Mr. Kinzie, as has been related, joined his family at Detroit in the month of January.  A short time after, suspicions arose in the mind of General Proctor that he was in correspondence with General Harrison, who was now at Fort Meigs, and who was believed to be meditating an advance upon Detroit.  Lieutenant Watson, of the British army, waited upon Mr. Kinzie one day with an invitation to the quarters of General Proctor on the opposite side of the river, saying he wished to speak with him, on business.  Quite unsuspicious, he complied with the invitation, when to his surprise he was ordered into confinement, and strictly guarded in the house of his former partner, Mr. Patterson, of Sandwich.  Finding that he did not return to his home, Mrs. Kinzie informed some of the Indian chiefs, his particular friends, who immediately repaired to the head-quarters of the commanding officer, demanded “their friend’s” release, and brought him back to his home.  After waiting a time until a favorable opportunity presented itself, the General sent a detachment of dragoons to arrest Mr. Kinzie.  They had succeeded in carrying him away, and crossing the river with him.  Just at this moment a party of friendly Indians made their appearance.

“Where is the Shaw-nee-aw-kee?” was the first question.

“There,” replied his wife, pointing across the river, “in the hands of the red-coats, who are taking him away again.”

The Indians ran to the river, seized some canoes that they found there, and, crossing over to Sandwich, compelled General Proctor a second time to forego his intentions.

A third time this officer made the attempt, and succeeded in arresting Mr. Kinzie and conveying him heavily ironed to Fort Malden, in Canada, at the mouth of the Detroit River.  Here he was at first treated with great severity, but after a time the rigor of his confinement was somewhat relaxed, and he was permitted to walk on the bank of the river for air and exercise.

On the 10th of September, as he was taking his promenade under the close supervision of a guard of soldiers, the whole party were startled by the sound of guns upon Lake Erie, at no great distance below.  What could it mean?  It must be Commodore Barclay firing into some of the Yankees.  The firing continued.  The time allotted the prisoner for his daily walk expired, but neither he nor his guard observed the lapse of time, so anxiously were they listening to what they now felt sure was an engagement between ships of war.  At length Mr. Kinzie was reminded that the hour for his return to confinement had arrived.  He petitioned for another half-hour.

“Let me stay,” said he, “till we can learn how the battle has gone.”

Very soon a sloop appeared under press of sail, rounding the point, and presently two gun-boats in chase of her.

“She is running—­she bears the British colors,” cried he—­“yes, yes, they are lowering—­she is striking her flag!  Now,” turning to the soldiers, “I will go back to prison contented—­I know how the battle has gone.”