I had gone but a short distance when my attention was arrested by a loud, laborious breathing, in an opposite direction, and I found that it proceeded from Mrs. Everett, who had been shot through the lungs. The noise she made in breathing struck a complete horror over me; it was a rattling, gurgling sound, that made my very flesh crawl. I did not, dared not touch her. I was, all at once, overcome with such a dread or terror, or something of the kind, that I feared her. I called her by name several times, as I stood over her, but she answered not; she was beyond speaking. I hurried along, for I could not bear to witness the suffering of my friend and neighbor. I wandered around on the prairie, calling “Merton,” at intervals, but receiving no answer. Sometimes I fancied I could hear John crying: I would then hurry in the direction it seemed to come from, and call him again and again: then I would seem to hear him another way, and turn my course thither. Often, when forced by fatigue, I rested my bruised and weary frame on the wet ground. As I was going along I saw a light about two feet in length, and one and a half in breadth; it was a pale red light, and seemed to float along just above the grass, at the distance of about forty rods from me. It went entirely around me, some three or four times, or, perhaps more, for I did not count. It first appeared on the right hand side, going around before me: it soon moved very swiftly. I thought at first it might be an Indian, but soon saw that no Indian, or even horse, could move with such rapidity. What it was, or what was the meaning of it, I do not know, but it was very mysterious.