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Page 112
"The Indians are coming, Edward," she called to father; "they will be
here in a few minutes!"
Suddenly, a splendid black horse came galloping from the woods, and with
two or three powerful bounds, halted directly in front of me. As it did
so, I saw that the bareback rider was a small girl, and she was our
little Sioux friend, Chitto.
She made a striking picture, with her long, black hair streaming over
her shoulders, and her dress fluttering in the wind.
"Why, Chitto," said I, in amazement, "where did you come from?"
"Must go--must go--must go!" she exclaimed, in great excitement. "Indian
soon be here!"
So it seemed that, in the few weeks since she had been at our house,
she had picked up enough of the English language to make herself
understood.
"What do you mean?" asked mother, as she and I advanced to the side of
the black steed upon which the little Sioux sat; "what are the Indians
doing?"
"They burn buildings--have killed people--coming this way!"
Chitto spoke the truth, for the Sioux were raging like demons at that
very hour at Lac Qui Parle.
"What shall we do, Chitto?" asked my mother.
"Get on horse--he carry you."
"But my husband; the horse can not carry all three of us."
My poor distracted mother scarcely knew what to do. All this time father
sat like a statue in his chair. A terrible suspicion suddenly entered
her mind, and she ran to him.
Placing her hand upon his shoulder, she addressed him in a low tone, and
then uttered a fearful shriek, as she staggered backward, saying: "He is
dead! he is dead!"
Such was the fact. The shock of the news brought by the little Indian
girl was too much, and he had expired in his chair without a struggle.
The wild cry which escaped my mother was answered by several whoops from
the woods, and Chitto became frantic with terror.
"Indian be here in minute!" said she.
Mother instantly helped me upon the back of the horse and then followed
herself. She was a skillful rider, but she allowed Chitto to retain the
bridle, and we started off.
Looking back I saw a half-dozen Sioux horsemen come out of the woods and
start on a trot toward us.
Just then Chitto spoke to the horse, and he bounded off at a terrible
rate, never halting until he had gone two or three miles.
Then, when we looked back, we saw nothing of the Indians, and the horse
was brought down to a walk; and finally, when the sun went down, we
entered a dense wood, where we staid all night.
I shall not attempt to describe those fearful hours. Not one of us slept
a wink. Mother sat weeping over the loss of father, while I was
heart-broken, too.
Chitto, like the Indian she was, kept on the move continually. Here and
there she stole as noiselessly through the wood as a shadow, while
playing the part of sentinel.
At daylight we all fell into a feverish slumber, which lasted several
hours. When we awoke, we were hungry and miserable.
Seeing a settler's house in the distance, Chitto offered to go to it for
food. We were afraid she would get into trouble, but she was sure there
was no danger and went.
In less than an hour she was back again with an abundance of bread. She
said there was no one in the house, and we supposed the people had
become alarmed and escaped.
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