I 



222 DETROIT. [1763, Mat. 



fierce Indians and the sleepless English. From 

 sunset till dawn, an anxious watch was kept from 

 the slender palisades of Detroit. The soldiers were 

 still ignorant of the danger ; and the sentinels did 

 not know why their numbers were doubled, or 

 why, with such unwonted vigilance, their officers 

 repeatedly visited their posts. A^ain and again 

 Gladwyn mounted his wooden ramparts, and looked 

 forth into the gloom. There seemed nothing but 

 repose and peace in the soft, moist air of the warm 

 spring evening, with the piping of frogs along the 

 river bank, just roused from their torpor by the 

 genial influence of May. But, at intervals, as the 

 night wind swept across the bastion, it bore sounds 

 of fearful portent to the ear, the sullen booming 

 of the Indian drum and the wild chorus of quaver- 

 ing yells, as the warriors, around their distant 

 camp-fires, danced the war-dance, in preparation 

 for the morrow's work.^ 



1 Maxwell's Account, MS. See Appendix, C. 



