346 THE MASSACRE. [1763, June. 



her to send me a little water to drink, which she 

 did. 



" As night was now advancing, I continued to 

 lie on the bed, ruminating on my condition, but 

 unable to discover a resource from which I could 

 hope for life. A flight to Detroit had no probable 

 chance of success. The distance from Michilli- 

 mackinac was four hundred miles ; I was without 

 provisions, and the whole length of the road lay 

 through Indian countries, countries of an enemy 

 in arms, where the first man whom I should meet 

 would kill me. To stay where I was, threatened 

 nearly the same issue. As before, fatigue of mind, 

 and not tranquillity, suspended my cares, and pro- 

 cured me farther sleep. 



" The respite which sleep afforded me during 

 the night was put an end to by the return of morn- 

 ing. 1 was again on the rack of apprehension. 

 At sunrise, I heard the family stirring ; and, pres- 

 ently after, Indian voices, informing M. Langlade 

 that they had not found my hapless self among 

 the dead, and they supposed me to be somewhere 

 concealed. M. Langlade appeared, from what 

 followed, to be, by this time, acquainted with the 

 place of my retreat ; of which, no doubt, he had 

 been informed by his wife. The poor w^oman, as 

 soon as the Lidians mentioned me, declared to her 

 husband, in the French tongue, that he should no 

 longer keep me in his house, but deliver me up 

 to my pursuers ; giving as a reason for this meas- 

 ure, that, should the Indians discover his instru- 

 mentality in my concealment, they might revenge 



