Chapter 3

LITTLE CROW.

CHAPTER X.

SIEGE OF NEW ULM.

Little Crow, finding himself baffled in his attempt to capture the fort, and learning from his scouts that Colonel Sibley was on his way with two regiments to relieve the garrison, concentrated all his forces and proceeded to NewUlm, about thirteen miles distant, which he intended to wipe out the next morning. Here, again, he was disappointed. The hero of New Ulm was Hon. Charles E. Flandreau, who deserves more than a passing notice. By profession he is a lawyer, and at this time was a judge on the bench, and is now enjoying a lucrative practice in St. Paul. By nature he is an organizer and a leader, and to his intrepid bravery and wise judgment New Ulm and her inhabitants owe their salvation from the savagery of Little Crow and his bloodthirsty followers. He had received the news of the outbreak at his home near St. Peter in the early morning of August 19, and at once decided what should be done to save the people.

His duty to wife and children was apparent, and to place them in safety was his first thought, which he did by taking them to St. Peter. He then issued a call for volunteers, and in response to this soon found himself surrounded by men who needed no second bidding, for the very air was freighted with the terror of the situation. Armed with guns of any and all descriptions, with bottles of powder, boxes of caps and pockets filled with bullets, one hundred and twenty men, determined on revenge, pressed forward to meet this terrible foe.

Where should they go? Rumors came from all directions, and one was that Fort Ridgely was being besieged and had probably already fallen. Their eyes also turned toward New Ulm, which was but thirteen miles distant and in an absolutely unprotected condition. Its affrighted people were at the mercy of this relentless enemy. The work Judge Flandreau performed in perfecting an organization was masterful, for the men who flocked in and offered their services he could not control in a militarysense, because they were not enlisted. The emergency was very great and it was necessary to do the right thing and at the right time and to strike hard and deadly blows, and trusted men were sent forward to scout and report. Hon. Henry A. Swift, afterwards governor of Minnesota, rendered good service in company with William G. Hayden as they scouted the country in a buggy. It was a novel way to scout, but horses were too scarce to allow a horse to each. An advance guard was sent forward about noon, and an hour later the balance of the command was in motion, eagerly pushing forward and anxious to meet the enemy wherever he might be found. The advance guard which Flandreau sent out to determine whether Fort Ridgely or New Ulm should be the objective point had not yet been heard from, and, that no time might be lost, he determined that he would push forward to New Ulm, and if that village was safe he would turn his attention to Ridgely. He found his guard at New Ulm, and they had been largely reinforced by other men who came in to help protect the place. They arrived just in time to assist in repelling an attack of about two hundred Indians, who had suddenly surrounded the little village. Before the arrival of Flandreau and his command they could see the burning houses in the distance, and by this they knew that the work of devastation had commenced, and the forced march was kept up. The rain was pouring in torrents, and yet they had made thirty-two miles in seven hours and reached the place about 8 o’clock in the evening.

The next day reinforcements continued to come in from various points until the little army of occupation numbered three hundred effective and determined men. Acouncil of war was called and a line of defense determined upon by throwing up barricades in nearly all the streets.

The situation was a very grave one and it was soon apparent that a one-man power was necessary—that a guiding mind must control the actions of this hastily gathered army of raw material; and to this end, Judge Flandreau was declared generalissimo, and subsequent events proved that the selection was a most judicious one. In a few days subsequent to this he received a commission as colonel from Governor Ramsey and was placed in command of all irregular troops. There were fifty companies reported to him all told; some were mounted and others were not. His district extended from New Ulm, Minnesota, to Sioux City, Iowa. It was a most important command, and Colonel Flandreau proved himself a hero as well as a competent organizer. He is so modest about it even to-day that he rarely refers to it.

A provost guard was at once established, order inaugurated, defenses strengthened and confidence partially restored. Nothing serious transpired until Saturday morning at about 9 o’clock, when 650 Indians, who had been so handsomely repulsed at Fort Ridgely, thirteen miles above, made a determined assault upon the town, driving in the pickets. The lines faltered for a time, but soon rallied and steadily held the enemy at bay. The Indians had surrounded the town and commenced firing the buildings, and the conflagration was soon raging on both sides of the main street in the lower part of the town, and the total destruction of the place seemed inevitable. It was necessary to dislodge the enemy in some way, so a squad of fifty men was ordered out to charge down the burning street, and the Indians were driven out. The soldiers thenburned everything and the battle was won. The desperate character of the fighting may be judged when we find the casualties to be ten men killed and fifty wounded in about an hour and a half, and this out of a much depleted force, for out of the little army of three hundred men, seventy-five who had been sent under Lieutenant Huey to guard the ferry were cut off and forced to retreat towards St. Peter. Before reaching this place, however, they met reinforcements and returned to the attack. The Indians now, in turn, seeing quite a reinforcement coming, thought it wise to retreat, and drew off to the northward, in the direction of the fort, and disappeared.

The little town of New Ulm at this time contained from 1,200 to 1,500 non-combatants, consisting of women and children, refugees and unarmed citizens, every individual of whom would have been massacred if it had not been for this brave band of men under the command of Colonel Flandreau. Not knowing what the retreat of the Indians indicated, the uncertainty and scarcity of provisions, the pestilence to be feared from stench and exposure, all combined to bring about the decision to evacuate the town and try to reach Mankato. In order to do this a train was made up, into which were loaded the women and children and about eighty wounded men. It was a sad sight to witness this enforced breaking up of home ties, homes burned and farms and gardens laid waste, loved ones dead and wounded, and this one of the inevitable results of an unnecessary and unprovoked war. The march to Mankato was without special incident. Especially fortunate was this little train of escaping people in not meeting any wandering party of hostile Indians.

The first day about half the distance from Mankato to St. Peter was covered; the main column was pushed on to its final destination, it being the intention of Colonel Flandreau to return with a portion of his command to New Ulm, or remain where they were, so as to keep a force between the Indians and the settlements. But the men of his command, not having heard a word from their families for over a week, felt apprehensive and refused to return or remain, holding that the protection of their families was paramount to all other considerations. It must be remembered that these men were not soldiers, but had demonstrated their willingness to fight when necessary, and they did fight, and left many of their comrades dead and wounded on the battlefield. The train that had been sent forward arrived in Mankato on the 25th of August, and the balance of the command reached the town on the day following, when the men sought their homes.

The stubborn resistance the Indians met with at Fort Ridgely and New Ulm caused them to withdraw to their own country, and this temporary lull in hostilities enabled the whites to more thoroughly organize, and the troops to prepare for a campaign up into the Yellow Medicine country, where it was known a large number of captives were held.

Colonel Charles E. Flandreau,Who was in command at New Ulm, Minn., during the Siege from August 20th to 25th, 1862.

CHAPTER XI.

COL. FLANDREAU IN COMMAND.

While the exciting events narrated in the previous chapters were taking place other portions of the state were preparing for defense. At Forest City, Hutchinson, Glencoe, and even as far south as St. Paul and Minneapolis, men were rapidly organizing for home protection. In addition to the Sioux, the Chippewas and Winnebagoes were becoming affected and seemed anxious for a pretext to don the paint and take the warpath. Colonel Flandreau having received his commission as colonel from Governor Ramsey, with authority to take command of the Blue Earth country extending from New Ulm to the Iowa line, embracing the western and southwestern frontier of the state, proceeded at once to properly organize troops, commission officers, and do everything in his power as a military officer to give protection to the citizens. The Colonel established his headquarters at South Bend and the home guards came pouring in, reporting for duty, and squads that had been raised and mustered into the volunteer service, but had not yet joined their commands, were organized into companies, and the Colonel soon found himself surrounded by quite an army of good men, well officered, and with a determination to do their whole duty. This was done by establishing a cordon of military posts so as to inspire confidence and prevent an exodus of the people. Any onewho has not been through the ordeal of an Indian insurrection can form no idea of the terrible apprehension that takes possession of a defenseless and non-combatant people under such circumstances.

The mystery and suspense attending an Indian’s movements, and the certainty of the cruelty to his captives, strikes terror to the heart, and upon the first crack of his rifle a thousand are put to flight. While cruelty is one of the natural characteristics of the Indians, yet there are many among them who have humane feelings and are susceptible of Christian influences. As friends, they are of the truest; but the thoughtless cry out as did the enemies of our Savior: “Crucify him! Crucify him!” Other Day, Standing Buffalo, Chaska and Old Betz were as true and as good people as ever lived, and yet they are held responsible for the atrocities of their savage brethren. At the risk of their own lives they warned hundreds of people and guided them by night, and hid them by day, until finally they reached a place of safety. At the hostile camp, where they had over four hundred women and children, it was only through the influence of these and other sturdy friendly chiefs that any lives were saved. They had to even throw barricades around their tepees and watch day and night until the soldiers came, giving notice that whoever raised hand to harm these defenseless people would do it at their peril. When we know of these kind acts, let us pause a moment before we say there are no good Indians.

It was a study to look at some of these old dusky heroes, who said nothing but thought much, and who had determined that, come what would, harm should not come to the captives. There were statesmen, too, among them;men wise in council, who had respect for their Great Father at Washington, who were cognizant of the fact that much dissatisfaction was engendered among their people by occurrences taking place at the time of the negotiation for the treaties. They counselled their people, and no doubt tried hard to induce them to forsake their desire for vengeance on the whites, and thus retard the progress they were making for their offspring toward civilization and a better manner of living.

You might properly ask here: “What became of the friendly Indians while the hostiles were on the warpath?” Some of them forgot their friendly feelings and, like the whisky victim, when they got a taste of blood, they wanted more! They were all forced by the hostiles to don their war paint and breech-cloth, and go with them against the whites, and they were wise enough to know that it was folly to resist. Their main object was to prevent the wholesale murder of the captives, for when hostilities opened, they knew if they did not go, every woman and child in the captive camp would be murdered; and the friendlies would be blamed as much as the hostiles themselves.

MRS. EASTLICK AND CHILDREN.

CHAPTER XII.

MRS. EASTLICK AND FAMILY.

The note of alarm sounded throughout the neighborhood and without a moment’s warning hurried preparationswere made for the exodus. Women and children and a few household goods were loaded into wagons and a start made for a place of safety. Indians suddenly appeared and commenced an indiscriminate fire upon the terror-stricken refugees.

The individual cases of woman’s heroism, daring, bravery, cunning and strong-willed self-sacrifice, could be recounted by the score, and in some instances are past belief. Their achievements would be considered as pure fiction but for our own personal knowledge. Many of the real occurrences would seem like legends, when the father had been murdered and the mother left with two, three and even five and six children to care for, and if possible save them from the ferocity of the painted red devils, whose thirst for blood could seemingly not be satiated. One noted case was the Eastlick family, and this was only one of a hundred. Eleven men of the party had already been killed, and Mr. Eastlick among the number. The women with their children were scattered in all directions in the brush, to escape if possible the inevitable fate in store for them if caught. The Indians shouted to them to come out from their hiding places and surrender and they should be spared. The remaining men, thinking perhaps their lives might be saved if they surrendered, urged their wives to do so, and the men would, if possible, escape and give the alarm. Thus, without a word or a look lest they should betray the remaining husbands, were these women driven from their natural protectors and obliged to submit to the tender mercies of their hated red captors. The supposed dead husbands watched the receding forms of their devoted wives, whom in all likelihood they never would see again. Burton Eastlick, the fifteen-year-old boy, could not endurethe thought of leaving his mother to this uncertain fate, and he followed her, but she persuaded him, for the sake of his fifteen-months-old baby brother, to leave her and try and make his escape, carrying the little one with him. And how well did he execute his mission.

The Indians fired upon the little group and Mrs. Eastlick fell, wounded in three places, and the boy ran away, supposing his mother dead; but she revived, and crawled to where her wounded husband and six-year-old boy were, to find both dead. Can you picture such a scene or imagine what the feelings of this poor mother must be under these awful circumstances? Sublime silence reigning over earth and sky, and she alone with her dead!

What a parting must that have been from husband and child—death and desolation complete. Could she look to her God? A heart of faith so sorely tried, and yet she said: “I am in His hands; surely I must trust Him, for I am yet alive, and two precious children, Burton and little baby, are fleeing to a place of safety.”

This heroic boy, Burton, seeing his mother shot, and supposed to be dead, and watching the life flicker and the spirit of his six-year-old brother pass away, placed the dear little body beside that of his father, and with a bravery born of an heroic nature he accepted his charge, and with the injunction of his precious, dying mother still ringing in his ears, made preparations to start. It seemed an herculean effort, but the brave boy said: “We may yet be saved!” So, pressing his baby brother close to his heart, he took a last look upon the faces of his dear father, mother and six-year-old brother and started.

Ninety miles, thick with dangers, lay before our young hero; but he faltered not. When tired carrying his littlebrother in his arms he took him on his back. The first day he made sixteen miles, and in ten consecutive days covered sixty miles. He lived on corn and such food as he could find in deserted houses. At night his bed was the earth, his pillow a stone, and the sky his only covering, the bright stars acting as nightly sentinels over him, as weary, he and his little baby charge slept. If angels have a duty to perform, surely troops of them must have hovered around. He fed the little brother as best he could to appease his hunger and covered him as with angel wings to protect the little trembling body from the chilly night air. Brave boy! The pages of history furnish nothing more noble than this deed, and if you yet live, what a consolation, what a proud reflection, to know that there never before was witnessed a deed more deserving of immortal fame.

“Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night, nor for the arrow that flyeth by day.” The resolute mother, badly wounded and left for dead, revived. She looked upon the face of her dead husband and little boy, and with sublime courage started for a place of safety. At the risk of being discovered and murdered—hungry, tired, with wounds undressed and a heavy, aching heart and deathly sick, she was obliged to lie by for some time, after which she again started, and for ten days and nights this poor sorrow-stricken woman traveled on her weary way.

Providence led her in the path of a mail carrier on a route from Sioux Falls City, in Dakota, to New Ulm, Minnesota. He had formerly known her, but in her emaciated, jaded, pitiful condition the change was so great he did not recognize her.

At New Ulm she found her children, where they werebeing kindly cared for, having been found in the tall grass nearly dead from exposure and starvation. Thus the remaining portion of the family were reunited on earth, and it is proper to here draw the curtain and allow them a few moments for communion, that the fountain of the heart which had been dried up by the awful occurrences of the previous few days might unbidden flow. The mother’s heart was nearly crushed with the thought of husband and child—victims of the ferocious Indians, killed and yet unburied on the prairie nearly one hundred miles away; but, mother-like, she rejoiced in finding the two children who had wandered so far and through a kind Providence escaped so many dangers.

ESCAPE OF THE MISSIONARIES.

CHAPTER XIII.

THE MISSIONARIES—THEIR ESCAPE.

A few miles above the Yellow Medicine were the churches and schools of the Rev. S. R. Riggs and Dr. Williamson. Both of these gentlemen had long been missionaries among the Indians and had gained their confidence; and in return had placed the most implicit confidence in them. But these good men had been warned to flee for their lives, and they reluctantly gathered together a few household treasures, and placing themselves and families under the guidance of Providence, started for a place of safety. Fort Ridgely was their objective point, but they learned that the place was being besieged and that it would be unsafe to proceed further in this direction, so turned their weary steps toward Henderson, Minnesota.

With courage braced up, weary in body and anxious in mind, they went into camp until the morning. “The pillar of cloud by day, and the pillar of fire by night,” guided this anxious band through a most trying and perilous journey, but they gained the settlement at last and were among friends. In leaving their little homes, where they had found so much pleasure in the work of the Master, in pointing the Indians to a better way of living, they were sorrowful; but, like Abraham of old, faithful in their allegiance to God, not daring to question His ways in compelling them to turn their backs upon their chosen work—Hiswork. The missionaries and teachers formed strong attachments among this dusky race. In their communion with them they found them ready and eager to converse about the Great Spirit and to learn of the wonderful things taught in the Bible. They loved to sing, and the melody of sacred song found a responsive chord in their souls as they were gradually emerging from their barbarous condition, and coming into the full light of a Christian salvation. In conversation with the writer, Mr. Riggs once said that as he was passing one of their happy little homes he could hear the squaw mother, in her peculiar plaintive tones, singing to her little children:

“Jesus Christ, nitowashte kinWoptecashni mayaqu”—Jesus Christ, Thy Loving Kindness,Boundlessly, Thou Givest Me.

She had become a Christian mother through the teachings of the missionaries. Her maternal affection was as deep and abiding as in the breast of her more favored white sister, and her eye of faith looked beyond the stars to the happy hunting ground, where the Greater Spirit abides, and with the assurance that some day she and all her race would stand with the redeemed in the presence of the Judge of all the worlds. The Christian missionary felt for these people as no one else could; and, while not trying nor desiring to excuse them for their unholy war against the whites, yet they could not persuade themselves to believe that they had been justly dealt with by civilized America.

LITTLE PAUL.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE INDIAN POW-WOW.

The Indians of the various tribes of the Upper and Lower Sioux—the Sissitons, the Tetons, the Yanktons and the Yanktonnais and other tribes held a pow-wow to try and force a conclusion of the war, and some of their ablest men, their statesmen, were present, and their views you have here verbatim. More decorum prevailed among them, and they were more deliberate than is observed in theaverage white man’s convention. Little Crow had his supporters present, and a very fluent Yanktonnais Sioux traced on the ground a map of the country, showing the course of the Missouri River and the locality of the different forts. He marked out the mountains, seas and oceans, and stated that an army, great in numbers, was coming from across the country to assist them. This gave rise to the unfounded rumor referred to in another chapter, that emissaries from the South were among them to incite them to war.

John Paul, or Little Paul, was friendly to the whites, and in a speech to the Indians at this pow-wow said:

“I am friendly to the whites, and will deliver these women and children at Fort Ridgely. I am opposed to the war on the whites. You say you are brave men, and can whip the whites. That is a lie—persons who cut women and children’s throats are not brave. You are squaws and cowards. Fight the whites if you want to, but do it like brave men. I am ashamed of the way you have acted towards the captives; and, if any of you have the feelings of men, you will give them up. You may look fierce at me, but I am not afraid of you.”

Red Iron, one of the chiefs of the Upper Indians, was not friendly. He was one of the principal chiefs of the Sissitons, and at one time was so outspoken against the whites that Governor Ramsey, who was then Superintendent of Indian Affairs, and was at the agency, had occasion to rebuke him in a substantial way—he reduced him to the ranks. In other words, he broke him of his chieftianship. This was in December, 1852.

Red Iron was a handsome Indian, an athlete, six feet in his moccasins, with a large, well-developed head, aquilinenose, thin lips, but with intelligence and resolution beaming all over his countenance.

RED IRON.

When brought into the presence of Governor Ramsey he walked with a firm, lordly tread, and was clad in half military and half Indian costume. When he came in he seated himself in silence, which was not broken until through an interpreter the Governor asked him what excuse he had to offer for not coming to the council when sent for.

Red Iron, when he arose to his feet to reply, did so witha Chesterfieldian grace, allowing his blanket to fall from his shoulders, and, intentionally dropping his pipe of peace. He stood before the Governor for a moment in silence, with his arms folded, his bearing betraying perfect self-composure, a defiant smile playing upon his lips. In a firm voice he said:

Red Iron—“I started to come, but your braves drove me back.”

Governor—“What excuse have you for not coming the second time I sent for you?”

Red Iron—“No other excuse than I have already given you.”

When the Governor, as Commissioner of Indian Affairs, informed this proud chief that, by virtue of his office, he would break him of his chieftianship it appealed to his pride, and he said:

“You break me? I was elected chief by my tribe. You can’t break me.”

The chief, while surrendering to the powers that be, never felt friendly to the whites, and during this war of which we write he continued stubborn and sullen to the end.

Standing Buffalo, hereditary chief of the Sissitons, was a different type, and counselled living in peace, but desired fair treatment and honest dealings with his people. He was a handsome Indian, and a man of rare ability. General Sibley was anxious to know how he felt on the important question agitating the Sioux Nation, and desired his co-operation in liberating the captives and compassing the capture of Little Crow and his followers. At this Indian convention this noted chief said:

STANDING BUFFALO.

“I am a young man, but I have always felt friendly toward the whites, because they were kind to my father. You have brought me into great danger without my knowledge of it beforehand. By killing the whites, it is just as if you had waited for me in ambush and shot me down. You Lower Indians feel bad because we have all got into this trouble; but I feel worse, because I know that neither I nor my people have killed any of the whites, and that yet we have to suffer with the guilty. I was out buffalo hunting when I heard of the outbreak, and I felt as if I wasdead, and I feel so now. You all know that the Indians cannot live without the aid of the white man, and, therefore, I have made up my mind that Paul is right, and my Indians will stand by him. We claim this reservation. What are you doing here? If you want to fight the whites, go back and fight them. Leave my village at Big Stone Lake. You sent word to my young men to come down, and that you had plenty of oxen, horses, goods, powder and lead, and now we see nothing. We are going back to Big Stone Lake and leave you to fight the whites. Those who make peace can say that Standing Buffalo and his people will give themselves up in the spring.”

They kept their word, and would have nothing to do with Little Crow.

Standing Buffalo was killed in 1863 by an accident.

Other Day, a civilized Indian, in addressing the council at this time, said:

“You can, of course, easily kill a few unarmed whites, but it would be a cowardly thing to do, because we have gained their confidence, and the innocent will suffer with the guilty, and the great Father at Washington will send his soldiers to punish you, and we will all suffer. I will not join you in this, but will help defend these white people who have always been our friends.”

Other Day was a true friend of the whites; he looked it. He was a full-blood Indian, it is true, and the Indians respected and feared him, but his desire to forsake the barbarous teachings of his father inclined him towards the unsuspecting settlers.

In 1863 he was General Sibley’s most trusted and confidential scout. In the early outbreak Other Day manifested his loyalty to his white friends by risking his lifein their defense, piloting sixty people through the river bottoms during the nights to a place of safety. He traveled with his charge in the night, and hid them in underbrush during the daytime. He was a true-hearted, kind man, with a red skin, who has gone to his reward in a land where there are no reds, no blacks, but where all are white.

Little Crow, who is one of the principal characters in this narrative, was an Indian of no mean ability. He was the commander-in-chief of the hostile tribes, and wielded a powerful influence among all the tribes of this great Sioux Nation. He was a powerful man, and felt his lordly position; was confident of final success, and very defiant at the outset. He had a penchant for notoriety in more ways than one. In dress he was peculiar, and could nearly always be found with some parts of a white man’s clothing. He was particularly conspicuous in the style of collar he wore; happy in the possession of one of the old-style standing collars, such as Daniel Webster and other old-time gentlemen bedecked themselves with. He also possessed a black silk neckerchief and a black frock coat, and on grand occasions wore both.

He had strongly marked features, and in studying the lineaments of his face one would not adjudge him a particularly bad Indian. As we had hundreds of these men in our custody, a good opportunity was offered while guarding them to try one’s gift as a reader of character as stamped in the face, but Little Crow proved an enigma. It was like a novice trying to separate good money from bad, an unprofitable and unsuccessful task. Little Crow said:

“It is impossible to make peace if we so desired. Did we ever do the most trifling thing, the whites would hang us.Now, we have been killing them by the hundreds in Dakota, Minnesota and Iowa, and I know if they get us into their hands they will hang every one of us. As for me, I will kill as many of them as I can, and fight them till I die. Do not think you will escape. There is not a band of Indians from the Redwood Agency to Big Stone Lake that has not had some of its members embroiled in this war. I tell you we must fight and perish together. A man is a fool and coward who thinks otherwise, and who will desert his nation at such a time. Disgrace not yourselves by a surrender to those who will hang you up like dogs; but die, if die you must, with arms in your hands, like warriors and braves of the Dakotas.”

In one of our battles we took some fine-looking bucks prisoners, and the soldiers were for scalping them at once, but we had a little “pow-wow” with them, and found them intelligent and well educated; they were students home on a vacation from Bishop Whipple’s school at Faribault, Minnesota, and said they were forced, much against their will, to go on the warpath; that they had not fired a bullet at the whites; that they fired blank cartridges because they felt friendly to the whites, and had no desire to kill them. There were three of them; we told them they could take their choice—be shot or enlist; they chose the latter, and went South with us, staying until the close of the Rebellion, and they displayed the courage of the born soldier.

Brevet Major General H. H. Sibley,Commander in the field in 1862 and 1863 against the Sioux Indians.

CHAPTER XV.

GOV. SIBLEY APPOINTED COMMANDER.

While these scenes which I have related were being enacted in the upper country excitement ran high at St. Paul, and for a time the great struggle then going on in the South was forgotten. The news of the outbreak soon reached St. Paul, and couriers, with horses covered with foam, kept coming in one after another, until the officers at Fort Snelling were ordered by Governor Ramsey to be in readiness with their men to move at a moment’s notice, and we did not have long to wait.

The Sixth Minnesota, of which I was a member, had just organized, and was assigned to Hancock corps, Army of the Potomac, but the events transpiring in the Indian country made it necessary for all available troops to go there. When I say that the whole country was seething with excitement it is no exaggeration. The towns, big and little, were filled with frightened refugees; the rumors that came in were of the most frightful nature, and the whole state was clamorous for protection.

Governor Ramsey, in his desire to protect the panic-stricken people and liberate the captives, cast about for a suitable commander for this important work. Of all the men in and about St. Paul who seemed eminently qualified for this position, Governor Henry H. Sibley, who at thattime was living in quietude in his home in Mendota, just across the river from the fort, was his choice.

Governor Henry Hastings Sibley, the hero of these Indian campaigns, was born in the city of Detroit February 20, 1811. His sire was Chief Justice Solomon Sibley, of Detroit, and his mother was Sarah Whipple Sproat, whose father, Colonel Ebenezer Sproat, was an accomplished officer of the Continental army, and the granddaughter of Commodore Abraham Whipple, an illustrious commander in the Continental navy. He came from a long line of illustrious ancestry on both sides, of good Puritan stock, and dating his lineage back to the Sibleys of William the Conqueror of England in the fifteenth century.

He was not a fighter; his heart was too tender for that, but he felt the weighty responsibility he had assumed when he consented to lead the soldiers and save the lives of the captives. For delaying he was denounced on all hands. The press denounced him for not falling immediately upon the Indians; but he knew the enemy better than his censors. If he had heeded the behests of the clamorous people not a captive would have been spared; but to-day hundreds live to bless him for his cautious, conservative movements. Until his death, which occurred but a few months since, he lived in his beautiful home in St. Paul; and, although a half century of winters in the far Northwest had whitened his head, and a great deal more than a half century of time had made his limbs tremble, neither time nor frost had sapped the citadel of his mind. He was a member of Aker Post, No. 21, Department of Minnesota, and the comrades, in deference to his declining years, went in a body to his beautiful home where he was mustered in. He lived in peace and plenty, surrounded by his family andfriends, who esteemed him for his worth. He passed away respected and regretted by a host of friends throughout the land, who knew him as a citizen and a soldier. I knew him personally and intimately since 1857; and in his death, with others great in our nation’s history, we are reminded that in war the bullet is no respecter of rank; the commander and the soldier fall together.

Governor Sibley was commissioned by Governor Ramsey as Colonel of Volunteers, and assigned to the command of the expedition. He was selected because he had spent many years of his life among the Indians as a trader, he spoke their language, he knew them personally, and knew their characteristics. He was a man of large experience, education and ability, and possessed, withal, a cool head. He knew the Indians, and they knew him and respected him. He consented to lead the forces against the Indians when appealed to by Governor Ramsey, upon conditions that he should not be interfered with by His Excellency, or any one else, and that he should have adequate supplies of men, stores and transportation. Colonel Sibley, afterwards Brigadier and Brevet Major-General of Volunteers, with his staff and Companies A, B, and E, of the Sixth Minnesota Infantry, embarked on a small steamer then at anchor near the fort, and steamed up the Minnesota river to Shakopee, distant about forty miles by water. We started in a furious rain, and after a slow trip up the narrow and winding Minnesota, arrived at Shakopee, where we found the frightened citizens ready to receive us with open arms, although all the firearms we had were worthless and condemned Austrian rifles, without ammunition to fit them. All serviceable material of war had been shipped to the South. Our first guard duty was on picket in thesuburbs of Shakopee, and our instructions were to press all teams into the service. We felt the gravity of the situation, and obeyed orders to the letter as nearly as we, raw recruits, could. While here the news was spread that Indians were in the vicinity, and the women and children began to flock to the vicinity of the soldiers; the alarm was without foundation. As we were stationed on the various roads leading to and from the town, the citizens who had been so badly scared seemed to feel comparatively safe. The news from the upper country, however, was discouraging, and appeals for protection very urgent. We could not move at once from lack of transportation, and had no adequate supplies, either of food, arms or ammunition, for we had been so hurriedly dispatched from Fort Snelling that only about half of one company had been supplied with even the worthless muskets spoken of, and the whole command with but two days’ rations. It was necessary, however, to make some quick demonstration to appease the panic-stricken people. After a delay of one day, by various routes by land and water, the regiment concentrated at St. Peter, under command of Colonel William Crooks, where it was inspected and remained four or five days, awaiting the receipt of suitable arms and ammunition and also reinforcements.

Our guns were so absolutely worthless that it was necessary to delay a little, as the Indians, in large numbers, were then besieging Fort Ridgely, and were well armed with Springfield rifles, while our own arms were condemned Austrian muskets.

We embarked on a boat at Shakopee and sailed up to Carver, forty miles above, and there pressed in teams to carry us through what was known as the “Big Woods.”It had been raining for days, and the town of Carver was literally packed with refugees. There was not an empty building in it, even the warehouses were filled, and the muddy streets were a sight to behold. The mud was ankle deep, and you may imagine in what condition everything was. I cannot describe it.

The frightened people, who had flocked in from all the country round, told most woeful tales of Indian atrocities. In some cases they were overdrawn, but later on we saw evidences enough to warrant them fleeing to a place of safety. There was no safety, however, in coming to these small towns, for they were without protection.

After loading up the teams, we started through the “Big Woods,” and the roads were in such a horrible condition that we made but slow progress. However, we had to make Glencoe, twenty-five miles distant, before night or camp down in the woods in the mud. It became pitchy dark, but we kept on the move, and in time got through the woods and could see the lights of Glencoe afar off. This was only a small place, but the twinkling lights from the houses were a pleasant sight, and when we arrived there the people were glad to see us. We remained over night, and the next day started for St. Peter. We could see evidences of Indian devastation in every direction, among which were the burning buildings and grain stacks on the beautiful neighboring farms.

On the route to St. Peter, which we reached early in the evening, we discovered a few dead settlers, and took some families along with us. Upon our arrival we went into camp with the rest of the command, and were soon placed under strict military discipline, and in a brief time ourcommander, Colonel William Crooks, a West Pointer, brought order out of chaos.

Of the preparation and forward march to relieve Fort Ridgely I will reserve for another chapter.

CHAPTER XVI.

MARCH TO FORT RIDGELY.

In the interval the companies were drilled and the command otherwise prepared to act effectively against the formidable body of hostile warriors, who were well armed and plentifully supplied with powder and ball. Colonel Sibley, having looked the ground over with a critical eye, uninfluenced by the public clamor and fault-finding of the press, remained firm in the determination not to take the field until assured of success in his operations. He knew the Indians well, and knew it was necessary to fight or failure, there would be no adequate barrier to the descent of the savages upon St. Paul and Minneapolis, and the desolation of the state generally. The Chippewas on the north were known to be in secret communication with Little Crow, the head of the Sioux hordes, and ready to them cautiously if he would succeed, for, in case of defeat co-operate with him if victorious, while the Winnebagoes were also in active sympathy with him, for two or three of their warriors were found among the dead after the battle of Wood Lake, which occurred later on. Arms, ammunition and supplies arriving, we took up the line of march for Fort Ridgely, which was then in a state of siege. Our advent at the Fort was hailed with delight, for the littlegarrison was pretty well tired out with the fighting and watching that they had had on their hands for the eight days previous. Barricades had been erected at all weak points, but the Indians so far outnumbered the soldiers that they approached near enough to fire the wooden buildings of the fort proper in many places.

Our march to Fort Ridgely was the first we had made as an entire organization, and under an able commanding officer we profited by it. On the way we found the dead body of a colored man from St. Paul by the name of Taylor. He was a barber by trade, but also quite a noted gambler, and had been up to the agency to get his share of the money when the Indians got their pay.

He played one game too many, and lost—his life.

Before we reached the Fort the Indians took alarm and sullenly retreated upon our approach, after having done all possible damage to men and property. As we entered, the brave little garrison accompanied by the women and children turned out to greet us, and a right joyous time we had. A detachment of thirty men of the Fifth Minnesota, under Captain Marsh, the commander of the fort, upon receipt of news of the outbreak, had marched in the direction of the Lower Sioux Agency, distant a few miles. The Indians, perceiving the advance of this small detachment, placed themselves in ambush in the long grass at the crossing of the Minnesota River and awaited the oncoming of their unsuspecting victims, and, when in the toils, they opened a terrific fire upon them, which destroyed almost the entire party.

Colonel Sibley hurried forward supplies and ammunition for an extensive campaign, for, from his knowledge of the Indians, he knew it was no boy’s play. The moving spiritamong the hostiles was Little Crow, a wily old chief, without principle, but active and influential. He had harangued his people into the belief that the fight going on among the whites in the South had drawn off all the able-bodied men, leaving none but old men, women and children. “Now,” he said, “is the time to strike for Minnesota. These fertile fields, stolen from us, are ours; the buffalo are gone; we have no food, and our women and children are starving. Let the warriors assemble in war paint and drive the pale-faces from the face of the earth!” He told his people they could pitch their wigwams the coming winter in St. Paul and hold high carnival in the legislative halls. So widespread had the alarm became that it reached St. Paul and Minneapolis, and “minute men” were on duty on the bluffs adjacent for several days. In addition to the Sioux, the Chippewas and Winnebagoes were becoming very restless, and this caused additional uneasiness in the two cities.

Colonel Sibley, upon his arrival of the fort, sent out scouts to ascertain the whereabouts of the Indians. The news they brought was that a large camp of hostiles was located above the Yellow Medicine, where they held as captives about four hundred white women and children, and one white man. They also reported that the Indians were preparing to make a raid on the small towns below the fort.

It was also known that a large number of citizens who had been killed near the agency were yet unburied, and the fate of Captain Marsh and his men was in doubt. To this end a small command was organized, as narrated in another chapter, to go out to bury the dead and relieve Captain Marsh and his men if they were found alive.

CHAPTER XVII.

BURIAL OF CAPT. MARSH AND MEN.

Company “A,” of the Sixth Minnesota, together with two men each from the other companies, were detailed to accompany a burial party, with instructions to properly bury all bodies found, and, if possible, ascertain the fate of Captain Marsh and his thirty men, who had gone out to intercept the Indians at the Redwood Crossing. In addition to this detail we had a small detachment of citizen cavalry, under Captain Joe Anderson, to act as scouts.

Our little command numbered, all told, 153—infantry, cavalry and teamsters—and ninety-six horses, including twenty teams taken along to carry camp and garrison equipage, rations and ammunition, and to transport our wounded, either soldiers or citizens. The expedition was under the immediate command of Captain H. P. Grant, of Company A. Major Joseph R. Brown, better known as “Old Joe Brown,” was in charge of the scouts. He had a cool head, but no fighting qualities; had been an Indian trader for many years, raised an Indian family, and knew a great deal about Indian signs and customs. In this particular case, however, the Indians fooled Joe. The first day out we found and buried about fifty citizens, and at night went into camp in the river bottom near Redwood Crossing. The night was dark and dismal, and particularly sad to us who had been gathering up the dead all day long. The instructions to the guard by Captain Anderson were of a very solemn nature, in view of the surroundings and the probable fighting ahead. This, together with the stillness of the night and the impression that a lurking foe was near, made the boys feel rather uncomfortable.

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