Democratic messenger. [volume] (Snow Hill, Md.) 1869-1973, 1881-06-25


and mother, and was always glad tC
see some of the rather dilapidated anC
not over-clean warriors stop at the house
to get something to eat and to talk with
father.
Irecall one hot day in June, when he
was sitting under the single tree in front
of the house, his chair leaning back, his
feet resting on the seat of another, while
he was looking away off towards the set
ting sun, as though striving to pierce
the blue depths of space, and to catch
just one glimpse of the wonderful world
beyond. I was in the house helping
mother when we heard the peculiar
noises which told us that father had an
aboriginal visitor. We both went to the
door, and passed outside to laugh at
their queer talk.
Sure enough, an Indian was seated in
the other chair, and he and father were
talking with great animation.
The Indian was of a stout build. and
wore a hat like father's-the ordinary
straw one with a broad red band
around it he had on fine black broad
cloth coat, with silk velvet collar, but
his trousers were shabby and his shoes
were pretty well worn. His face was
bright and intelligent, and 1 watched it
very narrowly as he talked and gesticu-
lated in his earnest way with father,
who was equally animated in talking
back to him. Their discussion was of
more than ordinary importance.
The Indian carried rifle and revolver
the latter being carried IN plain sight
at his waist-but never connected the
thought of danger with him as he sat
there in converse with father.
/ describe this Indian rather closely,
because he was no other than the celebra-
ted chief, Little Grow, who was at the
head of the frightful Minnesota massa-
cres, which broke out within the sue
ceediug sixty days, and who even then
was perfecting his plans for one of the
most atrocious series of crimes ever per-
petrated in our history. Little Grow
was thoroughly bad Indian, who would
have accepted food with one hand, while
he drove the knife into the heart of his
friend with the other.
The famous chieftain sIaid till the sun
went down. Then he suddenly sprang
up and walked away at rapid, Looping
walk in the direction of Lac Qui Parle.
Father called good bye to him, but he
did not make a reply, and soon disap-
peared in the woods, through which his
path led.
The sky was cloudy, and looked as if
storm was coming. So, as it was dark
and blustery, we remained within doors
the rest of the time There was no
thunder or lightning, but fine driz-
zling rain began falling, and the dark
ness was intense. 1t was really impos-
sible to see anything at all beyond
the range Of the rays thrown out by the
candle burning on the table near the
window. The evening was well adj
vanced, and father had opened the Bible
with the purpose of reading a chapter
before prayers, as was his rule, when
there came rap upon the door.
1t was so gentle and timid that it
sounded like the pecking of bird, and
we all looked inquiringly in the direc-
ton, uncertain what it meant. The
next moment it was repeated, and then
it kept on in a way which no person
would do who knew anything about
knocking.
at is some bird, scared by the
storm" said father, 'and we may as well
admit ii"
sat much nearer the door than either
of nv parents, and instantly sprang up
and opened it. AS / did so, peered
down in the gloom and rain for the
bird, but spralg back the next moment
with low cry of alarm.
"What's the matter ?" asked father,
hastily laying down his Bible and walk
ing rapidly toward me.
{" 1t isn't bird, it's person" AS /
spoke, little Indian girl, about my own
age, walked into the room, and looking
in each of our faces, asked in the Sioux
tongue whether she could not stay all
night.
had closed the door, and we gathered
around her. She had the prettiest,
daintiest moccasins, though her limbs
were bare from the knee downward. She
wore large shawl about her shoulders
and down almost to her ankles, while
her coarse black hair hung loosely below
her waist. Her face was very pretty,
and her eyes were rs black as coal, and
seemed to flash fire upon whomsoever
she looked. i never beheld more ami
mated countenance.
OF course, her clothing was dripping
with moisture, and her call filed us all
with wonder. She could speak only a
few words of English, so her face lit up
with pleasure when father addressed her
in the Sioux tongue, and straightway a
lively conversation sprang up between
them.
AS near as we could figure out her
meaning, her name was Chit-to, and
father gathered from her that she lived
with her parents at Lac Qui Parle.
There were several families in a spot by
themselves, and they had begun a
carouse that day. That is, they had
supplied themselves plentifully with
water, and were all drinking at a
fearful rate and just the same as if they
were white men.
At such times the Indian is dangerous
and these carousals nearly always end in
crime and murder. Little Chit-to was
terrified almost out of her senses, and
when she saw the knives, tomahawks and
pistols doing their deadly work, she fled
through the storm and darkness, not
caring where she went, but only anxious
to get away from the dreadful scene.
Entering, without any intention on
her part, the path IN the woods, she
followed it until she caught the glimmel
of the light in our window, when she
hastened to it and asked our hospital.