Gladwyn determined to act boldly.  On the morning of the 7th all the traders’ stores were closed and every man capable of bearing weapons was under arms; but the gates were left open as usual, and shortly after daylight Indians and squaws by twos and threes began to gather in the fort as if to trade.  At ten in the morning a line of chiefs with Pontiac at their head filed along the road leading to the river gate.  All were painted and plumed and each one was wrapped in a brightly coloured blanket.  When they entered the fort they were astonished to see the warlike preparations, but stoically concealed their surprise.  Arrived in the council-chamber, the chiefs noticed the sentinels standing at arms, the commandant and his officers seated, their faces stern and set, pistols in their belts and swords by their sides.  So perturbed were the chiefs by all this warlike display that it was some time before they would take their seats on the mats prepared for them.  At length they recovered their composure, and Pontiac broke the silence by asking why so many of the young men were standing in the streets with their guns.  Answer was made through the interpreter La Butte that it was for exercise and discipline.  Pontiac then addressed Gladwyn, vehemently protesting friendship.  All the time he was speaking Gladwyn bent on him a scrutinizing gaze, and as the chief was about to present the wampum belt, a signal was given and the drums crashed out a charge.  Every doubt was removed from Pontiac’s mind—­his plot was discovered.  His nervous hand lowered the belt; but he recovered himself immediately and presented it in the ordinary way.  Gladwyn replied to his speech sternly, but kindly, saying that he would have the protection and friendship of the British so long as he merited it.  A few presents were then distributed among the Indians, and the council ended.  The chiefs, with their blankets still tightly wrapped about them, filed out of the council-room and scattered to their villages, followed by the disappointed rabble of fully three hundred Indians, who had assembled in the fort.

On the morrow, Pontiac, accompanied by three chiefs, again appeared at the fort, bringing with him a pipe of peace.  When this had been smoked by the officers and chiefs, he presented it to Captain Campbell, as a further mark of friendship.  The next day he was once more at the gates seeking entrance.  But he found them closed:  Gladwyn felt that the time had come to take no chances.  This morning a rabble of Potawatomis, Ottawas, Wyandots, and Chippewas thronged the common just out of musket range.  On Pontiac’s request for a conference with Gladwyn he was sternly told that he might enter alone.  The answer angered him, and he strode back to his followers.  Now, with yells and war-whoops, parties of the savages bounded away on a murderous mission.  Half a mile behind the fort an English woman, Mrs Turnbull, and her two sons cultivated a small farm.  All three were straightway slain.  A party of