What Norman Saw in the West

by Julia M. Olin

A group of Indian women, in their own dress, with blue cloth blankets and leggings, attracted their attention as they entered the shop. They were Ottawas, and one of them had a face of great beauty. It was oval: her features were fine, and there was a pensive expression, a look of sadness on her face, that made her very interesting. Mrs. Lester wanted to look at that face of sorrowful meaning, and learn something of her history; but the sight of the captain, on his return to the boat, hastened her movements, and hastily selecting some fans and boxes of maple sugar, with an embroidered canoe of birch bark, she hurried away.

Nine more sheep to land; there would have been a few moments to spare for a longer perusal of the face of that Ottawa maiden, but it was safe to come when they did, and not run the risk of being left. And so they were once more in motion, with hastily gathered memories of Mackinaw, its town and fort.

“Norman,” said Mrs. Lester, “did you ever hear of a famous game of ball at Mackinaw?”

“No, mother; please tell me about it.”

“It was in June. A number of Indians had arrived near the fort, apparently to trade, and a day was appointed for a game of ball, of which they are very fond. Stakes were planted, and the game, in playing which the great object is to keep the ball beyond the adversary’s goal, began. The Indians uttered loud cries in the wild excitement of the game, and the commandant of the fort and his lieutenant stood outside of the gate to watch them. The ball was tossed nearer and nearer the fort, and the excited crowd of Indians ran and leaped after it, when suddenly they rushed upon the two officers at the gate, and imprisoned them. At once they joined some Indians who had come into the fort under pretense of trading, and imprisoned the whole garrison, seventeen of whom they put to death.

“This was the beginning of Pontiac’s war.”

“I never heard of this game of ball,” said Norman; “but I can tell as good a story of a pair of moccasins. May I?”

“Certainly,” said his mother. “I would like to hear it.”

“Well, mother, I believe this was at the beginning of Pontiac’s war too. An Indian woman had made some moccasins for Major Gladstone, who commanded the fort at Detroit. They were made of a curious elk-skin that he valued very much. He paid her for them, and gave her the rest of the skin, asking her to make another pair for a friend of his. The squaw seemed unwilling to go home, and the major sent for her, and asked her what she was waiting for. She said she did not like to take the elk-skin that he thought so much of, as she could not make another pair of moccasins. He asked her why she could not make them. At first she would not tell; but then she said he had been very good to her, and she would tell him the secret, that she might save his life.

“The Indians, who had asked permission to visit the fort the next day, that they might present the calumet to Major Gladstone, were coming with their guns cut off, that they might hide them under their blankets; then, when Pontiac presented the calumet in some peculiar way, they were to fire upon the officers.