I now found that I was quite lame, and could scarcely walk. Merton carried little Johnny in his arms, and Frank and Giles, two of my other boys, assisted me to walk, by going on each side of me, and letting me rest my weight partially upon them, by placing both hands upon their little shoulders. As I came out of the slough, I saw Uncle Tommy Ireland lying not far from me. He was still alive, but the blood and froth were oozing from the wound made through his lungs, and I did not think he could survive, for another hour. His wife was bending over him, receiving his last words. He bade her and the little ones a last adieu, thinking his end was nigh. The Indians had sent Mrs. Wright to gather up the guns. As she came back, she passed close by him, upon which he begged her to shoot him and put an end to his torment. She told him she would be glad to help him, if it were possible, but she could not kill a friend, even to relieve his sufferings. We came out to where the Indians were, and found that three more had joined them, making six in all. The prisoners seated themselves on the ground, and we now learned how many had been wounded, while in the slough. The men were all wounded, but kept concealed in the slough. Mrs. Smith was shot through the hip, and could scarcely stir. Mrs. Everett was wounded in the neck, and her clothes, on one side, were wet with blood, but her wound had nearly ceased bleeding, and did not pain her much. Mrs. Ireland’s next youngest child was shot through the bowels, and must have been suffering greatly, for her face had turned spotted, and the froth was running out of her mouth. I do not think she could have lived long.