. Heavenly Father, bless this land. Make it fruitful. Strengthen those great hosts who will follow us. And let peace reign here until the day of your divine and righteous judgment. Amen. And now, D'Autre, the banner of the Golden Lilies. D'Autre, you wield the mallet. Yes, Cherebert. In the name of His Majesty, I hereby take possession of this mighty river. All the streams which flow into it, and all the territory through which these streams flow. For our great kingdom across the seas, France. And in honor of our great Lord and mighty sovereign, King Louis XIV, I christen this land, Louisiana. Long live the King! Long live the King! It was by this historic act of Lausalle, this intrepid son of France, that his mother country held her rights to her vast new world province. And it is by this act that the United States of America today not only holds the great state of Louisiana, but all territory north of the Texas line and west of the Mississippi River to the Rocky Mountains. Thus, westward the course of empire takes its way, guided by the staunch spirits of frontier fighters. 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