On Monday morning of the ninth day, that we had staid at Mr. Brown’s, very early, Mrs. Hurd cooked two young chickens, and Uncle Tommy, taking them for his provisions, started for New Ulm, telling us to be of good cheer, for, if he had no bad luck, he would reach the town sometime that night, and by Tuesday night, we might look for some one after us. I could not keep from shedding tears, as he left us, for now I seemed more lonely than ever, and I hardly dared to hope that he would succeed in bringing us succor. I still thought that it would ultimately be my lot to be murdered by the savages, and my constant prayer was, that God would give me strength to die like a Christian. I determined that if they came and murdered me, they should not have their ears delighted by a single groan, or cry. Having found some newspapers in an old trunk, I tried to read, thinking it would relieve the tedium of the hours, and divert my sad heart. But the first story I found, was something horrible about Indians! I threw the paper from me, for my mind was already filled with such dreadful scenes, as none of the writers of fiction have described. All the afternoon of Tuesday we looked long and eagerly for some one to come to our relief, until after dark, when I retired and slept for some hours. At about midnight we were awakened by the barking of the dogs and I asked Mrs. Hurd what they could be barking at. “It may be the cattle,” replied she, “but they act as if afraid of something.” She arose and went to the window, but could see nothing. The dogs now barked more savagely than ever, running out a short distance, then back against the door. This frightened us very much, as we thought it must be Indians, or the dogs would not act so. But, thought I, whether it be enemies or friends I must arise and dress, if I have strength, though it may be the last time. So I began putting on my clothes, still asking Mrs. Hurd if she saw anything, when, just as I was about dressed, she exclaimed, “My God! Cook, is that you?” Then I knew that it was some one whom she knew. I knew their voices when I heard them speak. It proved to be a young man named Cook, who lived at Lake Shetak, and some time before the outbreak had gone to Crystal Lake, to work in harvest: and my neighbor, Mr. Wright, who was also gone at the time. They came into the house, pressed our hands warmly, with tears running down their faces, while Mrs. Hurd and I wept aloud for joy! Immediately after them, a number of soldiers entered, and when Mr. Wright took out some matches, and lit a lamp, the sight that met their eyes caused the eyes of all the brave boys to grow dim with tears. Some of them, tired and worn out, had lain down on the floor to rest, but their leader, Lieut. Roberts, told them that was no place to rest; that they must get up and stand guard. They remained but a few minutes in the house, when he went out and stood guard with the rest of them.