ANOTHER BATTLE.
Was it the distant roar of heaven's artillery that caught my ear. I
listened and heard it again. The Indians heard it and were frightened.
A half-breed in a stage whisper cried, "a cannon! a cannon!"
An Indian answered, "a cannon is no good to fight."
I looked at them and it showed them to be a startled and fear-stricken
company, notwithstanding that they held the cannon with such disdain as
to say "cannon no good to fight." That night was full of excitement for
the Indians; they felt that the enemy was drawing near, too close in
fact to be safe. The prisoners were excited with the thought, that
perhaps there was liberty behind that cannon for them, and taking it all
round, there was little sleep within the tepees.
The next morning I awoke early with hopefulness rising within my breast
at the thought of again obtaining my liberty. The first sound I heard
was the firing of cannon near at hand; it sounded beautiful; it was
sweet music to my ears. Anticipating the prospect of seeing friends once
more, I listened and breathed in the echo after every bomb.
The fighting commenced at seven o'clock by Gen. Strange's troops forcing
the Indians to make a stand. It was continued until ten with indifferent
success. The troops surely could not have known the demoralized
condition of the Indians, else they would have compelled them to
surrender. The fighting was very near, for the bullets were whizzing
around all the time. We thought surely that liberty was not far away.
The Indians were continually riding back and fro inspiring their
followers in the rear with hope, and we poor prisoners with despair. At
last they came back and said that they had killed twenty policemen and
not an Indian hurt. But there were two Indians killed, one of whom was
the Worm, he who killed my poor husband, and several wounded. We were
kept running and walking about all that morning with their squaws,
keeping out of the way of their enemies, and our friends. We were taken
through mud and water until my feet got so very sore that I could hardly
walk at all.
The Indians ordered us to dig pits for our protection. Pritchard and
Blondin dug a large one about five feet deep for us, and they piled
flour sacks around it as a further protection but they dug it too deep
and there was two or three inches of water at the bottom. They then
threw down some brush and we got into it, twenty persons in all, with
one blanket for Mrs. Delaney and me. McLean's family had another pit,
and his daughters cut down trees to place around it. Mr. Mann and family
dug a hole in the side of the hill and crawled into it. If I had my way
I would have kept out of the pit altogether and watched my chance to
escape.
We fully expected the troops to follow but they did not; and early in
the morning we were up and off again. Some of the Indians went back
to see how about the troops, and came back with the report that the
"police" (they call all soldiers police) had vanished, they were afraid.
When I heard it, I fairly sank, and the slight spark of hope I had, had
almost gone out. Just to think that succor was so near, yet alas! so
far. But for Mrs. Delaney I would have given way and allowed myself to
perish.