![]() It took a man of considerable experience hunting in the wilds and dealing with the numerous tribes to even know which man was enemy and which was not. Here at Pickawillany, Miami were fighting Miami, the tribes of the Iroquois becoming split over loyalties. This was only one of the sad results of the English and French vying for land and trading rights. They reached the main village, and sickening fear permeated Noah as he dodged arrows and musket fire. Among the Iroquois, to betray one's word meant death, and not an easy one. If somehow he could have warnedthese people, and they had appeared prepared for this attack, Pontiac would have blamed it on Cold Foot, thinking the old chief had managed to get word to them after promising not to do so. As a spy, he'd ended up a part of this horrendous mission, hired by the unwitting French to scout for their French soldiers. Hate was all he'd felt since then, and a desire for revenge against the French. Noah had spied for the English for years, ever since his precious wife was killed by the French and Indian attack on Albany seven years ago. The attack came as a complete surprise: more than two hundred primed warriors led by a bloodthirsty Chief Pontiac eager to take scalps. Their men poured from the fort to protect them, and in minutes cries of horror filled the air as one-on-one fighting took place. Those women still alive hoisted their babies under their arms and tried to reach the wooden stockade ahead of them. It was those Miami, led by Pontiac, who now warred against their own people.Īlready bodies lay strewn about as Noah exited the cornfield. The man who led these people was Chief Unemakemi, who'd become unpopular with the Detroit-area Miami. But the people Chief Pontiac and his French cohorts attacked today were also Miami-those who'd chosen to side with the English. For weeks he'd lain in Cold Foot's village being cared for by the Miami. You know what Chief Pontiac will do.Ĭold Foot had saved his life three years ago, when Noah was attacked by a bear. If you do, it will be very bad for me and my people. He could have warned them, but the words of his good friend, Miami Chief Cold Foot, nudged at his conscience: Do not warn them, my friend. How he hated being a part of this! He couldn't do a damn thing to help the women and children falling to this cruel enemy. The attacking Iroquois began slaying as many as they could catch, as did the French soldiers. Soon thesounds of men panting as they ran grew into the sounds of women and children screaming as they fled the cornfields, heading for the trading post as the French and Iroquois routed them from the fields. Most of the Indians with him were barefoot and nearly naked, as was the custom among most Iroquois in summer's heat. He skimmed over the packed earth in moccasined feet. The French were determined to seal their hold on all land west of the Ohio River, which meant destroying Pickawillany. French soldiers, mostly infantrymen in blue and white, were also part of this war party, all on a mission: to attack the English trading post of Pickawillany in Ohio Territory. At his waist hung his large hunting knife in its sheath, and a tomahawk.įor the moment he felt as much an Indian as the Miami, Huron and Ottawa who ran with him, beside him, ahead of him, behind him. ![]() His musket already primed, he carried it in one hand as he batted at the corn leaves with the other. Besides that, what lay ahead meant he'd need complete freedom of movement. He'd left his buckskin shirt behind in the canoe hidden downstream with twenty other canoes, and the edges of the corn leaves cut at his face and bare arms. Noah charged through the cornfield, bending low to stay hidden in the half-grown stalks.
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