It was in broad daylight, and they
knew that the English in the fort could see what they were doing.
"It's shameful to treat prisoners in this way," said Clark. "I
will not permit it. Shoot the next man that offers to do such a
thing!"
One of the creole youths, a handsome, swarthy Adonis in buckskin,
tossed his shapely head with a debonair smile and said:
"To be sure, mon Colonel! but what have they been doing to us? We
have amused them all winter; it's but fair that they should give
us a little fun now."
Clark shrugged his broad shoulders and passed on. He understood
perfectly what the people of Vincennes had suffered under
Hamilton's brutal administration.
At nine o'clock an order was passed to cease firing, and a flag of
truce was seen going from Clark's headquarters to the fort. It was
a peremptory demand for unconditional surrender. Hamilton refused,
and fighting was fiercely resumed from behind rude breastworks
meantime erected. Every loop-hole and opening of whatever sort was
the focus into which the unerring backwoods rifles sent their
deadly bullets. Men began to fall in the fort, and every moment
Hamilton expected an assault in force on all sides of the
stockade. This, if successful, would mean inevitable massacre.
Clark had warned him of the terrible consequences of holding out
until the worst should come.
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