CHAPTER 12
1712. 

THE OUTAGAMIES AT DETROIT. 
THE WEST AND THE FUR-TRADE,  NEW YORK AND CANADA,  INDIAN POPULATION,  THE FIREBRANDS OF THE WEST,  DETROIT IN 1712,  DANGEROUS VISITORS,  SUSPENSE,  TIMELY SUCCORS,  THE OUTAGAMIES ATTACKED: THEIR DESPERATE POSITION,  OVERTURES,  WAVERING ALLIES,  CONDUCT OF DUBUISSON,  ESCAPE OF THE OUTAGAMIES,  PURSUIT AND ATTACK,  VICTORY AND CARNAGE. 

We have seen that the Peace of Utrecht was followed by a threefold conflict for ascendency in America,—the conflict for Acadia, the conflict for northern New England, and the conflict for the Great West; which last could not be said to take at once an international character, being essentially a competition for the fur-trade.  Only one of the English colonies took an active part in it,—the province of New York.  Alone among her sister communities she had a natural thoroughfare to the West, not comparable, however, with that of Canada, to whose people the Saint  Lawrence, the Great Lakes, and their tributary waters were a continual invitation to the vast interior. 

Virginia and Pennsylvania were not yet serious rivals in the fur-trade; and New England, the most active of the British colonies, was barred out from it by the interposition of New York, which lay across her westward path, thus forcing her to turn her energies to the sea, where half a century later her achievements inspired the glowing panegyrics of Burke before the House of Commons. 

New York, then, was for many years the only rival of Canada for the control of the West.  It was a fatal error in the rulers of New France that they did not, in the seventeenth century, use more strenuous efforts to possess themselves, by purchase, exchange, or conquest, of this troublesome and dangerous neighbor.  There was a time, under the reign of Charles II. , when negotiation for the purchase of New York might have been successful; and if this failed, the conquest of the province, if attempted by forces equal to the importance of the object, would have been far from hopeless.  With New York in French hands, the fate of the continent would probably have been changed.  The British possessions would have been cut in two.  New England, isolated and placed in constant jeopardy, would have vainly poured her unmanageable herds of raw militia against the disciplined veterans of Old France intrenched at the mouth of the Hudson.  Canada would have gained complete control of her old enemies, the Iroquois, who would have been wholly dependent on her for the arms and ammunition without which they could do nothing. 

The Iroquois, as the French had been accustomed to call them, were known to the English as the Five Nations,—a name which during the eighteenth century the French also adopted.  Soon after the Peace of Utrecht, a kindred tribe, the Tuscaroras, was joined to the original five members of the confederacy, which thenceforward was sometimes called the Six Nations, though the Tuscaroras were never very prominent in its history; and, to avoid confusion, we will keep the more familiar name of the Five Nations, which the French used to the last. 

For more than two generations this league of tribes had held Canada in terror, and more than once threatened it with destruction.  But now a change had come over the confederates.  Count Frontenac had humbled their pride.  They were crowded between the rival European nations, both of whom they distrusted.  Their traditional hatred of the French would have given the English of New York a controlling influence over them if the advantage had been used with energy and tact.  But a narrow and short-sighted conduct threw it away.  A governor of New York, moreover, even were he as keen and far-seeing as Frontenac himself, would often have been helpless.  When the Five Nations were attacked by the French, he had no troops to defend them, nor could he, like a Canadian governor, call out the forces of his province by a word, to meet the exigency.  The small revenues of New York were not at his disposal.  Without the votes of the frugal representatives of an impoverished people, his hands were tied.  Hence the Five Nations, often left unaided when they most needed help, looked upon their Dutch and English neighbors as slothful and unwarlike. 

Yet their friendship was of the greatest importance to the province, in peace as well as in war, and was indispensable in the conflict that New York was waging single-handed for the control of the western fur-trade.  The Five Nations, as we have seen, acted as middlemen between the New York merchants and the tribes of the far interior, and through them English goods and English influence penetrated all the lake country, and reached even to the Mississippi. 

These vast western regions, now swarming with laborious millions, were then scantily peopled by savage hordes, whose increase was stopped by incessant mutual slaughter.  This wild population had various centres or rallying-points, usually about the French forts, which protected them from enemies and supplied their wants.  Thus the Pottawattamies, Ottawas, and Hurons were gathered about Detroit, and the Illinois about Fort Saint  Louis, on the river Illinois, where Henri de Tonty and his old comrade, La Forest, with fifteen or twenty Frenchmen, held a nominal monopoly of the neighboring fur-trade.  Another focus of Indian population was near the Green Bay of Lake Michigan, and on Fox River, which enters it.  Here were grouped the Sacs, Winnebagoes, and Menominies, with the Outagamies, or Foxes, a formidable tribe, the source of endless trouble to the French. 

The constant aim of the Canadian authorities was to keep these western savages at peace among themselves, while preventing their establishing relations of trade with the Five Nations, and carrying their furs to them in exchange for English goods.  The position was delicate, for while a close understanding between the western tribes and the Five Nations would be injurious to French interests, a quarrel would be still more so, since the French would then be forced to side with their western allies, and so be drawn into hostilities with the Iroquois confederacy, which of all things they most wished to avoid.  Peace and friendship among the western tribes; peace without friendship between these tribes and the Five Nations,—thus became maxims of French policy.  The Canadian governor called the western Indians his "children," and a family quarrel among them would have been unfortunate, since the loving father must needs have become involved in it, to the detriment of his trading interests. 

Yet to prevent such quarrels was difficult, partly because they had existed time out of mind, and partly because it was the interest of the English to promote them.  Dutch and English traders, it is true, took their lives in their hands if they ventured among the western Indians, who were encouraged by their French father to plunder and kill them, and who on occasion rarely hesitated to do so.  Hence English communication with the West was largely carried on through the Five Nations.  Iroquois messengers, hired for the purpose, carried wampum belts "underground"—that is, secretly—to such of the interior tribes as were disposed to listen with favor to the words of Corlaer, as they called the governor of New York. 

In spite of their shortcomings, the English had one powerful attraction for all the tribes alike.  This was the abundance and excellence of their goods, which, with the exception of gunpowder, were better as well as cheaper than those offered by the French.  The Indians, it is true, liked the taste of French brandy more than that of English rum; yet as their chief object in drinking was to get drunk, and as rum would supply as much intoxication as brandy at a lower price, it always found favor in their eyes.  In the one case, to get thoroughly drunk often cost a beaver-skin; in the other, the same satisfaction could generally be had for a mink-skin. 

Thus the French found that some of their western children were disposed to listen to English seductions, look askance at their father Onontio, and turn their canoes, not towards Montreal, but towards Albany.  Nor was this the worst; for there were some of Onontio's wild and unruly western family too ready to lift their hatchets against their brethren and fill the wilderness with discord.  Consequences followed most embarrassing to the French, and among them an incident prominent in the early annals of Detroit, that new establishment so obnoxious to the English, because it barred their way to the northern lakes, so that they were extremely anxious to rid themselves of it. 

In the confused and tumultuous history of the savages of this continent one now and then sees some tribe or league of tribes possessed for a time with a spirit of conquest and havoc that made it the terror of its neighbors.  Of this the foremost example is that of the Five Nations of the Iroquois, who, towards the middle of the seventeenth century, swept all before them and made vast regions a solitude.  They were now comparatively quiet; but far in the Northwest, another people, inferior in number, organization, and mental capacity, but not in ferocity or courage, had begun on a smaller scale, and with less conspicuous success, to play a similar part.  These were the Outagamies, or Foxes, with their allies, the Kickapoos and the Mascoutins, all living at the time within the limits of the present States of Wisconsin and Illinois,—the Outagamies near Fox River, and the others on Rock River.  The Outagamies, in particular, seem to have been seized with an access of homicidal fury.  Their hand was against every man, and for twenty years and more they were the firebrands of the West, and a ceaseless peril to French interests in that region.  They were, however, on good terms with the Five Nations, by means of whom, as French writers say, the Dutch and English of Albany sent them gifts and messages to incite them to kill French traders and destroy the French fort at Detroit.  This is not unlikely, though the evidence on the point is far from conclusive. 

Fort Ponchartrain, better known as Fort Detroit, was an enclosure of palisades, flanked by blockhouses at the corners, with an open space within to serve as a parade-ground, around which stood small wooden houses thatched with straw or meadow-grass.  La Mothe-Cadillac, founder of the post, had been made governor of the new colony of Louisiana, and the Sieur Dubuisson now commanded at Detroit.  There were about thirty French traders, voyageurs, and coureurs de bois in the place, but at this time no soldiers. 

The village of the Pottawattamies was close to the French fort; that of the Hurons was not far distant, by the edge of the river.  Their houses were those structures of bark, "very high, very long, and arched like garden arbors," which were common to all the tribes of Iroquois stock, and both villages were enclosed by strong double or triple stockades, such as Cartier had found at Hochelaga, and Champlain in the Onondaga country.  Their neighbors, the Ottawas, who were on the east side of the river, had imitated, with imperfect success, their way of housing and fortifying themselves.  These tribes raised considerable crops of peas, beans, and Indian corn; and except when engaged in their endless dances and games of ball, dressed, like the converts of the mission villages, in red or blue cloth.  The Hurons were reputed the most intelligent as well as the bravest of all the western tribes, and, being incensed by various outrages, they bore against the Outagamies a deadly grudge, which was shared by the other tribes, their neighbors. 

All these friendly Indians were still absent on their winter hunt, when, at the opening of spring, Dubuisson and his Frenchmen were startled by a portentous visitation.  Two bands of Outagamies and Mascoutins, men, women, and children, counting in all above a thousand, of whom about three hundred were warriors, appeared on the meadows behind the fort, approached to within pistol-shot of the palisades, and encamped there.  It is by no means certain that they came with deliberate hostile intent.  Had this been the case, they would not have brought their women and children.  A paper ascribed to the engineer Léry says, moreover, that their visit was in consequence of an invitation from the late commandant, La Mothe-Cadillac, whose interest it was to attract to Detroit as many Indians as possible, in order to trade for their furs.  Dubuisson, however, was satisfied that they meant mischief, especially when, in spite of all his efforts to prevent them, they fortified themselves by cutting down young trees and surrounding their wigwams with a rough fence of palisades.  They were rude and insolent, declared that all that country was theirs, and killed fowls and pigeons belonging to the French, who, in the absence of their friends, the Hurons and Ottawas, dared not even remonstrate.  Dubuisson himself was forced to submit to their insults in silence, till a party of them came one day into the fort bent on killing two of the French, a man and a girl, against whom they had taken some offence.  The commandant then ordered his men to drive them out; which was done, and henceforward he was convinced that the Outagamies and Mascoutins were only watching their opportunity to burn the fort and butcher its inmates.  Soon after, their excitement redoubled.  News came that a band of Mascoutins, who had wintered on the river Saint  Joseph, had been cut off by the Ottawas and Pottawattamies, led by an Ottawa chief named Saguina; on which the behavior of the dangerous visitors became so threatening that Dubuisson hastily sent a canoe to recall the Hurons and Ottawas from their hunting-grounds, and a second to invite the friendly Ojibwas and Mississagas to come to his aid.  No doubt there was good cause for alarm; yet if the dangerous strangers had resolved to strike, they would have been apt to strike at once, instead of waiting week after week, when they knew that the friends and allies of the French might arrive at any time.  Dubuisson, however, felt that the situation was extremely critical, and he was confirmed in his anxiety by a friendly Outagamie, who, after the news of the massacre on the Saint  Joseph, told him that his tribesmen meant to burn the fort. 

The church was outside the palisade, as were also several houses, one of which was stored with wheat.  This the Outagamies tried to seize.  The French fired on them, drove them back, and brought most of the wheat into the fort; then they demolished the church and several of the houses, which would have given cover to the assailants and enabled them to set fire to the palisade, close to which the buildings stood.  The French worked at their task in the excitement of desperation, for they thought that all was lost. 

The irritation of their savage neighbors so increased that an outbreak seemed imminent, when, on the thirteenth of May, the Sieur de Vincennes arrived, with seven or eight Frenchmen, from the Miami country.  The reinforcement was so small that instead of proving a help it might have provoked a crisis.  Vincennes brought no news of the Indian allies, who were now Dubuisson's only hope.  "I did not know on what saint to call," he writes, almost in despair, when suddenly a Huron Indian came panting into the fort with the joyful news that both his people and the Ottawas were close at hand.  Nor was this all.  The Huron messenger announced that Makisabie, war-chief of the Pottawattamies, was then at the Huron fort, and that six hundred warriors of various tribes, deadly enemies of the Outagamies and Mascoutins, would soon arrive and destroy them all. 

Here was an unlooked-for deliverance.  Yet the danger was not over; for there was fear lest the Outagamies and their allies, hearing of the approaching succor, might make a desperate onslaught, burn the French fort, and kill its inmates before their friends could reach them.  An interval of suspense followed, relieved at last by a French sentinel, who called to Dubuisson that a crowd of Indians was in sight.  The commandant mounted to the top of a blockhouse, and, looking across the meadows behind the fort, saw a throng of savages coming out of the woods,—Pottawattamies, Sacs, Menominies, Illinois, Missouris, and other tribes yet more remote, each band distinguished by a kind of ensign.  These were the six hundred warriors promised by the Huron messenger, and with them, as it proved, came the Ottawa war-chief Saguina.  Having heard during the winter that the Outagamies and Mascoutins would go to Detroit in the spring, these various tribes had combined to attack the common enemy; and they now marched with great ostentation and some show of order, not to the French fort, but to the fortified village of the Hurons, who with their neighbors, the Ottawas, had arrived just before them. 

The Hurons were reputed leaders among the western tribes, and they hated the Outagamies, not only by reason of bitter wrongs, but also through jealousy of the growing importance which these fierce upstarts had won by their sanguinary prowess.  The Huron chiefs came to meet the motley crew of warriors, and urged them to instant action.  "You must not stop to encamp," said the Huron spokesman; "we must all go this moment to the fort of our fathers, the French, and fight for them. " Then, turning to the Ottawa war-chief: "Do you see that smoke, Saguina, rising from the camp of our enemies? They are burning three women of your village, and your wife is one of them. " The Outagamies had, in fact, three Ottawa squaws in their clutches; but the burning was an invention of the crafty Huron.  It answered its purpose, and wrought the hearers to fury.  They ran with yells and whoops towards the French fort, the Hurons and Ottawas leading the way.  A burst of answering yells rose from the camp of the enemy, and about forty of their warriors ran out in bravado, stripped naked and brandishing their weapons; but they soon fell back within their defences before the approaching multitude. 

Just before the arrival of the six hundred allies, Dubuisson, whose orders were to keep the peace, if he could, among the western tribes, had sent Vincennes to the Huron village with a proposal that they should spare the lives of the Outagamies and Mascoutins, and rest content with driving them away; to which the Hurons returned a fierce and haughty refusal.  There was danger that, if vexed or thwarted, the rabble of excited savages now gathered before the fort might turn from friends into enemies, and in some burst of wild caprice lift parricidal tomahawks against their French fathers.  Dubuisson saw no choice but to humor them, put himself at their head, aid them in their vengeance, and even set them on.  Therefore, when they called out for admittance, he did not venture to refuse it, but threw open the gate. 

The savage crew poured in till the fort was full.  The chiefs gathered for council on the parade, and the warriors crowded around, a living wall of dusky forms, befeathered heads, savage faces, lank snaky locks, and deep-set eyes that glittered with a devilish light.  Their orator spoke briefly, but to the purpose.  He declared that all present were ready to die for their French father, who had stood their friend against the bloody and perfidious Outagamies.  Then he begged for food, tobacco, gunpowder, and bullets.  Dubuisson replied with equal conciseness, thanked them for their willingness to die for him, said that he would do his best to supply their wants, and promised an immediate distribution of powder and bullets; to which the whole assembly answered with yells of joy. 

Then the council dissolved, and the elder warriors stalked about the fort, haranguing their followers, exhorting them to fight like men and obey the orders of their father.  The powder and bullets were served out, after which the whole body, white men and red, yelled the war-whoop together,—"a horrible cry, that made the earth tremble," writes Dubuisson.  An answering howl, furious and defiant, rose close at hand from the palisaded camp of the enemy, the firing began on both sides, and bullets and arrows filled the air. 

The French and their allies outnumbered their enemies fourfold, while the Outagamie and Mascoutin warriors were encumbered with more than seven hundred women and children.  Their frail defences might have been carried by assault; but the loss to the assailants must needs have been great against so brave and desperate a foe, and such a mode of attack is repugnant to the Indian genius.  Instead, therefore, of storming the palisaded camp, the allies beleaguered it with vindictive patience, and wore out its defenders by a fire that ceased neither day nor night.  The French raised two tall scaffolds, from which they overlooked the palisade, and sent their shot into the midst of those within, who were forced, for shelter, to dig holes in the ground four or five feet deep, and ensconce themselves there.  The situation was almost hopeless, but their courage did not fail.  They raised twelve red English blankets on poles as battle-flags, to show that they would fight to the death, and hung others over their palisades, calling out that they wished to see the whole earth red, like them, with blood; that they had no fathers but the English, and that the other tribes had better do as they did, and turn their backs to Onontio. 

The great war-chief of the Pottawattamies now mounted to the top of one of the French scaffolds, and harangued the enemy to this effect: "Do you think, you wretches, that you can frighten us by hanging out those red blankets? If the earth is red with blood, it will be your own.  You talk about the English.  Their bad advice will be your ruin.  They are enemies of religion, and that is why the Master of Life punishes both them and you.  They are cowards, and can only defend themselves by poisoning people with their firewater, which kills a man the instant he drinks it.  We shall soon see what you will get for listening to them. "

This Homeric dialogue between the chief combatants was stopped by Dubuisson, who saw that it distracted the attention of the warriors, and so enabled the besieged to run to the adjacent river for water.  The firing was resumed more fiercely than ever.  Before night twelve of the Indian allies were killed in the French fort, though the enemy suffered a much greater loss.  One house had been left standing outside the French palisades, and the Outagamies raised a scaffold behind its bullet-proof gable, under cover of which they fired with great effect.  The French at length brought two swivels to bear upon the gable, pierced it, knocked down the scaffold, killed some of the marksmen, and scattered the rest in consternation. 

Famine and thirst were worse for the besieged than the bullets and arrows of the allies.  Parched, starved, and fainting, they could no longer find heart for bravado, and they called out one evening from behind their defences to ask Dubuisson if they might come to speak with him.  He called together the allied chiefs, and all agreed that here was an opportunity to get out of the hands of the Outagamies the three Ottawa women whom they held prisoners.  The commandant, therefore, told them that if they had anything to say to their father before dying, they might come and say it in safety. 

In the morning all the red blankets had disappeared, and a white flag was waving over the hostile camp.  The great Outagamie chief, Pemoussa, presently came out, carrying a smaller white flag and followed by two Indian slaves.  Dubuisson sent his interpreter to protect him from insult and conduct him to the parade, where all the allied chiefs presently met to hear him. 

"My father," he began, "I am a dead man.  The sky is bright for you, and dark as night for me. " Then he held out a belt of wampum, and continued: "By this belt I ask you, my father, to take pity on your children, and grant us two days in which our old men may counsel together to find means of appeasing your wrath. " Then, offering another belt to the assembled chiefs, "This belt is to pray you to remember that you are of our kin.  If you spill our blood, do not forget that it is also your own.  Try to soften the heart of our father, whom we have offended so often.  These two slaves are to replace some of the blood you have lost.  Grant us the two days we ask, for I cannot say more till our old men have held counsel. "

To which Dubuisson answered in the name of all: "If your hearts were really changed, and you honestly accepted Onontio as your father, you would have brought back the three women who are prisoners in your hands.  As you have not done so, I think that your hearts are still bad.  First bring them to me, if you expect me to hear you.  I have no more to say. "

"I am but a child," replied the envoy.  "I will go back to my village, and tell our old men what you have said. "

The council then broke up, and several Frenchmen conducted the chief back to his followers. 

Three other chiefs soon after appeared, bearing a flag and bringing the Ottawa squaws, one of whom was the wife of the war-chief, Saguina.  Again the elders met in council on the parade, and the orator of the deputation spoke thus: "My father, here are the three pieces of flesh that you ask of us.  We would not eat them, lest you should be angry.  Do with them what you please, for you are the master.  Now we ask that you will send away the nations that are with you, so that we may seek food for our women and children, who die of hunger every day.  If you are as good a father as your other children say you are, you will not refuse us this favor. "

But Dubuisson, having gained his point and recovered the squaws, spoke to them sternly, and referred them to his Indian allies for their answer.  Whereupon the head chief of the Illinois, being called upon by the rest to speak in their behalf, addressed the envoys to this effect: "Listen to me, you who have troubled all the earth.  We see plainly that you mean only to deceive our father.  If we should leave him, as you wish, you would fall upon him and kill him.  You are dogs who have always bitten him.  You thought that we did not know all the messages you have had from the English, telling you to cut our father's throat, and then bring them into this our country.  We will not leave him alone with you.  We shall see who will be the master.  Go back to your fort.  We are going to fire at you again. "

The envoys went back with a French escort to prevent their being murdered on the way, and then the firing began again.  The Outagamies and Mascoutins gathered strength from desperation, and sent flights of fire-arrows into the fort to burn the straw-thatched houses.  The flames caught in many places; but with the help of the Indians they were extinguished, though several Frenchmen were wounded, and there was great fright for a time.  But the thatch was soon stripped off and the roofs covered with deer and bear skins, while mops fastened to long poles, and two large wooden canoes filled with water, were made ready for future need. 

A few days after, a greater peril threatened the French.  If the wild Indian has the passions of a devil, he has also the instability of a child; and this is especially true when a number of incoherent tribes or bands are joined in a common enterprise.  Dubuisson's Indians became discouraged, partly at the stubborn resistance of the enemy, and partly at the scarcity of food.  Some of them declared openly that they could never conquer those people; that they knew them well, and that they were braver than anybody else.  In short, the French saw themselves on the point of being abandoned by their allies to a fate the most ghastly and appalling; and they urged upon the commandant the necessity of escaping to Michilimackinac before it was too late.  Dubuisson appears to have met the crisis with equal resolution and address.  He braced the shaken nerves of his white followers by appeals to their sense of shame, threats of the governor's wrath, and assurances that all would yet be well; then set himself to the more difficult task of holding the Indian allies to their work.  He says that he scarcely ate or slept for four days and nights, during which time he was busied without ceasing in private and separate interviews with all the young war-chiefs, persuading them, flattering them, and stripping himself of all he had to make them presents.  When at last he had gained them over, he called the tribes to a general council. 

"What, children!" thus he addressed them, "when you are on the very point of destroying these wicked people, do you think of shamefully running away? How could you ever hold up your heads again? All the other nations would say: 'Are these the brave warriors who deserted the French and ran like cowards?'" And he reminded them that their enemies were already half dead with famine, and that they could easily make an end of them, thereby gaining great honor among the nations, besides the thanks and favors of Onontio, the father of all. 

At this the young war-chiefs whom he had gained over interrupted him and cried out, "My father, somebody has been lying to you.  We are not cowards.  We love you too much to abandon you, and we will stand by you till the last of your enemies is dead. " The elder men caught the contagion, and cried, "Come on, let us show our father that those who have spoken ill of us are liars. " Then they all raised the war-whoop, sang the war-song, danced the war-dance, and began to fire again. 

Among the enemy were some Sakis, or Sacs, fighting for the Outagamies, while others of their tribe were among the allies of the French.  Seeing the desperate turn of affairs, they escaped from time to time and came over to the winning side, bringing reports of the state of the beleaguered camp.  They declared that sixty or eighty women and children were already dead from hunger and thirst, besides those killed by bullets and arrows; that the fire of the besiegers was so hot that the bodies could not be buried, and that the camp of the Outagamies and Mascoutins was a den of infection. 

The end was near.  The besieged savages called from their palisades to ask if they might send another deputation, and were told that they were free to do so.  The chief, Pemoussa, soon appeared at the gate of the fort, naked, painted from head to foot with green earth, wearing belts of wampum about his waist, and others hanging from his shoulders, besides a kind of crown of wampum beads on his head.  With him came seven women, meant as a peace-offering, all painted and adorned with wampum.  Three other principal chiefs followed, each with a gourd rattle in his hand, to the cadence of which the whole party sang and shouted at the full stretch of their lungs an invocation to the spirits for help and pity.  They were conducted to the parade, where the French and the allied chiefs were already assembled, and Pemoussa thus addressed them:—

"My father, and all the nations here present, I come to ask for life.  It is no longer ours, but yours.  I bring you these seven women, who are my flesh, and whom I put at your feet, to be your slaves.  But do not think that I am afraid to die; it is the life of our women and children that I ask of you. " He then offered six wampum belts, in token that his followers owned themselves beaten, and begged for mercy.  "Tell us, I pray you,"—these were his last words,—"something that will lighten the hearts of my people when I go back to them. "

Dubuisson left the answer to his allies.  The appeal of the suppliant fell on hearts of stone.  The whole concourse sat in fierce and sullen silence, and the envoys read their doom in the gloomy brows that surrounded them.  Eight or ten of the allied savages presently came to Dubuisson, and one of them said in a low voice: "My father, we come to ask your leave to knock these four great chiefs in the head.  It is they who prevent our enemies from surrendering without conditions.  When they are dead, the rest will be at our mercy. "

Dubuisson told them that they must be drunk to propose such a thing.  "Remember," he said, "that both you and I have given our word for their safety.  If I consented to what you ask, your father at Montreal would never forgive me.  Besides, you can see plainly that they and their people cannot escape you. "

The would-be murderers consented to bide their time, and the wretched envoys went back with their tidings of despair. 

"I confess," wrote Dubuisson to the governor, a few days later, "that I was touched with compassion; but as war and pity do not agree well together, and especially as I understood that they were hired by the English to destroy us, I abandoned them to their fate. "

The firing began once more, and the allied hordes howled round the camp of their victims like troops of ravenous wolves.  But a surprise awaited them.  Indians rarely set guards at night, and they felt sure now of their prey.  It was the nineteenth day of the siege.  The night closed dark and rainy, and when morning came, the enemy were gone.  All among them that had strength to move had glided away through the gloom with the silence of shadows, passed the camps of their sleeping enemies, and reached a point of land projecting into the river opposite the end of Isle au Cochon, and a few miles above the French fort.  Here, knowing that they would be pursued, they barricaded themselves with trunks and branches of trees.  When the astonished allies discovered their escape, they hastily followed their trail, accompanied by some of the French, led by Vincennes.  In their eagerness they ran upon the barricade before seeing it, and were met by a fire that killed and wounded twenty of them.  There was no alternative but to forego their revenge and abandon the field, or begin another siege.  Encouraged by Dubuisson, they built their wigwams on the new scene of operations; and, being supplied by the French with axes, mattocks, and two swivels, they made a wall of logs opposite the barricade, from which they galled the defenders with a close and deadly fire.  The Mississagas and Ojibwas, who had lately arrived, fished and hunted for the allies, while the French furnished them with powder, ball, tobacco, Indian corn, and kettles.  The enemy fought desperately for four days, and then, in utter exhaustion, surrendered at discretion. 

The women and children were divided among the victorious hordes, and adopted or enslaved.  To the men no quarter was given.  "Our Indians amused themselves," writes Dubuisson, "with shooting four or five of them every day. " Here, however, another surprise awaited the conquerors and abridged their recreation, for about a hundred of these intrepid warriors contrived to make their escape, and among them was the great war-chief Pemoussa. 

The Outagamies were crippled, but not disabled, for but a part of the tribe was involved in this bloody affair.  The rest were wrought to fury by the fate of their kinsmen, and for many years they remained thorns in the sides of the French. 

There is a disposition to assume that events like that just recounted were a consequence of the contact of white men with red; but the primitive Indian was quite able to enact such tragedies without the help of Europeans.  Before French or English influence had been felt in the interior of the continent, a great part of North America was the frequent witness of scenes still more lurid in coloring, and on a larger scale of horror.  In the first half of the seventeenth century the whole country, from Lake Superior to the Tennessee, and from the Alleghanies to the Mississippi, was ravaged by wars of extermination, in which tribes, large and powerful by Indian standards, perished, dwindled into feeble remnants, or were absorbed by other tribes and vanished from sight.  French pioneers were sometimes involved in the carnage, but neither they nor other Europeans were answerable for it.