Returning to the yawl, we find that Andy Stinger, protected behind the gunwale, was steadily pulling the boat into the stream and swimming toward the sandbar as the current drifted him down. When about halfway across he called to the men to get up, while he himself climbed into the yawl, which was then rowed to the bank. The people on the two boats were so absorbed with the battle that no one thought of going to the assistance of the yawl crew. The wounded man and the two who were unharmed got out and walked up the beach. Stinger was thus left alone to drag the yawl and its mournful cargo up alongside the boat. This apparent neglect fired him to a desperate pitch, and he let go some powerful language to the mate and others of the crew. Captain La Barge presently came aft and looked into the yawl. He said not a word, but turned away shaking his head in a manner that showed plainly enough what was passing in his mind. [Sidenote: HERO OF THE TOBACCO GARDEN.] Such was the celebrated “affair at the Tobacco Garden.” After the return to St. Louis Captain La Barge was talking to a friend about it when Andy Stinger happened to pass by. He said, loud enough for Andy to hear: “There goes the hero of the Tobacco Garden.” The brave steersman treasured up these words as his proudest title during the rest of his life. Long years passed away before Captain La Barge heard from him again. He did not even know whether his old boatman was still alive when, in the fall of 1896, thirty-three years after the massacre, he received a most cordial and affectionate letter from him,[58] and two years later had the pleasure of meeting him again. [Sidenote: LA BARGE’S CRITICISM.] Commenting upon the affair at the Tobacco Garden, Captain La Barge said: “This event was one which could not have happened under ordinary circumstances. Master of both boat and cargo, I should never have permitted the yawl to go ashore. I was under orders of the agent in everything except the mere handling of the boat, and was bound to give him such opportunities to meet the Indians as he desired. I had gone to the extreme of my freedom of action when I refused to order a crew to go ashore for him, but could not well decline to let men volunteer. It was a lamentable affair, and one of the many crimes which must ever lie at the door of the Department of Indian Affairs in Washington. Here was an agent who gave every evidence of being corrupt and in collusion with the Fur Company, for he retained about a third of the annuities due the Indians and stored them in the Company’s warehouse, from which they never reached the Indians except in exchange for robes, as in the case of private merchandise. Moreover, the agent was utterly ignorant of Indian character, full of the self-assurance which goes with ignorance, and not knowing himself what to do became the passive tool of the crafty and trained agents of the company.”[59] [Sidenote: CHARLES LARPENTEUR.]