seventeen years ago. I am a Frenchman and I wish to die a Frenchman; and I now repeat to you that you and I are one; that it is for both our interests that I should be avenged. Let me alone; I do not ask you for aid, for it is not in your power to give it. I only ask provisions for myself and men. Yet, if you are inclined to assist me, I shall not refuse you. It would please me, and you yourselves would be sooner rid of your troubles; for I promise you that as soon as the English are driven out, we will go back to our villages, and there await the arrival of our French Father. You have heard what I have to say; remain at peace and I will watch that no harm shall be done to you, either by my men or by the other Indians."

Pontiac immediately took measures to prevent a continuance of the outrages, of which the Canadians complained. He also adopted a new policy in procuring supplies for his army. He visited the Canadian inhabitants personally, and, after inquiring into their financial conditions, informed each of the amount he would be required to donate. Without a single exception, the taxes so levied were paid to the Ottawa chief's collectors, and by them carried to the Ottawa village at Parent's Creek. Pontiac, being compelled to repeat his demands for provisions, and wishing not to offend the French, adopted a singular mode of paying them. He issued promissory notes, drawn upon birch bark, and signed with the figure of the otter, the totem to which he belonged. It should be mentioned here, to the credit of Pontiac, that these notes were all faithfully redeemed.

CHAPTER VII.

THE SIEGE OF DETROIT-FATE OF CUYLER'S DETACHMENT

on.

BRAVERY

OF THE WYANDOTS INDIAN CAROUSE - MASSACRE AND MURDER — HORRIBLE FATE OF THE WESTERN OUTPOSTS-FALL OF SANDUSKY, PRESQUE ISLE, ETC.-THE FORESTS GROWING BLACK WITH INDIAN WARRIORS.

WHILE Detroit was thus harassed and besieged, a strong detachment was advancing up the lake with general supplies for the western outposts. The garrison, being aware of its approach, was filled with anxiety for its welfare. Time passed Matters at Detroit continued to grow more alarming to the garrison every day. The warriors renewed the attack daily, and seemed to become more confident of success with every assault. Pontiac had sent messengers to M. Neyon, commandant at the Illinois, earnestly requesting that a force of regular troops be sent to his assistance. Gladwyn, on his part, had ordered one of the vessels to proceed down the lake to meet the approaching convoy. The schooner set sail, but was

becalmed at the entrance to Lake Erie, where she was compelled to lay for some time. While in this unfortunate situation a "multitude of canoes suddenly darted out upon her from the neighboring shores." In the prow of the foremost canoe sat Capt. Campbell, whom the Indians had placed there for the purpose of securing themselves against the fire of the English. But the resolute Captain called out to the crew to do their duty without regard to him. At this moment a stiff breeze swept down the river, and the schooner sped on her course, leaving the disappointed warriors far behind.

Matters continued at the fort without important change until the thirtieth of May, when at an early hour the garrison espied the long-expected convoy advancing slowly up the river. The

garrison broke into three hearty cheers, for now, it would seem, their sufferings were at an end. A cannon "sent its loud voice of defiance to the enemy and welcome to the approaching friends." But alas! the joyous faces of the soldiers and officers grew deathly pale. Upon careful examination, the boats were found to be full of savages. The convoy had fallen into the hands of the enemy. The boats and supplies had been taken, and the soldiers of the detachment slaughtered or made captives.

Eighteen boats were now approaching, and in each were two or more of the captured soldiers, acting as oarsmen, and guarded by several armed savages. Hundreds of warriors were also

following the boats along the shore. In the foremost boat, it so happened that there were four soldiers and only three Indians. In the river, just opposite the fort, lay one of the British schooners, already mentioned, her companion having gone down the lake to hasten this very reinforcement. As the boat

came near to this vessel, one of the soldiers seized the largest Indian and threw him overboard. The Indian held fast to his enemy's clothes, and, drawing himself up, stabbed him several times with his knife. The bleeding soldier gave way and was dragged overboard by the Indian. They were both borne swiftly down on the current of the river, and perished grappled in each other's arms. The two remaining Indians leaped out of the boat, and the prisoners seized the paddles and pulled vigorously towards the schooner. The savages on the shore fired upon them, and several canoes were paddled swiftly in pursuit. The soldiers were struggling for life. They called aloud for aid, and strained every nerve to gain the vessel; but their pursuers were gaining rapidly upon them. In another moment one of the men was wounded. He dropped his paddle, falling to the bottom of the boat. Their chances of escape were now lessened, but they struggled on. As the savages were almost upon them, the report of a cannon burst from the side of the vessel, and the ball, passing close to the foremost canoe, cut the water into a line of foam. Being thus greeted the savages turned back in dismay. The prisoners soon reached the vessel,

and were greeted with rounds of hearty cheers. The other boats passed slowly up the river towards the Ottawa village.

The soldiers who had thus escaped, now related the adventures and sufferings of their detachment. The following is their story, as told in the "History of the Conspiracy of Pontiac:" Lieut. Cuyler had left Fort Niagara as early as the thirteenth of May, and embarked from Fort Schlosser, just above the falls, with ninety-six men and a plentiful supply of provisions and ammunition. Day after day he had coasted along the northern shore of Lake Erie, and had seen neither friend nor foe amid those lonely forests and waters, when, on the twenty-eighth of the month, he landed at Point Peleé, not far from the mouth of the River Detroit. The boats were drawn on the beach, and the party prepared to encamp. A man and a boy went to gather firewood at a short distance from the spot, when an Indian leaped out of the woods, seized the boy by the hair and tomahawked him. The man ran into camp with the alarm. Cuyler immediately formed his soldiers into a semi-circle before the boats. He had scarcely done so when the Indians opened their fire. For an instant there was a hot blaze of musketry on both sides. Then the Indians broke out of the woods in a body, and rushed fiercely upon the centre of the line, which gave way in every part, the men flinging down their guns, running in a blind panic to the boats, and struggling with ill-directed efforts to shove them into the water. Five were set afloat, and pushed off from the shore, crowded with the terrified soldiers."

Lieut. Cuyler, being thus deserted by his men, waded up to his neck in the water and climbed into one of the retreating boats. The savages pushed two more afloat, and went in pursuit of the soldiers, three boat loads of whom gave themselves up without resistance; but the remaining two, in one of which was Cuyler himself, made their escape. "They rowed all night and landed in the morning upon a small island. Between thirty and forty men, some of whom were wounded, were crowded into these two boats; the rest, about sixty in number being killed or taken. Cuyler now made for Sandusky, which, on his arrival, he found burned to the ground. Immediately

leaving the spot, he rowed along the south shore to Presque Isle, from whence he proceeded to Niagara and reported his loss to Major Wilkins, the commanding officer."

But let us return to Detroit and to the Indian villages in its vicinity. The Indians who had thus interrupted the convoy and slaughtered or captured the soldiers, were the Wyandots. Among the supplies which they had captured was a large quantity of liquor, which they seized and carried to their villages, which, throughout the following night, presented a beastly scene of drunkenness. What shall we say of the fate of the unfortunate soldiers taken prisoners in this affair? They met their death during the drunken carouse on that same night. But it was more than death-more than torture. Thankful, indeed, were the three escaped soldiers-even he who was suffering from a severe wound-when, during that dark and gloomy night, while secure within the desolate fort, the moans of their dying comrades were borne to their ears on the breeze, from the distant camp-fires of the Wyandots. Not one was spared. No white man witnessed their fate; but, on the following day, as the mangled corpses floated down on the clear waters of the Detroit, one after another, the horrified garrison beheld awful evidences of savage cruelty. In the ghastly train were many charred trunks, the result of the slow fires of death. There was but little time to reflect on this horrible massacre, for with the next day came the news of another—the fate of the garrison of Sandusky. Thus it will be seen, while that part of the work which Pontiac had intrusted to his warriors in neighboring villages was going forward with intoxicating success, he himself was, as yet, unable to capture Detroit, although assisted by his bravest warriors. The massacre at Sandusky was full of horror. Ensign Paully, commandant at this fort, was informed, on a certain day, that several warriors were waiting at the gate to speak with him. Most of them being well known to him, he gave orders to admit them. The Indians passed in, and, arriving at his quarters, they seized, disarmed and bound him. The next moment he heard the work of massacre without. Shrieks, yells, the firing of guns, and the hurried tramp of feet fell ominously upon his ears. A