Thrilling incidents of the Indian war of 1862 : $b being a personal narrative of the outrages and horrors witnessed by Mrs. L. Eastlick in MinnesotaEastlick, L. (Lavina)
History
Thrilling incidents of the Indian war of 1862 : $b being a personal narrative of the outrages and horrors witnessed by Mrs. L. Eastlick in Minnesota
Eastlick, L. (Lavina)
Dakota Indians -- Wars -- 1862-1865
While the mail-carrier cared for his horse, we entered the house, and
he told me that Merton had left the scene of the massacre on the same
day, carrying little Johnny, and he thought, perhaps, he had reached
that house before “Dutch Charley’s” family had left, and so gone along
with them. I was filled with hope and joy, to think that, perhaps, two
of my children were spared. He detailed to me the circumstances how
the rest of the men, who were lying there with him wounded, had made
their escape from the slough about the middle of the afternoon of the
same day, after the Indians had left. That Merton then told him that
_he_ was going to leave, too. “Oh! no,” said Uncle Tommy, “you will
starve to death on the prairie; you had better lie down with me, and
both die here together, than to wander over the prairie, and finally
starve.” “No,” bravely replied Merton, “Mother told me to carry Johnny
as long as I live, and I’m going to do it.” Uncle Tommy then, seeing
the child’s determination to go, told him he would go with him as far
as the road. Poor little Frank started to go with them, but was wounded
so badly, and so enfeebled by loss of blood, that he soon fell upon his
knees, and besought his brother, Merton, to wait for him, saying he was
_sick_ and could not keep up, Oh! how the poor boy must have felt, to
see his brother leave him alone in such agony. He had been shot through
the thigh, through the abdomen and through the mouth. I afterwards
learned that he remained two days on the prairie, and was then found by
a band of Indians, who carried him to Mrs. Smith’s house. Here they
remained and doctored him two days; there were worms in his wounds
at the time; and, finding he could neither eat nor drink, but would
probably die, they left him in this situation. But he lived, and after
staying there alone for three weeks, and living on cheese, &c., he was
taken prisoner by a half-breed, named Joe Leaboshie. God only knows
what the poor child suffered, and what he still suffers, for if still
living, he is yet a prisoner.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account