HOPE ALMOST DEFERRED.
Almost a week afterwards, on a Saturday night, the fighting Indians
gathered around a tepee near ours and began that never ending dancing
and singing. It was a most unusual thing for them to dance so close to
our tent. They had never done so before. It betokened no good on their
part and looked extremely suspicious. It seemed to me that they were
there to fulfil the threat they made some time previous, that they would
put an end to us soon. The hour was late and that made it all the more
certain that our doom had come. I became very nervous and frightened at
what was going on. When all at once there was a scattering, and running,
and yelling at the top of their voices, looking for squaws and children,
and tearing down tents, while we two sat in ours in the depths of
despair, waiting for further developments. I clung to Mrs. Delaney like
my own mother, not knowing what to do. The cause of the stampede we
were told was that they had heard the report of a gun. That report was
fortunate for us, as it was the intention of the Indians to wrench us
from our half-breed protectors and kill us.
The tents were all down and in a very few minutes we were on the move
again. It was Sunday morning at an early hour, raining heavily, and
cold. We were compelled to travel all that day until eleven o'clock
at night. The halt was only given then, because the brutes were tired
themselves. Tents were pitched and comparative quietness reigned. Our
bedding consisted of one blanket which was soaked with water. Andre
Nault took pity on us and gave us his, and tried in every way to make us
comfortable. I had a great aversion to that fellow, I was afraid to look
at him I was so weak and tired that I could not sleep but for only a
few minutes. I had given up and despair had entered my mind. I told Mrs.
Delaney I wished I could never see morning, as I had nothing to look
forward to but certain death. In that frame of mind I passed the night.