Deep sleep settled upon the camp, but the sentinels maintained a vigilant watch, however, and the night slowly passed without incident. After reveille the next morning we found Captain Marsh and his comrades, but not one of them answered to "roll-call." We found the captain's body and those of a few of his men in the river, and the rest of the bodies in the thicket on the river bank, where they had evidently been hemmed in and fired upon from all sides. Nearly all had been scalped, and were minus guns and ammunition, for these had been confiscated by the redskins. We buried the soldiers side by side, with their captain at their head, and marked the place by a huge cross, so that the bodies might be easily found and removed, which was subsequently done, when they were finally buried in the Soldiers' cemetery at Fort Ridgely. After this last service to our dead comrades, we took up the line of march, leaving the bottom lands for the prairie above, and it was when passing over the bluff that a large body of Indians, who were on their way to capture Saint Peter and Mankato, espied us. What was our subsequent loss was the gain of the two towns mentioned. Our scouts had crossed the river, making a detour to the south, and thus missed making the acquaintance of our enemies, who had their eyes on us. We went into camp the second night near Birch Coolie, and sixteen miles distant from Fort Ridgely, about 5 p. m., well tired out with our day's march. Birch Coolie is a deep gorge running north and south in Redwood county, Minnesota. What was then a bleak prairie is now a beautiful farming community, and Birch Coolie a thriving village. From information gathered by the scouts we felt comparatively safe. [Illustration: "Chickens for Supper."] Old Joe said: "Boys, go to sleep now and rest; you are as safe as you would be in your mother's house; there is not an Indian within fifty miles of you." At that very moment five hundred Indians were in the immediate vicinity watching us and impatient for the ball to open, as they intended it should at the proper time, which, with the Indian, is about four o'clock in the morning. After our supper on chicken stew, song-singing and story-telling, we turned in, well tired out and in a condition to enjoy a good night's sleep and dreams of home. The night was warm, the sky clear, with the stars shining brightly, and a full moon in all her glory. It was a beautiful night--too beautiful to witness the scene that was so soon to follow. The guard had been stationed and cautioned to be on the alert for strange sounds; "tattoo," "roll-call," "taps," sounded, and the little camp was silent. The low hum of voices became less and less as slumber came to the weary soldiers, and all that could be heard was the occasional challenge of the guard: "Halt! who comes there!" as he was being approached by the officer of the guard.