PONTIAC: THE RED NAPOLEON (continued 2)

A feast was in progress, and to it the mighty Pontiac was invited as soon as his presence among the Illinois was known. There were songs, boasts, speeches, and the whiskey bottle was passed freely about. There is no doubt that the red Emperor drank deeply, and, when the affair was over, he walked majestically down the village street to the adjacent woods, where he was heard to chant his medicine songs in the dark and silent wood. An English trader who had an intense dislike for the mighty war chief was then in the village, and, seeing that the moment was propitious for an assault upon him, bribed a strolling warrior of the Kaskaskia tribe of the Illinois with a barrel of liquor to kill the fierce leader of the Ottawas. Fired, perhaps, by an equal hatred for Pontiac, the red assassin soon consented to do the deed, for he was promised still further reward if he should be successful. As the dark figure of the leader of the great Indian conspiracy loomed strangely erect in the shadow of the forest, a silent form crept—like a wildcat—close to where he stood. A twig snapped. Pontiac turned to see what disturbed the quiet of the forest, and, as he did so, a tomahawk was buried in his brain. He fell prostrate upon the green carpet of moss. A shrill wail of triumph startled the night birds from the branches, and thus, foully and brutally assaulted, died the mighty Sachem of the Ottawas.