Just as the first streakings of day were beginning to show in the east, two hundred and fifty men moved out of the fort, and stole like so many phantoms through the forest, toward Pontiac's encampment. They kept along shore, while two bateaux, each with a swivel gun at its bow, held their places abreast of the soldiers. The expedition would have been successful, and a crushing blow given, had not the scheme become known to some of the Canadians, who revealed it to the Ottawa chief. He had time to make his preparations which he did thoroughly. The soldiers moved forward, every heart beating high with hope. Not an Indian was seen until they reached the bridge spanning Parent's Creek. Then the hundreds of crouching warriors opened fire. Half the advance guard fell, when Dalzell, as the only means of saving the remainder, ordered a retreat. In the confusion, the soldiers were surrounded by the Indians. When it looked as if not one could escape, Major Rogers, with a number of men as brave as himself, took possession of a house swarming with fugitives, and defeated every assault, while the troops were fighting their way back to the fort. The bateaux aided Rogers by their fire, and he and his little company succeeded in reaching the post. The English loss was fifty-nine killed and wounded. Major Dalzell was slain while trying to save a wounded sergeant. This sad affair has passed into history as the battle of Bloody Ridge. [Illustration: AN INDIAN APOLLO] The disaster cast gloom over the garrison and the survivors. While the force that remained felt able to hold out, the besiegers were greatly elated. Many of the Indians who were on the point of going to their homes, gained new ardor in their support to Pontiac and his cause. They were certain to retain this enthusiasm for a long time. On the night of August 4, a sloop arrived in sight of the fort with despatches from Niagara. The crew numbered barely a score, and the slackness of the wind forced the captain to drop anchor before he could reach a point of safety. Unfortunately, too, the night was very dark, so that an attack by their enemies was one of the certainties. Sure enough, two hundred warriors stole forward in the gloom which allowed them to reach the sloop before they were seen. When discovered they were swarming over the gunwales at the bow, stern and sides. The crew fought with the energy of desperation, but could not withstand the furious assault. Seeing that all was lost, the mate shouted to one of the sailors to fire the magazine, that in their own destruction they might kill many of their enemies. Now, it so happened that among the Indians were several who knew enough English to understand the command, and they repeated it to the others. On the instant, every one leaped overboard, diving, swimming and struggling with frantic haste to save himself. With the loss of the captain and several of the crew, the sloop soon after reached Detroit.