Captain Fisk restrained all hasty demonstrations, and even went so far as to say that the first man who moved in the direction of the Indian camp should be shot immediately, his experience enabling him to know that a move of that kind would result fatally to them and to the captive. The Indians found a box of crackers saturated with water, and, eating of them, sickened and died. I afterward learned that some persons with the train who had suffered the loss of dear relatives and friends in the massacre of Minnesota, and who had lost their all, had poisoned the crackers with strychnine, and left them on one of their camping-grounds without the captain’s knowledge. The Indians told me afterward that more had died from eating bad bread than from bullets during the whole summer campaign. Captain Fisk deserves great credit for his daring and courage, with his meager supply of men, against so large an army of red men. After assurance of my presence among them, Captain Fisk proceeded to treat quietly with the savages on the subject of a ransom, offering to deliver in their village three wagon loads of stores as a price for their prisoner. To this the deceitful creatures pretended readily to agree, and the tortured captive, understanding their tongue, heard them making fun of the credulity of white soldiers who believed their promises. I had the use of a field-glass from the Indians, and with it I saw my white friends, which almost made me wild with excited hope. Knowing what the Indians had planned, and dreading lest the messengers should be killed, as I knew they would be if they came to the village, I wrote to Captain Fisk of the futility of ransoming me in that way, and warned him of the treachery intended against his messengers.[1] [1] The original letters written by me to Captain Fisk are now on file in the War Department at Washington. Officially certified extracts from the correspondence are published elsewhere in this work. No tongue can tell or pen describe those terrible days, when, seemingly lost to hope and surrounded by drunken Indians, my life was in constant danger. Nights of horrible revelry passed, when, forlorn and despairing, I lay listening, only half consciously, to the savage mirth and wild exultation. To no overtures would the Indians listen, declaring I could not be purchased at any price—they were determined not to part with me. Captain Fisk and his companions were sadly disappointed in not obtaining my release, and, after a hopeless attempt, he made known the fact of my being a prisoner, spreading the news far and wide. His expeditions across the plains had always been successful, and the Indians, knowing him to be very brave, gave him the name of the “Great Chief, who knows no fear,” and he richly deserves the appellation, for the expeditions were attended with great danger. The reports of his various expeditious have been published by Government, and are very interesting, giving a description of the country.