behaved with great goodness towards her, she was unwilling to take away the remainder of the skin, because he put so great a value upon it; and yet had not been able to prevail upon herself to tell him so. He then asked her why she was more reluctant to do so now than she had been when she made the former pair. With increased reluctance she answered, that she should never be able to bring them back.

His curiosity was now excited; he insisted on her disclosing the secret that seemed to be struggling in her bosom for utterance. At last, on receiving a promise that the intelligence she was about to give him should not turn to her prejudice; and that, if it appeared to be beneficial, she should be rewarded for it, she informed him that at the council to be held with the Indians on the following day, Pontiac and his chiefs intended to murder him, and, after having massacred the garrison and inhabitants, to plunder the town. That for this purpose all the chiefs who were to be admitted into the council-room had cut their guns short, so that they could conceal them under their blankets; with which, on a signal given by their general on delivering the belt, they were all to rise up and instantly to fire on him and his attendants. Having effected this, they were immediately to rush into the town, where they would find themselves supported by a great number of their warriors that were to come into it during the sitting of the council under the pretence of trading, but privately armed in the same manner. Having gained from the woman every necessary particular relative to the plot, and also the means by which she acquired a knowledge of them, he dismissed her with injunctions of secrecy, and a promise of fulfilling on his part with punctuality the engagements he had entered into.

The intelligence the Governor had just received gave him great uneasiness, and he immediately consulted the officer who was next him in command on the subject. But this gentleman, considering the information as a story invented for some artful purpose, advised him to pay no attention to it. This conclusion, however, had happily no weight with him. He thought it prudent to conclude it to be true till he was convinced it was not so; and therefore, without revealing his suspicions to any other person, he took every needful precaution that the time would admit of. He walked around the fort for the whole night, and saw himself that every sentinel was upon duty, and every weapon of defence in proper order.

As he traversed the ramparts that lay nearest to the Indian camp, he heard them in high festivity, and, little imagining that their plot was discovered, probably pleasing themselves with the anticipation of their success. As soon as the morning dawned, he ordered all the garrison under arms, and then, imparting his apprehensions to a few of the principal officers, gave them such directions as he thought necessary. At the same time he sent round to all the traders to inform them, that as it was expected a great number of Indians would enter the town that day, who might be inclined to plunder, he desired they would have their arms ready, and repel any attempt of that kind.

About 10 o'clock, Pontiac and his chiefs arrived, and were conducted to the council chamber, where the Governor and his principal officers, each with pistols in his belt, awaited his arrival. As the Indians passed on, they could not help observing that a greater number of troops than usual were drawn up on the parade, or marching about. No sooner were they entered, and seated on the skins prepared for them, than Pontiac asked the Governor on what occasion his young men, meaning the soldiers, were thus drawn up and parading the streets.

He received for answer that it was only intended to keep them perfect in their exercise.

The Indian chief warrior now began his speech, which contained the strongest professions of friendship and good-will towards the English: and when he came to the delivery of the belt of wampum, the particular mode of which, according to the woman's information, was to be the signal for the chiefs to fire, the Governor and all his attendants drew their swords half way out of their scabbards; and the soldiers at the same time made a clattering with their arms before the door, which had been purposely left open. Pontiac, though one of the bravest men, immediately turned pale and trembled; and instead of giving the belt in the manner proposed, delivered it according to the usual way. His chiefs, who had impatiently expected the signal, looked at each other with astonishment, but continued quiet waiting the result.

The Governor, in his turn, made a speech; but, instead of thanking the great warrior for the professions of friendship he had just uttered, he accused him of being a traitor. He told him that the English, who knew everything, were convinced of his treachery and villanous designs; and as a proof that they were acquainted with his most secret thoughts and intentions, he stepped towards an Indian chief that sat nearest to him, and drawing aside the blanket, discovered the shortened firelock. This entirely disconcerted the Indians and frustrated their design.

He then continued to tell them, that as he had given his word, at the time they had desired an audience, that their persons should be safe, he would hold his promise inviolable, though they so little deserved it. However, he desired them to make the best of their way out of the fort, lest his young men, on being acquainted with their treacherous purposes, should cut every one of them to . pieces.

Pontiac endeavored to contradict the accusation, and to make excuses for his suspicious conduct; but the Governor, satisfied of the falsity of his protestations, would not listen to him. The Indians immediately left the fort; but, instead of being sensible of the Governor's generous behaviour, they threw off the mask, and the next day made a regular attack upon it.

Thus foiled, Pontiac laid formal siege to the fortress, and for many months that siege was continued in a manner and with a perseverance unexampled among the Indians. Even a regular commissariat department was organized, and bills of credit drawn out upon bark were issued, and, what is rarer, punctually paid.

MASSACRE AT THE RIVER RAISIN.

Immediately after the battle of the 18th of January, 1813, some of the French inhabitants, who had sold provisions to the British, followed them to Malden to get their pay. On their return, they brought word that the British and Indians were collecting in large force, to the amount of 3000, to attack Frenchtown. General Winchester paid but little attention to these reports, feeling considerable confidence in his own strength, and expecting reinforcements that would render him safe beyond a doubt, before the enemy could possibly attack him. The British seemed to be aware that they must make the attack before these reinforcements came up, if they wished to effect anything; hence they hastened their preparations. On the 21st, several of the more prominent French citizens went to Winchester and told him that they had reliable information that the American

camp would be attacked that night or the next day. He was so infatuated that he paid no further deference to their statement than to order those soldiers who were scattered around the settlement, drinking cider with the inhabitants, to assemble and remain in camp all night.

About daylight, on the morning of the 22d of January, 1813, a large force of British and Indians, under Proctor and the celebrated Indian chiefs, Round Head and Split Log, attacked the camp of the Americans. The attack was made all along the lines, but the British forces were more particularly led against the upper camp, occupied by Major Madison and Colonels Lewis and Allen, and the Indians against the lower camp, occupied by Colonel Wells. The British were unsuccessful at their part of the lines, where the Americans fought with great bravery, and were protected very much by the pickets, which, being placed at some distance from the woods, afforded the Kentucky riflemen a fine opportunity to shoot the enemy down as they were advancing. An attempt was then made by the British to use a field piece just at the edge of the woods, by which they hoped to prostrate the pickets and batter down the houses, but the Kentuckians, with their sharpshooters, picked the men off as fast as they attempted to load it, so that they were forced to abandon the attack and suffer a repulse.

While these things were happening at the upper camp, a far different state of things existed at the lower one. The attack of the Indians was so impetuous, the position so indefensible, and the American force so inadequate, consisting of only 200 men, that, notwithstanding the bravery of Colonel Wells and his men, it was impossible to retain the position. Colonels Lewis and Allen attempted to take a reinforcement to the right wing, to enable Colonel Wells to retreat up the river on the ice, under cover of the high bank, to the upper camp. But before they arrived at the lower camp, the fire of the savages had become so galling that Wells was forced to abandon his position. This he attempted to do in good order, but as soon as his men began to give way, the Indians redoubled their cries and the impetuosity of their attack, so that the retreat speedily became a rout. In this condition they were met by Colonel Allen, who made every effort to call them to order and lead them in safety to the upper camp. But, notwithstanding the heroic exertions of Colonel Allen, and his earnest protestations and commands, they continued their disordered flight, and from some unaccountable reason, probably through an irresistible panic, caused by the terrible cries and onslaught of the savages, instead of continuing up the river to the upper camp, they fled diagonally across to the Hull road, so called, which led to Maumee, and attempted to escape to Ohio. And now the flight became a carnage. The Indians seeing the disorder of the Americans, who thought of nothing save running for their lives, and escaping the tomahawks of the savages, having warriors posted all along the woods which lined or were within a short distance of the river, now raised the cry that the Americans were flying, which cry was echoed by thousands of warriors, who all rushed to the spot and outstripped the fleeing soldiers. Some followed them closely in their tracks and brained them with their tomahawks from behind; some posted themselves on both sides of the narrow road and shot them down as they passed; and finally some got in advance, and headed them off at Plumb Creek, a small stream about a mile from the River Raisin. Here the panic-stricken soldiers, who had thrown away most of their arms to facilitate their flight, huddled together like sheep, with the brutal foe on all sides, were slaughtered, and so closely were they hemmed in, tradition says, that after the battle, 40 dead bodies were found lying scalped and plundered on 2 rods square.

General Winchester, impressed with the foolish idea that an attack would not be made, had retired the night before without having made any arrangements for safety or dispatch in case of an attack. Therefore, when awakened by the firing, he and his aids made great confusion, all crying for their horses, which were in Colonel Navarre's stable, the servants scarcely awake enough to equip them with haste. The luckless commander became very impatient to join his forces, nearly a mile distant, and, to gratify his desire, Colonel Navarre offered him his best and fleetest horse, which had been kept saddled all night, as Navarre, in common with all the French inhabitants, expected an attack before morning. On this horse he started for the camp, but, on the way, finding that a large number of the troops were then fleeing on the Hull road, he followed after them to rally them, and, if possible, regain the day; but on his way he was taken prisoner by an Indian (said to have been Jack Brandy), who knew by his clothes that he was an officer, and therefore spared his life. Proctor persuaded the Indian to deliver him over into his hands. Colonel Allen was also taken prisoner about the same time; he had behaved with extraordinary courage during the whole action, although wounded in the thigh. He was finally killed by an Indian while held a prisoner.

With Winchester as his prisoner, Proctor felt that he could dictate terms to that portion of the American troops under the command of Major Madison in the upper camp, who had thus far made a successful resistance. Proctor sent with a flag one of General Winchester's aids, with the peremptory orders of the latter, directing Major Madison to surrender. Colonel Proctor had demanded an immediate surrender, or he would burn the settlement, and allow the Indians to massacre the prisoners and the inhabitants of the place. Major Madison replied, that it was customary for the Indians to massacre the wounded and prisoners after a surrender, and he would not agree to any capitulation General Winchester might make, unless the safety and protection of his men were guaranteed. After trying in vain to get an unconditional surrender, Major Madison and his men being disposed to sell their lives as dearly as possible, rather than run the risk of being massacred in cold blood, Proctor agreed to the terms demanded, which were, that private property should be respected, that sleds should be sent next morning to take the sick and wounded to Malden, and that their side arms should be restored to the officers on their arrival there.

These terms completed, the surrender was made, and the prisoners, and British, and Indians started for Malden; not, however, until the Indians had violated the first article of the agreement, by plundering the settlement. But finally all departed, except the sick and wounded American soldiers, who were left in the two houses of the upper camp, to await the coming of the sleds on the morrow. Only two or three persons were left in charge of them, a neglect which was nearly or quite criminal on the part of Proctor. The last and most disgraceful scene in this bloody tragedy was yet to be enacted. The sleds that were to take the ill-fated sufferers to Malden never came. In their stead came, the next morning, 300 Indians, painted black and red, determined on massacreing the wounded Americans, in revenge for their loss the day before. The slaughter soon commenced in earnest. Breaking into the houses where the Americans were, they first plundered and then tomahawked them. The houses were set on fire, and those within were consumed; if any attempted to crawl out of the doors or windows, they were wounded with the hatchet and pushed back into the flames: those that happened to be outside were stricken down, and their dying

bodies thrown into the burning dwellings. Major Wolfolk, the secretary of General Winchester, was killed in the massacre. Thus ended the "Massacre of the River Raisin." Thus perished in cold blood some of Kentucky's noblest heroes: their death filled with sorrow many homes south of the Ohio. No monument marks the place of their death: but little is known of the private history of those brave spirits who traversed a wilderness of several hundred miles, and gave up their lives for their country: who died alone, unprotected, wounded, in a settlement far from the abode of civilization.

But few of the killed were ever buried. Their bones lay bleaching in the sun for years. On the 4th of July, 1818, a company of men under the charge of Colonel Anderson, an old settler of Frenchtown, went to the spot of the battle and collected a large quantity of the bones, and buried them, with appropriate ceremonies, in the old graveyard in Monroe. For years after, however, it was not uncommon to find a skull, fractured by the fatal tomahawk, hidden away in some clump of bushes, where the dogs and wild beasts had dragged the body to devour its flesh.