He and his father, who was one of the head chiefs, were out on a visit to the Yanktonians, and, learning that they were soon to have a fight with the soldiers, his curiosity prompted him to go as an observer. His curiosity was satisfied, and he retired with the balance, but had stopped in a clump of grass to allow his pony to graze. While here he had fallen asleep, and the pony was the object that first attracted the attention of the scouts, which resulted in the Indian's capture, as above narrated. He was a prisoner with us for five days, during which time he was treated with some consideration as the heir apparent to the chieftainship of his tribe. He was about twenty years old; a fine looking fellow, tall and athletic. He became strongly attached to the General and the staff. General Sibley afterwards learned of this Indian's death. He had given the boy, on his departure, a letter to his father, commending him for refusing to take up the tomahawk against the whites, and in appreciation of this, that he had kept the son for a few days in his camp and then gave him his liberty, so that he might return to his own people. It was good policy, because the letter, being found in his possession, indicated to the Indians that General Sibley was not responsible for his death. A few days after his departure, a party of miners, who had been up in Idaho, were coming down the Missouri river, and at the very place where our men had reached the river and filled their canteens the Indians were lying in wait for the descending miners. The young Teton desired peace, and rushed toward them waving General Sibley's letter over his head. They, not understanding his signal, shot him to death, when they were at once surrounded by the exasperated Indians, and a battle, short and decisive, was fought, and every man of the miners was killed, but not before twice their number of Indians had shared the same fate. This was another sad chapter of this unholy war. The Indians now approached the river, but, owing to the thick underbrush, were obliged to abandon all their carts,--their ponies they took with them, but their winter's supply of meat they abandoned. Our skirmish line was formed at three paces, but even then it was impossible to observe a line, so thick were the weeds and underbrush. The enemy was sighted, and an advance ordered, when the line moved forward, and after an hour of hard work, we, like De Soto, when he discovered the Mississippi, gazed in admiration on its prototype,--the Missouri. After having for weeks drank the brackish water of the prairie lakes, we drank from this sweet though turbid stream, and were refreshed, as were the children of Israel, who partook of the cool water from the stricken rock.