Huntington Free Library Native American Collection , : m : , CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 3 1924 097 620 326 Cornell University Library The original of this book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924097620326 « H M a H O H d EH < 2; - 1 £j 'if- '• f t/i CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. Page. The Indian 7 CHAPTER II. The Sioux Indians 12 o CHAPTER III. The Winnebagoes 23 CHAPTER IV. Miscellaneous Matters 28 CHAPTER V. The Spirit Lake Massacre 32 CHAPTER VI. Chief Little Crow 42 CHAPTER VII. Causes of the Outbreak 57 CHAPTER VIII. Beginning of the Massacre 85 CHAPTER IX. The Lake Shetek Massacre 99 CHAPTER X. Indians Attack New Ulm 113 CHAPTER XL Battles of Red Wood Ferry and Fort Ridgely 124 CHAPTER XII. Battle of Birch Coulee 147 CHAPTER XIII. Henry Hastings Sibley 162 CHAPTER XIV. Battle of Wood Lake 164 CHAPTER XV. Forts Abercrombie and Ripley 175 4 CONTENTS. CHAPTER XVI. p AGB . The Captives 181 CHAPTER XVII. Narrative of Justina Kreiger 189 CHAPTER XVIII. Narrative of Justina Boelter 209 CHAPTER XIX. The Military Commission .' 218 CHAPTER XX. The Mulatto, Godfrey 227 CHAPTER XXI. Indians in McLeod, Nicollet and Blue Earth Counties 240 CHAPTER XXII. Execution of Thirty-eight Sioux, Dec. 26, 1862 251 CHAPTER XXIII. Race Cruelties 272 CHAPTER XXIV. Conclusion 280 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. Execution of Thirty-eight Sioux at Mankato, Dec. 26, 1862 Frontispiece Daniel Buck opp. 5 Sioux Indians Traveling opp. 12 Sioux Burial opp. 22 Chief Little Crow opp. 42 Merton Eastlick, Eleven Years Old, Carrying His Brother Johnny, Fifteen Months Old, Fifty Miles to Escape from the Indians at Lake Shetek opp. 104 Indians Attacking New Ulm, 1862 opp. 113 Judge Charles E. Flandrau opp. 116 General Henry Hastings Sibley opp. 162 PREFACE. The writer of the following pages came to Minnesota May 15, 1857, where he has ever since resided. His facilities for ascertaining the facts and incidents herein stated have been good, and he has endeavored to treat all questions with judicial fairness. The Indian side of the trouble has been given a hearing, something usually omit- ted by writers upon the subjects of Indian difficulties with the whites. History is a narration of facts or events. His comments and criticisms upon certain phases of the nar- ratives herein contained are opinions long entertained by him, and he thinks not out of place even in a work of this character. If not of practical value, they may at least awaken a train of thoughts and reflections interesting to one or more readers. The work was written at the sug- gestion of friends, and he thinks that a similar one cannot now be found elsewhere. While the illustrations are not many, yet they are quite interesting. The portraits of General Sibley and Judge Flandrau will be welcomed by the many readers of this book, as they were the most noted leaders in the defense of the whites against the ter- rible Indian outbreak. The illustration of the hanging of the thirty-eight Sioux Indians, Dec. 26, 1862, at Mankato, is a wonderfully correct representation of that exciting scene, as the writer, who was then present, can vouch for. The present generation knows but little of the perils and 6 PREFACE. sufferings that many of the early settlers of this Western country passed through, and while this work may not be as elaborate as more time and great expense might have made it, yet the main facts are given, and to a charitable public it is respectfully submitted. Mankato, Minnesota, May 15, 1904. INDIAN OUTBREAKS. CHAPTER I. THE INDIAN. Anthropologists have been greatly puzzled to discover the real origin of the Indian of America. In the fifteenth century they constituted all, or nearly all, of the population of North and South America. This race was at one time designated as American, but the white race has monopolized the name, and what is now denominated the red man, or red race, of America is bet- ter known as Indians; but the term red man, as often used, is really inapplicable to the Indian, for his skin is more the color of copper than red. The title of Indian was first given to them by the Spaniards at the time Co- lumbus discovered America, under the mistaken idea that they had landed on the southern coast of India. We could not learn anything from them of their past, except vague and uncertain traditions. A study of these obscurities only leaves us in the realm of perplexities, and fathoms deep in uncertainties. It is an archaeological problem; conjectured and guessed at, but never solved; investi- gated, but doubt never dispelled. All is buried in the silence of antiquity. In the State of Minnesota there are numerous mounds, many of them full of pottery, relics and other remains, about which the Indians never could, and cannot now, furnish any reliable information. Point out these mounds and their contents to them, and they stand silent and apa- 8 INDIAN OUTBREAKS. thetic. So ignorant are they of their origin, and of the race that built them and buried their contents, that they cannot tell us nearly as much as we can guess. We see that the finger of a greater civilization points to their creation, and to a time more remote than the knowledge or history of the aboriginal denizens extend; possibly to a time beyond their actual occupation of this land. Did a great people once occupy this land, with their mounds of pottery and other remains? If so, what has become of them? Did civilization yield to barbarism? They disappeared, and Time's receding hand failed to note the time and place of their disappearance. It was beyond and back of the time when the Indian with his barbarism and untamable nature, his tomahawk and scalp- ing knife, fought his equally savage enemy. One of these mounds formerly existed on Front street in the city of Mankato. Mr. Sibley built a dwelling house upon it, and while excavating for a cellar found quite a lot of Indian pottery, which I saw at the time. Some of these mounds are used by the Indians for the burial of their dead, but among the Dakotas the native way is to erect scaffolds upon a rise of ground so that the place may be seen from a distance all around, and pro- tects the dead body from the depredations of wild animals. These Indians wail morning and evening for their dead. When placed upon a scaffold they can easily be seen. They call some of these burial mounds pahas, and all such are under the guardianship of their God, Heyoka. Some- times they represent him as an old man, wearing a cocked hat, with a quiver on his back, and a bow in his hand. In the winter it is said that he goes naked, and loves the northern blast, while in summer he wraps his buffalo robe around him and still suffers from cold. There are many persons who believe that the Indians are a distinct species, or fundamental type, of mankind, — THE INDIAN. 9 a group arranged by Nature herself, and not an offshoot or variety of Adam and Eve, or their descendants. Many very learned and eminent men sincerely and earnestly believe that humanity had several distinct nuclei indige- nous to the continent of America. Others equally able and learned believe that mankind had only one center of creation; that from this center they radiated in all direc- tions, and their descendants ultimately peopled all the habitable regions of the earth. The latter in support of their theory cite the remark of St. Paul at Athens, that God had made of one blood all nations of men. This interesting question cannot be here discussed at length, but I venture to suggest that the origin of the Indian race was not then under consideration or discussion, and that St. Paul never heard or knew of the Pequot or Iroquois, of the Algonquin, the Five (or Six) Nations, nor of the Chippewas or Dakotas, and hence did not have them in mind when he uttered that memorable and greatly dis- cussed saying. To-day many of the Chippewa Indians living in the most northern part of Minnesota are as wild as they were fifty or one hundred years ago, and live pretty much the same life now as they did then. They are of the old Algonquin stock, and civilization has done but little for the most of them. The timber thief has been ahead of the missionary, and the whisky bottle (that curse of the Indian) has raised its flag of victory where the sacred Bible should have won. The Indian nature favors fire- water rather than the banner of the Cross, and the sincere Christian missionary finds it difficult to wholly overcome these savage instincts. These Indians still hear the voice of the Great Spirit in the soft breeze of the morning and the gentle soughing of the winds at the setting of the sun. They feel God's wrath in the tornado and the cyclone; not in the ven- IO INDIAN OUTBREAKS. geance of his enemies, which have made the forests and fields a Waterloo or Thermopylae. But when the storm cloud has past, and the untold agony of the war club and scalping knife has ceased, these wild children of the forest see in their native haunts the only- place for their tepees, wigwams, council fires and soldiers' lodges. Once more they glide over their crystal lakes in their birch canoe, and wander by their ever-flowing rivers, where fish are plentiful, and wild rice flourishes, and where numerous game satisfies the appetite. Here is the native habitat of the Indian. Many of them care little for their origin, and less about what St. Paul said at the Areopagus on Mars Hill at Athens, Anno Domini 54. The master race of the world is the Caucasian. Its marvelous strides in all the characteristics that make a race great increase as the years roll around. But it has its vicious and renegade men. Through these white outcasts a deteriorating wave of circumstances had for generation after generation sunk many Indians deeper in the mire of wildness, wickedness and barbarism. They have wormed themselves into the confidence and lives of these wild tribes, and there formed alliances and found asylums, that, like some Arabian simoon, have parched and burned and eaten into the very vitals of these uncivilized tribes. Rene- gade white men who are fugitives from justice have mixed with these Indians, and the progeny have disgraced the Anglo-Saxon blood, and fallen below that of the Indian himself. The most expert horse thief is a white outcast, and his many other crimes while hiding in the haunts and retreats of the uncivilized Indians and trading his stolen pony for a squaw wife is a demoralizing power, especially where his ancestral blood is forgotten and the endear- ments of his boyhood home are buried in eternal oblivion. We may pity the innocent progeny of the two distinct races, and condemn the alliance as unholy and shocking, THE INDIAN. II and a violation of nature's purest laws, but the contact and responsibility rests upon this civilized and Christian nation. If my view, that the Indians are wild and forever will remain so, is unsound, let the missionaries of the Riggs and Williamson type keep on with their good work, and gather within their folds as many Indians as possible. If government (as it now thinks possible) can, by the overwhelming numbers of the white race, succeed in ab- sorbing and bleaching out the color of the aboriginees and cross-breeds, and thus give us a better humanity, the horse thief, the squaw man and the white refugee, the un- truthful interpreter and unprincipled traders, now squatted by the hundreds upon our numerous Indian reservations, must go without delay, and not be retained by any political power. The poisonous quality of these vicious men is well told by another: "The renegade of civilization caught the habits and imbibed the prejudices of his chosen associates. He loved to decorate his long hair with eagle feathers ; to make his face hideous with vermillion, ochre and soot ; and to adorn his greasy hunting frock with horsehair fringes. His dwelling, if he had one, was a wigwam. He lounged on a bear-skin, while his squaw boiled his venison and lighted his pipe. In hunting, in dancing, in singing, in talking a scalp, he rivaled the genuine Indian. His mind was tinc- tured with the superstitions of the forest. He had faith in the magic drum of the conjurer; he was not sure that a thunder cloud could not be frightened away by whistling at it through the wing-bone of an eagle; he carried the tail of a rattlesnake in his bullet-pouch by way of amulet ; and he placed implicit trust in the prophetic truth of his dreams. This class of men is not yet extinct." CHAPTER II. THE SIOUX INDIANS. Nearly coeval with the Mayflower's landing her pre- cious freight on Plymouth Rock, the intrepid French learned of the vast region around the northern lakes of North America, even to the rapids of St. Mary's, and around both shores of Lake Superior. The Ojibways, now called Chippewas, had been met on the shores of Lake Huron, and from them the French heard reports of the grand Mississippi, that flowed south from the northern country. From them they also learned of the existence of the Dakotas. These French voyageurs had established trading posts along those lakes, and were engaged in buying furs from the Indians and selling them such goods as they needed or wanted. The trader was ahead of the missionary. Actuated by a love of glittering gold, he sought barter and trade, and as it has been pithily said, "Those in the service of Mam- mon outrun those in the service of God." But the mis- sionary was not far behind, and the student and scholar soon followed. It is claimed that Nicollet was the first public man that mentioned the Dakota family of Indians, he having been sent by the government at Quebec to treat with the tribes in the neighborhood of Green Bay as early as 1639. It is also said that he visited the Oupegon (Winnebago) tribe, and according to him they were a people so called o d X h-l d W !> IB H w If the Indians had any men killed in the fight I never heard of it. Mankato flourished his men around so, and all the Indians in the coulee kept up a noise, and at last the whites began to fall back, and in the end they retreated about two miles and began to build breastworks. Mankato followed them, and left about thirty men to watch them, and re- turned to the fight at the coulee with the rest. The Indians were laughing when they came back at the way they had deceived the white men, and we were all glad that the whites did not push forward and drive us away. If any more Indians went against this force than the fifty, or possibly seventy-five, that I have told you of, I never heard of it. I was not with them, and cannot say posi- tively, but I do not think there were. I went out to near the fortified camp that night, and there was no large force of Indians over there, and I know that there were not more than thirty of our men watching the camp. When the men of this force began to fall back, the whites in the camp halloed and made a great commotion, as if they were begging them to return and relieve them, and seemed much distressed that they did not. The next morning General Sibley came with a large force and drove us away from the field." 11 CHAPTER XIII. HENRY HASTINGS SIBLEY. General Sibley was born at Detroit, Michigan, Febru- ary 20, 181 1. His father was Judge Solomon Sibley, a native of Massachusetts. His mother was Sarah W. Sproat, a daughter of Col. Ebenezer Sproat, who was an officer in the patriot army in the War of the Revolution. Her maternal grandfather was Commodore Abraham Whipple, of the American navy. General Sibley settled at Mendota in 1834, where he lived for twenty-eight years. He became the chief factor in the fur trade, and knew the general character of the country and its occupants, and his knowledge of the characteristics of the Indians prob- ably surpassed that of any other white man at the time. He traded with them, learned their language, visited them, hunted with them and lodged in their tepees and wigwams. He spoke the Sioux language fluently, and was a good French scholar. The Indians gave him two names; one was Wah-ze-o-man-nee ("Walker in the Pines"), and the other Wah-pe-ton-hauska ("The Tall Trader"). He was the first delegate elected to Congress from the Territory of Minnesota. This was October 30, 1848. On the third day of March, 1849, he secured the passage of the organic act establishing the Territory of Minnesota, his former elec- tion as delegate having been from that portion of Wiscon- sin left over after its admission as a state. This organic act provided that Minnesota should retain for educational GENERAL HENRY HASTINGS SIBLEY, COMMANDER OP THE EX- PEDITIONARY FORCES AGAINST THE SIOUX INDIANS. HENRY HASTINGS SIBLEY. 163 purposes sections sixteen and thirty-six of each township, and constituted the basis of Minnesota's grand educational system of today. After the expiration of his term in congress he repeat- edly held many important offices, but none so momentous as that of commander of the military forces against the hostile Sioux, from 1862 to 1865, first commissioned colo- nel the day after the Indian outbreak, and six days after the battle of Wood Lake he was appointed brigadier gen- eral by the president. Estimated and measured according to his merits, General Sibley was a great man, and his military record won for him much praise, but not the renown it deserved. Fate is not as kind to some men as it ought to be, while others ride on the waves of popu- lar applause, through partisan bias and personal friend- ship, where real merit is frequently wanting. The manner in which General Sibley planned and carried out his Indian campaign, his rescue of the 270 captives held as prisoners by the hostile Indians, his love for our educational institu- tions, his generosity and sense of personal honor and in- tegrity, entitle his name to be revered and his acts regarded by the present and future generations as worthy of praise and admiration. He died February 18, 1891. CHAPTER XIV. BATTLE OF WOOD LAKE. The story of this battle is best told by those who par- ticipated in it, and by none better than by Hon. Ezra T. Champlain, late speaker of the house of representatives. His recollections are quoted in full as follows: "Sept. 23, 1862, the expedition against the Sioux In- dians, under the command of General Sibley, was en- camped at Wood Lake, in what is now Yellow Medicine county. The command consisted of about 2,000 men, including some 275 men of the Third Minnesota Infantry, paroled prisoners just returned from the South. At this time nearly all the commissioned officers were held pris- oners of war in the South, there being but one officer of the regiment, Lieut. R. C. Olin, accompanying us. Before starting on the expedition, and while at Fort Snelling, Maj. A. E. Welch, formerly of the First Minnesota In- fantry, was placed in command of the detachment of the Third. Our camp, which stood on the eastern shore of the little lake, was upon high ground, overlooking the surrounding prairie. Eastward, a short distance, was the Minnesota river, and to the north of the camp, about a quarter of a mile, ran the outlet of the lake, a small stream that a man could leap. Occupying a position in camp nearest this stream was our detachment. "It was a fine morning, when, about seven or eight o'clock, several company wagons of the Third, each con- BATTLE OF WOOD LAKE. I&S taining a few men, left camp for the purpose of foraging, and made their way toward the government agency at Yellow Medicine, the ruins of which were some three miles distant. "I may as well state here that the Third, galled by a humiliating surrender at Murfreesborough, Tenn., by a recreant and cowardly commander, had lost in a great measure their former high discipline, and were quite unruly, anxious only to redeem in the field their wounded honor, and this foraging move was, I think, wholly unau- thorized. "Company G wagon leading, they crossed the outlet of the lake and had reached the high land beyond, about one-half mile from camp, when a party of twenty-five war- riors sprang up from the grass, where they lay concealed, and fired a volley into the leading wagon, which was some twenty rods in advance, mortally wounding Degrove Kim- ball and wounding others. William McGee immediately sprang from the wagon, and returned the fire ; the men in the rear wagons joined in the fray, and the battle of Wood Lake had commenced. "The attack was made in full view of the camp, and as soon as the firing was heard our young and resolute com- mander, not waiting for orders from General Sibley, shouted, 'All who want to fight, fall in.' A general rush was made for our guns, and in a minute or two about two hundred of us were on the double-quick for the scene of action. Deploying one-half the little command as skir- mishers, with the remainder following in reserve, we moved swiftly forward on the now rapidly increasing forces of Little Crow. "Passing to the right of where the first attack was made and toward the main body of the Indians in sight, we were joined by the foraging party, and pushing for- ward were soon engaged by the whole savage force, which 1 66 INDIAN OUTBREAKS. to the number of eight hundred attacked us in front and on both sides. "Our thorough drill in the South showed here to good advantage; our skirmish line moved steadily forward, firing rapidly, forcing the enemy back toward the bluffs of the Minnesota river. The scene from the reserve at this point remains vivid in my mind. The savages formed a semi-circle in our front, and to right and left, moving about with great activity, howling like demons, firing and retreating, their quick movements seeming to multiply their numbers. We were whipping them in fine shape, driving them back over the undulating prairie. A retro- spect brings to mind Tennyson's charge of the Light Bri- gade, with Indians to right of us, Indians to left of us, Indians in front of us, whooping and yelling; when sud- denly an officer from General Sibley came charging in upon us, hastily calling for Major Welch. Approaching that officer, he spoke a few words to him, then wheeling his horse, he shouted, 'Get back to camp the best way you can,' and sped away as though he had just escaped 'out from the mouth of hell.' "That command given by the horseman, with a mis- take in the bugle call, created much confusion. The re- serve about-faced ; the skirmishers on the right came run- ning in on the reserve. Sergeants McDonald and Bowler on the left kept the line of skirmishers steady, fighting their way back to the reserve. The battle from this point, about one mile from the camp, back over the line over which we had just moved, was disordered and independent, each man doing his best to keep the overwhelming sav- ages from closing in upon us. A continuous fusillade was poured into their converging ranks. Little Crow, seizing the advantage that our retreat gave him, endeavored to cut us off from support, but our fire was too hot for them. Our line of retreat lay down a descent to the creek we had BATTLE OP WOOD LAKE. 1 67 crossed, with rolling hills on either side, and here was pan- demonium itself, — with Indians to the right of us, Indians to the left of us, Indians behind us, charging and yelling. Crossing the stream, a stand was made on the plateau between it and camp, and here, joined by the company of Renville Rangers, the fight was kept up for an hour longer, the Indians taking advantage of the low hills that bordered the narrow intervals along the creek. The Third and Rangers, covered by the tall grass and intervening knolls, with grass bound on their hats, fought them Indian fashion. Their fire kept little knots of them constantly bearing away their killed and wounded beyond our reach. An attempt was made to attack our camp by passing around the lake, but a detachment of the Sixth regiment met and quickly dispersed them. "At this time, Lieutenant Olin of the Third, with about fifty men, made a wild charge into the midst of the sav- ages, completely routing those in our front. This charge was so sudden and unexpected by them that we came nearly to a hand-to-hand encounter. Fourteen or fifteen were here killed and fell into our hands, they having no time to carry them away. "At this point, and simultaneous with the charge of the Third, a part of the Seventh Infantry, under Colonel Marshall, and some companies of the Sixth, under Major McLaren, moved out to our right, and, gallantly charging the savages, swept the bottom below, driving them from the tall grass and over the adjoining hill in great confu- sion. Little Crow gave up the contest and withdrew to his camp, a few miles up the Minnesota river, which two days later fell into our hands, together with a large num- ber of warriors and their families. "During our retreat every man seemed possessed with the idea that he was a commander. Brave Major Welch did all that a man could do at such a time to hold the men 1 68 INDIAN OUTBREAKS. in line. Above the din of musketry and the warwhoops of the Indians, I remember the hoarse voice of Sergt. J. M. Bowler, roaring like a madman: 'Remember Murfrees- borough ! Fight, boys ! Remember Murfreesborough !' "As we crossed the stream and gained the higher land, a ball struck our gallant commander, breaking his leg. He called out, 'I'm shot ; take me in !' I was near him at the time, and, springing to his side, caught him as he fell, and with the help of a comrade bore him into camp, a distance of about a quarter of a mile. On our way two or three men ran past us. The brave officer saw them, and with his broken limb swinging from our arms he ordered them back. I remember his words: 'Go back and fight, you white-livered cowards; go back and fight, or I'll shoot you.' On reaching camp I said to him : 'We'll leave you here behind these wagons; they afford some protection.' 'No,' said he, pointing to a little emi- nence, 'take me up on the hill, where I can see the fight :' So we left him on the hill, with his face to the foe. "Returning to the field I remember the appearance of one of our comrades, H. D. Pettibone, with his face cov- ered with blood from a gunshot wound in the head. He was still fighting like a hero. "This brief narrative of my recollections of this mem- orable engagement will not admit of a record of individual heroism. Suffice to say that it was individual bravery that brought us out of what at one time seemed annihilation. "Wood Lake must always be considered the great bat- tle of the Sioux war. While not so severe in casualties as Birch Coulee or so terrible in its character, in results its importance must be conceded. It was the Waterloo for that bold and wily chieftain, Little Crow, and the closing scene in that most terrible of Indian wars. One hundred and twenty white captives were released, — women and children who had been subjected to the most inhuman bar- BATTLE OF WOOD LAKE. 169 barities by their merciless captors. More than 400 war- riors were made prisoners, including the thirty-eight exe- cuted at Mankato, besides some 1,500 women and chil- dren, with 150 tepees. The 'History of the Minnesota Valley' gives the number of warriors under Little Crow at Wood Lake at 300. This I think a great error, as the number of warriors captured then and soon after would indicate. Little Crow brought all his force to bear, as it was a vital point, his main camp being but a few miles beyond. Eight hundred was the estimate made at the time, and it is probably not far from being correct. "The battle was fought almost wholly by the Third regiment, joined by the Renville Rangers, a fact that the hitherto published accounts have failed to note, and one that the casualties in killed and wounded, forty in num- ber, clearly show, and certainly one which every member of the old organization should take pains to establish beyond a doubt, that history may do justice to us and our brave comrades who have taken their last furlough. "It is but fair to suppose that Major Welch, impulsive as he was, could not restrain himself in camp while the savages were shooting down his men in plain sight, and his rash act in leading his small force into the midst of Little Crow's warriors was impelled by his bold and in- trepid spirit. "In writing the above I have endeavored to state as clearly and fairly as I could what came under my personal observation, and I hope that it will meet the approval, in the main, of my comrades of the Third and also of the commanding general. "In conclusion, I will say that much dissatisfaction existed in our detachment at the course pursued by the general commanding against the Sioux. But after twenty-four years have cooled the ardor of my youth, I, for one, am satisfied that it was well for the Third that a I70 INDIAN OUTBREAKS. cooler head and a steadier hand was over and controlling us than that of our impetuous, brave and gallant com- mander, Major Welch. "E. T. CHAMPLIN, "Late Company G, Third Minnesota Volunteer Infantry." The Third Minnesota Infantry was composed of intelli- gent and gallant men, but its surrender at Murfreesbor- ough by the cowardly acts of its officers, Col. Henry C. Lester and others, had enraged the patriotic officers and men, and the bitterness of the criminal surrender seemed to move them to win a glorious victory against the hostile Indians. No man faltered, and each man seemed a hero. Private Benjamine Dinsmore was struck down by a bullet, and while being carried from the field, although weak from the loss of blood, begged to be left in the midst of battle, and fought until the field was won. Corp. Henry D. Pet- tibone, while carrying off a wounded soldier, was himself wounded, but returned to the battle field, and fought until the enemy was completely whipped. Private John Miller, although wounded and nearly exhausted from loss of blood, continued to fight until the end. In this detach- ment of 250 men, forty were killed or wounded, and two of the killed were scalped. All were exemplary soldiers, and while many of the men fought comparatively alone, only one commissioned officer being present, their gallant con- duct entitled them to the thanks and gratitude of all Min- nesbtans. I also quote the Indian chief, Big Eagle's, statement as to the battle of Wood Lake : "When we learned that Sibley had gone into camp at the Wood Lake, a council of the sub-chiefs and others was held, and it was determined to give him a battle near there. I think the lake now called Battle Lake was the old-time Wood Lake. As I understand it, there once were some BATTLE OP WOOD LAKE. 171 eottonwoods about it, and the Indians called it M'da- chan,— Wood Lake. The larger lake was always known to me by the Indian name of Hinta-pay-an-wo-ju, meaning literally, 'The planting place of the man who ties his moc- casins with basswood bark.' We soon learned that Sibley had thrown up breastworks, and it was not deemed safe to attack him at the lake. We concluded that the fight should be about a mile or more to the northwest of the lake, on the road along which the troops would march. This was the road leading to the upper country, and, of course, Sibley would travel it, At the point determined on we planned to hide a large number of men on the side of the road. Near the lake, in a ravine formed by the out- let, we were to place another strong body. Behind a hill to the west were to be some more men. We thought that when Sibley marched out along the road, and when the head of his column had reached the farther end of the line of our first division, our men would open fire. The men in the ravine would then be in the rear of the whites and would begin firing on that end of the column. The men from behind the hill would rush out and attack the flank, and then we had horsemen far out on the right and left who would come up. We expected to throw the whole white force into confusion by the sudden and unexpected attack, and defeat them before they could rally. I think this was a good plan of battle. Our concealed men would not have been discovered. The grass was tall, and the place by the road and the ravine were good hiding places. We had learned that Sibley was not particular about send- ing out scouts and examining the country before he passed it. He had a number of mounted men, but they always rode together, at the head of the column, when on a march, and did not examine the ground at the sides of the road. The night he lay at Wood Lake the pickets were only a short distance from camp, less than half a mile. 172 INDIAN OUTBREAKS. When we were putting our men into position that night we often saw them plainly. I worked hard that night fix- ing the men. Little Crow was on the field, too. Man- kato was there. Indeed, all our fighting chiefs were pres- ent, and all our best fighting Indians. We felt that this would be the deciding fight of the war. The whites were unconscious. We could hear them laughing and singing. When all our preparations were made, Little Crow and I and some other chiefs went to the mound or hill to the west, so as to watch the fight better when it should com- mence. There were numbers of other Indians there. "The morning came, and an accident spoiled our plans. For some reason Sibley did not move early, as we expected he would. Our men were lying hidden, waiting patiently. Some were very near the camp lines in the ravine, but the whites did not see a man of all our men. I do not think they would have discovered our ambuscade. It seemed a considerable time after sunup when some four or five wagons, with a number of soldiers, started out from the camp in the direction of the old Yellow Medicine Agency. We learned afterwards that they were going, without orders, to dig potatoes over at the agency, five miles away. They came on over the prairie right where part of our line was. Some of the wagons were not in the road, and if they had kept straight on would have driven right over our men as they lay in the grass. At last they came so close that our men had to rise up and fire. This brought on the fight, of course, but not according to the way we had planned it. Little Crow saw it, and felt very badly. "Of course, you know how the battle was fought. The Indians that were in the fight did well, but hundreds of our men did not get into it and did not fire a shot. They were out too far. The men in the ravine and the line connect- ing them with those on the road did the most of the fight- ing. Those of us on the hill did our best, but we were BATTLE OF WOOD LAKE. 1 73 soon driven off. Mankato was killed here, and we lost a very good and brave war chief. He was killed by a can- non ball that was so nearly spent that he was not afraid of it, and it struck him in the back as he lay on the ground and killed him. The whites drove our men out of the ravine by a charge, and that ended the battle. We re- treated in some disorder, though the whites did not offer to pursue us. We crossed a wide prairie, but their horse- men did not follow us. We lost fourteen or fifteen men killed and quite a number wounded. Some of the wounded died afterwards, but I do not know how many. We carried off no dead bodies, but took away all our wounded. The whites scalped all our dead men, so I have heard. "Soon after the battle I, with many others who had taken part in the war, surrendered to General Sibley. Rob- inson and the other halfbreeds assured us that if we should do this we would only be held as prisoners of war a short time, but as soon as I surrendered I was thrown into prison. Afterwards I was tried, and I served three years in the prison at Davenport and the penitentiary at Rock Island for taking part in the war. On my trial a great number of the white prisoners, women and others, were called up, but not one of them could testify that I had mur- dered any one or had done anything to deserve death, or else I would have been hanged. If I had known that I would be sent to the penitentiary I would not have sur- rendered, but when I had been in the penitentiary three years and they were about to turn me out I told them they might keep me another year if they wished, and I meant what I said. I did not like the way I had been treated. I surrendered in good faith, knowing that many of the whites were acquainted with me, and that I had not been a murderer, or present when a murder had been commit- ted, and if I had killed or wounded a man it had been in 174 INDIAN OUTBREAKS. fair, open fight. But all feeling on my part about this has long since passed away. For years I have been a Chris- tian, and I hope to die one. My white neighbors and friends know my character as a citizen and a man. I am at peace with every one, whites and Indians. I am getting to be an old man, but I am still able to work. I am poor, but I manage to get along." CHAPTER XV. FORTS ABERCROMBIE AND RIPLEY. FORT ABERCROMBIE. About 1858 the government established a military post on the west side of the Red River of the North, intending it more as a depot for troops and military stores than as a fort for defense; but it was in the middle of the Sioux country, part of which was in Minnesota, and not far away to the east was the country of the Chippewas, wholly in Minnesota. At that time the Chippewas seemed to have a secret or quasi understanding with the Sioux that they would join in common cause in a war against the whites. Capt. John Vanderhock, who was mustered into serv- ice March 15, 1862, was in command of the post. A part of his detachment, consisting of thirty men, was stationed at Georgetown, fifty-two miles north of the fort, on the Red River of the North. At the time of the outbreak Fort Abercrombie con- sisted of three buildings, the men's quarters for one com- pany, the commissary building and commanding officer's quarters. There were no fortifications at all. A few log huts were occupied by halfbreeds, the interpreter and attaches of the fort. Notice of the outbreak was first re- ceived August 20th, and the garrison at once commenced the erection of breastworks of earth and hewed logs. A scouting party returned from Breckenridge, where they found that the inmates of a hotel, three men, a woman and child, had been murdered and terribly mutilated. A scout- I76 INDIAN OUTBREAKS. ing party also found an old lady, Mrs. Ryan, creeping along the river bank at Breckenridge, having been shot by an Indian at her place, about twelve miles from Breck- enridge. Her son had been murdered and a grandson cap- tured by the Indians. The building of the breastworks proceeded as rapidly as possible. Three howitzers were placed in position, and the utmost vigilance exercised in watching for the ap- proach of the Indians. They attacked the fort at day- break on September 3d, and the fight lasted from five to eleven a. m., when they were repulsed. They were esti- mated at four hundred, and many of them were killed and wounded. Of the garrison Private Edward D. Steel was wounded, and died September 7th, and Corporal Nettinger was also wounded. September 4th and 5th numerous shots were fired from across the river, and about daybreak on the 6th the In- dians again attacked the post, with an increased force. They succeeded in getting into the stables, where a sharp fight took place for about ten minutes. Two Indians were killed and many wounded. After being driven from the stables the Indians attacked the fort from three sides, — south, east and north. The hottest of the contest was at the commissary buildings, and at this point the howitzer did very effective service, as was shown by the fact that the Indians left their dead upon the battlefield. Eight Or ten dead were found there, half buried in the sand on the bank of the river. On the west side of the new commissary building there was also a hot contest. Here was a small breastwork of hewed logs, defended by about ten privates, under Sergeants William Deutch and Fred Simon. This small force fought nobly, though greatly outnumbered, and succeeded in killing and wounding many braves. Two of the killed were within thirty or forty feet of the breast- works. The Indians, failing to penetrate the works at FORTS ABERCROMBIE AND RIPLEY. 1 77 these two points, concentrated their entire force at the southeast corner, near the stables and the ferry. Here the fight lasted until 3 p. m., at times most furiously, the Indians losing many warriors. The post interpreter, Joseph Demarais, a halfbreed, subsequently learned from the attacking force that their losses were so great that they were discouraged from renewing the attempt to take the fort. Our loss was one killed, Private William Siege, and two wounded, in the whole day's fight. From this date there were no more attacks, except from small squads of Indians, who would fire at the fort from the opposite side of the river. On the 21st of Sep- tember two dispatch riders were sent to St. Paul, with an escort of ten soldiers and ten citizens to accompany them part of the way. This detachment on its return was am- bushed by Indians, and one soldier, William Schultz, and a citizen, Mr. Wright, were killed. September 23d brought reinforcements, about 500 strong, under com- mand of Captain Burger. FORT RIPLEY. At the time of the outbreak Fort Ripley was one of the military posts, located about ten miles from the Chippewa agency. A part of the Chippewas had gathered at Gull Lake, when a messenger brought word to the fort that they were killing cattle and were about to commence war on the whites. Fort Ripley was situated on the west bank of the Mississippi river, some fifty miles from St. Cloud, and was usually garrisoned by a company of soldiers ; but during the summer there were only thirty men, under command of Capt. Francis Hall, and this troop seemed sufficient, as no one anticipated trouble with the Indians, especially with the Chippewas. 12 178 INDIAN OUTBREAKS. The fort consisted of several one-story frame buildings, so situated as to form three sides of a square, the other side being the Mississippi. There were also some block- houses, with port holes and cannon, commanding the four sides of the square if there had been gunners to handle them, but there was only one man that had ever loaded a gun that was larger than a blacksmith's anvil. He was Ordnance Sergeant Frantzkey of the regular army. If the fort had been assaulted by a large body of In- dians, without notice to its occupants, it probably would have fallen. But fortunately a Chippewa Indian named Bad Boy, of the Pillager band, refused to join Hole-in-the- Day, the head chief of the Chippewas, in any attack upon the whites, and notified them of the approaching danger. All hands were immediately set at work making cartridges by candle light, and at daylight twenty men started for the agency, leaving the fort in charge of Sergeant Frantzkey. When within seven miles of the agency they met the In- dian agent, Lucius C. Walker, and all the whites from the agency, in full retreat. The agent ordered the commander of Fort Ripley to immediately arrest Hole-in-the-Day, and confine him securely, thinking that by doing so they would check the outbreak. The government had built a good house for him, near the river. Here he lived, with his three squaw wives and a trusty bodyguard, as head chief of all the Chippewas, as some of them hated him, and some years afterwards shot him from ambush, killing him instantly. The company started after Hole-in-the-Day, but, having a better knowledge of the paths, he escaped. The soldiers then returned to the fort and placed the how- itzers in the blockhouses. Hole-in-the-Day's scouts re- porting this, the Indians were greatly puzzled, although they had 275 warriors at Gull Lake, only twenty miles from the fort. FORTS ABERCROMBIE ANP RIPLEY. 1 79 Agent Walker and his family started for St. Paul, but when near St. Cloud Walker committed suicide. The cause was never known. Reinforcements were hastened to the fort. The death of Agent Walker seemed to appease the Indians for some reason, they having a bitter hatred against him. They expressed a willingness to negotiate a treaty of peace and disperse, when they learned of his death. This was done through Commissioner Dole, Who was at Crow Wing. The vigilance of the garrison at Fort Ripley on the timely information of Bad Boy, and the good management gen- erally in regard to the Chippewas, was worthy of great commendation, and probably prevented them from joining the Sioux in a common cause against the whites. It is but justice, however, to the Chippewas, to state that a majority of them were opposed to a coalition with the Sioux in their fearful massacre of 1862. A large minority, especially the young Indians, desired this union, yet at one of their councils Chief Bemidji raised his elo- quent voice against this attempt, and by his vote defeated the scheme. At the time of the Bear Island trouble he warned the whites of the threatened danger. He was a brave, friendly and hospitable Indian, known as the "Sage of Leech Lake." He died recently at the age of ninety years, universally respected. Another great war chief, friendly to the whites, is Mag-zhuck-ree-ge-shig. He is scarred with marks of many conflicts with his hereditary foes, the Sioux, and often decorated with the skunk skins, taken from an animal that never flees from an enemy. The friends of the Chippewas strenuously insist that they are rapidly improving in the pursuits of civilization; that many of them have adopted the habits and customs of white people, and that if renegade white men with their demoralizing influences are excluded, the Chippewas will win in goodness, godliness and greatness. This is said to l8o INDIAN OUTBREAKS. be the condition of many of the southwestern Indians. Humane people can only wish them prosperity and suc- cess, but the falling from grace of that hypocrite, Little Crow, and his host of followers, and the continued degra- dation of the Winnebago Indians, bring feelings of min- gled fear and doubt. CHAPTER XVI. THE CAPTIVES. Notwithstanding all that I have said condemnatory of Little Crow, Heard, in his history of the Sioux war, says that if Little Crow could have followed his own inclina- tion he would have been willing at the commencement of the outbreak to have made terms of peace ; that he was forced into the war, not as a matter of choice, but by cir- cumstances. He was a great liar, but not naturally a cruel-hearted man, and he cites several instances of his saving the lives of white men; that he openly opposed the slaughter of unarmed settlers and their families, although he rejoiced at the killing of the traders and employes of the government, because he thought that they were the cause of all the trouble of his people; that the next day after the massacre at the lower agency he addressed his warriors in council as follows : "Soldiers and young men, you ought not to kill women and children. Your con- sciences will reproach you for it hereafter and make you weak in battle. You were too hasty in going into the country. You should have killed only those who have been robbing us so long. Hereafter make war after the manner of white men." After the battles of Fort Ridgely and New Ulm he wrote letters to Governor Ramsey and Colonel Sibley, asking for a cessation of hostilities ; but after reading them to his braves they would not permit them to be sent. 1 82 INDIAN OUTBREAKS. There was ill feeling between the upper and lower In- dians from the time the terrible outbreak began. The upper Indians had not been consulted about the outbreak, and when it took place the lower Indians secured all the plunder and refused to divide it, on the ground that those who had not risked their lives should not be allowed any of the benefits of the warfare. Then there were some of the Indians who were absolutely opposed to a warfare on the whites, and regarded such a contest as hopeless, and this disagreement came near having a bloody termination. If it had occurred, all of the captives would undoubtedly have been murdered, because the lower Indians thought • if they were killed the only obstacle that stood in the way of the union of the upper and lower Indians would be removed. But the upper Indians were firm in their pur- pose not to join with the lower ones, and they determined not to permit the murder of the captives, and Red Iron and one hundred and fifty on horseback formed a line and refused to let the others go through it to Big Stone Lake, as it would leave the former to stand the attack of the white soldiers. Soon after, Standing Buffalo, who had been absent, arrived and another council was called and the Wah-petons ranged on one side and the Sissetons on another, and the lower Indians by themselves. The speeches on each side were bitter. Little Paul and Stand- ing Buffalo were in favor of surrendering every captive, while Little Crow and several others were opposed to giving them up, and wanted to massacre all of them, and formed a plan to do so the night of the heated controversy ; but the plan was discovered and frustrated, at which Little Crow was very angry, and again threatened to massacre all of the captives, but no one dared to execute his orders, as he was fast losing his influence, and to get into a fight with the upper Indians would materially weaken his con- test with the whites. The captives, during the afternoon, THE CAPTIVES. 183 while the warriors were away, set to work digging holes in the center of the lodge big enough for the women and children to get into, and ditches outside around for the men, and with the aid of the friendly Indians, Little Crow's men were not disposed to attack them. While the captives still remained at this place, news came of the overwhelming defeat of the Indians at Wood Lake, and Little Crow was in that battle, but was heart- broken and despondent, as there were 738 Indians in that battle, and he could not account for the defeat, and said that they had better scatter over the plains like a lot of buffalo, and thought that their loss was caused by the work of the friendly Indians. He called his warriors together, and told them to pack up and leave for the plains, and save the women and children, as the troopers would soon be upon them, but, said he : "The captives must all be killed before we leave. They must die." In the mean- time, however, so many friendlies had arrived that they threatened to take Little Crow and his whole camp and turn them over to the soldiers, and the captives laughed at his bombastic talk. From the reminiscences of Samuel J. Brown, published in the Mankato Review, I quote the following: "There were about 1 50 lodges in the Indian camp "at the. time of the arrival of the troops. But a few days sub- sequently the camp had increased to 243 lodges. Some had been captured and brought in, while others came in of their own accord, and including the captives (and exclu- sive of the soldiers) there were at Camp Release 2,188 souls, as follows: Indians L9i8 Captive white men . • • -....- 4 Captive white women and children 104 Captive mixed bloods ■ ■ 162 184 INDIAN OUTBREAKS. "The names of the four white men who were kept cap- tives by Little Crow were as follows: George Spencer, Peter Romsseau, Louis La Belle and Peter Rouillard. I mention this to correct the impression that there was but one white man (Spencer) made prisoner by the Indians. "I assisted in causing the arrest and in safely detaining in custody all the Indian men (except forty-six who were above suspicion and three or four who had 'smelled a mouse' and had run away during the night), and disarmed them, and chained them in pairs together; that is, the right leg at the ankle of one was chained to the left leg at the ankle of another. "This successful and justifiable piece of strategy took place at the government warehouse, built by my father when he was agent a few years before (a large two-story building, fifty feet long, which the hostiles had burned and destroyed when they passed up on the 28th of August, but the walls of which were still standing), and was accom- plished in the following manner : About a hundred yards from the building the soldiers had pitched their tents, while the Indians camped under the hill along the Yellow Medicine creek, a half or three-quarters of a mile distant. I was ordered one day to proceed to the camp and inform the Indians that the annuity roll was to be prepared the next morning, and that they must all come at an early hour and present themselves to the agent at the warehouse and be 'counted.' They were delighted to learn that they were at last to get their money. The annuity payment for that year had not been made yet, and this ruse worked like a charm. "About eight o'clock the next morning the Indians nocked to the warehouse to be 'counted.' Major Gal- braith, Captain Whitney, and two or three clerks were found seated at a table behind one end of the building, with paper, pens, ink, etc., hard at work on the rolls, while THE CAPTIVES. -185 one of the officers and myself were stationed in a doorway at the opposite and further end. As each family would come up to the table, one of the clerks would rise and count, or number, them with his finger, one, two, three, etc., and after announcing the result with a flourish, and motioning for them to pass on, a soldier would step up and escort the Indians to the other end of the building where I Was stationed. As they reached the farther end and turned the corner, and came in front of the door-way, I would tell the men to step inside and allow the women and children to return to camp, telling them, as I was in- structed to do, that the men, as heads of families, must be counted separately, as it was thought that the government would pay them extra. I would then take their guns, tomahawks, scalping-knives, etc., and throw them into barrels, telling them that they would be returned shortly. In this way we succeeded in arresting and safely detaining in custody 234 of Little Crow's fiercest warriors. And since the Indian men outnumbered the soldiers two to one, and were fully as well armed, I think that in this case the end justified the means." General Sibley's camp, called Camp Release, was pitched about a quarter of a mile from that of the Indians, and commanded the latter with his cannon during the negotiations for the surrender of the captives and while the Indians were being secured, although the demand for the captives was instantly complied with. During their captivity they had been compelled to wear the Indian dress, but when released were allowed to wear their usual clothes so far as possible. As stated above, there were 270 captives, including the mixed bloods. The scene was one never to be forgotten by those who wit- nessed it. Heard, who was present, says of it : "The poor creatures wept for joy at their escape. They had watched for our coming for many a weary day, with 1 86 INDIAN OUTBREAKS. constant apprehension of death at the hands of their sav- age captors, and had almost despaired of seeing us. The woe written on the faces of the half-starved and nearly- naked women and children would have melted the hardest heart. They were taken to our camp, where they re- mained until taken below a few days subsequently. The sleepless nights which the commander, General Sibley, passed in scheming for their deliverance, and the stead- fastness with which he resisted all councils for a sudden attack, which would have compromised their safety, suc- ceeded in their deliverance, — a rich reward." As arrangements have been made for a great historical painting of the Sioux treaty of 185 1, will not the state pro- cure a grand painting of this wonderful and historical scene of the release of 270 captives from their savage cap- tors at Camp Release on Sept. 26, 1862? I should not be faithful to the duty which I am endeav- oring to perform in writing this book if I omit the names of some of the Indians who were faithful to the whites during all those days of horror. There was Paul Ma-za-ku-ta-ma-ne, a deacon in Mr. Riggs' church, a man of great oratorical powers and un- flinching nerve. His speech in council against the war, against Little Crow, and in behalf of the captives, was a great and splendid exhibition of loving humanity and abil- ity. There was Red Iron, too. Though pained at the treat- ment which he and his people had received at the treaties, he arose above all feelings of revenge, and, at his own peril, said he would die if necessary before he would be a party to the terrible massacre. There was Standing Buffalo, hereditary chief of the Upper Sissetons, who supported Paul and Red Iron, say- ing publicly that his Indians would stand by him, and not fight the whites. THE CAPTIVES. 187 There was Woanaton, an influential chief of the Upper Sioux, who did all in his power to have the captives re- leased, and he threatened to take all of them by force from Little Crow, if necessary, and deliver them to General Sib- ley. Other Day, a civilized Indian, attempted to stem the tide of murder and blood, but without avail ; but he noti- fied as many of the whites as possible of the attack upon Marsh and the loss of his men, and of the danger that awaited them, and they assembled in a warehouse, to the number of fifty, determined to defend themselves to the last extremity, while Other Day and four of his relatives watched all night on the outside of the building, to give the alarm of any attack, there being squads of Indians around watching for an opportunity to catch them una- wares. The Indians broke intp another warehouse, and then Other Day, and the whites under his guidance, crossed the river, and made their escape to the settle- ments. There were forty-two women and children and twenty men who thus escaped, among them Other Day's wife, a white woman, and Mrs. Galbraith and children. Other Day also rendered much valuable assistance to the whites, especially in the battle of Wood Lake. His con- duct in that battle is so well described by Heard, who was there at the time, that I insert it here. He says : "Other Day nobly redeemed the pledge he had made two days before. He took with his own hand two horses from the enemy, and slew their riders. He was often in their midst, and so far in advance of our men that they fired many shots at him in the belief that he was one of the foe. No person on the field compared with him in the exhibition of reckless bravery. He was a warrior worthy to have crossed cimeters with Saladin, or dashed with Arabia's mad prophet through the shock of Eastern war. He seemed to be instinct with the spirit of the fierce, rest- 1 88 INDIAN OUTBREAKS. less steed, 'who saith among the trumpets "Ha ! ha !" and smelled the battle afar off, the thunders of the captains and the shouting.' He was clothed entirely in white; a belt around his waste, in which was placed his knife; a handkerchief was knotted about his head, and in his hand he lightly grasped a rifle. His teeth glistened like finest ivory through the slightly parted lips ; his eye was ablaze with fire; his face was of bronze radiant with the joy of battle; his exulting utterances came thick and fast, in a sort of purr, pitched upon a high key, and soft as the dulcet tones of an Italian woman. As he bounded along with the graceful spring of a tiger cat, there came to mind Djalma, the Prince of Java, when, in the theater at Paris, at the time of the escape of the panther Le Mort, he leaped upon the stage with the returning ardor of his native jungles, and struck his dagger to the heart. With the exuberant, riotous health of Bulwar's Margrave, and the airy wildness of the fawn, he looked the perfection of all the creatures of the woods and fields, and the incarna- tion of the ideal of the Indian God of War." CHAPTER XVII. NARRATIVE OF JUSTINA KREIGER. This narrative was given before the Sioux commission- ers at St. Peter, in 1863 : "It was about eight o'clock p. m., of Monday, August 18, 1862, when we all determined to flee to Fort Ridgely. One of the neighbors, Mr. Schwandt, had not been in- formed of the raid, and a delay took place while a messen- ger was sent to inform him. When the messengers arrived at the house, they found Mr. Schwandt's oxen standing at the door, eating flour. Feathers were seen lying around the yard, and the house seemed to have been plundered. John Waltz, son-in-law of Mr. Schwandt, was lying in the door, dead, shot through with three balls, causing, no doubt, instant death. It was dark, and no other dead bodies were then discovered. The house had the smell of fire, as though something had been burning and had gone out. The daughter of Mr. Schwandt, en- ciente, was cut open (as was learned afterwards), the child taken alive from the mother, and nailed to a tree. The son of Mr. Schwandt, aged thirteen years, who had been beaten by the Indians until dead, as was supposed, was present, and saw the entire tragedy. He saw the child taken alive from the body of his sister, Mrs. Waltz, and nailed to a tree in the yard. It struggled some time after the nails were driven through it. This occurred in the forenoon of Monday, 18th of August, 1862. Mr. 190 INDIAN OUTBREAKS. Schwandt was on the house, shingling, and was there shot, and rolled off, falling to the ground, dead. The mother of this boy was taken a few yards from the house, into newly plowed ground, and her head severed from her body. Mr. Fross, a hired laborer, was lying near to Mrs. Schwandt, dead, the boy remaining in his retreat until after dark, when he came over to a settlement, three or four miles distant, and stopped at a Mr. Suche's house, on the prairie. Here he found about thirty dead bodies, and a living child, two or three years old, near its mother, wounded and unable to walk. He took the child and trav- eled with it towards Fort Ridgely. After carrying his burden three or four miles, and, being exhausted, he placed it in a house, promising to come after it the next day. He did this to get rid of the child, so that he might possibly make his own escape. The child was afterwards found, a prisoner, at Camp Release, and brought to Fort Ridgely, and there died from the effects of wounds and the hard- ships endured among the Indians. The lad, August Schwandt, arrived at the fort, after traveling four nights and lying hidden during the daytime. Young Schwandt is now living in Wisconsin, doing well. The three mes- sengers who went to Mr. Schwandt's brought back with them to Paul Kitzman's the bloody coat of Mr. Fross, as an evidence of the murders committed there. "Thirteen families, with eleven teams, now started, and moved forward as fast as possible towards Fort Ridgely. We first made towards the Chippewa river over the prairie, thinking it safer to do so than to go by any traveled route. We had journeyed all night, until two or three o'clock of the morning of Tuesday, the 19th, and then inclined our course towards Beaver creek, heading around that stream toward the fort. In this direction we went until the sun was some two hours high, when we found we had made about fourteen miles. Eight Indians, on horseback (some NARRATIVE OF JUSTINA KREIGER. I9I naked and some with blankets on, all armed with guns) now came up with us. In our train were eleven men, armed with such guns as they had in the neighborhood. Our teams, including the wagons and oxen, were so ar- ranged as to afford the best protection. The men at first determined to fight the Indians, but as they came within about one hundred yards and our men were about to fire on them the Indians put down their guns and made signs not to fire, pretending that they were friendly Indians, and, sad to relate, our men, believing them to be friends, did not fire. One Indian, with whom all were acquainted, who had frequently been at my brother's house and spoke good English, came up to us. My brother, Paul Kitz- man, stepped out from behind the wagons, and shook hands with this savage. The Indian kissed my brother, and showed great friendship. Judas-like, he betrayed us with a kiss. This Indian inquired after our concern, and when the teams were going. Paul Kitzman replied that we were in a flight to the fort, as all the people in the neigh- borhood had been killed by the Indians. The Indians an- swered that the Sioux did not kill anybody ; that the people had been murdered by the Chippewas, and that they were now on their way after the Chippewas to kill them, and wished our folks to return, as the Chippewas were down near Beaver creek, or towards the fort, and that we would probably be killed by them if we went on. "At the same time this pretendedly good Indian placed his hand on Kitzman's shoulder, saying, 'You are a good man; it is too bad that you should be killed.' Our folks were still determined to go on, and would not yet consent to return. This Indian then went around and shook hands with all of us, and said he would not hurt us, and said that he was going to save us from harm. Paul Kitzman had great confidence in this man. He had frequently hunted with him, and thought him a good Indian. I9 2 INDIAN OUTBREAKS. "Seeing now his advantage over us, he beckoned to the others to come up. When they came they were exceed- ingly friendly, shaking hands with the men and women, and telling the women to quiet the children, who were frightened at the sight of the savages. All of us were now fully assured that they were really friendly. "Seeing their success, the Indians put up their guns into cases kept for that purpose, and the whites put up their guns in their wagons. All now joined in a friendly meal of bread and milk, and our folks each of them gave them some money, and as they had given such conclusive evidence of friendship, a return was agreed upon. All the teams were turned around, and we began to retrace our steps, the Indians traveled in company with us for some five or six miles. Our men now asked the Indians if they could unyoke the oxen and let them feed. The Indians made no objection, but seemed pleased with the idea. Our pretended friends wished something to eat. We gave them some bread and butter and some watermelon. They retired about a fourth of a mile and ate their meal alone. After dinner they motioned us to go on. Paul Kitzman going towards them, was again requested to go on, the Indians saying they would follow directly, again assuring us that they would not leave us, but would protect us from the Chippewas, and see us safe to our homes. We then moved on. The Indians coming up, some took position alongside of the train and others in front and rear. This new manner caused some suspicion, and the whites talked to each other in German, and thought it was best to fire on the Indians ; but all the guns were in the wagons, and no one dared to touch them lest the motion should be recognized by the savages as a commencement of hostili- ties. Notwithstanding this difficulty, all the men at one time, except Paul Kitzman, were determined to fire upon the treacherous foe. He persuaded them not to do it, as NARRATIVE OE JUSTINA KREIGER. 193 he had all confidence in them. 'Besides,' said he, 'all our guns are in the wagons, while each Indian has his in his hand, ready to fire in an instant, and every white man would be killed at the first shot, before a gun could be got out of the wagons.' "We had now, by various stages, arrived at the place where Fross and Groundman had discovered the dead bodies on the afternoon of Monday, the 18th. Our hith- erto friendly Indians now showed signs of anger, became impudent and frantic, and drew up in a line of battle behind our train, all having double-barreled guns except one. Our enemy could make fifteen shots at one round without reloading. They now came up and demanded our money. One savage came up and received the money, the others all remained drawn up in line of battle. I had a pocket- book, and my husband came up to me for the money. I gave him five dollars, and kept the balance myself. He told me at this time he was going to be killed, and gave me a pocket-knife by which to remember him. "After the Indians had received all the money, they started off to the settlements where the white people had been killed. We still went on with our train toward our homes, and within a mile and a half of our house we found two men dead, who had been recently killed. These men were not recognized by any of our folks, but had evidently been killed by the same Indians. We now all concluded that our race was about ended. We were to die by these fiends. The men took their guns out of the wagons, and concluded that if they could reach a house they could pro- tect themselves pretty well, but while going forward toward our house, thirteen or fourteen Indians came up behind us when within one hundred yards of the house. The Indians immediately surrounded us and fired. All the men but three fell at the first fire. It was done so quickly that I could not see whether our men fired at all, 13 194 INDIAN OUTBREAKS. yet I believe some of them did. No Indians, however, were killed by our party. Mr. Fross, a Mr. Gotlieb Zable and my husband were yet alive. The Indians then asked the women if they would go along with them, promising to save all that would go, and threatening all who refused with "instant death. Some were willing to go ; others re- fused. I told them I chose to die with my husband and my children. My husband urged me to go with them, telling me that they would probably not kill me, and that I could perhaps get away in a short time. I still refused, preferring to die with him and the children. One of the women who had started off with the Indians turned around and halloed to me to come with them, and, taking a few steps toward me, was shot dead. At the same time two of the men left alive and six women were killed, leaving of all the men only my husband alive. Some of the chil- dren were also killed at the last fire. A number of chil- dren yet remained around the wagons. These the savages beat with the butt of their guns until they supposed all were dead. Some soon rose up from the ground with the blood streaming down their faces, when they were beaten again and killed. This was the most horrible scene I had yet witnessed. I stood yet in the wagon, refusing to get out and go with the murderers, my own husband mean- while begging me to go, as he saw they were about to kill him. He stood by the wagon, watching an Indian at his right ready to shoot, while another was quite behind him, with his gun aimed at him. I saw them both shoot at the same time. Both shots took effect in the body of my hus- band, and one ball passed through his body and struck my dress below the knee. My husband fell between the oxen, and seemed not quite dead, when a third ball was shot into his head, and a fourth into his shoulder, which probably entered his heart. "I now determined to jump out of the wagon and die by the side of my husband, but as I was standing up to NARRATIVE OE JUSTINA KREIGER. I95 jump I was shot, seventeen buckshot, as was afterwards ascertained, entering my body. I then fell back into the wagon box. I had eight children in the wagon bed and one in a shawl. All of these were either my own children or my step-children. What had now become of the chil- dren in the wagon I did not know, and what was the fate of the baby I do not even now know. All that I then knew was the fact that I was seized by an Indian and very roughly dragged from the wagon, and that the wagon was drawn over my body and ankles. I was not dead. I sup- pose the Indians then left me for a time, how long I do not know. I was almost insensible, if not quite. When I was shot the sun was yet shining, but when I came to myself it was dark. My baby, as my children afterwards told me, was, when they found it, lying about five yards from me, crying. One of my step-children, a girl thirteen years of age, took the baby and ran off. The Indians took two with them. These latter were the two next to the young- est. One of them, a boy four years of age, taken first by the Indians, had got out of the wagon, or in some other way made his escape, and came back to the dead body of his father. He took his father by the hand, saying to him, 'Papa, papa, don't sleep so long.' Two of the Indians afterwards came back, and one of them, getting off his horse, took the child from the side of his father and handed it to the other on horseback, who rode off with it. This child was afterwards recovered at Camp Release. The other one I never heard of. Two of the boys ran away on the first attack, and reached the woods, some eighty rods distant. One climbed a tree; the younger, aged seven, remaining below. This eldest boy, aged eight years, wit- nessed the massacre of all who were killed at this place. He remained in the tree until I was killed, as he supposed. He then came down and told his brother what he had seen, and that their mother was dead. While they were I96 INDIAN OUTBREAKS. crying over the loss of their parents, August Gest, a son of a neighbor, cautioned them to keep still, as the Indians might hear them, and come and kill them, too. Here these boys remained for three days, hiding as well as they could from the savages, who were passing and re-passing. They went to neighbors' houses and turned out cattle and horses, and whatever live stock was shut up in stables, sheds or pens, and in this way occasionally found some- thing to eat. On Wednesday morning, the 20th, they saw our house on fire. On the third night after the mas- sacre, they concluded to go to the fort, twenty-seven miles distant, in reaching which they spent eight days and nights, traveling only at night and hiding by day in the grass. They all reached the fort in safety, but made some very narrow escapes. They saw Indians often, but were not themselves discovered. "At one time these children, hungry and lonely, found a friendly cow, on whose rich milk they made a delicious meal. Another time, on their journey, while lying hid in the prairie grass, they discovered a team coming on a road near by. It carried, most likely, some white family to the fort. They were almost ready to jump up and shout for joy at the sight; and now, when about to run toward the team, what an awful shock these little children were doomed to experience. Behold a company of painted sav- ages arose from a clump of grass close by them, who ran and captured the team, and, turning it the other way, drove off, the screams of a woman in the wagon rending the air as long as her cries could be heard in the distance. Thus disappointed, they hid closer in the grass until night, and again took up their weary march toward the fort. They knew not how many unseen dangers they had escaped. They saw on the route many dead bodies of men, women and children and animals. In one place seven dead In- dians were all placed in a row. This was near Beaver NARRATIVE OF JUSTINA KREIGER. 197 creek as they supposed. There were also many white peo- ple dead at the latter place. I must now turn back for a moment to trace the fate of my baby. My step-daughter, aged thirteen years, as soon as the Indians had left the fields started off for the woods. In passing where I lay, and supposing me dead, and finding the baby near, crying, she hastily took it up and bore it off the field of death in her arms. The other girl (my own child, six years old) arose out of the grass, and two of the other children that had been beaten over the head and left for dead, now re- covered also, and went off towards the woods, and soon rejoined each other there. These last two were also my step-children. I was still lying on the field. "The three largest of the children who went to the woods returned to the place of the massacre, leaving the baby in charge of the girl six years old. As they came to the field, they found seven children and one woman, who yet evinced signs of life, and had to some extent recov- ered. These children were a son of Paul Kitzman, aged two and a half years; two sons of August Horning, one three and the other one year old; a son and daughter of Mr. Groundman, daughter aged four and son aged about one year, the girl having her hand shot off; two sons of Mr. Tille, one aged two and the other not one year old; and a son: of Mr. Urban, aged thirteen.. All these were covered with blood, had been beaten by the butt of the gun and hacked by the tomahawk, except the girl whose hand had been severed by a gun-shot. The woman found was Anna Zable. She had received two wounds, a cut in the shoulder and a stab in the side. These were all taken to the house of my husband by these three girls. It was now on the evening of Wednesday, the 20th of August. They remained in the house all night, doing all that could be done for each other. This was a terrible place, a hos- pital of invalid children, with no one older than thirteen I98 INDIAN OUTBREAKS. years to give directions for the dressing of wounds, nurs- ing the infant children, and giving food to the hungry, in a house that had already been plundered of everything of value. The children cried piteously for their mothers, who were dead or in bondage worse than death itself. The poor child with its hand off moaned and sighed, saying to its suffering fellows that 'Mother' always took care of her when she was hurt, but now she would not come to her. Poor child, her mother was already among the dead ! "When daylight first dawned Mrs. Zable, thinking it unsafe to remain at this place, awoke the eldest girls, and, on consultation, concluded to leave the young children and go into the woods or onto the prairie. The girl of thirteen years, and principal dependence of the little com- pany, awoke my two step-children and the one six years old who had taken charge of the baby in the woods the day previous, and August Urban, aged thirteen. These, taking with them the baby, quietly left the house, and went to the place of the massacre to look after me, as they knew I had been left on the field the day previous. As this lit- tle company were looking over the field, they saw a sav- age, as they supposed, coming on horseback, who turned out afterwards to be Antoine Freniere, a halfbreed, from the fort. As he approached the field of slaughter, he ex- claimed, 'Oh my soul! Bless God!' or words to that effect. In this expression the children may have been mistaken; but so they reported to me. Freniere came towards my house, where the children had been left. He did not see the hunting party, who had dropped in the grass at his approach, first supposing him to be an Indian, a mistake easily made by children. Freniere soon hurried away toward the fort, as they supposed, and was directly out of sight. These children and Mrs. Zable, after seeing Freniere, went about eighty rods from the field of the late massacre, and hid in the grass, near a small creek. They NARRATIVE OF JUSTINA KREIGER. 199 were here but a very short time when the savages from the river, with the ox teams previously taken from the party now dead, came to the field, and, stripping off the cloth- ing from men and women, went toward the houses. They were soon seen at our house, gathering plunder, and when this was completed they set fire to the house, and with its destruction perished the seven children left there a short time before. To this awful scene the escaping party were eye-witnesses. The Indians departed while the house was in flames, and the children came to Mrs. Tille's house, near the woods, and, being very hungry, diligently hunted the house over, and found flour and butter, and cooked their dinner. Here, too, they fed the baby. They remained in the woods and around the houses of the settlement for three days. The third day they saw a body of Indians go to August Fross' house, plunder it of all valuables, and carry them away in a wagon. The baby had been left at Mr. Tille's house, asleep on a bed, where the party had taken dinner last. The little girls and Mrs. Zable, being frightened by the sight of these Indians, hid themselves in the woods until dark. They then started for the fort, and soon passed by our house, yet smouldering; they also passed the field of death, resting by day and traveling by night. In this way they journeyed for eleven days, and all arrived at the fort alive. "The incidents of this wonderful journey would be worthy of a long description. They saw many dead bodies, both of white people and Indians. The latter in small parties, were frequently seen prowling over the prairie, and in the timber. The food of the children was principally corn, eaten raw, as they had no means of making a fire. They found a camp kettle, which they used in carrying water during a part of the time. They left the baby at the house of Mr. Tille, and no further tidings have ever been heard of it. Who shall tell the fate of the innocent suf- ferer? 200 INDIAN OUTBREAKS. "Our escaping party, when within sight of the fort, did not know the place. They feared it was an Indian camp. Before this, one had come near being left for dead. The child six years old, on the last day of their travel, had fallen down from exhaustion and hunger, and Mrs. Zable advised the eldest girl to leave her and go on, but the other chil- dren screamed and cried so piteously at the very idea that the advice was not heeded. The little sufferer, too, showed signs of life. They all halted, and the advanced ones came back, and, being near a creek, the child was taken to it, and was soon revived by the free use of water upon the head. Here they remained for some time, and finding the rind of a melon in the road, gave it to the faint- ing child, and by rest and the tender care of the other children, it was again able to journey on with the others. "They had ascended the hill near the fort, and there sat down to deliberate what to do. Whether what they saw was an Indian encampment or Fort Ridgely they could not readily determine. The children first claimed the discovery that what they saw was Fort Ridgely, but Mrs. Zable supposed it the camp of the savages. In this dilemma it was hard to decide what to do. Finally the children declared that they saw the troops plainly. This turned out to be so, as the troops soon came towards them, having discovered this little company on the prairie. The five children were soon in the wagon brought for their rescue; but the doubting Mrs. Zable, supposing the In- dians were coming, made off from the rescuers as fast as she could. The troops soon caught her, and all were brought into the fort. They were a forlorn looking com- pany, some wounded by hatchet cuts, others beaten by the butts of guns, and others still bleeding from wounds made by gun-shots, and all nearly famished by hunger and parched by thirst, and scantily covered by a few rags yet hanging to their otherwise naked persons. NARRATIVE OF JUSTINA KREIGER. 201 "I remained on the field of the massacre, and in the place where I fell when shot, until eleven or twelve o'clock at night, on Tuesday, the 19th of August, all this time, or nearly so, unconscious of passing events. I did not even hear the baby cry. All that part of the narrative cov- ered by this period of time I relate upon the testimony of the children, who reported the same to me. At this time of the night I arose from the field of the dead with feeble ability to move at all. I soon heard the tread of savage men, speaking in the Sioux language. They came near, and proved to be two savages only. They went over the field examining the dead bodies, to rob them of what yet remained upon them. They soon came to me, kicked me, then felt my pulse on the right hand, then on the left, and, to be sure, felt for the pulsation of my heart. I re- mained silent, holding my breath, they probably supposed me dead. They conversed in Sioux for a moment. I shut my eyes, and awaited what else was to befall me with a shudder: The next moment a sharp pointed knife was- felt at my throat, then passing downward, to the lower por- tion of the abdomen, cutting not only the clothing entirely from my body, but actually penetrating the flesh, making but a slight wound on the chest, but at the pit of the stomach, entering the body, and laying it open to- the intestines themselves. My arms were then taken sepa- rately out of the clothing. I was seized rudely by the hair, and hurled headlong to the ground, entirely naked. How long I was unconscious I cannot imagine, yet I think it was not a great while. When I came to, I beheld one of the most horrible sights I had ever seen in the person of myself. I saw also those two savages about eight rods off ; ■ a light from the north, probably the aurora, enabled me to see objects for some distance. At the same time I dis- covered my own condition I saw one of these inhuman savages seize Wilhelmina Kitzman, my niece, yet alive, 202 INDIAN OUTBREAKS. hold her up by the foot, her head downward, her clothes falling over her head. While holding her there with one hand, in the other he grasped a knife with which he hastily cut the flesh around one of the legs close to the body, and then, by twisting and wrenching, broke the ligaments and bone, until the limb was entirely severed from the body, the child screaming frantically, 'Oh God ! Oh God !' When the limb was off, the child thus mutilated, was thrown down on the ground, stripped of her clothing, and left to die. "The other children of Paul Kitzman were then taken along with the Indians, crying most piteously. I now lay down, and for some hours knew nothing more. Hearing nothing now, I tried to get up, and labored a long time to do so. I finally succeeded in getting up on my left side and left arm, my right side being dead and useless. I now discovered that my clothing was all off. I tried to find some dead persons to get clothing from them to cover me. I could not get any, for when I found a dead person with clothes still on I saw Indian ponies close by, and fear- ing Indians were near I made no further attempt. I then crawled off towards my own house, to hunt something to put on me, and when near the house I discovered some- thing dark, close by, which turned out to be my own clothes. I bound them around me as well as I could, and not daring to enter the house, which was not yet burned, I turned my course towards Fort Ridgely. It was yet night, but it was light, from the aurora, perhaps ; at least, I saw no moon. "I made first to a creek, some five hundred yards from the house, and washed the blood from my person and drank some water. This night I made six miles, according to my estimate of the distance passed over. I here came to a settlement in the timber, on some creek that ran into the Minnesota river. I did not know the name of the set- NARRATIVE OF JUSTINA KREIGER. 203 tlement. It was now near daylight. Here I remained, weak, sick, wounded, and faint from the loss of blood, for three long days, drinking water; and this was my only nourishment all this time. At the end of those three days I heard Indians about, and being afraid of still other in- juries, made my way to the left through the prairie, and thought to find the Chippewa Indians, but I found none. I saw plenty of Sioux Indians. "I think it was Saturday, the 23 of August, I lay down and thought I should die of hunger. I then took to eating grass, and drank water from the sloughs. In this way I traveled all night and lay by during the day. On Sunday night I came to a creek and found many dead persons. I turned over one of these to see if he was a white person or an Indian. He smelled so badly I turned him down again without ascertaining. He had on a white shirt and dark pants, and I supposed he was a white man. I saw great quantities of bedding and furniture, and books scattered and torn in pieces, at a creek far out on the prairie. It was not Beaver creek. The same night I crossed this creek. The water was up to my armpits, and the cane grass tall and thick. Here again I saw more dead persons. One woman was lying on her back, and a child near by, pulled asunder by the legs. I then traveled around on the prairie ; saw no roads, had nothing to eat, and no water for three days. During my wanderings, early in the morning, I gathered the dew from the grass with my hands, and drank it; and when my clothes became wet with dew, I sucked the water from them. This gave me great relief from the burning thirst I experienced. Finally, at the end of those three terrible days of suffering, I came to a road. This road I followed, and in a low place found some water standing in puddles in the road, and tried to get it in my clothes ; but the water was too shallow. I then got down and sucked up and eagerly swallowed the water from the 204 INDIAN OUTBREAKS. mud. My tongue and lips were now cracked open from thirst. After this I went on and found two dead bodies on the road, and a few steps further a number of men, women and children, all dead. On the thirteenth day I came to Beaver creek, and for the first time found out for certain where I was. Here I discovered a house in a field, went to it, and saw that everything had been destroyed. The dog was alive, and seemed to be barking at some one, but showed friendship for me. Being afraid that savages were around, I went again to the woods, and, after staying there a short time, a shot was fired, and then I heard some person calling. I though the person calling was a Ger- man. I did not answer the call. It was not intended for me, I thought. But after all was still I went on, and passed Beaver creek ; went up the hill, and then saw an Indian, with a gun pointed at some object. He soon went off in an opposite direction without discovering me. Fear- ing others were about I again went into the woods, and being weary lay down and slept. I do not know how long I slept, but when I awoke it was about noon. "I was again lost, and did not know where to go. I wandered about in the woods, hunting for my way, and finally as the evening star appeared, I found my way, and took an eastern course until I came to a creek again. I now saw that I must be near the Minnesota river. I went into a house near by, took a piece of buffalo robe, went to the river bottom and laid down to rest. Here I found wild plums, and ate some of them. This night it rained all night long. On the next morning I found that I was too weak and tired to travel, and so remained all that day and all the next night, wishing that the savages might come and put an end to my sufferings. It rained all that day. "Here I felt sure I must die, and that I should never leave this place alive. The cold sweat was on my fore- NARRATIVE OS 1 JUSTINA KREIGER. 205 head. With great effort I raised up to take one more look around me, and to my surprise I saw two persons with guns, but could not tell whether they were white men or Indians. I rejoiced, however, because I thought they would put an end to my sufferings ; but as they came near I saw the bayonets, and knew that they were white sol- diers, and made signs for them to come to me. The sol- diers fearing some trick, seemed afraid to come near me. After making sundry examinations they finally came up. One of my neighbors, Lewis Daily, first advanced, and, seeing I was a white woman, called to his partner, who also came up. They soon brought me some water, gave me a drink, and wet my head and washed my face, and then carried me to a house near by. Here they proposed to leave me until the other troops came up, but yielding to my earnest entreaty, they carried me along until the other portion of the soldiers came up. One of them went into a house and found a dress, and put it on me, the clothes I had on being all torn to pieces. Dr. Daniels came along directly, examined my wounds, and gave me some water and some wine, made a requisition for a wagon, fixed up a bed, had me placed upon it. Now the train followed along the river bottom some distance, then took to the open prairie. Here we found a woman cut into four pieces, and two children by her cut in pieces also. They buried these bodies, and passed down from Hender- son's house in the direction of the fort. All the soldiers seemed to take great care of me. The doctor dressed my wounds, and did all that could be done for me. The wagon I was in soon came into company with the burial party who were going into camp at Birch Coulee. The savages attacked this burial party on the same night after I was rescued by the soldiers, or rather on the following morning, Tuesday, the 2d of September. In that disastrous affair, it was thought proper to 206 INDIAN OUTBREAKS. overturn the wagons as a means of better security against the murderous fire of the Indians. When they came to the wagon in which I lay some of them said, 'Do not overturn that wagon, for it contains a sick woman,' and they passed on. This was the only wagon left stand ■ ing. Behind the wagons and the dead horses, killed by the Indians, our men lay on the ground and fought the sav- ages with a determination seldom, if ever, equaled. It was victory or death. I was in a good position to see and hear all that went on during that battle. I was, too, in the most exposed position. The wagon was a fine mark, standing up as it did above everything else on the open prairie, it offered the best possible target for savage marksmen. The wagon was literally shot to pieces. Some of the spokes were shot off. The cover was com- pletely riddled with ball holes. The cup in which I attempted to take my medicine during the fight was knocked away from my mouth by a passing rifle-ball. I did not attempt to reclaim it. The smell of gunpowder almost took my breath away. Some five slight wounds was all the actual damage I sustained in this awful battle. I saw it all from the commencement to the close. Sleep was impossible, and my hearing was wonderfully acute. The battle lasted all day Tuesday and all the night follow- ing, until about midnight, when the firing ceased for a while on both sides. Whether the weary white men or the savages slept I know not, but I could not sleep. About daylight on Wednesday, the 3d of September, the firing commenced again on both sides. Some time in the fore- noon of this day I heard our soldiers crying aloud for joy, the shout went up, 'Reinforcements coming.' The Indians ceased their firing and went towards the soldiers coming to our relief. Finding they could not drive off the rein- forcements, the Indians soon returned, making good time to keep out of the way of the shells which the coming sol- NARRATIVE OE JUSTINA KREIGER. 20J diers were occasionally dropping among them. The Indians have a great dread of cannon, and particularly of the rot- ten balls they sometimes throw out in advance to drive out a hidden foe from some secret hiding place. Soon as the Indians found that Colonel Sibley had prepared him- self well with big guns throwing shells, they fled over the prairie like chaff driven before the wind. They were soon out of sight. "When the Indians left to go toward the reinforce- ments, the doctor and an officer came to look after me, supposing I could not have escaped such a murderous fire. They seemed perfectly astonished on finding me alive and unhurt, except by the slight marks left by some five balls, merely drawing blood from the skin. How I escaped must ever remain a mystery to myself and others. The blanket given me by a soldier, and on which I lay wrapped up in the wagon during the battle at Birch Coulee, was found, on examination, to have received over two hundred bullet holes during the fight, and yet I was not hit, except as above stated. Who can imagine such an escape. Yet I did escape, and am now alive to tell the story. "When the troops had buried their dead, they returned to Fort Ridgely. Here I was placed under charge of Dr. Mueller, surgeon of the post. I hardly knew whether I was in the hospital or at the doctor's own house, but I shall never forget the kind care taken of me by Mrs. Muel- ler. The doctor extracted some nine buckshot from my shoulders, and the other eight are yet there, as they could not be taken out. My various wounds did not trouble me much, but were soon all healed. "At the fort I found four of my children, — all but one, children of my first husband. Two of my own boys were already sent from the fort to St. Paul. These two boys were the two who escaped with August Urban, a lad thir- teen years of age. My eldest boy was nine, and the other 208 INDIAN OUTBREAKS. «ight years old. Here, too, I found the five girls who came in with Mrs. Zable. Three of these were my first husband's children; one of them my own by my first hus- hand. After remaining two days at the fort, I was able to go on to look up my other children. The third day I ■came to St. Peter, a distance of forty-five miles, and from that place, by steamboat, came directly to St. Paul, and from the latter place made all haste to my mother's, in Wisconsin, to see my children who had been taken there. I returned soon after to look after my child that had been a prisoner among the Indians, but when I arrived at St. Paul, the child had already been sent to Wisconsin by a Mrs. Keefer. I had missed her on the way. "In St. Paul, I became acquainted with a countryman •of mine, who had lost all his family by the late Indian mas- sacre. On the relation of our mutual sufferings we soon became attached to each other, and on the 3d day of November, A. D. 1862, we were married. My present husband is (June, 1863) in the service of the government, tinder Brig. Gen. H. H. Sibley. I was twenty-eight years of age on the 17th day of July, 1863. My experience is a sad one thus far. I hope never to witness another Indian massacre." CHAPTER XVIII. NARRATIVE OF JUSTINA BOELTER. "On the morning of the 18th of August, 1862, while we were at breakfast, a Sioux Indian squaw came into our house, and seemed very much pleased about something. She stayed but a short time, and then left. The squaw had an ax with her, which she left outside of the door. We were quite surprised at the manner of the squaw, and I arose from the table, and went to the door to look after her. She had taken up the ax, and had gone some distance from the door and joined some other squaws, who seemed to be moving off from the house. I followed them for a short distance, to see if there might not be others, and, if possible, to learn their intention. As I was following after them I heard five guns go off in the direc- tion of a neighbor's house near by. Believing that some- thing wrong was going on at our neighbor's (Eusebius Reef's), I returned, and told my husband what I had seen and heard. He then went out to hunt up the cattle, to prevent their being frightened off by the Indians. After he had left the house, I looked out again for the Indians. The squaws, three in number, came towards the house, disappeared, and again soon after returned, attended by four Indians. These Indians and squaws all came to the house together, I was alone with the children. They asked for a drink of water, which I gave them. Three squaws and two Indians then left. The remaining two 14 2IO INDIAN OUTBREAKS. came into the house, and took my husband's gun, and examined it to see if it was loaded, and again hung it up on the wall from which it had been taken. These two then followed after the others, who had just left. They walked around Eusebius Reef's house, near by, and, after closely examining the place, went off and soon disap- peared down a little descent. "Just at this time Michael Boelter, my brother-in-law, in great haste, came from towards Reef's. On inquiring why he so hurried, Michael replied, 'The report is that the Indians are killing the whites.' He then inquired for John, my husband. We consulted but a moment for safety. He determined first to go down to the bottom, where his father was making hay, and tell him what he had heard. He soon returned without finding any one. It turned out afterwards that Michael's father and father- in-law had both been already killed by the Indians. While Michael was gone I went to the house, and put a loaf of bread to bake in the stove, and, being already fright- ened, I took my three children, and started to go over to Mr. Reef's. While going toward the house, Michael met me, coming back in great haste from Mr. Reef's. His man- ner was sufficient. He did not even speak. I saw it was useless to ask him what had happened. I knew that some- thing dreadful had taken place there. Michael caught up my baby, and I took the other two children, telling Michael he had better call John. At the same time, looking towards Reef's, I saw the Indians killing Mrs. Reef and the children. We heard Mrs. Reef halloo. The cry was heard but a moment, when all was hushed. Michael started off in a hurry, carrying my baby. I called him, but he, being in such haste, did not seem to hear me, and no doubt supposed I would follow him. He was direct- ing his course towards Fort Ridgley. I soon found I could not keep up with him, burdened as I was with two NARRATIVE OE JUSTINA BOELTER. 211 children, and I turned my course towards the timber, on the Minnesota river. I never saw nor heard of my husband after he left, on the morning of the 18th of August, to look after his cattle. "After the Indians had followed me for a short distance, for some reason wholly unaccountable to me, they turned back, and I pursued my flight to the timber, on the banks of the Minnesota, and finally found a place of temporary refuge.- Here I lay concealed in a thicket, as well as I could. The children seemed to understand the terrible reality of our situation. I remained in the timber all that day and night, and until the afternoon of the next day, Tuesday, the 19th. During the night I heard Indians going past my hiding-place. They passed me, and went to their tepees just over the Minnesota river, on the opposite side from where I laid concealed. Monday night I slept none. I heard the Indians talk all night long. The children slept well. And I was thankful that they could sleep. Towards daylight the Indians were all silent. Directly I heard one voice, it seemed to be an Indian making a speech. After the speech was delivered, all were silent again. I heard nothing more of the Indians during all of Tuesday. They seemed to have left their camping place. "On the forenoon of Tuesday the eldest child became sick. I went to Beaver creek and put water on her head, which seemed to revive her somewhat. The child then became hungry, and wanted to go to the house to get something to eat. When I came out of the woods, I saw the door of the house standing open, and fearing that Indians were there, hardly dared venture at first; but finally, taking courage, and being anxious to satisfy the children, who wished to go home to see their father and get something to eat, I went with them to our deserted home. I found the house plundered of everything. The 212 INDIAN OUTBREAKS. feathers from the beds were lying about the house, inside out. I found nothing to wear but an old dress, and nothing to eat but some raw potatoes. I soon returned, taking the dress and the potatoes, and sought a different place of retreat, about a half a mile distant from my first hiding-place, and this time on the land of my brother-in- law. I remained in my retreat until Friday, eating nothing myself, and the children eating the raw potatoes. On this day (Friday), about noon, I went to the house of my brother-in-law, about a quarter of a mile distant. When I looked into the house, I saw my mother-in-law dead on the floor, her head severed from her body, the premises plundered, and feathers strewed about the house and door-yard. I was greatly shocked at the sight of the headless body, and made so hasty a retreat that I did not discover the dead bodies of the children of my brother-in- law, which were afterwards found by the soldiers in the door-yard, near the fence. I stayed but a moment in the house, and passed into the garden, and hastily pulled up some hills of potatoes, gathered a few cucumbers in my apron, and returned to the woods to the children, the younger one being asleep and the elder one watching by it in my absence. "Here I remained a week and a half, living on the potatoes and cucumbers, the children eating the potatoes raw, which my stomach rejected. I had lived as yet almost entirely on rain water. The cucumbers affording but little, if any, nourishment. The baby being taken from me, the next elder child, now over two years of age, had taken the breast on the next day after I. left the house. At the end of five weeks the elder of the two children died of starvation, and I had become too weak to get about, except with great difficulty. The night before the child died, it asked piteously for water; but it was dark, and I was, in my weak condition, unable to get it water. I told NARRATIVE OE JUSTINA B0EETER. 213 it to wait until morning, when I could see, and she should have some water. But the dear little sufferer never saw the morning ; she died during the night ; and a chilly, dark rainy, and dismal night it was. I had no fire, and the thin clothing we had on when we fled was not sufficient to keep myself and the children warm. It now rained for four days continuously. I was barefoot, and so were the children. The dress I had taken from the house on my first visit was our only covering from the elements. Cold, wet and starving, I stayed by the body of the dead child, being too weak to either bury it or get away from it. The body now became offensive, and I crawled off some ten feet from the place where the dead child lay. Here I remained until the Sunday following the death of my dear child, which occurred on the Wednesday pre- vious; and from Friday until Sunday I ate the leaves of the grape vine which from trial I had learned would sustain life. My milk had failed at the same time the eldest child died, and I now commenced feeding the one yet living on the grape leaves. The first I gave it was on Sunday, the fourth day after the failure of its nourishment from the breast. "The flies had now become so troublesome near the dead child that I was unable to remain longer by it; the strength I had gained from the grape leaves enabled me to move some fifty yards away. Here I remained about two weeks longer, living on grape leaves and water. But now another affliction came on me. A heavy frost came down from the cold heavens, and killed the grape leaves. My hopes of life seemed to fall with the falling leaves to earth. The sources of life, one after the other, were failing. Weak and now emaciated, I still clung to life, though the future seemed dark and cheerless. Trusting in the gracious hand that feeds the young ravens when they cry, I put forth all my strength to go in search of some 214 INDIAN OUTBREAKS. sheltered spot where the leaves might have escaped the ravages of the frost, but found only a very few in a long weary search. I retraced my steps, and sought my living child, but could not find it, I searched from morning until midday and my perseverance was finally rewarded. I found the lost child. In this mode of life I remained until all the green leaves were gone. "To live in the woods seemed no longer possible. I now sought the field of my brother-in-law, to seek for food, leaving the child in the woods. After long labor I reached the field, a quarter of a mile distant, and found a few potatoes and a small pumpkin. Unable to carry both at once, I carried the potatoes a short distance, and then returned for the pumpkin; and thus, by alternate efforts, finally succeeded in getting them both to the place where the child was. But now another affliction, horrible beyond expression, came upon me. The whole family of snakes came to me, large and small, crawling around me in every form; and, as one company would leave, another would come. But, finding they did me no harm, they soon ceased to be annoying ; and, indeed, their company seemed agreeable in my lonely condition. They were serpents in name, but angels beside the savages I had escaped. "On Sunday, after I had been in the field of my brother- in-law, I heard firing of guns near Mr. Eusebius Reef's house. I supposed they were Indians, and almost gave up hope. Occasionally the dogs came around me. I thought they were, probably, the dogs of the Indians; yet they may have been the dogs of soldiers. After hear- ing the firing of guns I remained another week. The weather had now become so intensly cold I could not endure it any longer. I concluded to return to my own home, and, if I must die, to die at my own home ; and yet, I had hope that mercy was in store for one who had suffered so much. Trusting in the arm of Him who is NARRATIVE OF JUSTINA BOELTER. 21 5 stronger than man, and who is always better to us than our fears, I took up my child, and by the aid of a stick, used as a cane, I finally reached myjance dear, but now desolate and cheerless home. I gathered the scattered feathers into a bed on the floor, and laid the child down, as near dead as alive, and as white as alabaster. It was Saturday night, and I laid down with my child and slept in my own house, after an absence of nine weeks. On Sunday morn- ing I went out in the yard adjoining the house and found three young turnips that had grown up from the seed scattered by the Indians while plundering the house, on the 1 8th of August. These turnips was all I found to eat. "On Sunday morning the sun rose bright and pleasant, and all nature looked cheerful, contrasting greatly with my lonely condition. I seemed more to enjoy the outdoor world than my own desolate abode. As the sun had as- cended the heavens some two hours, the thought came forcibly upon me to seek my retreat in the woods, and trust to the protection of a divine providence, away from the abode of civilized life, now so attractive to the Indian savage. In the woods, too, I had left a few potatoes, which perhaps the child could eat. But previous to my intended departure, among the rubbish of the plundered house, I had found a mutilated copy of the Bible, which I had been accustomed to read. It seemed an old friend. I opened its sacred pages, and read its consoling truths. Heaven and its calm joys came into my mind very gently, and gave me great consolation. I felt comparatively happy. While in this exercise, trusting to the guiding hand of a gracious providence, two soldiers came to the door, and gently pushed it open, a brick only being placed against it to keep it shut. As they looked cautiously in, I crawled up to meet them, under the impression that they were Indians come to kill me. I could not, even at short distance, dis- tinguish any object. My sight had almost entirely failed, 2l6 INDIAN OUTBREAKS. and yet my hearing was much more acute than ever before. I had been able to detect the slightest moan of my child, asleep or awake. I heard the soldiers clap their hands together, probably horrified at the sight of such an emaci- ated being as I was before them ; and yet I did not see who they were. I crawled up to them and took one of them by the hand, and prayed them not to kill me. Looking up I saw the tears running down the face of the man I had by the hand, and also of the other one who stood by. I knew then that these men were not Indians, and. was overjoyed at the idea that they were white men, and soldiers, on whom I could depend for protection. A number of soldiers now came up. As yet they did not speak, but shed tears. I shed no tears ; I could not. I told the soldiers that I had a child alive in the house. I told them also that one of the children had died in the woods. Directly one man started to the woods to bury the dead child, and one of them went after a team. One remained with me, and another went over to Neighbor Reef's house, and found a chicken ; and in a very short time, by the aid of a kettle found in the woods, and the use of an old stove yet remaining in the- house, but much injured, the soldiers succeeded in making for me and the child some weak chicken soup, of which I ate about a coffee cupful, and the child took a small por- tion. This food gave relief to the stomach, but caused the limbs to cramp and become feeble. The soldier re- turned from the woods without finding the body of the dead child. "The team was driven up to the house, and the soldiers carried me out and put me in the wagon, one of them pull- ing off his coat and putting it on me to keep me warm. I was then taken with my child to General Sibley's camp at Yellow Medicine, some fifty miles from Fort Ridgely. Here the soldiers put some crackers into a cup of coffee and gave me. I remained at this camp about one week. NARRATIVE OF JUSTINA BOEl/fER. 2\J It was nine weeks from the day I first left my house until the soldiers rescued me. I now began to suffer great pain in my limbs, caused by cramp, quite losing the use of my left hand and both feet. I was now entirely unable to move, and yet I was getting better at heart every day. The intense pain in my limbs lasted about a week, and then gradually wore off, in part ; but even yet [while testifying before the Sioux Commission, at St. Peter, in May, 1863] I have spasms or paroxysms of pain in one of my hands. A special team came down with me and two halfbreed girls to Fort Ridgely, where I stayed one night, and was brought on the next day to St. Peter, where I still (June, 1863) reside. I have not yet seen my baby; it is among its friends in Wisconsin. It was brought by my brother- in-law to Fort Ridgely, thence to St. Peter, thence to St. Paul, and finally, supposing the mother dead, it was taken to Wisconsin, where it is doing well. I expect to see it soon." CHAPTER XIX. THE MILITARY COMMISSION. After the capture of the Indians, or rather their sur- render and the release of the white captives, a military commission was organized to try summarily the Indians, mixed bloods and mulattoes engaged in the Sioux raids or massacre. At first the commission consisted of Colonel Crooks, Lieutenant-Colonel Marshall, Captain Grant, Cap- tain Bailey and Lieutenant Olin. I. V. D. Heard, an able lawyer of St. Paul, was chosen as recorder of the commis- sion. After twenty-nine cases were disposed of, Major Bradley was substituted for Lieutenant-Colonel Marshall, who was absent on important business. I knew nearly all of these men very well, and they were men of integrity and ability, Major Bradley and Mr. Heard being lawyers of great experience and especially qualified for their positions. Colonel Sibley, or his adjutant general, made written charges against such Indians as he believed guilty of rape, assault, arson or acts of murder. The evidence generally upon which the charges were made was based upon infor- mation furnished by Rev. R. Riggs, and he obtained it by assembling in a tent the halfbreeds and others possessed of the knowledge, and questioning them concerning sus- pected parties. The names of witnesses were appended to the charge with the same formalities as is usual in cases of indictment in a regular court. The charges were duly read to the accused, and unless he admitted them due proof was offered. THE MILITARY COMMISSION. 219 The mulatto, Godfrey, was the first person arraigned, and the charges and specifications against him were as fol- lows: "Charge and specifications against O-ta-kle, or God- frey, a colored man connected with the Sioux tribe of In- dians. Charge, Murder. "Specification First. In this, that the said O-ta-kle, or Godfrey, a colored man, did, at or near New Ulm, Min- nesota, on or about the 19th day of August, 1862, join a war party of the Sioux tribe of Indians against the citizens of the United States, and did with his own hand murder seven white men, women and children (more or less), peaceable citizens of the United States. "Specification Second. In this, that the said O-ta-kle, or Godfrey, a colored man, did, at various times and places between the 19th of August and the 28th of September, 1862, join and participate in the murders and massacres committed by the Sioux Indians on the Minnesota frontier. "By order of "COL. H. H. SIBLEY, "Com. Mil. Expedition. "S. H. FOWLER, "Lt. Col. State Militia, A. A. A. G. "Witnesses : Mary Woodbury, David Faribault, Sen., Mary Swan, Bernard la Batte." He was found guilty and sentenced to be hanged, but the president commuted the sentence to ten years' impris- onment on recommendation of the commissioners. The charges were thoroughly tried, and the details of each massacre and outrage thoroughly proved. As many 220 INDIAN OUTBREAKS. as forty were sometimes tried in a day; so many were proven to have been joint assailants in committing crimes that the main points against one were similar against many, and the act against the defendant was summarily disposed of. Those engaged in massacres were sentenced to death, and those convicted of plundering were sen- tenced to imprisonment. In at least two-thirds of the cases the Indians admitted that they fired, but insisted that it was only two or three shots, and that no one was killed. Just why they fired at all they did not say, and the commission well knew that they were lying, something easy for an Indian to do. One Indian thought he ought not be punished for plun- . dering, as the pony he stole was a small one. Another said that his wife wanted a pair of oxen, and he captured them for her, and thought it no sin. One day all the elderly men who were in the vigor of manly strength said their hair was too gray to go into battle. Young men aged from eighteen to twenty-five said that they were too young and their heart too weak to face fire. Some said that they had the bellyache, and were writhing with agony, and crept under a big stone at the battle of the fort, and did not crawl out during the fight. Others said that they were roasting corn and eating beef all day dur- ing the battles of New Ulm, Birch Coulee and Wood Lake. One of the most fiendish-looking warriors wished the commission to believe that he felt so bad to see the In- dians firing on the whites that he laid down and went to, sleep, and the battle was over when he awoke. A young Indian, who had been one of the worst par- ticipants in the massacre at Beaver creek, said he never did anything bad in his life, except to chase a chicken, which he did not catch. Several of the Renville Rangers were tried and con- victed. They had deserted from Fort Ridgely and were THE MILITARY COMMISSION. 221 in the battles against the whites. They were halfbreeds, and one of them claimed that he left the fort to cut kinni- kinic, and that the Indians surrounded him and the fort and he could not get back. The evidence against him was conclusive as to his criminality. Many of the worst characters, after admitting that they were in all the battles, would brazenly state that they were members of the church. The number of prisoners tried was over four hundred. Of these three hundred and three were condemned to death and eighteen to imprisonment. Most of those acquitted were upper Indians. It should here be stated that the Renville Rangers enlisted with a view to go south and take part in the Civil War. Part of this company were halfbreeds, and had deserted to the Indians, and were found in their camp. They had deserted from Fort Ridgely, and the unservice- able conditions of the artillery at the fort at the first attack was attributed to them. They had attempted to cripple the defense of the fort just before deserting to the enemy, and they took part with the Indians in nearly all of the subsequent battles. It is due to the other halfbreeds, of which there were several in the company, to state that in all battles in which they took part they conducted them- selves with great bravery and fidelity to the cause of the whites, under their gallant leader, Capt. James Gorman. The trial of suspected parties continued until about the 5th of November, when the commission, having com- pleted its labors, was discharged. The guilty ones were at once removed, under guard of 1,500 men, to Mankato, near the junction of the Blue Earth and Minnesota rivers, there to await the action of the United States government. While passing through New Ulm, the scene of their former depredations and murders, they were set upon by some of the people, beaten 222 INDIAN OUTBREAKS. with sticks and pelted with stones in spite of the guard. The principal actors in the attack were mostly women and young people, many of whom had relatives and friends who had suffered from the depredations of these Indians, and who feared that the latter would escape from due pun- ishment of their crimes through the leniency of the United vStates government. Mr. Heard, the recorder of the com- mission, who was with the guard, says in his book : "Hearing that we were passing by, they all rushed forth — men, women and children, armed with clubs, pitch- forks, brickbats, knives and guns, and attacked the pris- oners. The women were perfectly furious. They danced around with their aprons full of stones, and cried for an opportunity to get at the prisoners, upon whom they poured the most violent abuse. Many rushed forward and discharged a shower of stones. One woman, who had a long knife in her hand, was especially violent in her demonstration, and another pounded an Indian in the face until she broke his jaw, and he fell backward out of the wagon. They were brutal murderers of their friends. The prisoners cowered low, and the negro Godfrey, who lived in the neighborhood of this theater of his exploits, and was well known in New Ulm, took good care to cover his head with his blanket and crouch clown in his wagon. The expedition soon reached Mankato, near which a per- manent camp for the winter was established, called Camp Lincoln. Here the trial of a number of the Winnebagoes was held." On the 7th of November, the unconvicted Indians, with their families and the families of the absent ones, numbering in all 1,658 persons, having been separated from the bad ones, were started from the lower agency for Fort Snelling, Lieutenant Colonel Marshall, with three companies of soldiers, in command. The train was about four miles long, and when it reached Henderson, on November nth, the streets were crowded THE MILITARY COMMISSION. 223 with angry and excited people, armed with guns, knives, clubs and stones, who rushed upon the Indians, and before the soldiers could stop them, pulled many women, men and children from the wagons by the hair of their heads, and inflicted serious injury upon some of them. One white woman, snatching a babe from its mother's breast, dashed it violently to the ground. The child died a few hours after, and was laid away in the crotch of a tree not far from Faxon, buried according to one of the oldest cus- toms of the Sioux tribe. The manner in which the Winnebagoes were released added much to the agitation and indignation of the people while the captives were in Mankato and before the execu- tion. Fear that the president might even pardon the guilty ones became more intense, as rumors circulated to the effect that the Indians were all to be removed after dark to Fort Snelling. The rabid ones thought that such a proceeding was more than they could endure, while a majority of the people, law abiding and believing that jus- tice would finally be meted out to these miscreants, ad- vised awaiting the action of the government. They well knew that mob law when once set in motion is full of evil, and heedless in action and results. But there never was any plan, leader nor organization, and the reported com- binations all over the state were myths. Exaggerated reports were circulated, that the people of Mankato and combinations of men all over the state were forming to massacre the condemned Indians. Under date of Novem- ber 24th General Pope telegraphed to the. president to this effect, and General Sibley, in an order dated Decem- ber 6th, stated that, on the 4th of December, the guard around the Indian camp had been assaulted by nearly two hundred men, and that according to the report of Colonel Miller, he would require at least a thousand men to pro- tect the prisoners against an organized popular outbreak. 224 INDIAN OUTBREAKS. Under date of December 8th General Sibley says : "Dis- patches indicate a fearful collision between thousands of men from all parts of the state," and fears that the troops and Indians will be literally besieged. Senator Wilkinson telegraphed the governor that he hoped the people of Minnesota would not destroy the miscreants by violence. One night something like one hundred and fifty persons had assembled near the old Mankato House, and soon were ready to start for the Indian camp, located east of the Blue Earth river and south of the Sibley mound. Not many of them were armed. During the afternoon of the day a report was circulated among the military of this intended raid on the Indian camp, but after dark a com- pany of cavalry and some infantry reached the camp before the crowd commenced moving, and posted guards around the Indians and along the road leading to the bridge over the Blue Earth river. Before the unorganized crowd arrived at the camp they were quietly surrounded and taken prisoners and marched to Colonel Miller's tent. Here he lectured them upon the evils of mob law and such rash acts of lawlessness, and advised them not to injure the fair name of the young state of Minnesota. The lead- ers answered him by saying that they came to view some of the "noble red men of the forest" and visit some of their friends. The truth about the whole matter is that the guard around the Indian camp was never assaulted, nor did the angry men ever reach the camp, nor did Colonel Miller ever surround them and take them prisoners. He was enjoying himself in his tent at his headquarters at the time, and took no active part in the movement against the citi- zens. He did declare martial law, but it was done at the request of a large portion of the citizens of Mankato. And the report that the guard at the Indian camp were ever assaulted originated in the imaginative brain of some excited individual. THE MILITARY COMMISSION. 225 I never had any doubt but that nearly all of the con- demned Indians deserved hanging as well as the thirty- eight who were finally executed, but it is said that mercy is an attribute of justice, and the president leaned to mercy, and finally decided that way. One of these con- demned Indians, after he was released, told a friend of mine that he had killed a white man by cutting his throat, and that when he did so he could hear the blood gurgle. Quite an interesting description of this affair recently appeared in the Mankato Review, written by Judge Lorin Cray, who was then a member of Company D, Ninth Min- nesota Infantry. He says: "While at St. Peter, and in the early part of December, 1862, a few of us learned one afternoon that an effort was to be made by the citizens of Mankato, New Ulm and vicinity the following evening to kill the Indian prisoners, three hundred and more, then in camp at Mankato, near the present site of Sibley Park. As no admission fee was charged, a few of us determined to attend the entertain- ment. After dark we appropriated a team of government mules and a wagon and started for Mankato, where we arrived about nine o'clock in the evening. The head- quarters of the bloodthirsty citizens was the old Mankato House, where liquid refreshments were being served lib- erally, without money and without price. A very large crowd congregated there, but there seemed to be no great haste to march on the Indian camp. Several times a start was made by a squad of fifty or one hundred persons, who would proceed for a few hundred feet, and then halt, and finally return for more refreshments. "Finally at nearly midnight the supply of refreshments must have become exhausted, for the army moved. Sev- eral hundred of the citizens started south along Front street for the Indian camp, straggling for a distance of several blocks. When the head of the column reached 15 226 INDIAN OUTBREAKS. West Mankato it halted until the rear came up, and while a rambling discussion was going on as to what they should do, and just how they should do it, Captain (since gov- ernor) Austin, with his company of cavalry, surrounded the whole squad, and marched them down to Colonel Mil- ler's headquarters, right at the Indian camp, where, at this time, they seemed very reluctant to go. "The scene here was ridiculous in the extreme. Colonel Miller came out and talked to the citizens, and asked them why they had congregated in such large num- bers. Every one who answered at all insisted that his mission was wholly peaceful, and that he was ignorant of any evil designs by any one, and finally the colonel or- dered their release, and suggested that they go home, which they hastened to do." ■ CHAPTER XX. THE MULATTO, GODFREY. Probably one of the blackest-hearted villains that dis- graced humanity at the time of the Indian massacre of 1862 was the mulatto, Godfrey, or Gussi. The Indians gave him the name of Atakle ("One who kills many"). It is said that he acquired his name by entering the first house near New Ulm, by direction of the Indians, where a number of persons were killed. He was brought up among the Indians, could speak their language, and was married to a squaw. He was taken prisoner and chained to an Indian, and the Indians looked upon him with in- tense hatred, possibly because he turned state's evidence, although it seems he went through the form of a trial and was acquitted. His evidence helped convict many of the Indians that were hung. He was among the foremost in the attack on New Ulm, and the Indians said he was braver than any of them, and that he boasted that he had killed nine adults and a number of children, but said he kept no account of the latter, because he did not think they amounted to anything anyway. He admitted being in various battles, but denied killing any one. Several wit- nesses testified against him before the commission, and there could be but very little doubt of his guilt of murder- ing helpless men, women and children. It has been said that Godfrey was specially designed as an instrument of providence to help convict these mur- 228 INDIAN OUTBREAKS.