Waseca County, Minnesota - Chapter 30, 1905

Chapter 30

THE INDIAN MASSACRE AT LAKE SHETEK - THE MURDER OF MRS. WM. EVERETT AND OTHERS - THE SHOOTING OF VOIGHT - THE TERRIBLE BATTLES OF 18G2 - CAPTIVITY OF WOMEN AND CHILDREN - MR. EVERETT'S WOUNDS AND SUFFERING - RELEASE OF THE CAPTIVES, AMONG THEM LILLY EVERETT.

It would be impracticable in a work of this kind to introduce any considerable report of the thrilling and terrible incidents that transpired during the Indian outbreak; but it seems appropriate to give some of the incidents in the experience of Mr. William Everett, so long a useful and re-sjiected citizen of this county, was a suffering participant and an eye-witness of the massacre at Lake Shetek. The following account is taken from the Waseca Herald of several years ago.

The Indian Massacre At Lake Shetek

Intimately connected with the early history of this state and the sad and tragic scenes of the 8ioux massacre of ISlvJ, is the name of our townsman Wm. Everett. He was born near Newton, Sussex county, New Jersey, in 1828, where he lived until about twenty-two years of age. In 1850 he settled at Haywarth, Iowa county, Wisconsin, on the Wisconsin river. He owned and operated a sa\\' mill, in connection with some logging camps on that river. At the age of twenty-four he married Miss Almira Hatch of that place. He removed with his family to Minnesota, in May, 18ri9, coming by way of the Mississippi and Minnesota rivers on Capt. Davidson's packets. They stopped at South Bend, near Mankato, during the summei-, looked over the country, and in the followinc

Wm. Everett

October located at the south end of Lake Shetek. At that time the lands were not yet surveyed - the survey taking place in 1861. Mrs. Everett's brother, Clias. Hatch, came in the spring of 1861.

There were very few settlers at the lake - some three or four - when ]\Iessrs Everett and Wright made their claims. Hatch was a single man, Wright had a wife and two children and Mr. Everett and wife had two children, one of them Lilly, now Mrs. Curtis.

The next season Everett and Wright opened farms, the former breaking thirty acres. He also made arrangements to build a saw mill and had the material all on the ground at the time of the Indian outbreak.

New ITlm, sixty miles away, was their nearest village and trading point. They were about one hundred miles from Mankato, the next nearest point. There were no settlers west of them nearer than Sioux Falls, and only three families there.

The next year a few settlers came in, and in 1861 there was considerable immigration. Quite a number settled at the lake, and others settled north and west of them. Occasionally parties of Sioux Indians went through there on hunting expeditions. In the fall of 1861, a party of Sioux, numbering some twenty, old and young, who had been south hunting elk, camped at the lake on their return, and were caught by an early snow storm which detained them there till February. The Indians had very little to live on, and were fed by the settlers. In January, provisions began to fail, and Mr. Everett and two others started out with oxteams for New Ulm. The snow being deep and crusted, they made only eight miles the first day. They pitched their tent, or tepee, on the prairie. During the night a high wind arose which blew down their tent and nearly buried them with drifting snow. They found it impossible to proceed in the morning and returned to the lake. They had raised considerable buckwheat, and this they ground in coffee mills, sifted and niade it into cakes. Thus they lived until February when there came a thaw. The Indians then left for their agencies, and Mr. Everett and two other men, with two sleighs, went to New Ulm for provisions and groceries for the settlement. On their return, while crossing Mound Creek, near where Burns station now is, the water, being high, carried off one sleigh box filled with supplies which they were unable to recover. They finally reached the settlement in safety with the other load. Had it not been for the Indians, the settlement would not have run short of provisions. Strange as it may seem some of these same Indians engaged in the massacre of the settlers there.

In May, 1862, Messrs. Hurd and Jones, two of the settlers concluded to visit the Bix Sioux river and look over that section of country. Hurd told his wife that if they did not return by a certain time in June she might know that something unusual had happened to them. The time came, but Hurd and Jones came not. There was considerable anxiety on their account in the settlement, and Messrs. Everett, Wright, Duly, Smith, and Eastlick took two horse teams and started to look for them. These men drove as far as Split Rock creek, now called Eock river, and camped for the night. The next morning it was decided to leave Duly with the teams in camp, while Everett and Wright should follow down the creek, and Smith and Eastliek should go in the opposite direction to search for the missing men, both parties agreeing to return to camp that night. Everett and Wright soon discovered a buffalo, shot and wounded him. They forgot all else in their desire to kill the buft'alo, and chased him until late in the afternoon. They then began to think of returning, but having given no heed to the directions they had traveled, and night coming on, they soon discovered that thej- were lost. They camped in a slough, covering themselves with grass cut with their knives, the better to protect themselves from the swarms of mosquitoes and the chilly night air. They hoped to get their direction by the sun next morning, but when morning came there was a heavy fog, and thick clouds shut out the sim, so that they were compelled to guess as to the proper course to travel. As usual, under such circumstances, they traveled in the wrong direction. Not having anything to eat they felt weary, but were encouraged by coming on to the trail leading from Sioux Falls to Shetek. Again they took the wrong dirrclion and traveled until they came in sight of the timber along the Sioux river. Then realizing that they were going wrong, tliey turned about and retraced their steps, reaching the Split Rock camp, near night, to find it deserted. They found a pi.>ce of paper pinned to a post on which

As they had had nothing to eat since the day before, and were very much exhausted with traveling on foot, the outlook was discouraging. Just at night, however, they had the good fortune to shoot a duck, which they ate raw. They camped on the ground, in the shell cr of some large rocks, for the night. They were awakened just before midnight by the sound of voices. At first they supposed that Indians were coming upon them. They were gladly disappointed, however, to find that the voices proceeded from a squad of soldiers and the mail carrier. The soldiers had with them plenty of provisions. After a bountiful supper, all camped there during the remainder of the night. The next day they arrived at the lake just as the settlers were getting ready to send men to the Agency for soldiers to look them up.

Ilurd and Jones were never heard from afterwards, but at the time of the iii;issaci-e, Mrs. Hiinl saw one of Ilurd 's horses, as she believed, ridden by one of the Indian savages.

Prom that time to the time of the outbreak, nothing occurred at the settlement to arouse any suspicion of danger. That settlement was so isolated from others that they seldom heard from the larger towns. Evei'vthing was quiet and peaceful, and no one had a suspicion of the horribh; scenes of bloodshed that were soon to follow.

About the 17th of August, 1862, "Pawn" and five or six other Indians, with squaws and children, came to the lake and camped not far from Mr. Everett's place. Nothing was thought of this, as roving bands often came that way, and especially as these were the Indians whom the settlers had fed the winter before, and who were supposed to be friendly.

Notwithstanding the fact that here and there a slight suspicion existed that the Indians were preparing for war, yet, as a rule, few, if any, believed that there was any real danger.

But on the 20th of August, 1862, the murderous assault commenced all along the line. Men, women, and children, regardless of age or condition, were murdered, mangled, and outraged in the most cold-blooded and barbarous manner.

The first outrage was at the farm of I\Ir. Meyers. On account of Mrs. Meyers' sickness, Meyers arose at an early hour. As he went out of the house, he discovered the Indians, who had torn down his fence and were riding through his corn breaking it down and destroying it. He called to them saying he would whip them if they did not leave, and asked them if he had not always treated them well. They admitted that he had and finally rode away. They proceeded at once to the farm of J\Irs. Hurd, whose husband, with Mr. Jones, had disappeared in the spring. A German named Voight was working on the farm. When the Indians arrived, Mrs. Hurd was milking cows, and on seeing them hastened into the house. The Indians followed her, and, with pretended friendship, asked for some tobacco. Voight gave them some, and they commenced to smoke. Mrs. Hurd's babe awoke and began to cry, when Voight took it up and walked out into the yard. Just as he was turning to go into the house again, one of the Indians stepped to the door, raised his gun and shot him through the breast, killing him almost instantly. They then plundered the house of all its contents, and told ]\Irs. Hurd that if she made any noise they would kill her also, but if she remained quiet they would permit her "to return to her mother." They destroyed nearly everything about the house and then ordered her to leave, telling her which way to go, and informing her that if she should attempt to go to one of the neighbors or make an outcry to warn them they would kill her. Mrs. Hurd was compelled to leave by an unfrequented path with her two children, the elder about three years old and the younger less than a year old.

We must noM' return to the loM-er, or south, end of the settlement. Early that morning, Mr. Everett's brother-in-law, Charles Hatch, started on horseback to go to Kurd's place to get a yoke of oxen to put into a breaking team. It was about six miles between the two places. When Mr. Hatch reached Mr. Cook's place, he hitched his horse and went across a marsh, impassable for a horse, to save the time and trouble of going aroimd the marsh, or slough. When he reached the Kurd house, a horrid sight presented itself. Voight lay stark dead upon tl\e ground, covered with blood; everything about the ho\ise was broken and destroyed, and Mrs. Hurd was nowhere to be seen. The tracks at once disclosed the fact that Indians had been there. Looking to the east, he saw the Indians making around the marsh. He started at once to retrace his steps and warn the settlers; but the Indians arrived at Mr. Cook's place ahead of him. They found Mrs. Cook in the cornfield with her husband's gun, keeping birds from the corn, and Mr. Cook at the house. They divided, part going to the cornfield and part to the house. Those who went to the cornfield asked to see her gun. Not suspecting murder, she let them take it. As soon as they got possession of the gun, they told her that she might "go to her mother," for they were going to kill all the white men in the country. Those that went to the house asked for a drink of water. As there was none in the house, Cook took the pail to go to the spring. He had proceeded but a few steps when one of those cowardly villains, without the least warning shot him in the back, killing him at once. Hatch was in sight of the house when Cook was shot. He saw his horse break loose and run off. Hatch managed to get prist the place unperceived, while the Indians were plundering Cook's home, and went from house to house as fast as he could travel warning the settlers. When he reached Mr. Eastlick's house he was nearly exhausted. Mrs. Eastlick, in her account of the massacre, says: "My husband and Mr. Rhodes had just sat down to breakfast, when my oldest boy, Merton, came to the door saying, 'Charlie Hatch is coming, as fast as he can run.' Hatch was a young man living with his brother-in-law, Mr. Everett. Thinking that perhaps some one was sick or hurt, I went to the door. As soon as he came near enough to me I saw that he was very pale and out of breath. 'Charley, what is the matter?' I asked. He shouted - 'the Indians are upon us.' 'It cannot be possible,' said I. 'It is so,' said Charlie, 'they have already shot Voight.' He then related the other facts he had witnessed, and asked for a horse that he might ride quickly to the lower end of the lake to warn the rest of the settlers. Mr. Rhodes let him have one of his horses. He asked us for a bridle several times, but we were all so horror-stricken and mute with fear and apprehension that we stood for some time like dumb persons. At last I seemed to awake as from a horrible dream and began to realize the necessity of immediate and rapid flight. I sprang into the house and got the bridle for him, urging him to hurry away with all speed. He started off, and bade us follow as fast as we could to Mr. Smith 's house. ' '

Returning to Mrs. Cook, we learn that she remained concealed about the premises until the Indians, tired of plundering the house, departed. She then went to the house to find her husband murdered and all her household goods destroyed. Notwithstanding the bereavement and the dangers surrounding her, she bravely resolved to warn the other settlers of what had transpired. After traveling on foot through brush and timber, and wading in water along the shore of the lake, she reached the lower settlement the same day a little in advance of the murderous savages. Jlr. Hatch had lost no time in notifying every settler of what had taken place. Every house was soon deserted. Cattle, horses, household goods, and everything were left to be plundered bj- the merciless savages. The settlers all assembled at the house of ilr. AVright. They were thirty-four in number - men, women and children.

"Old Pawn" and his band, who had camped there the ^Monday before, were at Wright's place and pretended great friendship for the whites. They even went so far as to help bring in IMrs. Ireland and Mrs. Duly and their children, who had been left behind in the flight. The men at once prepared Wright's house as well as they could for defensive operations. They opened crevices here and there between the logs, as port holes for their guns ; and not having entire confidence in "Pawn" and his Indians, told them they could take their stand in the stable. The women were armed with axes, hatchets, and butcher-knives, and sent iip stairs with the children. These hasty preparations were not fully completed when the murderous savages whooping and yelling like fiends, made their appearance at Mr. Smith's house, in full view of ilr. Wright's place, where the settlers were assembled.

At first thought one would suppose that the whites would have remained at the house and defended themselves to the last ; but when it is known that the only supply of water was some distnuee from the house, that they had no provisions for more than a dav or two, and that they were surrounded by some two hundred Indians, we can easily understand that any chance of escape, however slim or dangerous, would be eagerly accepted.

The murderous Indians had assembled at Smith's house and plundered it. From there they sallied forth in squads, mounted on ponies, firing guns and yelling like demons. Occasionally they would shoot a cow or an ox, and then ride back to Smith's house. After spending some time in this way, they advanced toward AA^right's house. Mr. Everett noticed about this time one of Pawn's band skulking around to the Indians that were advancing. He held a short consultation and sneaked back again. Old Pawn who pretended to be friendly, said he would go and see them and find out what they wanted. He started o\it to meet them and had only proceeded a short distance when several of the war party came riding towards him on a gallop. He soon halted. As soon as they noticed this, they also stopped and called to him. He then went to them and talked for some time; after which he eame running back, as though excited, and said there were two hundred warriors coming, and if the whites would quietly go away the "braves" would not harm them; but, if not, they would burn the house and kill them all.

By this time Mr. Everett' and many of the others were satisfied that Pawn and his band, notwithstanding their pretended friendship, were a part of the conspiracy to murder the settlers.

The men had a hurried consultation, and the majority decided to leave the building and take their chances. Rhodes and Hatch were sent to Everett's place, half a mile away, to get a wagon for the conveyance of the women- and children, and to get some flour, quilts, etc. Without waiting for the return of the team, the whole company started across the prairie on foot. Rhodes and Hatch overtook them with the wagon by the time they had proceeded half a mile, and the women and children, except Mrs. Wright and Mrs. Eastlick, got into the wagon. JMrs. Wright bravely shouldered her husband's rifle, he being absent from the settlement at the time of the outbreak. They had proceeded a little over a mile when they discovered the Indians following them as fast as they could come, yelling like so many fiends. Old Pawn and his band, who had pretended to be friendly, had joined the others in the work of murder and plunder. All was terror and consternation among the settlers. They attempted to urge the hor:;.-. to a run, but the poor creatures Avei-e so loaded down that they could not uo faster than a walk. On came the savages riding at full speed. All the fugitives that could run got out of the wagon and hurried on as fast as possible ; but it was all to no purpose - the savages were soon upon them. The men marched at the head of the team, with their guns, in order to protect the women and children who were in advance. The men thought at first that perhaps all they wanted was the team, and for that reason sent the women and children ahead. As the Indians approached almost to within gunshot, they spread out in a long, single line, and came on yelling like demons. When at long range they fired a volley, bvit no one was hurt. Two of the men, Rhodes and Smith, deserted the company, coward-like, and ran for dear life, leaving the others to their fate. The two men escaped without a scratch. One went to Dutch Charley's and warned his family, and the other went to the Walnut Grove settlement.

As soon as the Indians fired the first round, they rushed for the team. One of them seized the horses liy the bits and turned them around. At this juncture, some of the wliite men fired upon the Indians, and the one having hold of the team fell dead.

It was now evident that there was to be a death conflict. The men directed the women and children to go to a slough near by and conceal themselves as well as they could in the tall grass, the men covering their retreat. All started for the slough amid a shower of shot from the Indian guns.

^Mrs. Eastlick received a ball in one heel; ]\Ir. Ireland's youngest child was shot through one leg: Emma Duly received a wound in the arm, and Willie Duly received a shot in the shoulder. They soon reached the slough, and although the tall grass concealed them from view, it aft'orded little protection. There were about two hundred Indians, and only six white men left. Fiu* two hours the cowardly savages, keeping out of sight as much as possible, poured volley after volley into the slough. They would skulk behind the hills, crawl to the top, i-ise and fire, and then drop out of sight. It was dangerous for one of the white men to firehis gun, for immediately there would be a volley fired into the grass where he was. Oni' after another of the whites was wounded or killed. Mr. Eastlielv, after doing brave work, was killed. :Mrs. Enstlick received a scalp wound and another in the side. :\lrs. Everett received a sUol in her neck. :\lr. Evi>relt received a bullet in the thigh which struck \\\c bone, followed around and lodged x;nder the knee. Charles Hatch was wounded in the hand and arm, and Bentley in the arm. There was little chance for further resistance by the settlers. The firing ceased. Three of the skulking Indians, one of them old Pawn, then came forward and called upon the women to come out of the slough. "Sir. Everett answered them. Pawn, who knew the voice commanded him to come out of the slough. !Mr. Everett told him he could not, for he was wounded. Pawn said : ' ' You lie ; you can walk if you want to."

Two of the Indians then fired into the i;i'ass where Everett was, one of the bullets striking his arm near the elbow and shattering the bone and a buckshot entering his foot. ^frs. Everett, forgetting all fear, bravely arose, and in the most piteous manner told them that her husband was dead; they had killed him.

Pawn then told her that he Avould not hurt the rest of them, but that they must come out of the slough, for he wanted her and ]\lrs. "Wright for his squaws. ;Mrs. Wright could speak the SioiTX language, to some extent, and under the advice of ]\Ir. Everett, who was now helpless, the two women concluded to go out and confer with the Indians. AVhile this hurried conference was going on between ]Mrs. AVriglit and Mr. Everett. Uncle Tommy Ireland, a short distance from them, arose out of the grass and begged of the Indians to spare the women and children. Two of the murderous Indians, only a few rods distant, fired upon him, and he fell to the ground with a groan, saying, "Oh God! I am killed!" He received seven buckshot, two of which passed through his left lung, one through his left arm and others lodged in various parts of his body.

]\[rs. AVright and ]\[rs. Everett, having been advised by ]\Ir. Everett that perhaps by going oiit to the Indians they might be able afterwards to make their escape, and that refusal would be certain death to all, ventured to go to the Indians. After a short talk Avith the villain, PaAvn, they returned and reported that he said he would spare all the women and children if they would come out of the slough. After a short consultation the women concluded to go forth with all the children.

Ah the sad parting! 31rs. Eastlick's husband, was dead. 3Irs. Ireland bent over the prostrate form of her husband, whom she would never see again, to receive, as she supposed, his dying

Many of the prisoner.s, as th(\v eaim.' forth, were wounded. Mrs. Smith, whose husband had Hed at the fii-st fire, was wounded in the hip. Next to the yuungi'st of ;\lrs. Ireland's children was shot tliroui;!! the bowels and died in a short time.

Shortly after the surrender, the fiendish brutality and de\'ilish cruelty of the Sioux were fully deiiKinstrated. jMrs. Eastlick's little five-year-old sdii while fdllowiim' his mother, who was being led away l)y an Indian, was attacked by a squaw, beaten over the head with a club, and finally ripped ii]]cn with a knife. Another of her children, Frank, was shot and murdered before her eyes. ^Irs. Duly 's hoy Willie was shot in her iiresenee. and left in a snft'ering, dyiue- condition on the prairie. Mrs. Ireland and ;\li-s. Smith Avere murdered in cold blood, and left near each other. And near by was the corpse of Mrs. Eastlick's third child, (iih'S.

Shortly after the Indians left the slouu'h with their prisoners, one of the redskins shot Mrs. Everett's little boy, which so excited hei- that she broke loose from her captor, and was running back to hei' boy, when sli(> was shot through the body and mortally woiuided, (lying during liie night.

Mrs. Eastlick, in her account, says: "The Indians sent :\lrs. AV right back to the slough to gather np and brinu' out the guns. J found that I was quite lame and could hardly walk. * » * The sky soon liecaine overcast with heavy clouds, and a furious rain-storm, accompanied with thunder and lightning, Avas coming on. Soon the rain descended in torrents. The Imlians caught their ponies, antl mad(^ all preparations for starting away. We expected to be taken along as prisiuiei's, but we were disappointed; as it afterwards proved, some were taken while others were put to death, or left in a dying condition. Those of \is who afterwards escaped, M-crc, for a hmg lime, in such a plight that death sccukhI inevitably to stare us in the face."

After giving an accimnt of the death of three of her children, she continues: "Old Pawn came along with Mrs. Wriuht and her children. He brought along a hoi-sc which belonged to Charley Hatch, and ordered her to put Iuh' children on it which she did. He then gave her the halter strap and sent her along, telling me t(j uo aldiig with her. * * * j asked him what he intended to do with me, and if he meant to kill me? He replied in the nej^ative, then stopped, leaned on his gun, and told me to hnrry on. * * * I limped along' at a rapid pace, but looking back I saw old Pawn standing where I had left him, loading his gun, and I instantly feared that, in spite of all his protestations, he was going to shoot me. I had a small slough to cross, and when about half way through it, some one, probably Pawn, shot me again, making four bullets which I had received that day, in all. The ball struck me in the small of the back, entering at the left side of the spine, and coming out at the right side, just above my hip - also passing through my right arm, between the elbow and the wrist. I fell to the ground upon my face, and lay there for some minutes, * * * expecting the Indians would ride over me, as I had fallen in the trail. Finding that I could move I crawled about a rod from the trail, and lay down again on my face. In a few moments more I heard the step of an Indian, and held my breath, thinking he might pass me, supposing me dead. But I was sadly mistaken. He came close beside me, stood a moment, then commenced beating me on the head with the butt of a gun. He struck me many times so hard that my head bounded up from the sod, and then gave me three severe blows across the right shoulder. I did not lose all presence of mind, although the blows fell heavy and fast. * * * i -^^as so nearly smothered with my face beaten into the grass, that I caught my breath several times. He probably supposed me to be dying, and threw down his gun. I thought he was preparing to scalp me. I expected every moment to feel his hand in my hair and the keen edge of the scalping-knife cutting around my head. But for once I was happily disappointed, for he went away, thinking, no doubt I was dead.

I lay here some two or three hours, not daring to stir. * * * The rain had continued to fall all of this time ; my clothes were wet through, and I was very cold and chilly. About four o 'clock p. m., on trying to get up, I found that I was very weak, and that it required a great deal of painful effort to raise myself to a sitting posture. * * * I then found that the blood had run down from my head and coagulated among my fingers; hence

I knew my head had bled quite freely, or the rain would have washed it away. * * * l was insensible to pain, but by turning my head back and forth, I could plainly hear and feel the bones grate together. I thought my skull must be broken, and this afterwards proved to be true. ]\Iy hair was very thick and long, and this, I think, saved my life by breaking somewhat the force of the blows. Here I sat, wet and cold, not daring to move from the spot. I had heard the cry of a child at intervals, during the afternoon, and thought it Johnny. (Her son.) I thought Merton (an elder son) must have taken him to the wounded men, (in the slough) to stay with them. So I determined to try to go to them, thinking we could, perhaps, keep warm better, for the rain was still falling fast, and the night was setting in, cold and stormy. I rose up on my feet, and found that I could walk, but with great difficulty. I soon heard Willy Duly, whom I svipposed dead long before this, cry out '^Mother! mother!' but a few steps from me. * * » Having to pass close by him, as I left the slough, I stopped and thought I would speak to him ; but, on refleetiiiK that I could not possibly help the poor boy, I passed him without speaking. He never moved again from the spot where I last saAv hini; for when the soldiers went there to bury the dead, they found him in the same position, lying on his face, at the edtze of the slou^^li."

"I was guided to the place where my children and neighbors were murdered, by the crying of a cliild, whom I supposed to be Johnny; but on reaching the spot where he lay, lie proved to be Mrs. Everett's youngest child. Hei- eldest child, Lilly, aged six years, was leaning over him, to shield him from the eold storm. I called her by name; she knew my voice instantly, and said: 'Mrs. Eastlick, the Indians haven't killed us yet.' 'No Lilly,' said I, 'not quite, but there are very few of us left.' ^^aid she. ':Mrs. Eastlick, I wish you would take care of Charley.' I told her it was impossible, for my Johnny wiis somewhere on the prairie, and I feared he would die unless I could find him, and keep him warm. She then begged me to gi\-e her a drink of water, but it was out of my power to give her even that, or to assist her' in any way, and I told her so. She raised her eyes, and with a sad, thoughtful, hopeless hiok, asked, 'Is there any water in Heaven?' 'Lilly,' I replied, 'when you get lo Heaven you will never more suffer from thirst or pain.' On hearing this, the poor, little, patient sufferer, only six years old, laid herself down again by her baby brother and seemed reconciled to her fate."

It appears that as soon as the women and children became prisoners they were taken by a portion of the Indians some two miles from the slough where the men were left, toward the Cottonwood river, where the Indians murdered a number of their captives.

The other party of Indians returned to Lake Shetek to plunder the houses and gather up the horses and cattle. Of the men left in the slough only one was left unwounded, Mr. Duly; and he left as soon as the Indians disappeared, making his way to Mankato, leaving the others to care for themselves. Of those left, there were ^Messrs. Everett, Hatch, Bentley and Ireland, and two children of Mrs. Eastlick - Merton, about eleven years old, and her youngest child, Johnny, about fifteen months old. Mr. Ireland was so badly wounded that he did not expect to live, and begged of some of them to kill him outright and end his misery. Being shot through the lungs, he breathed with great difficulty, and bloody froth issued from his mouth at every respiration. ]\Irs. Eastlick 's children were so young that there was little hope of their being able to go far, and the men left were wounded to such an extent that they could barely get away themselves.

As soon as Messrs. Everett, Hatch, and Bentley became satisfied that all the Indians had gone, they left the place as rapidly as their wounds would permit, avoiding the course the Indians had taken, and going ip the direction of "Dutch Charley's" - a German settler who lived east of them. They left the slough about the middle of the afternoon. Along toward night they saw a team and wagon across the prairie, going east, and, knowing that some settler must be making his escape, Mr. Everett told Bentley to go on and overtake the team. Bentley, who was only wounded in the arm, started in pursuit, but did not overtake the team till night set in. The team turned out to belong to Mr. Meyers, who, with his sick wife, was attempting to escape. They reached Dutch Charley 's house after dark, to find it vacated. The Meyers family and Bentley staid in the house over night.

]\rr. Everett was so badly wounded, and so weak from loss of blood that it was with difficulty that he could travel at all; but Charley Hatch staid nobly by him and ur^ed him on with the hope of finding relief at the German's house. Late in the night, Hatch and Everett arrived at Dutch Charley's place, but, fearing that there might be Indians in the house, they lay down near the stable. Just at daylight, J\Ir. ]\Ieyers looked out of the door, and seeing, as he supposed, an Indian peering from behind the stable drew his gun to fire. At the same moment, Charley Hatch looking from behind the stable, thought ileyers was an Indian and aimed his gun at him. Both pulled trigger about the same time. Fortunately both guns missed fire. By this time Bentley saw Hatch and both parties recognized each other.

As soon as possible after the mutual recognition of the parties, the oxen were j^oked and hitched to the wagon for a new start. Each one felt that his only safety was in getting as far east as ilankato or Xew Ulm as soon as possible. They well knew by what they had seen that the Indians would murder them at sight.

They all got into the wagon and soon started, keeping a sharp lookout for Indians. The cattle were so exhausted from traveling the day before that they made slow progress. The travelers made about fifteen miles that day and camped on Little Creek. They had nothing to eat except a little flour, wet with cold water and dried in the sun, for they dared not build a fire, lest the smoke should attract the notice of the savages.

By this time ^Mr. Everett's broken arm and wounded leg had become terribly swollen and veiw painful. The jolting of the lumber wagon over the prairie kept up a constant irritation and ca,used the most intense pain. ilrs. Meyers, too, was a great sufferer, being very sick, without suitable food or any medicine.

We will leave these here at Little Creek, for the present and return to "Uncle Tommy Ireland." As before stated, he was left at the slough, where the attack was made, with two of the Eastlick children. Soon after jMr. Everett and the others left, Merton Eastlick told Mr. Ireland that he should take Johnny on his back and go to Dutch Charley's. I\Ir. Ireland tried to persuade him not to go, but finding the boy determined on going, he told him he would go with him as far as he could. "Uncle Tom- my," as the settlers called ilr. Ireland, followed ^lerton who carried his baby brother, Johnny, on his back. After walking about half a mile, Mr. Ireland could go no further and lay down in the grass entirely exhausted.

^lerton, still canying Johnny, pursued his course and soon found the trail leading to Dutch Charley 's. Notwithstanding the heavy rain storm he continued his course and reached Buffalo Lake, IMurray county, just before dark. The rain was still falling, and the night was very dark. INIerton laid his little brother on the ground and bent over him to protect him from the rain. During the night the prairie wolves came howling around, but the brave boy shouted at them so lustily that they were frightened away. The next morning, at daylight, without food of any kind, he took his little brother and again started on his almost hopeless journey. After traveling until about 5 o'clock p. m., he overtook :Mrs. Hurd, with her two children, near Dutch Charley's house. They proceeded to the house to find it empty and destitute of provisions. They at last found an old cheese, full of skippers, but, having been without food for two days, they were glad to eat of it. After eating, they rested till about dark, and then went into the cornfield to remain over night, fearing that Indians might visit the house before morning.

It will be remembered that the first man killed by the Indians, at Lake Shetek, was Mr. Voight, at Mrs. Kurd's house, and that they ordered her to leave with her children at once, telling her which way to go and threatening to kill her should she attempt to go to one of her neighbors. After traveling for some time with her children, she became bewildered and hardly knew which way to go. The elder child was only three years of age and the younger less than a year old. They were on the prairie when the storm came on, without food and no clothing except their every day garments. Mrs. Hurd spent the long dreary night watching over, and trying to protect her children from the storm and the mosquitoes. Next day, after wandering around and wading sloughs for some time, she struck the road leading to Dutch Charley's. By this time her older child was very sick and unable to walk further-vomiting frequently. The poor woman, weak, hungry, and exhausted, was now compelled to carry both children, or leave them to perish alone on the prairie. The true moth- er would never leave her children, under such circumstances, even to save her own life. She was so weak that she could carry only one at a time ; so she would carry one a short distance and leave it by the roadside, then return for the other - thus traveling three miles to make one. In this way she toiled along until she reached Dutch Charley's on the second night, in company with the Eastlick children as herein stated.

We now return to Lilly Everett whom we last mentioned as being with her baby brother on the prairie, during the stormy night following the day of the massacre, near where the women and children were murdered, after being taken prisoners. It appears that Lilly remained there until the return of the Indians from Lake Shetek, the next day, when they again took her prisoner. It is not known what was the fate of the poor babe - M'hether murdered, taken prisoner, or left to perish on the prairie. The Indians, it appears, on the day following the first day of the massaer(>, collected a drove of cattle and horses from the Settlement, and took them and their prisoners into a camp on the Big- Cottonwood. At this camp were ]\Irs. Wright and her two children, IMrs. Duly and two of her remaining children - a boy and a girl - two of ilr. Irelend's girls, Lilly Everett, and oth-

:\Irs. Eastlick, after leaving Lilly Everett, as before stated, eontimied her search for her children. She came upon the lifeless forms of ilrs. Ireland and :\Irs. Smith, who had been outraged and murdered. She took from the lifeless form of :Mrs. Smith a heavy apron which she used to protect herself from the storm. She found the young l)abe of Mrs. Ireland sleeping upon the bosom of its dead mother. The fate of the babe has never been known, except perhaps to the murderous savages. By groping around in the darkness :\Irs. Eastlick found, not far distant, the corpse of her little boy Giles who had been shot by the Indians and killed almost instantly. Not very far from him her attention was called to the hard breathing of some one, and, upon investigation, she found it to proceed from her son Fred, who had ])een shot and left there. He M'as unconscious and in a dying condition. Who can picture the sorrow of a mother, alone among the dead beside her dying child, Avith yet other children upon the prairie exposed to the murdercnis assaults of savages !

" 0 ! that I had found him dead, ' ' exclaimed the poor mother, as she reluctantly left the dying to search for the living. The poor woman wandered over the prairie in the storm and darkness, thinking at times she heard the crying of her babe, and at intervals calling "]\Ierton," the name of her eldest boy. Thus the night wore on and the dawn appeared without bringing to her the children she sought. At daylight she was unable to know where she was, and could see nothing by which to guide her steps. Being afraid to travel by daylight, lest the Indians should discover her, she hid in a patch of tall weeds.

About ten o'clock she heard the report of several guns, and for many hours she could hear the cries and screams of children being tortured. At last, about the middle of the afternoon, she heard the discharge of several guns in quick succession, and the wail of the children instantly ceased. It is supposed that the Indians, on their return from Lake Shetek, stopped at the scene of the massacre of the day before and tortured and murdered the living infants, taking with them, as prisoner, Lilly Everett.

]Mrs. Eastlick had now passed two days without food or drink. She was wounded in four places. She then believed that all her children were dead. She felt that she had little to live for, and yet the hope of escaping death at thei hands of the savages nerved her to renewed efforts. During the afternoon she had looked in every direction, and could barely see, in the dim distance, the outline of what appeared to be timber. She thought this must be near Buffalo Lake, Murray county, on the road to Dutch Charley's place. We continue the narrative in her own language .

"As soon as it was dark I started on my weary journey toward the timber. I walked some hours and then laid me down to rest on the damp ground. I tried to scoop the dew from the grass in my hand to quench my thirst, but it was in vain that I tried it. I then took up the bottom of my skirt, and sucked the moisture from it, until I had partially quenched my burning thirst. I thought it the sweetest water I had ever drunk. I then curled myself upon the ground for a nap, trying to get myself warm by drawing the apron over my head and face, and breathing on my benumbed hands. I shook from head to foot. I was chilled through, and my teeth chattered. Soon sleep and weariness overcame me, and I slept for some time. When I awoke, I felt quite refreshed, and started once more on my toilsome journey. But by this time, my feet had become very sore, the flesh being worn to the bone, on the top of my toes, by the sharp, coarse prairie grass. Indeed, it was quite a hardship for me to

at all. * * « i traveled on in the darkness through sloughs and high tangled grass, and finally came to a slough that was filled with water. Here I satisfied my burning thirst, but it was very difficult getting through the marsh, as the grass was as tall as my shoulders, and twisted and matted so that I had to part it before me to get along. The water was as much as two and a half feet deep. I got so fatigued in wading this wide slough that as soon as I set foot on dry land again, I lay down and rested a long time before starting again.

It was now nearly twilight, and I could see timber at a short distance. I was so weak that I reeled as I walked ; but the sight of the woods revived my strength somewhat, and I dragged myself along, thinking that about five of the sixteen miles to Dutch Charley's were accomplished and vainly hoping that before night I might travel the remaining eleven miles. As I neared the timber I heard the crowing of fowls in several directions. It was now broad day and I discovered that this was not Buffalo Lake, but Lake Shetek! I cannot describe my grief and despair, at finding myself back there after wandering two long nights, with feet bleeding and torn, and with nothing to eat for three nights and two days. My fear of Indians caused me to creep into the first bunch of weeds, where I covered my head and face with the apron to keep off mosquitoes. I began to feel sick, and a weak, faint feeling came over me at times. There was a house near by which I knew was that of my old neighbor, Thomas Ireland. After wavering for a lohg time between the fear of starvation and the fear of Indians, I chose to risk the danger of being discovered by them, knowing that to remain without food was certain death."

"By pulling myself up by the bushes, I at last reached the top, and found myself within a short distance of a corn field. I dragged myself to the field, and plucked the first ear I could reach. After many efforts I pulled off the husks, and ate two rows of the green corn. They made me very sick at the stomach; but after lying down for some time, I arose, feeling a great deal better and stronger, and soon reached the house. * * * I found nothing to eat, but took a cup to the spring, drank some water, and then crawled into a plum-thicket, where I remained until night."

"When it was sufficiently dark, I went back to the house, where I caught and killed a chicken, tore off the skin, and, with my teeth, tore the flesh from the bones. This I rendered eatable by dipping it in some brine that was left in a pork barrel. I then wrapped the pieces in paper and put them in a tin pail that I found. This must be my provision for the next day, I also plucked three ears of corn and deposited them with the meat. * *. * I put on an old coat to keep me warm, and bound up my raw and painful feet, in old cloths, and started anew on my journey.

"I knew the road to be about two miles due east of this place. This night I kept the right direction by the north star, but did not travel far.

for I could go but a short distance before I was obliged to lie down and rest. Just at daybreak, I reached the road, having made the distance of two miles in the whole night! This I thought was slow traveling, but I was quite encouraged, now that I had found the road and was sure of going right. I lay down and slept until after sunrise; then, after eating some green corn, I started again. Often did fatigue force me to sit down to rest, and each time after resting, I could scarcely put my foot to the ground. My heel, which had been shot through was badly swollen and very sore, but I still pressed onward till I reached Buffalo Lake, at about 11 o'clock a. m. Here I found that I must cross the outlet of the lake, on a pole. When I trusted my weight upon it, over the middle of the stream, it broke, and I fell into the water. After laborious and repeated efforts I got out and passed on,- but I was soon obliged to stop and repair damages. I took off and wrung out some of my clothing and spread them in the sun to dry. I also laid the meat in the sun to dry, for it had become so slippery that I could not eat it. After this I lay down among the bushes that grew around the lake, and slept very soundly. I arose at length, put on my skirt, coat and apron, dressed my feet again, ate some corn and forced down some meat. Just as I finished my lonely meal, a flock of ducks flew off the lake and soon a crane followed them. This was proof that something had disturbed them, and fearing that Indians were upon my track and close at hand, I hid behind a tree, and watched the road in the direction I had just come.

"Presently the head of a horse was seen to rise over the hill near by. Indians without doubt, thought I, and shrank down among the bushes, and watched to see a dozen or more savages file along before me!"

"But, oh! what a change from fear to joy! It proved to be the mailcarrier from Sioux Falls to New Ulm. I crept out of the brush and addressed him. He stopped his horse and staring at me in the utmost astonishment, asked, in the Indian tongue, if I were a squaw. I answered yes, not understanding him, and told him the Indians had killed all the white people at the lake. 'Why,' said he, 'you look too white to be a squaw.'

" 'I am no squaw,' I replied, 'I am Mrs. Eastlick; you have seen me several times at Mrs. Everett's house; I am very badly wounded.' He then inquired as to the extent of my wounds, and I showed him my wounded arm and the place where my head was broken. He then helped me on to his sulky, and walked along, leading the horse.

"About 4 p. m. we came in sight of Dutch Charley's when he drove the horse into a ravine away from the road, helped me to the ground, and told me to conceal myself in the grass. He said he would go to the house to see if there had been any Indians about. He returned presently, saying that there had been none there; that the family had deserted the premises ; but that there was an old man there that came from Lake Shetek. He helped me to mount the sulky again, and we were soon before the door. As soon as I had got to the ground the man made his appearance at the door, and, wonderful to tell, it was poor 'Uncle Tommy Ireland.' I hardly knew him, for he looked more like a corpse than a liv- ing being. His face was deatlily pale, his eyes deeply sunk, and his voice reduced to a whisper. I hurried to greet him, rejoiced to find, still living, my old friend and neighbor, who had witnessed the same heart-rending sights with myself. He clasped his arm around me and we both wept like children at the sight of each other.

"He told me that Merton had left the scene of the massacre on the same day, carrying little Johnny, and he thought, perhaps they had reached the house before Dutch Charley's family had left and so gone along with them. I was filled with hope and joy to think that perhaps, two of my children were spared."

As before stated, Mr. Ireland, after following- Mrs. Eastlick's sons half a mile from the scene of the first massacre, lay down entirely exhausted, expecting to die. He remained stretched upon the ground through all that rainy, stormy night, unable to turn over. All the next day and the next night he remained there without food or drink. The following morning, Friday, feeling a little better he made his way to Dutch ('barley's, where the mail-carrier and ]\Irs. Eastlick found him on Saturday. So far he had been unable to get any food or drink. The mail-carrier furnished some water, and finally foiuid a cheese which he gave to the A'.'ounded man and woman.

After feeding the horse and i-esting a short time, the mail-carrier took Mrs. Eastlick on the sulky, put some turnips and cheese aboard, and started east again, Mr. Ireland accompanying them. At first, the wounded man made slow progress, but after awhile was able to walk as fast as the horse. After following the road about eight miles, they went about half a mile from it anil camped for the night, eating turnips and cheese for supper. The mailcarrier had a quilt and an oil cloth blanket, and, notwithstanding a heavy rainstorm, during the night, the travelers did not suffer severely.

At early dawn, Stuiday morning, they again took the road and traveled eastward. About noon they espied some persons a long distance ahead of them, and, suspecting they were Indians, the mail-carrier went cautiously ahead to reeonnoiter, his two companions slowly following. After a while he discovered that the objects they had seen were a woman nnd two children. Upon overtaking them, he found them to be ilrs. Ilurd and her two children.

ny were only a short distance ahead of Mrs. Hurd, and the mailcarrier and ilrs. Eastlick, as may be well imagined, lost no time in overtaking them. Merton had then carried his little brother about fifty miles, with very little food or sleep. He looked like a skeleton, while the babe was so sick that he did not know his mother. His face was a complete scab where the mosquitoes and flies had bitten him.

The little company soon arrived at a Mr. Brown's place, found it deserted, and the door of the house fastened. The mail-carrier crawled through a window into the house, where he found some bread on the table. He brought it out and distributed it among the weary, hungry refugees. After feeding his horse, he started for New Ulm alone, advising the others to remain about the premises, and telling them he would send a team and men to bring them to New Ulm.

The sufferers being afraid to stay about the house, went to the bank of the Cottonwood, some eighty rods from the house, and secreted themselves in a thicket till night. About sunset they returned to the house and crawled in through the window. Here they found bedding and clothing, some forty pounds of pork and a crock of lard. Mrs. Hurd gathered some potatoes and onions from the garden and cooked a meal, which was the first warm meal they had eaten since the Tuesday before. Here they remained in constant fear of Indians until Wednesday night, when the mail-carrier returned with sad news of the situation.

He reported that all the settlers on the Cottonwood river were driven away or killed by the Indians; that he had gone in sight of New Ulm, on foot, leaving his horse hidden some miles behind ; that he could see the ruins of many bu.rnt houses there, and people, of some kind, walking about the streets, but could not determine whether they were Indians or whites; that, as he was traveling along on foot, he suddenly came upon six Indians, two of whom fired upon and pursued him ; that he fled and concealed himself in a slough till his pursuers were tired of hunting for him and gave up the search.

All felt that there was no safety in the house, and they again repaired to the thicket - taking with them bedding and clothing. The kind mail carrier then shook hands with them all, bidding them good bye, saying that he would return to Sioux Falls and send soldiers to their rescue. When he reached Sioux Falls he found that the settlers had all been killed, and also all the soldier.^ but two, who managed to escape. After many hardships and dangers, he reached Port Clark in safety.

^Ir. Ireland, tl^e women and children, after great siid'ering for two days and nights, from mosquitoes and flics, returned to the house, preferring tlie risk of diseovei'v by Indians to their sufferings in the thicket.

We now return to the camp at Little Creek, where we left Mr. Everett and his eompanions. The next morning, they stai'ted as early as possible. Jlrs. Aleyers was no better, and ^Mr. Everett, if possible, sult'ered more than the day before. They drove as far as Ijeavenworth, that day. On every hand there M-as evidence of the murderous footsteps of the savages. The houses were all deserted and the fields laid waste.

After lookiiie- at several houses they finally went to one a quarter of a mile from the road, just at diisk, and took ]iossession. They assist<>d ^Mrs. Meyers and the children to alight and had just dragged ^Ii-. Everett into the house, for by this time he was almost totally helpless - when they heard loud talk not far off. Bentley and Hatch crept out through the cornfield, and saw three Indians going past toward a house not far oft' where the whites first thought of slopping. Bentley and Hatch then came back, took ]\lrs. ileyers and children, and hid in the brush some distance from the house. ]\\v. Everett eould not well be moved so far, so he crawled to a fence, and dragged himself through it and out into a buckwheat field. He had only just lain down in a hollow when the three Indians came to the house, looked around and finally sat down on the fence, not far from him, and in full view. They stayed around the house about thrce-quartei's of an hour, and finally departed without discovering any of the wliites. It M-as a very close call, however.

All hands remained concealed during the night, :\rr. Everett staying in the buckwheat patch. In th(> morning thev started again, having nothing to eat (>xcept flour wet up with water and dried in the sun. They crossed the Cottonwood, and drove toward Mankato as rai.idly as p,>ssible. Dtu-ing the forenoon they conld heai- the bo(uning of eann(m at X(>w Tim. This M'as the day of the battle there.

At n(Miii they st(ii)p(>,d in a ravine out of sight of the road. They were not very far south of New Ulm, but the firing in that direction, and all tlie indications surrounding them, made them believe that the Indians were in possession of all the country around New Ulm, at least. Mr. Meyers decided to leave them there and niak(» his way to New Ulm, if possible, hoping to bring a party to their relief. He told them that if he did not return or send relief, by the next day at noon, to drive on to ilankato.

The situation was indeed critical. Bands of murderous Indians were prowling over the country in every direction. There was no safety anywhere. This little band of settlers was now entirely defenseless. The three men were all wounded, Mr. Everett so badly injured that he was almost entirely helpless. ]Mrs. Meyers was so very siek that there was little hope of her recovery. They had no food except a little raw corn and uncooked flour. They wei'e worn out with constant watching and anxiety. Tormented with an army of tlies by day luul myriads of mosquitoes by night, they found it almost impossible to sleep. A few gopher knolls on a distant hill-side looked like a band of Indians - every rustle of the tall grass brought a startled glance for the cause - every clump of wet'ds and each little grove might cover th(^ presence of a iiinrderous foe. The situation was enough to bring terror to the strongest heart in a robust man, and what must have been the feelings of persons half-starved, wounded, weak, and worn out with constant watching and excitement, as they were compelled to wait and watch for twenty-four hours, with no assurance of relief even then?

After Mr. Meyers left for New Ulm, the hours wore slowly awaj', and at noon the next day he had not returned nor been heard from. There was no choice left, the wounded and sick must reach Mankato or perish on the prairie.

The oxen wei'c put to the wagon; Mrs. jMeyers and Mr. Everett were lifted into it, and again they started eastward. They drove till night and camix'd near a deserted house. Messrs. Bentley and Hatch found some potatoes, which were eaten raw, as the refugees still feared to build a fire lest the Indians should discover them.

At daylight the next morning, they again started east, driving as rapidly as possible. When within eight or ten miles of Crystal Lake, they discovered men in the distance, on horseback,

Bentley and Hatch at once drove to a slough of tall grass, near by, hid Mrs. ]\]eyers, her children, and j\Ir. Everett in different places ; drove the oxen and wagon some distance away ; and then secreted themselves in the tall grass. Their fear of Indians overpowered every other feeling. They had no doubt whatever that the horsemen were Indians, and that if the hidden ones were discovered they would be tortured and murdered.

The horsemen came on rapidly and soon reached the place where the frightened, wounded and starved settlers were hiding. They searched the ground thoroughly and soon fovind one after another of the settlers until all were found except Charley Hatch.

]\Ir. Everett was so sick and weak that he could scarcely speak, but he urged Capt. Dane - for he it was with a squad of soldiers - to keep up the search for Hatch. They searched long and called often but could not find him, and were finally compelled to go on to Lake ('rystal without him.

Poor Charley Hatch heard them plainly enough, but he believed them to be Indians and half-breeds who were calling him, seeking to nuirder hijn, so he refused to answer or to stir from his hiding place. He remained hidden in the grass all night. The next morning :\lr. Everett prevailed upon the soldiers to renew their search for Hatch. They returned to the slough, and, after much time spent in looking and calling, finally rode on to his hiding place. His .ioy at finding them friends instead of murderous savages quite overcame him.

The wounded and nearly famished settlers from Shetek were at once removed to the hospital, at ilankato. If we are correctly informed, Mi's. ;\leyers died the day after her arrival at :Mankato. Meyers finally reached Slankato in safety. Bentley and Hatch soon recovered from their wounds and sutVering, but i\lr. Everett's life hung in the baliuice for a long time. His wounded leg, by constant irritation, was very badly swollen and inteiis,.lv pahiful. His shattered arm was in an equally bad condition. Nothing short of an iron constitution could have br.night him from death's door ba(']\ to lite and sti-eiigtli.

around on crutches, with his arm in a slinK; and in that condition he went to Arena, Iowa county, Wisconsin, where he remained for some time.

We must now return to follow briefly the history of those made captives at the time of the massacre. These were Mrs. Wright, her little boy and girl ; Mrs. Duly and two children, Lilly Everett, two of Mr. Ireland's girls, and Mrs. Cook. The prisoners were first taken from the camp on Cottonwood river to Yellow Medicine, where they remained some time. At this place Mrs. Wright's son and other captives, including Mrs. Cook, were ransomed by Gen. Sibley. About that time Old Pawn took the other Shetek prisoners and started across the country for the Missouri river. The children, especially, were badly treated. An old hag of a squaw seemed to take particular delight in torturing them. On two or three occasions Lilly came near being killed by this old squaw, who pounded her with a club most brutally. The captives were finally taken into winter quarters, on the Missouri river, some four hundred miles above Ft. Randall.

Their re]e;ise was somewhat remarkable. Early one morning, Mrs. Wright was down at the bank of the Missouri, getting a pail of water, when she discovered two white men in a boat, going down the river. She hailed them and told them the story of her capture and of that of the others. She said there were two women and six children, and she implored them to rescue the caplives. They lu^sitated some time, but finally concluded that it would be impossible for them to do so. They told her, however, that they would make all haste to report the facts to the government officers. True to their word, they did so, and the result was published by the Ft. Dodge, Iowa, Times some years ago. We h>arn fi-oiii the report that an Indian chief, Ma-to To-pa (Four Beiir), who was friendly to the whites, was requested to go to the hostile camp and rescue the captives either by force or treaty. He called a council of his braves, and it was determined that they would make an effort to rescue the captives. He selected ten of his best braves, and with eight good horses started for the hostile camp. They took ther rifles, bows and arrows, as if going to war, starting in November, 1862, and traveling seven dayssnow falling nearly every day. They at last reached the camp of the hostiles, near the mouth of Grand river. The next morning the hostile Indians invited them to a council. They tied their eight horses close to the tepee and went in. Both parties were armed. Four Bear was asked what urgent business had brought him and his braves so far from home at that time of year.

He replied that he had heard that they had been on the war path and had taken some prisoners. He made quite a speech, and told them that he and his party had come for the captives and would not return without them.

One of the hostiles said: "You are all Indians, and belon;.' to the same confederation that we do, and instead of being friendly to the accursed pale face you should unite with us and help slay them as long as there is a Sioux on the face of the earth."

Four Bear replied that he and his braves were friendly to the whites, and always would be - that they would never lift a hand against the women and children of the whites, and that the hostiles must give up the captives.

The council was a stormy one, lasting all day; but finally one of the liostilcs said they had the captives and they were worth money, and nothing less than $1,000 in ponies would get them. Near nif^lit tliey finally agreed that the hostiles should exchanue their eight prisoners for the eight horses and saddles. The exchange was made that night, and then they smoked the pipe of peace.

The hostile band on their retreat from ^Minnesota, were so afraid of being overtaken by the whites that they took no time to hunt, and in conse(]ucnce the prisoners were nearly starved to death. The first square meal for some time was indulged in that night, and it consisted of venison and coffee. Four Bear was of the opinion that the \vomen and children relished his cooking that night.

The prisoners were so destitute of clothing, that their rescuers were compelled to divide their wardrobe with them. The weather was intensely cold, but the homeward march began. The six children had to be carried every step of the wav, and the two women the greater part of it. Some of the Indians M^ould go ahead and kill game, and get the camp readv at night when thev arrived. In consequence of the great dejith of snow it was a slow laborious tramp. At Swan Lake they met some of their people and traded some ammunition and blankets for sugar and coffee for the captives, and in the morning they all contributed everything they could spare for the use of a big horse to get home with. They made a "travoy, " which is two long poles, one end of each fastened to the saddle, extending backward on each side of the horse with crosspieces lashed on. The six children were bundled on this vehicle and the party then made fine progress. They arrived at last at their camp, and the next day they took the captives across the river and turned them over to the officer in command, who gave Four Bear the following :

The bearer, Ma-to To-pa, Is one of the eleven Indians that recovered Mrs. Julia Wright, Mrs. Emma Duly and six children from the Ih-Sanu-Ta, near the Grand river, in November, 18C2. He desires to be kindly treated by all. (Signed) John Pattee,

Mr. Everett saw a report in the Chicago papers that the captives would soon be at Cedar Falls, Iowa, He left Arena, Wisconsin on crutches, his wounded arm still useless, to meet them at Cedar Falls. He was doomed to disappointment, for on his arrival there he learned they had not yet arrived, and that he must go to Ft. Dodge to meet them. He took the stage for that place, but on his arrival there could hear no news of them. There he was taken sick and confined to his bed for two weeks. In the mean time the captives arrived, and among them his daughter, Lilly. ]\Ir. Wright also met his wife and little daughter at that place.

Mr. Everett, as soon as he was able to travel, returned again to Wisconsin Avith Lilly. He remained at Arena until 1867. He lost all his property at Lake Shetek, amounting to $5,000, and received from the government for his loss only $800.

While this sxibstantially closes that portion of the Shetek massacre relating to our townsman, there are other portions yet to be related in order to round out and make complete the history of that awful and tragic event.

It will be remembered by our readers that the mail carrier, after his failure to reach New Ulm, returned to Brown's house where he had left Mrs. Hurd and her two children, ]\Irs. Eastlick and two children, and Uncle Tommy Ireland. After the mail-carrier left, this party remained at Brown's house for nine days, living upon the vegetables growing on the farm.

^Ir. Ireland gradually recovered from his wounds, while Mrs. Eastlick was as yet unable to walk. ]\Ir. Ireland proposed, at last, to make a trip to New Ulm and get assistance to remove the women and children. During their stay there two large dogs had come to them and remained there.

On ilonday morning, the ninth day they had been there, ilr. Ireland, taking two cooked chickens as a supply of food, started for New Ulm, saying that he should try to reach New Ulm that night, and would send relief on Tnesday. ]\Irs. Eastlick says:

"All the afternoon of Tuesday we looked long and eagerly for some one to come to our relief, until after dark, when I retired and slept some hours. About midnight we were awakened by the loud barking of the dogs. Mrs. Hurd arose and went to the window, but could see nothing. The dogs, however, barked more savagely than before, running out a short distance and then back to the door. This frightened us very much, as we thought it must be Indians, or the dogs would not act so. But, thought I, whether they are friends or enemies, I must arise and dress, though it may be the last time. So I began putting on my clothes, still asking Mrs. Hurd if she saw anything. When I was about dressed, she exclaimed, 'My God! Cook, is that you?' Then I realized that it was some one whom she knew. It proved to be a young man named Cook, who lived at Lake Shetek, and some time before the outbreak had gone to Crystal Lake, to work in harvest; and my neighbor, Mr. Wright, who was also gone at the time. They came into the house and greeted us with tears in their eyes, while Mrs. Hurd and I wept aloud for joy. They were accompanied by a squad of soldiers, who also came into the house. The soldiers stationed guards about the house, to prevent a surprise. We now learned that Uncle Tommy had succeeded in getting into New Ulm about noon, on Tuesday, and at once made known our condition to Capt. Dane, who ordered fourteen men under Lieut Roberts to prepare to start as soon as possible to our relief. It was almost sunset before they were ready to start, when, lo! Messrs. Wright and Cook came into town, and learning the facts, volunteered to attend them as gmdes. They reached our place at midnight, and, fearful that the sight of them all at once would frighten us, Wright and Cook came on alone to rouse us. The soldiers brought some tea and crackers, killed some chickens, gathered some vegetables, and prepared a good meal. At davhght they placed the feather bed, some quills and a buffalo robe in a light, two-horse wagon. I was then helped in with Mrs. Hurd and our children. * * * When about five miles on the road, Lieut. Roberts rode back and ordered the driver to turn out of the road, pointing a little distance ahead of us. I looked In the direction he pointed, and beheld the body of a gray-haired man, lying in the road. This was the body of Mr. Brown, who owned the house where we had stopped. We soon crossed a run where stood his wagon with the goods thrown out and scattered upon the ground. There were two feather beds, which the soldiers took along. Near the wagon was the body of Mrs. Brown,' with her head split open. As we started out in the morning, one of the soldiers, Mr. Gilfillan, tarried behind, and got lost from the company. His remains were found next day, some six miles from New trim, shot through the breast and his head severed from his body."

These refugees remained for some time in New Ulm and were kindly nursed and cared for. About the 5th of September, they went to Mankato under escort. As soon as Mrs. Eastlick was able to travel, she went to friends in Wisconsin.

She was taken with some of the other prisoners from the slough back to the settlement at Lake Shetek, to Mr. Ireland's house, where a large number of Indians were camped for the night. They held a big war-dance that night, notwithstanding the storm. The Indian who claimed her told her to stay in the tepee or the other Indians would kill her. They kept up the pow-wow nearly all night, and, their chief having been killed during the day, they chose Old Pawn to succeed him.

Next morning some of the Indians brought in Lilly Everett, so chilled and wet that she could hardly speak. Mrs. Cook and Mrs. Duly wrapped her in a shawl and seated her close by the fire. This so enraged the savages that they fired at them, one bullet passing through the skirt of Mrs. Duly's dress, and another piercing the shawl worn by Mrs. Cook, just below her shoulders. Fortunately neither one of them was hurt.

While returning to the lake, Mrs. Cook was leading little Belle Duly, five years old, when the murderous old squaw that killed Fred Eastlick, came along, snatched the child away, whipped her over the face with a raw-hide, raised her as high as she could and threw her upon the ground with all her force; then she tied the child to a bush, stepped back a few paces, and threw knives at her, hitting her in various parts of the body until life was extinct, while the mother was forced to behold the sight with no power to shield her child.

The Indians gathered together quite a drove of cattle, loaded several wagons with plunder, and compelled the women to drive the oxen that drew the wagons, and also the loose cattle. They went to the Cottonwood, and thence across the prairie to the Yellow Medicine country.

Mrs. Cook was with the savages seven weeks. For thtee or four weeks she had plenty to eat, but was finally sold to an old Indian who was very good to her sometimes, and at other times very cruel. One day he told her he was going to another band of Indians, at some distance, and some of the squaws told her that where they were going there was hardly anything to eat. He finally started off, compelling her to go with him. She made no resistance, but, after going some five miles', she offered to carry his gun for him. He gave it to her. She soon managed to take the cap and throw it awa.y, then spit in the tube to make sure the gun Avould not go off. She then told him she should go no farther with him. He seized his gun from her hands and told her to go on or he would shoot her, at the same time raising the gun. She boldly told him to shoot, for she would not go with him, and bared her breast, as if to be instantly killed. He was amaze4, and dropped the butt of his gun in astonishment. He probably thought her the bravest squaw he ever saw. At least he concluded to return with her.

That night she intended to escape with a captive squaw that had married a white man; but their plan was defeated by the sickness of the squaw's babe. The next morning the child was better and all the Indians left the camp except the one who claimed to own Mrs. Cook. This was an opportunity not to be lost. Mrs. Cook stole away to the river unperceived, and the squaw rode a pony in the same direction, pretending to be going to water him. She let him go at the river and started with ]\Irs. Cook. They traveled as rapidly as possible, crossed the IMinnesota river ten times that day in order to hide their trail if followed. They traveled, they thought, about thirty miles, when they came upon "Red Iron's" band of Indians whom they joined. After remain-

The year 1862 was a year of blood for America. We had not only the bloody Sioux Massacre, but many bloody battles occurred between the Union and the Rebel forces.

And thus came to a close the darkest year in the history of the state of Minnesota. The frontier had been made desolate, and many familes had lost everything. But fortunately the crops had been of the very best, and there was food enough for all. The state generously extended aid to the people of the frontier and there was very little suffering.