h hatchets and knives. But where
one man was driven back a dozen gained the deck.

The little crew defended themselves desperately; they were surrounded by
brandished tomahawks; their captain had fallen; more than half their
number were cut down. The Indians were raising their shout of triumph.
Then the order of Jacobs, the mate, rang out: "Blow up the ship!" he
said. One Indian understood and gave the alarm to his fellows. With one
accord they threw down hatchets and knives and leaped into the river.
They made haste to reach the shore and left six bloodstained British
sailors to take their boat in triumph to Detroit.

As autumn advanced the Indians grew weary of the long siege. The
prospect of winter with no food, the continued resistance of the
British, and the report that a large force of armed men was coming to
relieve Detroit, discouraged them.

One tribe after another sent delegations to Major Gladwin to sue for
peace. They told smooth stories. They had always loved the English, but
Pontiac had compelled them to go to war. Now they were sorry they had
obeyed him and longed to be at peace with their English brothers.

Gladwin understood their deceit, but as he was in need of winter
supplies, readily granted them a truce. The various tribes broke up
their camps and separated for the long winter hunt.

Pontiac and his Ottawas still held their ground without flinching.
"Surely," thought the proud-hearted chief, "our French father will send
us help before long."

One day, near the close of October, a messenger did come from the
French. The letter he brought was from M. Neyon, the commandant of Fort
Chartres, in the Illinois country. Pontiac had written to him asking for
aid. What had he answered? He had told the truth. He had told Pontiac
that the French in America were now the subjects of the English king,
and so could not fight against his people.

When the great chief heard this he did not put on his war paint and lead
his warriors against the defenseless French who had so long dealt
falsely with him. He sat alone for a long time, thinking. The next day
he sent a letter to Major Gladwin saying that he was now ready to bury
the hatchet, and begging the English to forget the past.

Major Gladwin thought that the French were more to blame than the
Indians in the war, and was willing to be at peace with his red
neighbors. So he sent Pontiac a favorable reply. A few days later the
stern-faced chief turned his ba