"The women were sobbing, in the greatest anguish of spirit; the children were crying loudly with fear and grief at the loss of fathers and brothers; the dogs howled over their dead masters and the cattle were terrified with the scent of the blood of the murdered. "Yet was I there, all that long, dreadful night, with my dead and my wounded, and none but God as our physician and help. "Oh my Heavenly Father, I cried, what shall I do? Thou seest my poor wounded boy and knowest my inexperience. Oh Heavenly Father direct me what to do! "And then I was directed as by a voice speaking to me. "The ashes of our fire was still smouldering. We had been burning the bark of the shag-bark hickory. I was directed to take those ashes and make a lye and put a cloth saturated with it right into the wound. It hurt, but little Alma was too near dead to heed it much. Again and again I saturated the cloth and put it into the hole from which the hip-joint had been ploughed, and each time mashed flesh and splinters of bone came away with the cloth; and the wound became as white as chicken's flesh. "Having done as directed I again prayed to the Lord and was again instructed as distinctly as though a physician had been standing by speaking to me. "Near by was a slippery-elm tree. From this I was told to make a slippery-elm poultice and fill the wound with it. "My eldest boy was sent to get the slippery-elm from the roots, the poultice was made, and the wound, which took fully a quarter of a yard of linen to cover, so large was it, was properly dressed. "It was then I found vent to my feelings in tears, and resigned myself to the anguish of the hour. And all that night we, a few poor, stricken women, were thus left there with our dead and wounded. All through the night we heard the groans of the dying. Once in the dark we crawled over the heap of dead in the blacksmith's shop to try to help or soothe the sufferers' wants; once we followed the cries of a wounded brother who hid in some bushes from the murderers, and relieved him all we could. "It has passed from my memory whether he was dead in the morning or whether he recovered. "Next morning brother Joseph Young came to the scene of the massacre. "'What shall be done with the dead?' he inquired, in horror and deep trouble. "There was not time to bury them, for the mob was coming on us. Neither were there left men to dig the graves. All the men excepting the two or three who had so narrowly escaped were dead or wounded. It had been no battle, but a massacre indeed. "'Do anything, Brother Joseph,' I said, 'rather than leave their bodies to the fiends who have killed them.' "There was a deep dry weir close by. Into this the bodies had to be hurried, eighteen or nineteen in number.