“It was in June. A number of Indians had arrived near the fort, apparently to trade, and a day was appointed for a game of ball, of which they are very fond. Stakes were planted, and the game, in playing which the great object is to keep the ball beyond the adversary’s goal, began. The Indians uttered loud cries in the wild excitement of the game, and the commandant of the fort and his lieutenant stood outside of the gate to watch them. The ball was tossed nearer and nearer the fort, and the excited crowd of Indians ran and leaped after it, when suddenly they rushed upon the two officers at the gate, and imprisoned them. At once they joined some Indians who had come into the fort under pretense of trading, and imprisoned the whole garrison, seventeen of whom they put to death. “This was the beginning of Pontiac’s war.” “I never heard of this game of ball,” said Norman; “but I can tell as good a story of a pair of moccasins. May I?” “Certainly,” said his mother. “I would like to hear it.” “Well, mother, I believe this was at the beginning of Pontiac’s war too. An Indian woman had made some moccasins for Major Gladstone, who commanded the fort at Detroit. They were made of a curious elk-skin that he valued very much. He paid her for them, and gave her the rest of the skin, asking her to make another pair for a friend of his. The squaw seemed unwilling to go home, and the major sent for her, and asked her what she was waiting for. She said she did not like to take the elk-skin that he thought so much of, as she could not make another pair of moccasins. He asked her why she could not make them. At first she would not tell; but then she said he had been very good to her, and she would tell him the secret, that she might save his life. “The Indians, who had asked permission to visit the fort the next day, that they might present the calumet to Major Gladstone, were coming with their guns cut off, that they might hide them under their blankets; then, when Pontiac presented the calumet in some peculiar way, they were to fire upon the officers. “The soldiers were stationed outside of the room where the council was to be held; the officers were armed, and when Pontiac was about to present the calumet, the officers partially drew their swords from their scabbards, and the clank of the soldiers’ arms was heard outside. Pontiac turned pale, and presented the calumet without the preconcerted signal. “Major Gladstone then stepped up to one of the Indians, pulled aside his blanket, and revealed the gun cut short, just as the squaw had said. He accused Pontiac of treachery, but said that as he had promised them a safe audience, they might go out of the town unharmed.” “Perhaps if he had kept them prisoners,” said Mrs. Lester, “he might have prevented the war that ensued.”