Hand County press. (Miller, Dakota [S.D.]) 1882-1893, 1882-06-07

WIG eyes sweep everywhere; ev1aence Is
sought, mayhap to corroborate, Or
blessed thought-maybe to prove the
alarm mistake--a false alarm.
No, no, tits not false See adown the
river road the up-the-river settlers are
hurrying in squads, driving horses and
cattle as best they may, hurrying to the
county seat, where few miles away
they will make stand and resist the
food, the tornado. the Sioux See yon
lurid smoke arising. 'Tis burning homes
there, and there, and there, and yon-
der-one, two, three, four--and the
wheat ricks and the hay. The cattle are
believing, the flames mount higher and
higher-the Indians ! they come they
come
ID. and his family Join the fleeing
neighbors and unite at the county seat.
A stockade is here hastily constructed,
and by brave fighting the marauders are
kept at bay. The fight is not part of
cur story. 1t was like all Indian fights,
series of attempts TO insnare, delude,
and finally to capture by siege. Our
settlers saved their lives and the lives of
their families. This was all.
THE DESERT
For miles and niles the hand of in
dustry had impaired its magic touch to
the sleeping soil along the Crow, and it
had bloomed fruitfully. The timber of
the forest had fashioned into houses,
stables and waiting piles of fuel. Flow
ers and climbing vines fruit trees and
hopes big with promise OF future reward
had been fostered and gave evidence of
successive annual reward, rs the years
should come and the years should go.
Such was the Grow river country the
day when the noble red man came down
for visit. He came with a whoop and
a yell--a torch and musket. To every
structure which would burn, he applied
the torch--houses, stables, stacks and
wood piles. Every living creature
human CT brute--he appropriated and
hurried away. il they could not travel
death ended their probation. The sun
which rose so peacefully that morn,
went down upon scene OF awful, wan
ton, savage waste and butcbery. The
evening sky for miles around was Lit
with blazing homes, stacks and sur
roundines. In the morning Of the NOR
row the eye looked ont upon waste.
Not house remained. Every home
destroyed--the crop, the labor and in
dustry Of the year swept away by the
torch Of the savage incendiary.
THE CHARREp GATE POST.
There is an eloquence about single oh.
jects which group does not possess. A
single lone tree--a single chain link--a
lone, single bird, and SO on. In the tor
nado's track we have seen ere now
single broken, leahess trunk left upright,
where all else were PROSTATE OF tue
broad, heavy woodland. What an elo.
quence in that broken, upright form.
What fury had IT resisted. Shorn OF
its life-its branches--it stood through
coming years n mute but eloquent wit
ness, testifying of the power Of the
storm.
Fifteen yenrs after the awful events
mentioned above, we passed the spot
chosen by D., in 1857, for home.
One only silent witness remained to prove
that the home work had ever been
undertaken there silent, charred gate
post. There II stood, where twenty
years ago il was planted. TIE children
had passed it happily, peacefully
neighbors had gone in and out to that
home for Ave busy, Heeting years. Mr..
and Mrs. ID. had leaned upon it as
they looked out over their possessions,
and hope lit up their eyes with promise
of big reward in store. That gate-post
was an evidence of home care--of saving
during the season of over.production
against the season of non-production.
IL was a bar to certain unbelievable
events. II protected the kitchen garden
the field crops--the home beyond. 1t
was an efficient factor in the farmer.
settlers home. There it stood, speech
less, but eloquent The charrcd re-
mains told Of fire. The fence had gone
down in the general holocaust with the
buildings aud the homa There had
been no home there siace. The fire
upon the hearth had never been re-
newed. Mrs. ID. could never bring
her woman's heart to trust her little ones
where the red demons had come and
wrought such devastation.
OF all those years Of labor-creating,
civilizing, home-making labor-when
we stood there, naught remained but
this gate-post. 1t testified of the hopes
that had been, of the fear, the bitter dis
appointment that then was. We looked
| up,n it, saw the fiend-lit fire which
snuffed out the home, saw the burning
dwellings up the river, saw the home
makers fleeing for their lives, saw the
happy Corning home Of years agone,
saw and cursed in our heart OF hearts
the red demons who wrought the des-
truction.
An Indian makes no home plants, no
oats- no SITS. indulges in no home-making