First rode out Captain William Wells, hero-martyr, marching, probably consciously, to a doom self-inflicted under the impulse of human sympathy and soldierly honor. Following him were half of his mounted escort of Miami Indians, followed in their turn by the volunteers and such of the regulars as were able to bear arms. Next came the short train of wagons, with stores, supplies, camp-equippage, women, children, sick, wounded and disabled. This little caravan contained all there was to show for eight years of industry and privation. But what mattered it? Greater savings would only have meant greater loss, and more men, women and children would only have meant more suffering and death. The rear-guard was composed of the remainder of Captain Wells's wretched Miamis, such reliance as is a broken reed. The Miamis were mounted, as were Captain Wells, Mr. Kinzie, Mrs. Heald and Mrs. Helm, but probably no others of the party. The day continued bright and sunny, and the line must have stretched from the fort (about the south end of Rush Street bridge) perhaps to the present Madison Street, half way to the point where began the sand-dunes or low hills which, even within the memory of the present generation, skirted the shores down as far as the beginning of the oak woods of Hyde Park. The bateau followed in the rear of the column and had just reached the mouth of the river (where the foot of Madison street now is[D]) when a messenger from To-pe-nee-be brought the Kinzie party to a halt. [D] The river then made a turn southward just east of the fort, and only found an entrance to the lake across the south end of a long sand-bar, the continuation of the shore of the North Side. The column had marched parallel with the Pottowatomie "escort" until both bodies reached the sand-hills. Then the whites kept by the shore-road, while the Indians, veering slightly to their right, put the sand-hills between their crowd and the slim, weak line of troops and wagons. The reports of the fight itself, given by the two witnesses on whom we must rely, do not differ materially from each other. Mrs. Helm's narrative naturally treats more fully of the Kinzie family's experiences; Mrs. Heald's more fully of her own adventures and the death of her uncle. Neither woman mentions the other; they were probably separated early. I will give the stories in turn, beginning with Mrs. Helm's. [Illustration: CHICAGO, IN 1812.] MARGARET HELM'S STORY. The boat started, but had scarcely reached the mouth of the river, which, it will be recollected, was here half a mile below the fort, when another messenger from To-pe-nee-be arrived to detain them where they were. In breathless expectation sat the wife and mother. She was a woman of uncommon energy and strength of character, yet her heart died within her as she folded her arms around her helpless infants and gazed on the march of her husband and her eldest child [Mrs. Helm] to certain destruction.