In the dwelling of Mr. Kinzie, one large room was devoted to the reception of these sufferers. Few of them survived. Among those spoken of as the objects of deepest interest, were two young gentlemen of Kentucky, both severely wounded, and their wounds aggravated to a mortal degree by subsequent ill-usage and hardships. Their solicitude for each other and their exhibition in various ways of the most tender fraternal affection created an impression never to be forgotten.
The last bargain made was by Black Jim, and one of the children, who had permission to redeem a negro servant of the gallant Colonel Allen, with an old white horse, the only available article that remained among their possessions.
A brother of Colonel Allen afterward came to Detroit, and the negro preferred returning to servitude rather than remaining a stranger in a strange land.
Mr. Kinzie, as has been related, joined his family at Detroit in the month of January. A short time after, suspicions arose that he was in correspondence with General Harrison, who was now at Fort Meigs, and who was believed to be meditating an advance upon Detroit. Lieutenant Watson of the British army waited upon Mr. Kinzie one day with an invitation to the quarters of General Proctor on the opposite side of the river, saying he wished to speak with him on business. Quite unsuspicious, he complied with the invitation, when to his surprise he was ordered into confinement, and strictly guarded in the house of his former partner, Mr. Patterson of Sandwich. Finding he did not return to his home, Mrs. Kinzie informed some of the Indian chiefs, his particular friends, who immediately repaired to the headquarters of the commanding officer, demanded their "friend's" release and brought him back to his home. After awaiting a time until a favorable opportunity presented itself, the General sent a detachment of dragoons to arrest him. They had succeeded in carrying him away and crossing the river with him. Just at this moment a party of friendly Indians made their appearance.
"Where is Shaw-nee-aw-kee?" was the first question.
"There," replied his wife, pointing across the river, "in the hands of the red-coats who are taking him away again."
The Indians ran to the river, seized some canoes that they found there, and crossing over to Sandwich compelled General Proctor a second time to forego his intentions.
A third time this officer was more successful, and succeeded in arresting Mr. Kinzie and conveying him, heavily ironed, to Fort Maiden in Canada, at the mouth of the Detroit river. Here he was at first treated with great severity, but after a time the rigor of his confinement was somewhat relaxed, and he was permitted to walk on the bank of the river for air and exercise.
On the 10th of September, as he was taking his promenade under the close supervision of a guard of soldiers, the whole party were startled by the sound of guns on Lake Erie at no great distance below. What could it mean? It must be Commodore Barclay firing into some of the Yankees. The firing continued. The time allotted the prisoner for his daily walk expired, but neither he nor his guard observed the lapse of time, so anxiously were they listening to what they now felt sure was an engagement between ships of war. At length Mr. Kinzie was reminded that the hour for his return to confinement had arrived. He petitioned for another half hour.
"Let me stay," said he, "until we can learn how the battle has gone."