Uncle Tommy only went about half a mile with Merton; being very faint from the loss of blood, he lay down in the grass, and was unable to turn himself over for thirty-six hours. Then, finding himself able to walk, he arose, and went as far as “Dutch Charley’s” that day, at which place we found him on Saturday, the next day. As he was unable to get himself a drink, he was suffering greatly, but the sight of the mail-carrier and myself raised his spirits to such an extent, that he thought he could travel a little. The mail-carrier came in after feeding his horse, brought in some hay, which he put in a corner, and advised me to lie down upon it and rest. He found a cheese in the chamber, which he cut and fed us upon. After resting some time, I went to the garden, and pulled a few turnips; taking them and a part of the cheese for food, we started once more. At first, Uncle Tommy could not walk very well, but, after going a mile or two, he could walk as fast as the horse. After going about eight miles, we went about half a mile away from the road, to camp for the night; ate a part of our turnips and cheese, and lay down on the ground to sleep. The mail-carrier gave me a quilt, that he had with him, and this I shared with Mr. Ireland, who had nothing but his shirt and pants. During the night, a severe storm arose, and it rained for some time; the kind mail-carrier put his oil-cloth blanket over us, reserving but a small portion for himself. As soon as day-light on Sunday morning, we started again. It was very cold, and I should have suffered much, if the mail-carrier had not given me his blanket to ride in, which kept me very comfortable. At about eleven o’clock, we espied some persons ahead of us, and the mail-carrier, thinking they might be Indians, turned from the road, followed along a ravine, for some distance, till he thought he could come up with them. He then cautiously crept to the top of the hill, and looked over, upon the road. But he could see nothing of them; they were out of sight. He returned and said he would go back to Sioux Falls, if I would. I told him, if he thought he would be any safer to return, to do so, by all means: but that I would rather he would leave me to go onward, to New Ulm, which I supposed must be a place of safety. He said he would go there with me. I urged him not to run any risks for my sake, for we might all get killed if we went on, but he would not leave me behind, alone. We then all started on again, with the mail-carrier some distance in advance. As we neared the place where we had seen the supposed Indians, he took a circuitous route, telling me to wait until he could go to the top of a hill, and look out for them. After looking in every direction, he motioned to me to go on, and soon rejoined me. But when we had traveled about a mile further, on ascending an eminence, I saw at a long distance the objects that had alarmed us, which appeared to be a woman and two children. When we