In this manner, with their nerves at high tension, the night passed, and not until the light of the next day did the guard dare to release his Indian prisoners. Then, one by one only, he allowed them to walk out of doors. It is very probable that this was an extreme case, but it occurred just as narrated. Not again during the war was Roger Conant molested by the Indians. Not yet had the first year of the war (1812) dragged its slow length along. About the Niagara River the fighting had been most active at all points. Rumors of the clash of arms came from the West to those in central Upper Canada. General Hull thought himself secure at Detroit with a broad and deep river rolling between him and his opponents in Canada. Neither [Illustration: FAREWELL’S TAVERN, NEAR OSHAWA, AS IT APPEARS TO-DAY.] depth of river nor width, however, kept our men away from Detroit. No Canadian can contemplate this exploit of our arms without a swelling of pride. Detroit became ours on the 15th of August, 1812, when General Hull surrendered the whole command of 2,500 men, without terms, and Michigan was our lawful conquest. Immediately on the surrender of so many men to us, it became a serious question what to do with so many prisoners of war. We possessed no place in Upper Canada where they could be securely kept, and at old Quebec only could we depend upon them being safely retained. Consequently to Quebec they were sent. They were sent thither in boats and canoes in which they assisted in rowing and paddling. In this manner they went to Quebec, and were apparently well content with their lot. So very meagre, however, were our resources that we could not furnish boats for all of them, and many were compelled to walk along the lake shore. They were fed at various places along the route, among others at Farewell’s tavern, near Oshawa, an engraving of which as it stands now is given on opposite page. From the author’s tales of his forbears he gets the story of these prisoners coming to their home to be fed. Guards, indeed, they had, but they outnumbered them ten to one, and even more, simply because we had not the men to guard them. From what can be learned, however, none ran away. Coming to the Conant family homestead to be fed, without warning, a big pot of potatoes was quickly boiled. A churning of butter fortunately had been done that day, just previous to their coming, and a ham, it so happened, had been boiled the day preceding. All was set before them, and copious draughts of buttermilk were supplied. Guards and prisoners fared alike. There were no evidences of ill-feeling or rancor, but good nature and good humor prevailed, even if some shielded ministers in far-away London at that day forced the combat upon them.