University of Virginia Library

CHAPTER XV.

One of the occupations given me, while resting in
the villages between war times, was to prepare the
bark of a red willow called killikinnick, for smoking
instead of tobacco.

They discovered that I could sing, and groups of
idle warriors would gather around me before the tent,
urging me to sing as I worked. A dreary, dreary
task! chanting to please my savage companions while
I rubbed and prepared the bark of willow, my heart
ready to burst with grief.

On the 5th of September they went to battle, and
surprised a portion of Captain Fisk's men passing in
escorting an emigrant train—fourteen of whom they
killed, and captured two wagons loaded with whisky,
wines, and valuable articles. There was a quantity of
silver-ware and stationery also taken by them.

Among the articles captured and brought into camp

were a number of pickles in glass jars, which the Indians
tested. The result was comical in the extreme,
for there is nothing that an Indian abhors more than a
strong acid. The faces they made can be imagined but
not described. Thinking they might be improved by
cooking, they placed the jars in the fire, when of course
they exploded, very much to their disgust for the
"white man's kettles."

I could hear the firing plainly, and when they returned
that night in triumph, bringing with them the
plundered stores, they committed every description of
extravagant demonstration. In the wild orgies which
followed, they mocked and groaned in imitation of the
dying, and went through a horrid mimicry of the
butchery they had perpetrated.

They determined to go out again, and capture a
quantity of horses corralled in the neighborhood, and
sweep the train and soldiers with wholesale massacre;
but they feared the white man's cannon, and deliberated
on means of surprising by ambush, which is their only
idea of warfare.

Indians are not truly brave, though they are vain
of the name of courage. Cunning, stealth, strategy,
and deceit are the weapons they use in attack.

They endure pain, because they are taught from infancy
that it is cowardly to flinch, but they will never
stand to fight if they can strike secretly and escape.

Fearing the cannon, yet impatient for the spoil

almost within view, the Indians waited for three days
for the train to move on and leave them free to attack.

For two days I implored and begged on my knees
to be allowed to go with them, but to no avail. At
last I succeeded in inducing them to allow me to write,
as they knew I understood the nature of correspondence,
and they procured for me the necessary appliances
and dictated a letter to Captain Fisk, assuring him
that the Indians were weary of fighting, and advising
him to go on in peace and safety.

Knowing their malicious designs, I set myself to
work to circumvent them; and although the wily chief
counted every word dictated, and as they were marked
on paper, I contrived, by joining them together, and
condensing the information I gave, to warn the officer
of the perfidious intentions of the savages, and tell
him briefly of my helpless and unhappy captivity.

The letter was carefully examined by the chief, and
the number of its apparent words recounted.

At length, appearing satisfied with its contents, he
had it carried to a hill in sight of the soldier's camp,
and stuck on a pole.

In due time the reply arrived, and again my ingenuity
was tasked to read the answer corresponding with
the number of words, that would not condemn me.

The captain's real statement was, that he distrusted
all among the savages, and had great reason to.

On reading Captain Fisk's words, that seemed to

crush my already awakened hopes, my emotion overcame
me.

Having told the Indians that the captain doubted
their friendliness, and explained the contents of the
letter as I thought best, the next day I was entrusted
with the task of writing again, to solemnly assure the
soldiers of the faith and friendship professed.

Again I managed to communicate with them, and
this time begged them to use their field-glasses, and that
I would find an excuse for standing on the hills in the
afternoon, that they might see for themselves that I
was what I represented myself to be—a white woman
held in bondage.

The opportunity I desired was gained, and to my
great delight, I had a chance of standing so as to be
seen by the men of the soldier's camp.

I had given my own name in every communication.
As soon as the soldiers saw that it truly was a woman
of their own race, and that I was in the power of their
enemies, the excitement of their feelings became so great
that they desired immediately to rush to my rescue.

A gentleman belonging to the train generously offered
eight hundred dollars for my ransom, which was all
the money he had, and the noble, manly feeling displayed
in my behalf did honor to those who felt it.
There was not a man in the train who was not willing
to sacrifice all he had for my rescue.

Captain Fisk restrained all hasty demonstrations,

and even went so far as to say that the first man who
moved in the direction of the Indian camp should be
shot immediately, his experience enabling him to know
that a move of that kind would result fatally to them
and to the captive.

The Indians found a box of crackers saturated with
water, and, eating of them, sickened and died.

I afterward learned that some persons with the train
who had suffered the loss of dear relatives and friends
in the massacre of Minnesota, and who had lost their
all, had poisoned the crackers with strychnine, and left
them on one of their camping-grounds without the
captain's knowledge.

The Indians told me afterward that more had died
from eating bad bread than from bullets during the
whole summer campaign.

Captain Fisk deserves great credit for his daring and
courage, with his meager supply of men, against so large
an army of red men.

After assurance of my presence among them, Captain
Fisk proceeded to treat quietly with the savages on
the subject of a ransom, offering to deliver in their village
three wagon loads of stores as a price for their
prisoner.

To this the deceitful creatures pretended readily to
agree, and the tortured captive, understanding their
tongue, heard them making fun of the credulity of
white soldiers who believed their promises.

I had the use of a field-glass from the Indians, and
with it I saw my white friends, which almost made me
wild with excited hope.

Knowing what the Indians had planned, and dreading
lest the messengers should be killed, as I knew they
would be if they came to the village, I wrote to Captain
Fisk of the futility of ransoming me in that way,
and warned him of the treachery intended against his
messengers.[1]

No tongue can tell or pen describe those terrible
days, when, seemingly lost to hope and surrounded by
drunken Indians, my life was in constant danger.

Nights of horrible revelry passed, when, forlorn and
despairing, I lay listening, only half consciously, to the
savage mirth and wild exultation.

To no overtures would the Indians listen, declaring
I could not be purchased at any price—they were determined
not to part with me. Captain Fisk and his
companions were sadly disappointed in not obtaining
my release, and, after a hopeless attempt, he made
known the fact of my being a prisoner, spreading the
news far and wide.

His expeditions across the plains had always been
successful, and the Indians, knowing him to be very

brave, gave him the name of the "Great Chief, who
knows no fear," and he richly deserves the appellation,
for the expeditions were attended with great danger.
The reports of his various expeditions have been published
by Government, and are very interesting, giving
a description of the country.

In September the rains were very frequent, sometimes
continuing for days.

This may not seem serious to those who have always
been accustomed to a dwelling and a good bed, but to
me, who had no shelter and whose shrinking form was
exposed to the pitiless storm, and nought but the cold
ground to lie upon, bringing the pains and distress of
rheumatism, it was a calamity hard to bear, and I often
prayed fervently to God to give me sweet release in a
flight to the land where there are no storms.

Soon the winter would be upon us, and the cold, and
sleet, and stormy weather would be more difficult to
bear. Would I be so fortunate, would Heaven be so
gracious as to place me in circumstances where the
wintry winds could not chill or make me suffer! My
heart seemed faint at the thought of what was before
me, for hope was lessening as winter approached!