um, thrust a hand within his
blanket, as though to draw a weapon, reconsidered, folded his arms, and
stood motionless. In an instant all was again silent, and Gladwyn rose
to address the council as though nothing out of the ordinary had
happened.

He told the Indians that he would consider their grievances, and would
do all that lay in his power to afford them protection, so long as they
deserved it. At the same time he threatened them with a terrible
punishment should they undertake to remedy their wrongs by any act of
aggression against the whites. Then he dismissed the council, and the
crestfallen warriors were allowed to leave the fort. Before departing,
Pontiac notified the English commander that he should come again in a
few days for another talk; but Gladwyn only turned contemptuously away,
without deigning a reply.

Two days later the common behind the fort was again thronged with
Indians, representing four tribes, and from out the throng Pontiac
again approached the gate. It was barred against him, and when he
demanded admittance, Gladwyn himself replied, ordering him to begone,
as neither he nor his rabble would again be received.

Furious with rage, the chief strode away, and ordered his warriors to
withdraw beyond gunshot, but to see that no Englishman was allowed to
leave the fort. Then launching a canoe he crossed the river to his own
village, which he ordered to be removed to the western bank.

While he was thus occupied, his infuriated followers were engaged in
the murder and scalping of two English families who dwelt beyond reach
of the fort. That night the inmates of Detroit, armed and sleepless,
listened with heavy hearts to the doleful sounds of the scalp dance,
mingled with the exulting yells of the war dance, and while prepared to
sell their lives as dearly as possible, wondered how long their frail
defences would withstand the fierce onset which they momentarily
expected would be made against them.

Daylight found many of them, exhausted by the night's vigil, dozing at
their posts. Suddenly the blood-curdling war-whoop arose from all
sides at once, a rattling volley of rifle-shots pattered against the
palisades, and a swarm of yelling, naked figures leaped from the
surrounding obscurity. It seemed as though the impetuous assault must
succeed from mere force of numbers, for the Indians were counted by
hundreds, while the whites were but a handful.

CHAPTER XI

MAJOR HESTER I