1763, Mat.] THE PLOT DEFEATED. 225 



All were wrapped to the throat in colored blankets. 

 Some were crested with hawk, eagle, or raven 

 plumes ; others had shaved their heads, leaving 

 only the fluttering scalp-lock on the crown ; while 

 others, again, wore their long, black hair flowing 

 loosely at their backs, or wildly hanging about 

 their brows like a lion's mane. Their bold yet 

 crafty features, their cheeks besmeared with ochre 

 and vermilion, white lead and soot, their keen, 

 deep-set eyes gleaming in their sockets, like those 

 of rattlesnakes, gave them an aspect grim, uncouth, 

 and horrible. For the most part, they were tall, 

 strong men, and all had a gait and bearing of 

 peculiar stateliness. 



As Pontiac entered, it is said that he started, 

 and that a deep ejaculation half escaped from his 

 breast. Well might his stoicism fail, for at a 

 glance he read the ruin of his plot. On either 

 hand, within the gateway, stood ranks of soldiers 

 and hedges of glittering steel. The swarthy enga- 

 ges of the fur- traders, armed to the teeth, stood in 

 groups at the street corners, and the measured tap 

 of a drum fell ominously on the ear. Soon regain- 

 ing his composure, Pontiac strode forward into the 

 narrow street ; and his chiefs filed after him in 

 silence, while the scared faces of women and 

 children looked out from the windows as they 

 passed. Their rigid muscles betrayed no sign of 

 emotion ; yet, looking closely, one might have seen 

 their small eyes glance from side to side with rest- 

 less scrutiny. 



Traversing the entire width of the little town, 



15 



