But while the conquest of Canada paved the way for the independence of the British colonies, it boded no good to the Indian. He saw his danger, and sought to avert it. The firm hold the French had taken on the affections of the western Indians had not been shaken by defeat. They still clung to them, and refused to believe that the hated English had conquered and that their old friends had taken final leave.

This feeling was strengthened by the contrast between the courteous and attentive behavior of the French, and the insolent and brutal treatment received from the English soldiers who replaced them at the frontier posts. The former had supplied then regularly with guns, ammunition, and clothing; the withholding of these by the latter had brought upon them, as a consequence, want, suffering, and death. These evils had been largely increased by their introduction of the hitherto prohibited traffic in rum—"fire-water," as the Indians expressively called it.

Glancing at the condition of the country beyond the settlements at this time, we find it—with the exception of an occasional Indian village—one vast forest. In it a human being, white or red, was rarely to be seen.

Contact with the whites had changed, without improving the condition of the red man. The warlike Iroquois had declined in importance. Some of the Delawares and other smaller tribes dwelt upon the head-waters of the Susquehanna and the Alleghany, but the larger part of them lived upon the Beaver creeks and the Muskingum. The Shawnees were found along the Scioto; the Miainis, on the Wabash and the Maumee. The Illinois, once numerous and powerful, had, through intemperance, become scattered and degraded. Along the Detroit and near Sandusky were the Wyandots, whose industry and good husbandry had placed them foremost among the western tribes in civilization and progress.

Albany, New York, was the largest town on the frontier. Traders and others, journeying to the region of the lakes, made this their starting-point. Ascending the Mohawk to Fort Stanwix, they would pass overland to Wood Creek, follow the windings of this stream to Oneida Lake, and crossing its western extremity, descend the river Oswego to the town of that name on the banks of Lake Ontario.

From Philadelphia the route to the Indian country was over the Alleghanies, then descending their western slope to the valley of the Ohio. At the close of the war adventurous traders, transporting their goods on the backs of horses, regardless of the perils that beset them, pushed on over the mountains. They were a bold, rough set, and went well armed. Their wares consisted of blankets and red cloth, guns and hatchets, liquor, tobacco, paint, beads, hawksbills, etc.

In Southern Illinois were to be seen the old French outposts, Kaskaskia, Cahokia, and Vincennes. Farther up the Wabash was Fort Ouantenon, whence a trail through the forest led to Fort Miami on the Maumee. Descending the Maumee to Lake Erie, one would have Sandusky on the right, or, farther north, through the Strait of Detroit, would pass Fort Detroit to the northern lakes. Farther east, beyond the Alleghanies, were Forts Presque Isle, Le Bœuf, and Venango.

The conquered French inhabitants did all they could to influence the resentment of the Indians, and as they were being constantly pushed from their lands by an increased tide of English immigration, little was wanting to bring on another bloody Indian war. That little was soon supplied.

Early in 1763 the red men were told that the King of France had given all their country to the King of England. Furious at this outrage, a plot of vast proportions was at once matured. The destruction of all the English forts and garrisons was to take place on a given day; the defenceless frontier settlements were to be swept away, and finally, as they hoped and believed, the English would all be driven into the sea. This has been, by a misuse of words, called a conspiracy; in reality it was a patriotic, though hopeless, effort on the part of the natives to free their country from a hated invader, and to avert the impending doom of the race.

The leader in this great uprising was Pontiac, head chief of the Ottawas, then in his fiftieth year. With the Ottawas were confederated the kindred tribes of Ojibwas and Potawatomies. Pontiac possessed great courage, eloquence, and energy, more than ordinary mental powers, and was unmatched for craft and subtlety. He was of middle height, with a figure of remarkable symmetry. His complexion was unusually dark, and his features, though void of regularity, were expressive of boldness and vigor, which, united with an habitually imperious and peremptory manner, were sufficiently indicative of unusual strength of will. To these qualities, combined with the passions, the fierceness, and treachery of his race, was added a powerful ambition, and he had acquired great influence over the western tribes. He had fought on the French side during the war, and was said to have led the Ottawas at Braddock's defeat.

In 1760 Major Rogers, with his Rangers, was sent to Detroit to replace the French with an English garrison. On nearing that post he was met by an embassy from Pontiac—"lord and ruler of all that country"—and directed to proceed no farther until the arrival of the chief himself. Pontiac soon appeared.

"What is your business in my country, and how dare you enter it without my permission?" was the haughty demand with which he greeted the Ranger.

Rogers told him his errand. Pontiac listened with attention, and with savage dignity exclaimed, "I stand in the path!"

On the following day, however, the chief reappeared, and made a conciliatory speech; the pipe of peace was smoked, and harmony was apparently established. "I had several conferences with him," says Rogers, "in which he discovered great strength of judgment and a thirst after knowledge. He puts on an air of majesty and princely grandeur, and is greatly honored and revered by his subjects."

Pontiac was too sagacious to believe that the English could be driven into the sea. His plan was to bring back the French, as a check to British encroachments. This idea had been held up to him by the Canadians, who told him that the armies of the French king, destined for the recovery of Canada, were already on the way. Acting upon this idea, he sent ambassadors, bearing the war-belt of wampum and the reddened tomahawk, 267 in token of war, to the different tribes. Those of the west accepted his message and pledged themselves to take part in the war. With the exception of the Senecas, the Iroquois confederacy was kept neutral by the strenuous exertions of Sir William Johnson. Up to the very moment of the outbreak the Indians succeeded in concealing their design. They continued, meanwhile, to hang around the posts, "begging, as usual, for tobacco, gunpowder, and whiskey."

Detroit, near which were the villages of the Wyandots, Potawatomies, and Ottawas, was founded by the French as an Indian trading-post in 1701, and had at this time two thousand five hundred French inhabitants, dwelling on productive farms on both sides of the river. The fort was in the centre of the settlement, on the western margin of the river, and contained about one hundred houses, surrounded by a palisade twenty-five feet high and about one thousand two hundred yards in circumference; a wooden bastion stood at each corner, and each gate-way was protected by a block-house. It was garrisoned by about one hundred and twenty soldiers, and about forty fur-traders and employés. Some small pieces of cannon were mounted on the bastions, and two small armed schooners lay anchored opposite the town.

On the night of May 6, 1763, Major Gladwyn, the commander of the fort, received secret intelligence that an attempt would be made the next day to capture the fort by treachery. The guard was weak, the defences feeble and extensive. Fearing an immediate attack, Gladwyn doubled his sentinels, and kept an anxious watch all that night.

Next morning Pontiac, with sixty chosen warriors, each of whom was armed with a gun cut short so that it was hidden under his blanket, entered the fort. His plan was to demand a council, and, after delivering his speech, to offer a peace-belt of wampum. This belt was worked on one side with white and on the other with green beads. The reversal of the belt from the white to the green side was to be the signal of attack. Every Englishman was to be killed, but not a Frenchman was to be touched. The plan was well laid, and might have succeeded had it not been revealed to Gladwyn.

The savage throng, plumed and feathered, and besmeared with paint, had no sooner entered the fort than they saw that their plot had failed. Soldiers and employés were armed and ready for action. Pontiac and his warriors, however, moved on, betraying no sign of surprise, and entered the council-room, where Gladwyn and his officers, all well armed, awaited them.

"Why," asked Pontiac, "do I see so many of my father's young men standing in the street with their guns?"

"To keep the young men from idleness," was the reply of the sagacious English commander.

The business of the council then began. Pontiac's speech was bold and menacing, and his gesticulation vehement. As the critical moment approached, and just as he was on the point of presenting the belt, and all was breathless expectation, Gladwyn gave a signal. The drums at the door of the council suddenly rolled the charge, the clash of arms was heard, and the officers drew their swords. Pontiac was brave, but this decisive proof that his plot was discovered completely disconcerted him. He delivered the belt in the usual manner, and the council then broke up. The gates were again opened, and the baffled savages withdrew.

Failing to capture the fort by stratagem, Pontiac next tried an open attack. A large war party of Ojibwas had joined him from Saginaw. Ottawas, Ojibwas, Potawatomies, and Wyandots, all had united, and came like an avalanche, yelling the warwhoop, naked, and painted for the fight. Sheltering themselves behind adjacent buildings, the Indians kept up an incessant fire for several hours. Some buildings within the fort were set on fire by their blazing arrows, but the flames were soon extinguished. Day after day they continued their attacks. No man of the beleaguered garrison lay down to sleep except in his clothes and with his weapons by his side. The two vessels in the river helped the defence, protecting by their fire the northern and southern faces of the works. The smaller one was despatched to Niagara for aid. Pontiac was determined to capture the fort, and omitted no means in his power to accomplish his purpose.

Under the pretence of pacific negotiations he decoyed Captain Campbell into his camp. This officer, who had formerly commanded the fort, was favorably known to the Indians. Unfortunately for him, in a sortie from the fort, an Ottawa of distinction had been killed. The nephew of this Indian avenged his death by killing Campbell—an act disavowed and regretted by Pontiac.

In order to compensate the French inhabitants of Detroit for the provisions he was forced to exact from them, Pontiac had recourse to a strange and novel, but successful expedient—one which reveals the native ability of the man. He issued promissory notes drawn on birch-bark, on which was a figure representing the article wanted, and signed with the figure of an otter, the totem or otter-graph of his family. These he is said to have faithfully redeemed. He kept two secretaries—one to write for him, the other to read the letters he received, and he managed to keep each in ignorance of what was done by the other.

A supply of provisions and ammunition despatched from Fort Niagara for the relief of the garrison of Detroit was waylaid and captured near the mouth of the Detroit River. As the long line of bateaux came in sight, it was welcomed by a gun from the fort. It was soon painfully evident, however, that the convoy was in the hands of the enemy. The boats were rowed by English prisoners. The foremost had arrived opposite the larger of the two vessels anchored in the stream, when the soldier who steered her conceived a daring plan of escape. He knew that death, perhaps by torture, was to be his fate, and he saw one chance for life.

Seizing the principal Indian, he endeavored to throw him overboard. A desperate struggle ensued; both were precipitated into the water, and went down together; the remaining Indians leaped out of the boat. The prisoners pulled for the vessel, shouting for aid, and were at once fired upon and hotly pursued. The light birch canoes of the savages gained rapidly upon them. One of the soldiers was hit by a bullet. Escape seemed hopeless, when a cannon-shot from the schooner skimmed along the surface of the water, narrowly missing the leading canoe. A second followed. This stopped the chase, and the fugitives reached the vessel in safety. The tortured and mangled corpses that floated past Detroit on the following day revealed the horrible fate which had befallen their fellow-soldiers. This surprise and capture was effected by the Wyandots.

A month later the vessel which had been despatched to Niagara reached Detroit after a perilous passage, bringing a reinforcement of sixty men, and the supplies, of which they were greatly in need. While lying becalmed in the narrowest part of the river, a few miles above the fort, the Indians had attempted her capture. The captain, expecting an attack, had kept all but twelve of his men concealed below, keeping a strict watch from the time the sun went down.

Hours passed, and the sentinels at length perceived dark objects moving upon the water. The men were quietly summoned from below, and noiselessly took their posts. The stroke of a hammer upon the mast was to be their signal to fire. When the Indians had approached sufficiently near, they were greeted with a sudden discharge of cannon and musketry, scattering death and destruction among them. Some of the canoes were sunk, and a number of the Indians were killed and wounded; the remainder fled in consternation to the shore. Some days later, with a favoring breeze, the vessel left her exposed position, sending a volley of grape into the Wyandot village as she passed, and finally anchored along-side of her companion at the fort.

Pontiac made a determined effort to destroy these vessels by means of burning rafts filled with combustibles. Three times it was tried, without success, and the attempt was then abandoned. Some of the Indians, weary of the siege, now came to the fort and begged for peace. Treaties were made with the Wyandots and the Potawatomies, the latter restoring all their captives. The Ottawas and Ojibwas obstinately continued the siege.

At the end of July, Captain Dalzell arrived, with a reinforcement of two hundred and eighty men, and having obtained the reluctant assent of Gladwyn, marched that night with a strong party to surprise Pontiac's camp. The plan was revealed by some Canadians, and the Indians prepared to receive him. A mile and a half from the fort, a creek, ever since called Bloody Run, descended through a wild and rough hollow, and was crossed at the road by a narrow wooden bridge. Beyond the bridge, intrenched and protected by strong picket-fences and wood-piles, the Indians lay in wait.

While crossing the bridge, the advanced guard of the English were met with a sudden and murderous discharge, which shot down one-half their number. Cheered on by Dalzell, the troops charged over the bridge and up the heights beyond, finding no foe but seeing the flashes of their guns, and losing men at every discharge. Some lost their way in the darkness. Captain Grant, with his company, recrossed the bridge, and made a stand in the road. They soon discovered that the Indians had gained their rear, and that instant retreat was necessary. This, after much hard fighting, was at length effected, mainly by the skill and valor of Dalzell and Grant, the second in command, who was severely wounded.

They had retreated half a mile when, reaching a point opposite an orchard and picket-fence, the Indians, who had gained their rear, rose from their hiding-places and poured a hot fire into their ranks. The troops were again thrown into confusion, but by the heroic efforts of Dalzell order was restored. Charging upon the Indians he dislodged them, putting them to flight, and then resumed his retreat.

At the same time Major Rogers, with a party of Rangers, drove the Indians from a Canadian house, and, occupying it with his men, covered the retreat. Some of the regulars followed him in. Furniture was placed against the windows, and through the openings they kept up an effectual fire upon their enemies, which was sharply returned. Rogers's party was now completely surrounded, the other troops having reached the fort. Two armed bateaux were despatched up the river from the fort, and, opening fire upon the savages, Rogers and his companions were enabled to effect their retreat.

In this action the English lost fifty-nine in killed and wounded. Captain Dalzell, who had been Putnam's companion in his campaign with the Rangers, and more recently aide-de-camp to General Amherst, was among the slain. He had displayed great bravery, but was shot down while heroically attempting to rescue a wounded soldier. The Indians were greatly elated at their success; Pontiac's force was soon largely augmented, and the siege was pressed with renewed vigor.

Nothing of importance occurred, however, until the night of September 4th, when a gallant feat was performed by the master and crew of the schooner Gladwyn.

She had been to Niagara with despatches, and was returning, having on board, besides the master and mate, a crew of ten men. That night, the wind failing, she anchored about nine miles below the fort. A vigilant watch was kept, but it was so dark that at a distance of a few rods nothing could be seen.

Three hundred and fifty Indians, in their birch canoes, gliding silently and swiftly down with the current, were close upon them when discovered. The bow gun was fired, but the Indians were soon clambering up the vessel's side, holding their knives between their teeth. The crew used their small-arms with effect, and then seizing the spears and hatchets with which they were provided, met the savages with such determined courage that in a minute or two they had killed and wounded more than twice their own number.

In this brief period, however, the master had been killed and several of the men wounded. The Indians were swarming over the bulwarks when Jacobs, the mate, called out,

"Blow up the schooner!"

Some of the Indians understood the words, gave the alarm to their companions, and instantly leaped overboard in a panic, all the others their example, diving and swimming for the shore to escape the threatened explosion. They did not dare to renew the attack, and on the following morning the schooner reached the fort without molestation bringing a much needed supply of provisions. The survivors of the crew were each presented with a medal for their bravery.

This was the last important event of a siege whose long duration was a novelty in Indian warfare. On the approach of the hunting season the Indians dispersed, and although small parties hovered around, preventing the free egress of the garrison, yet the siege was virtually ended. Pontiac withdrew to the Maumee, intending to renew the war in the following spring.