In a short time my brother Frank came into the room. He sat down beside me, saying "I came to find you. John is dead and we don't know what has become of the rest of the family; the Indians are going to kill me and what will become of you, my poor, little sister?" Word was finally passed out not to kill any of the children and we were ordered out of the house, so we went and stood in a corner where the "Indian room" made an ell with the main part of the house; the Indians were very numerous, some of them on horses and most of them armed and painted and they seemed to be waiting for something. Soon out came the immigrant women that had all fled to the Mission house for safety upon the outbreak of the massacre; as they passed us their children went with their mothers, leaving Frank, Eliza Spalding and myself standing there. They were followed by Mr. Rogers and Joe Lewis bearing a settee with the wounded Mrs. Whitman on it, covered up with blankets and Elizabeth close beside it, her arms laden with clothing. When they had gotten out of and a short distance from the house in an open space, Joe Lewis dropped his end of the settee. Mr. Rogers looked up quickly and must have realized what it meant; but he was shot instantly and fell and an Indian tried to ride his horse over him. Elizabeth turned about and ran back into the house. Then an Indian came to Mrs. Whitman and took his whip and beat her over the face and head and then turned the settee over in the mud. She was very weak from loss of blood; my sister Catherine told me and I am convinced that she did not last long after being beaten and thrown face down in the mud, with the blankets and settee on top of her. An Indian came and stood by Frank and another one took up his stand close by and they talked together earnestly; the first one was a friendly one and he seemed to be pleading with the other to spare Frank's life, but finally the ugly one took hold of my brother and said, "You are a bad boy." Then he shoved him a short distance from my side and an Indian shot him in the breast; he fell and did not struggle and I think he died instantly as he made no movement. The Indians all went away then and the women and children that belonged in the immigrant house were gone and Eliza and I were alone. We seemed to be paralyzed and the horrors we had passed through so numbed our thoughts that we did not seem to think that we could go to the other house, as we had been taught not to go where we had not had permission. It was getting quite dark by this time, in the short November day, and we stood close together, when a friendly Indian came; he was the one that had pleaded for Frank's life and he took us by the hands and led us over to Mrs. Sander's door. She took us in and gave us some supper and one of the other families took Eliza in to give her a place to sleep.