Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1879-08-21
THE HERALD.
TWO NIGHTS IN A WieWAM.

(.
surrounded the house, and amuse
them while she endeavored to rest.
We had been playing some time
und. shadow of the forest trees,
that still encroached upon our small
domain, when saw one of the neigh
boring women, accompanied by her
two children hurrying with frantic
haste along the road. Something in
their air and aspect impressed me
powerfully, and / was drawn toward
them with magnetic force that was
quite irresistible. Carrying my baby
brother in my arms, and leading my
little sister, | FASTENED down the
path to meet them. The frat words
that saluted my frightened ears
were:
'rhe Indians are coming They
have landed on Sixtown Point, and
are burning, and scalpine, and butch
ering everything in their way
British Indians p was all that my
faltering lips could frame by way of
question, and that being answered in
the affirmative, / gave one howl of
terror, and bursting into my mothers
room woke her from a sweet dream
Of peace with my fearful tidings.
In an instant all was panic and
confusion. My mothers pale face
blanched whittier with terror, and
though she said little, could see
that she was fearfully shaken at the
sound of a light, stealthy footstep be.
yond the closed door. 1t opened, and
the form of an Indian for a moment
darkened the threshold then I'D
vancing and answering my mothers
look OF terror with smile, we saw
that he was a friend-old Sam, whose
squaw my mother had visited and
nursed during an illness two winters
before, and who had since then been
profuse in presents of fish and game,
and curious basket.w thus evinc.
ing the warmest gratitude for her
kindness.
Young squaw look pale this morn.
in, old Sam commenced. Heard
news, ch? Plenty Injun down on
Point. kill, scalp, burn. Young
squaw and little chilluns hide. Go
with Sam. Sam hide 'em, eh? In.
juns most here And snstching up
my little sister, Sam led the way
from the house, and my mother was
forced TO follow. All the answer to
her entreaties was 'Iniuns most here,
and fear quickened our steps, as, fol.
lowing our guide, we plunged into
the forest, obeying his warning ges
ture, and observing the strictest 81
lence.
Along the valley of the stream, and
crouching between the alders and
willows that frnged its banks, for a
mile or two we went; then turning
into the forest and surrounding q
hill, we descended the other side
about half way, where near a brb
bling spring of pure water, and com.
pletely sheltered by the untouched
wilderness, Sans bark wigwam was
concealed. Our rapid walk of three
or four miles, and the la:eness OF the
hour-for the day was now waning
made even this shelter delightful
Sans squaw, and dusky brood OF
children received US with smiles and
plenty OF broken phrases of welcome,
and such means of repose and re-
freshment as the wigwam afforded
were speedily put at our service.
| shall never forget the terror of
that night. My mother lay upon a
couch of skins in corner OF the wig
wan, and we all clustered about her
as closely as possible. Hidden as we
were, the hillside overlooked the val
ley where cultivated fields and rude
but comfortable houses dotted the
landscape And more than once
during that awful night the lurid
light of these burning dwellings lit
mp with an awful glare the forest
around us. The firing of guns, the
awful whoop of the savages. and ev
en- an occasional hoarse word of
command reached us. Our only
comfort was in the thought that we
were probably safe, and that most
Of the families who had occupied
these ruined homesteads were doubt.
lessly sheltered in the village under
the protection of the militia.
At daylight the American troops
came up. There was smart skirm.
ish in the valley, and the British kept
up brisk fire as they retreated, with
considerable loss, to their boats
Some of these had been surprised
and captured by the militia, and the
consequence was that many of the
troops being unable to escape, fell
prisoners into the hands OF the
Americans.
This occupied nearly the entire
day. We that watched and waited
knew not how the battle went, until
Just as the shodows were falling dim
through the forest, Sam, who had
stolen ont TO reconnoiter, returned
He had seen the British putting off
for their vessel, which lay at about
two miles distance. Under cover Of
her fire, some of her boats returned
toward the shore in the hope of car.
rying off the prisoners, but were
beaten back by the Americans, and
only succeeded in picking mp few
Indians who escaped and SWAN off to
them. The Americans then retreat
ed in good order, and after dark we
saw their camp fires, and knew that
they supped upon the battle ground,
and were then engaged in looking
after the wounded, and preparing TO
bury the dead.
In the morning we were anxious
TO return home, but Sam would not
allow us to depart,
'Mericsn soier most bad as Brit
ish,' he said, senteniously, Pretty
squaw, with face like water lily, not
60 near em;' and my mother, who
would acknowledge no fear of her
own countrymen, though drunk with
blood and triumph, was obliged to
acnuiesce