On the afternoon of the same day, a second council was held with the Indians.  They expressed great indignation at the destruction of the ammunition and liquor.

Notwithstanding the precautions that had been taken to preserve secrecy, the noise of knocking in the heads of the barrels had betrayed the operations of the preceding night; indeed, so great was the quantity of liquor thrown into the river, that the taste of the water the next morning was, as one expressed it, “strong grog.”

Murmurs and threats were everywhere heard among the savages.  It was evident that the first moment of exposure would subject the troops to some manifestation of their disappointment and resentment.

Among the chiefs were several who, although they shared the general hostile feeling of their tribe towards the Americans, yet retained a personal regard for the troops at this post, and for the few white citizens of the place.  These chiefs exerted their utmost influence to allay the revengeful feelings of the young men, and to avert their sanguinary designs, but without effect.

On the evening succeeding the council, Black Partridge, a conspicuous chief, entered the quarters of the commanding officer.

“Father,” said he, “I come to deliver up to you the medal I wear.  It was given me by the Americans, and I have long worn it in token of our mutual friendship.  But our young men are resolved to imbrue their hands in the blood of the whites.  I cannot restrain them, and I will not wear a token of peace while I am compelled to act as an enemy.”

Had further evidence been wanting, this circumstance would have sufficiently proved to the devoted band the justice of their melancholy anticipations.  Nevertheless, they went steadily on with the necessary preparations; and, amid the horrors of their situation, there were not wanting gallant hearts, who strove to encourage, in their desponding companions, the hopes of escape they were far from indulging themselves.

Of the ammunition there had been reserved but twenty-five rounds, besides one box of cartridges, contained in the baggage-wagons.  This must, under any circumstances of danger, have proved an inadequate supply; but the prospect of a fatiguing march, in their present ineffective state, forbade the troops embarrassing themselves with a larger quantity.

CHAPTER XIX.

NARRATIVE OF THE MASSACRE, CONTINUED.

The morning of the 15th arrived.  All things were in readiness, and nine o’clock was the hour named for starting.

Mr. Kinzie, having volunteered to accompany the troops in their march, had intrusted his family to the care of some friendly Indians, who promised to convey them in a boat around the head of Lake Michigan to a point[34] on the St. Joseph’s River, there to be joined by the troops, should the prosecution of their march be permitted them.