I had now arranged my business satisfactorily, and, on Monday, I started once more for my friends, at four o’clock, a. m. At about twenty-four hours from that time, I reached Rochester very much fatigued. I went to the house of Mr. Stevens, as soon as light, intending to proceed to St. Charles that day, but his kind-hearted wife urged me to stay with them and rest myself, till next day. I gladly accepted the invitation. Mr. Stevens told me that if I would leave Merton with him, he would afterwards bring him to me, at my sister’s in Wisconsin. Accordingly, I left him, and, two months afterwards, he brought him to me, in much better condition, having bought and given him a full and very comfortable suit of clothes. Merton had become much attached to his kind benefactor, and, on the day that Mr. Stevens left him, to go farther east, he wept for nearly an hour. Well, I left Rochester, and staid at St. Charles a few days. While here, I met with another of my Lake Shetak neighbors, Mr. Myers. From him I learned the manner in which himself and family had fled the country, which was as follows: After the Indians had gone and left his place unharmed, in consequence of his being a “good man,” and been gone about an hour, he sent his oldest son, ten or eleven years of age, to the house of Mr. Hurd, to get some bread for his sick and helpless wife. But the boy, finding Mr. Vought dead in the yard, the house ravaged, and the family gone, brought home only the story of what he had seen. Myers then, thinking that Vought must have provoked a quarrel with the Indians, went to Mr. Cook’s to tell him what had taken place, but, on finding Cook shot through and lying on the ground, he saw the danger they were in, ran home, and prepared for instant flight. He sent his boy to the inlet after the oxen, and, after a long hunt, they were found, and driven home. He took them over to Hurd’s, yoked them to a wagon, and drove back, hearing the continual yell and the report of guns, that came to him from the lower end of the lake. After putting in the wagon some bedding and provisions, and placing on the bed his poor sick wife and the children, he started, and got away unnoticed by the Indians. But the dreadful news of the morning had thrown his wife into a dangerous fit. After traveling a great distance upon a circuitous route to shun the savages, they reached Mankato, but, on the same night, the poor woman died, leaving five children to mourn her loss.