Precisely at ten o'clock in the morning a host of bark canoes from the Ottawa side of the Detroit River slanted across the current, and made landing. Pontiac approached at the head of a long file of thirty chiefs and as many warriors. They walked with measured, stately tread. Every man was closely wrapped in a gay blanket. They were admitted through the gate of the fort, but it was closed against the mass of warriors, women and children who pressed after. As Pontiac, with his escort, stalked for the council room, his quick glances saw that the soldiers were formed, under arms, and moving from spot to spot, and that a double rank had been stationed around the headquarters. In the council chamber he noted, too, that each officer wore his sword, and two pistols! "Why," asked Pontiac, of Major Gladwyn, "do I see so many of my father's young men standing in the street with their guns?" "It is best that my young men be exercised as soldiers, or they will grow lazy and forget," answered the major. Ha! Pontiac knew. Somehow his plans had been betrayed; his game was up, unless he chose an open fight. His chiefs and warriors sat uneasily. They all feared death. By Indian law they ought to be killed for having intended to shed blood in a calumet council. Pontiac started his talk. He acted confused, as though he was not certain what course to pursue. Once he did seem about to offer the belt wrong end first, as the signal--and Major Gladwyn, still sitting, slightly raised his hand. Instantly from outside the door sounded the clash of arms and the quick roll of a drum, to show that the garrison was on the alert. The officers half drew their swords. Pontiac flushed yet darker. He stammered, and offering the belt right end first, closed his talk, and sat down again. Major Gladwyn made a short reply. He said that the English were glad to be friends, as long as their red brothers deserved it; but any act of war would be severely punished. That was all. The major let the Indians file out again. Pontiac knew. He was too great a leader, in the Indian way, to be balked by one defeat. He actually proposed another council; he actually persuaded the foolish major to send out to him two officers, for a peace talk. One of the officers barely escaped from captivity, the other never came back. Then Pontiac boldly besieged Detroit, in white race fashion--the closest, longest siege ever laid by Indians against any fort on American soil. His two thousand Indians swarmed in the forest, held the fences and walls and buildings of the fields, peppered the palisade with bullets and arrows, shot fire into the town; captured a supply fleet in the river, ambushed sallying parties, cut to pieces a column of reinforcements. The siege lasted six months. The orders to attack went out. On May 16 Fort Sandusky, at Lake Erie in northern Ohio, was seized by the Wyandots and Ottawas, during a council.