On Monday, the 29th of November, 1647, shortly after noon, while Dr. Whitman was sitting in his house, two Indians came in and asked for some medicine, which was given them. While the Doctor was explaining to one of them something about the use of it, the other stealthily slipped up behind him, drew his tomahawk out from under his blanket, and struck him a blow on the top of the head which stunned him. A second blow and he fell to the floor insensible. This was the signal for a general attack. The screams of the women and children, the rapid discharge of firearms, and the yells of the savages made pandemonium let loose. During this affray little Eliza was almost the only one who understood the Indian language, and her terror was increased by knowing what they were saying. At one time, when she heard the order to shoot all the children, she turned her back so she could not see it done, and leaning over the sink, put her hands over her face and listened in terror. But better counsels prevailed and they were saved. During that and the few following days thirteen men and one woman, Mrs. Whitman, lost their lives, a few escaped, and more than fifty women and children were taken prisoners. Two days later Mr. Spalding started back from the Umatilla, knowing nothing of what had occurred. The same day a party of three, a Catholic priest, a half-breed and an Indian, left Walla Walla to go to the Umatilla. The latter went for the purpose of killing Mr. Spalding. Eliza heard of this, and having learned in some way that the half-breed was friendly, managed to have a little private conversation with him, and implored him to do what he could to protect her father. This he promised to do. They met on the road; but a short time before meeting the Indian had discharged his gun at some game, and stopped to load, and was otherwise engaged, so that he did not see Mr. Spalding. When he overtook his companions nothing was said about having met Mr. Spalding for some time, so that he had quite a start to get away. In the meantime they had given Mr. Spalding the warning, and he had hid in the brush, and although the Indian and his party passed close to him, they did not discover that he was there. He hid there till it was dark, and then traveling by night, and hiding by day, made his way toward his home, but by a very circuitous route. He was near a week on the way. In the meantime he lost his horse, his shoes gave out, he had but little food, and crazed with grief for the fate of his comrades, tortured with fear for the fate of his daughter, and terribly anxious about what should befall his wife and three small children whom he had left at home, he staggered along until he reached an Indian village in his own neighborhood. Uncertain whether they were friends or foes he listened intently, when he heard them singing. Creeping slowly along, he discovered that they were singing the songs that he and his wife had taught them. A wave of relief swept over him.