civilly received; but soon learned that this change of temper was owing to the Shawanese and Delawares, a deputation of fifteen of them having come there with fourteen belts and six strings of wampum; who, in the name of their nations, and of the Senecas, declared they would perish to a man before they would make peace with the English: seven of them had returned to their villages; five were gone to Wyaut [Ouiatonon]; and three had set out the morning I had arrived for St. Joseph;[19] (a fortunate circumstance for me, for they had determined to kill me). The Shawanese and Delawares begged of the Miamis either to put us to death (the Indians and myself) or to tie us and send us prisoners to their villages, or at least to make us return. They loaded the English with the heaviest reproaches; and added, that while the sun shone they would be at enmity with us. The Kiccapoos, Mascoutins, and Wiatanons, who happened to be at the Miamis village declared, that they would dispatch me at their villages, if the Miamis should let me pass. The Shawanese and Delawares concluded their speeches with saying: “This is the last belt we shall send you, till we send the hatchet; which will be about the end of next month (October).” Doubtless their design was to amuse General Bradstreet with fair language, to cut off his army at Sandusky, when least expected, and then to send the hatchet to the nations: a plan well laid; but of which it was my good fortune to prevent them from attempting the execution. To return to myself: I remained in the fort, and two Indian warriors (one of whom was called Visenlair) with tommahawks in their hands, seized me, one by each arm; on which I turned to Godefroi, the only person who had not left me, and cried out to him, seeing him stand motionless and pale: “Eh bien! Vous m’abandonnez donc?” Well then! You give me up? He answered: “Non, mon capitaine, je ne vous abandonnerai jamais,” No, my captain, I will never give you up; and followed the Indians, who pulled me along to the water-side, where I imagined they intended to put me into a canoe; but they dragged me into the water. I concluded their whim was to drown me, and then scalp me; but I soon found my mistake, the river being fordable. They led me on till we came near their village; and there they stopped and stripped me. They could not get off my shirt, which was held by the wrist bands, after they had pulled it over my head; and in rage and despair I tore it off myself. They then bound my arms with my sash, and drove me before them to a cabin, where was a bench, on which they made me sit. The whole village was now in an uproar. Godefroi prevailed with St. Vincent, who had followed us to the water-side, but had turned back, to come along with him; and encouraged Pondiac’s nephew and the little chief’s son to take my part. St. Vincent brought the great belt, and Pondiac’s nephew spoke. Nanamis, an Indian, bid Godefroi take courage, and not quit me. Godefroi told le Cygne, a