ET us now return to Detroit. Its experience is without a parallel in the history of our country. Never before was a town of importance held in a state of siege for more than a year by Indians. That such a remarkable thing took place was due to the genius of the master mind, who held the turbulent savages to their work, when the task of waiting is the most distasteful that can befall their race. Pontiac had to foresee the means of providing his forces with food, and he did it. He was the first American savage—so far as we have been able to learn—who gave promissory notes for the supplies he had to take from the neutral French residents outside of Detroit. Whenever he did this, he handed a memorandum of what had been taken, marked on the inside of a piece of bark, to which was added his totum, the sign of an otter. Moreover, this aboriginal financier redeemed every one of those notes, thereby setting a good example to his white brethren.

The Ottawa, upon being refused admittance within the stockade, had thrown aside all pretence of friendship or neutrality, and pressed his designs with a skill that even the defenders admired. The red skins crouched behind outbuildings, stumps and earth, and opened a hot fire which lasted for several hours. The garrison replied as best they could, but little injury was done on either side. Finally, a cannon was loaded to the muzzle with red hot slugs, and the bits of iron when discharged, set fire to the principal outbuildings. As the savages scampered for cover, the garrison picked off a number of the most conspicuous.

Naturally the Indians made many attempts to burn the fort and other defences. If the flames were once fairly started, nothing could stay them, but the vigilance of the garrison night and day defeated every effort of this nature. Days and weeks passed without any marked change in the situation. The defenders held out grimly and the besiegers did not loose their grip. The supply of provisions began to run low, and, but for the help of the Canadians on the other side of the river, the garrison, who had long been on short rations, must have suffered for food. These friends came over at night, for had Pontiac known what they were doing, he would have stopped their practices and punished them.

At the wharf near the fort lay two schooners, which gave much help in fighting off the besiegers. The critical situation of Detroit had become known to the authorities, who were expected to send reinforcements and supplies to the post by way of Lake Erie. These were so slow in coming, that Major Gladwyn sent one of the vessels to hasten them. Several days later, the lookout at Detroit called out the glad tidings that the supply boats were in sight. When all faces were glowing with expectation, an alarming thing was seen. In one of the boats, a white man was desperately fighting with an Indian. In each craft were a number of warriors, who were lying down, in order to reach the fort undiscovered. In fact, all the boats with their supplies had been captured by the redskins. It was a clever ruse.

The schooner which had been sent to hurry the boats missed them, and sailed on to Niagara, while the relief expedition had coasted Lake Erie to the mouth of Detroit River. At that place they landed and were making camp, when they were attacked by a force of Wyandots, who killed many and took sixty prisoners. Two boats escaped with forty men, in one of which was Lieutenant Cuyler, in charge of the company. They made their way back to Niagara, while the prisoners were compelled to row to Detroit.

Meanwhile, a second expedition was fitted out at Niagara, and sailed in the schooner that had been sent thither by Major Gladwyn. She reached the Detroit River, but while still some miles below the fort, the wind died out and she dropped anchor. Every one on board was aware of their peril. The banks were lined with warriors, who would not let such a golden opportunity pass. It was about midnight, that a large number of canoes put out from the shores, and silently approached the schooner. The watchful crew allowed them to come within a few rods, when a broadside of grape and a volley of musket balls killed and wounded nearly two-score. The others leaped overboard or rowed frantically to land, and the next morning the vessel made her way to the wharf below the fort, much to the chagrin of the red men.

The presence of the two vessels was intolerable to Pontiac. He made several fire rafts, piled them with brush, set them ablaze and started them down stream. But the white men were looking for such an attempt, and by their quickness steered the flaming craft harmlessly past the schooners. Pontiac repeated the effort, but without success, and then gave it up as useless strategy.

As the weeks and months passed, without anything being done, many of the Indians grew tired of the siege. The Pottawatomies and Wyandots proposed peace and exchanged prisoners with Major Gladwyn, who placed little faith in the promise of the savages. Pontiac, however, held his Ottawas and Ojibwas as strongly in hand as ever.

In the latter part of July, twenty-two barges, containing two hundred and eighty men, in charge of Major Dalzell, entered the Detroit River. A fog hung over the stream, and when the boats were opposite the Wyandot and Pottawatomie village, they received a fire which killed and wounded several men. It will be remembered that these were the tribes that had made an agreement of peace with Major Gladwyn only a few days before. They were partly punished by the return volleys of the reinforcements, which brought down a number of Indians and scattered the others in a headlong panic.

The arrival of such a large body of friends raised the hopes of the defenders to the highest point. Major Dalzell himself was ardent, and declared it a disgrace to submit longer to such a state of affairs. The idea of so large a force of white men being cooped up in the defences by a horde of painted Indians, was too much to be borne. He insisted upon attacking the besiegers, not doubting for a moment that he would send the whole lot flying. Major Gladwyn understood the situation better than his friend, and shook his head. He could not share the confidence of the officer. But Dalzell still urged, and finally, Gladwyn, against his own judgment, gave his consent to the plan for ending the siege of Detroit.

Just as the first streakings of day were beginning to show in the east, two hundred and fifty men moved out of the fort, and stole like so many phantoms through the forest, toward Pontiac's encampment. They kept along shore, while two bateaux, each with a swivel gun at its bow, held their places abreast of the soldiers. The expedition would have been successful, and a crushing blow given, had not the scheme become known to some of the Canadians, who revealed it to the Ottawa chief. He had time to make his preparations which he did thoroughly.

The soldiers moved forward, every heart beating high with hope. Not an Indian was seen until they reached the bridge spanning Parent's Creek. Then the hundreds of crouching warriors opened fire. Half the advance guard fell, when Dalzell, as the only means of saving the remainder, ordered a retreat. In the confusion, the soldiers were surrounded by the Indians. When it looked as if not one could escape, Major Rogers, with a number of men as brave as himself, took possession of a house swarming with fugitives, and defeated every assault, while the troops were fighting their way back to the fort. The bateaux aided Rogers by their fire, and he and his little company succeeded in reaching the post. The English loss was fifty-nine killed and wounded. Major Dalzell was slain while trying to save a wounded sergeant. This sad affair has passed into history as the battle of Bloody Ridge.

The disaster cast gloom over the garrison and the survivors. While the force that remained felt able to hold out, the besiegers were greatly elated. Many of the Indians who were on the point of going to their homes, gained new ardor in their support to Pontiac and his cause. They were certain to retain this enthusiasm for a long time.

On the night of August 4, a sloop arrived in sight of the fort with despatches from Niagara. The crew numbered barely a score, and the slackness of the wind forced the captain to drop anchor before he could reach a point of safety. Unfortunately, too, the night was very dark, so that an attack by their enemies was one of the certainties.

Sure enough, two hundred warriors stole forward in the gloom which allowed them to reach the sloop before they were seen. When discovered they were swarming over the gunwales at the bow, stern and sides. The crew fought with the energy of desperation, but could not withstand the furious assault. Seeing that all was lost, the mate shouted to one of the sailors to fire the magazine, that in their own destruction they might kill many of their enemies. Now, it so happened that among the Indians were several who knew enough English to understand the command, and they repeated it to the others. On the instant, every one leaped overboard, diving, swimming and struggling with frantic haste to save himself. With the loss of the captain and several of the crew, the sloop soon after reached Detroit.

By and by, impatience and discontent again spread among the Indians. That race in certain circumstances displays the perfection of patience, but not often does it do so in military operations. An Indian is eager for results, and when they are slow in coming, he loses interest in the affair itself, whatever it may be. Cold weather was at hand, and about the middle of October, all the tribes, except the Ottawas, sent messengers to Major Gladwyn with a request for peace. He replied that he had not power to make peace, but would agree to a truce. They consented, and the officer made the best use of the time to gather food and supplies for consumption during the coming winter.

Pontiac saw signs of dissatisfaction among his own tribe, but his iron will still held his warriors well in hand. The crushing blow came near the close of October in a message from the French commandant at Fort Chartres, on the Mississippi. He told Pontiac that peace had been made between France and England, and gave him clearly to understand that he could expect no help from the French in the continuance of his causeless warfare.

Even then the resolute leader did not yield. He left the vicinity of Detroit with a number of his sub-chiefs and warriors, and visited the Maumee country, where he used all his eloquence and logic to draw these tribes into the war. He met with some success, but it was slight. The French commandant did more than notify him of the close of hostilities. He sent messengers with wampum belts and calumets to the principal tribes between the Ohio and the lakes, warning them to have nothing to do with Pontiac and his scheme, which was highly displeasing to the French. Finally, representatives of the leading tribes met Sir William Johnson at Oswego, and signed a treaty of peace and friendship with the English. Among those who took part in the important proceedings was Pontiac, once the great sachem of the Ottawas.

Pontiac returned to his own country, and was believed to be a good friend of the English, who it is said, gave him a pension, though this is not certain. His inclinations were to help the Americans in the Revolution, but he was held back by General Hamilton at Detroit. While attending an Indian council, the chief was watched by a spy for the English who had become suspicious of him. Pontiac had grown fond of "fire water," and while under its influence, he betrayed his enmity to the English. Because of this he was treacherously killed by the spy, who had been bribed to do the deed by a trader. Thus Philip and Pontiac, two of the foremost of American Indians, were each slain by one of his own race.