My babe's weight was now just eight pounds, and he was a little past seven months old. I found my twelve-year-old son here safe and well. Our family was now all together, except our oldest son, whose life was taken to satisfy the revenge of the Sioux warrior. My mind was now at rest, at least as to the whereabouts of my family, and we could begin to plan as to what we should do. We were among strangers and had but very little money. Our horses, cattle, sheep, farming implements, household furniture, etc., to the value of nearly three thousand dollars, had been all taken or destroyed by the Indians.

One afternoon, while my husband and I were conferring together about what was best for us to do, we were agreeably surprised by meeting an old neighbor just from our Wisconsin home, who had volunteered to carry financial aid to us, which had been donated by the neighbors. This aid was gratefully received and was a surprise to us. We now could buy some necessary articles of clothing and pay our fare back to Wisconsin.

After remaining in St. Peter about two weeks, we took a steamboat for St. Paul. While there, at the Merchants' Hotel, a gentleman (a stranger to us) called to talk with Mrs. Earle and myself about our captivity. After a short conversation, he excused himself for a few minutes, and on his return gave each of us fifteen dollars. The landlady was very kind to us, and gave me many useful articles of clothing, which, as we were very destitute, were more than acceptable. We remained in St. Paul three or four days, waiting for a boat to take us to La Crosse. There were no charges made against us for the hotel bill.

It was near the middle of November when we took the boat for La Crosse, where we arrived at noon. Here we went aboard the cars for our old home in Columbia county, Wisconsin. On our arrival at the depot at Pardeeville, the platform was thronged with relatives and friends to greet us, as restored to them from a worse fate than death.

We remained there until the following March, when we returned to Rochester, Minnesota. The Indians having been

subdued and peace restored, we ventured back in the fall of 1865 to our Renville county home, from which we were so suddenly driven by the Indians, and we have ever since continued to live in this county.

The day of retributive justice came to some of the bloodthirsty savages. Little Crow, while on a horse-stealing expedition on the frontier, accompanied by his son and other Indians, was shot and killed by a Mr. Lampson, on July 3d, 1863, six miles north of Hutchinson. A military commission was established at Camp Release, in which over three hundred murderous Indians were recommended to be hanged; but the final decision of President Lincoln was that only thirty-eight of them should be executed. The day of execution was ordered to be Friday, the 26th day of December, 1862, at Mankato.

The gallows was built in the shape of a rectangle. Ten Indians were on each of two sides, and nine on each of the other two sides. The trap for the whole was sprung at the same instant, and thirty-eight bloody Indian villains were dangling at the ends of as many ropes. The trap was sprung by William J. Duly of Lake Shetek, Murray county, who had three children killed and his wife and two children captured, they being at that time in the possession of Little Crow on the Missouri river.

NARRATION OF A FRIENDLY SIOUX.*

BY SNANA, THE RESCUER OF MARY SCHWANDT.

As I was asked to write my experience of the outbreak of 1862, I must begin from my earliest days of my life as much as I can remember.

As

My mother's aunt was married to a white man, and her name was Gray Cloud; so her daughters were half-breeds. I was related to those folks, I lived with one and another from time to time. These two daughters' names are Mary Brown and Jennie Robertson. At the time I lived with Mary Brown, there was a schoolhouse near, in which I was a day scholar for two years. There were three other Indian girls besides myself. When these two years of my schooling had expired, I began to board with the family of Dr. Thomas S. Williamson, where the schoolhouse was located. We were taught by Dr. Williamson's sister, whose name was Jane Williamson.

Before we boarded at Dr. Williamson's, it was very difficult for us to go to school at this special period of time, for the Indians said that we would spend money for doing this; and they tried to discourage us by scolding, and pretended to pun

The following notes, contributed by Mr. Robert I. Holcombe, of St. Paul, in explanation of some parts of this narration, may be helpful to the reader. With a few slight changes, the story is here given as Snana wrote it.

Mahkpia-hoto-win, in translation Gray Cloud, was a noted Sioux woman of early times who lived on the well known island of the Mississippi below St. Paul, which still bears her English name. She was first married to a white trader named Anderson, by whom she had two children, Angus and Jennie. The latter became the wife of Andrew Robertson, who became prominent in Indian affairs in Minnesota.

After Anderson's death, which occurred in Canada, Gray Cloud was married to Hazen P. Mooer, another white trader, who was a Massachusetts man by birth. By the latter marriage she had two children, Mary and Jane Ann, of whom the latter died unmarried. Mary was married to John Brown, a brother of Major Joseph R. Brown, and is still living at Inver Grove, near St. Paul.

Snana (pronounced Snah-nah) was born at Mendota in 1839. Her name means tinkling. Her mother was Wamnuka, which means a small ovate bead, called by the traders a barleycorn. She was a member of the Kaposia band of Sioux, whose village was on the west side of the Mississippi about four miles below St. Paul.

Dr. Williamson established a mission school at Kaposia in November 1846. Snana entered this school when she was about ten years old, and continued as a pupil there during three years.

She was married to Wakeah Washta (Good Thunder) when she was only fifteen years of age, and soon after accompanied her husband and the other members of the Kaposia band to the reservation on the upper Minnesota