Everywhere along their way they had seen houses and forts springing up like, weeds across the green sod of their hunting lands.
Where once were great herds of deer and buffalo, they had watched thousands of men at arms preparing for war.

So many now were the white warriors and their women and children that the red men had been obliged to travel a great way on the other side of the Ohio and to make a detour of nearly three hundred miles to avoid being seen.

Even on this outlying route they had crossed the fresh tracks of a great body of people with horses and cattle going still further towards the setting sun.

But their cries were not to be in vain; for "their fathers, the French" had heard them and had promised to aid them if they would now strike as one for their lands.
After this preamble the deputy of the Mohawks rose.

He said that some American people had made war on one of their towns and had seized the son of their Great Beloved Man, Sir William Johnson, imprisoned him, and put him to a cruel death; this crime demanded a great vengeance and they would not cease until they had taken it.