Their arrival filled Mrs. White with new apprehension. She feared now that she might be robbed of her dead treasure, and perhaps lose her own life, before she could consign it to its last resting-place. All through that restless, dreary night, she kept her vigils, with bursting heart, beside the corpse of her babe. The noises of the Indian camp, the guttural voices of the men, the chattering of the squaws, rang in her ears, while the cries and prattling of the children, by reminding her of the lost one, served to enhance the poignancy of her grief. What a situation for the desolate mother! All alone with death, far from her mother, husband, home, and friends, surrounded by a troop of barbarous, noisy savages weighed down with grief, tearless from its very weight, not knowing what next would befall her. What agony did she endure through that night's dreary vigils! She felt as though she were draining the cup of sorrow to its dregs, without the strength to pray that it might pass from her. They set off as soon as it was light, that they might, if possible, reach the Mission before putrescency had discolored the body of the infant. They arrived at McKoy's about one o'clock, where, while they were dining, horses were prepared, and they went on without delay. It is impossible to describe the emotions of the doctor when he met them about twelve miles from the Mission, as, excepting a floating rumor among the natives, which he hardly credited, he had had no intimation of the accident. The sad presentiment was realized. Death had entered their circle and robbed them of their fair child! As he looked into the face of his wife, he comprehended in part her sufferings. Amid these and similar sad experiences, this heroic band of Christian women abated not their zeal or efforts in the work to which they had put their hand. In other parts of the territory, separate missionary establishments were superintended by the Whitmans, the Spauldings, and others. The blessings of civilization and religion were thus extended by these devoted men and women to the benighted red man. For a period of eight years Dr. and Mrs. Whitman resided on the banks of the Walla-Walla River, doing all in their power to benefit the Indians. Such labors as theirs deserved a peaceful old age, and the enduring gratitude of their tawny protégés. Alas! that we have to record that such was not their lot! Melancholy indeed was the fate of that devoted band upon the Walla-Walla! The measels had broken out among the Indians and spread with frightful rapidity through the neighboring tribes. Dr. Whitman did all he could to stay its progress, but great numbers of them died. The Indians supposed that the doctor could have stayed the course of the malady if he had wished it, and accordingly concocted a plan to destroy him and his whole family. With this object in view about sixty of them armed themselves and came to his house.