roit
begins.

[Illustration: SETTLEMENTS ON THE DETROIT RIVER]

The story of that siege would fill volumes. For fifteen months it
lasted, the French remaining neutral, selling provisions to both sides,
Gladwin defiant inside his palisades, the Indians persistent as enraged
hornets. Two English officers who have been out hunting are waylaid,
murdered, skinned, the skin sewed into powder pouches, the bloody
carcasses sent drifting down on the flood of waters past the fort
walls. Desperately in need of provisions from the French, Gladwin
consents to temporary truce while Captain Campbell and others go out to
parley with the Indians. {284} Gladwin obtains cart loads of
provisions during the parley, but Pontiac violates the honor of war by
holding the messengers captive. Burning arrows are shot at the fort
walls. Gladwin's men sally out by night, hack down the orchards that
conceal the enemy, burn all outbuildings, and come back without losing
a man. Nightly, too, lapping the canoe noiselessly across water with
the palm of the hand, one of the French farmers comes with fresh
provisions. Gladwin has sent a secret messenger, with letter in his
powder pouch, through the lines of the besiegers to Niagara for aid.
May 30, moving slowly, all sails out, the English flag flying from the
prow, comes a convoy of sailboats up the river. Cheer on cheer rent
the air. The soldiers at watch in the galleries inside the palisades
tossed their caps overhead, but as the ships came nearer the whites
were paralyzed with horror. Silence froze the cheer on the parted
lips. Indian warriors manned the boats. The convoy of ninety-six men
had been cut to pieces, only a few soldiers escaping back to Niagara, a
few coming on, compelled by the Indians to act as rowers. As the boats
passed the fort, whoops of derision, wild war chants, eldritch screams,
rose from the Indians. One desperate white captive rose like a flash
from his place at the rowlocks, caught his Indian captor by the scuff
of the neck and threw him into the river; but the redskin grappled the
other in a grip of death. Turning over and over, locked in each
other's arms, the hate of the inferno in their faces, soldier and
Indian swept down to watery death in the river tide. Taking advantage
of the confusion, and under protection of the fort guns, one of the
other captives sprang into the river and succeeded in swimming safely
to the fort. Terrible was the news he brought