Negotiations at once commenced for the unconditional surrender of the white prisoners, and the object about which General Sibley was so solicitous was accomplished. He knew that he could not attack the hostiles in the friendly camp without endangering the lives of the captives, and that the best policy was to appear indifferent about their presence and thus disarm them of fear. The plan worked admirably, and the game was successfully bagged.
OTHER DAY.
CAMP RELEASE.
Among the attractive and cultivated women found among the prisoners was a Miss Mattie Williams, of Painesville, Ohio, who at the time of the outbreak was living with an uncle on the Yellow Medicine River. They had been surprised by the Indians without a moment’s warning, and of course, in their hurry, had no time to plan for an escape; but each sought safety as best they could and became separated. Miss Williams, in her wanderings, was picked up by a Mr. Patwell, who was escaping with a German girl, who also was fleeing. They were overtaken by the Indians, Mr. Patwell was killed, the German girl so wounded that she died, and Miss Williams herself, wounded in the shoulder, was alone with her Indian captors, who imposed upon her all the indignities born of their hellish desires. For forty days she suffered as no human mind can imagine, forty anxious days and sleepless nights in a dirty, smoke-begrimed, leaky tent, clad in Indian costume and obliged to submit to savage passion. But the angels listened and the day of deliverance drew near. The women of this camp were all of one mind—in accord they prayed that deliverance should come, and that the guiding hand should be directed by a clear head. As Moses was preserved in the bulrushes and found by Pharaoh’s daughter and educated for a purpose—to lead the children of Israel from out the land of bondage and through the Red Sea to the wilderness and the promised land—so, too, was Colonel Sibley raised up to frustrate the designs of the Indians and liberate these women and children.
On the night of September 25th our heroine, wrapped in her Indian blanket, laid herself down, not to pleasant dreams, but to blissful waking visions of release. Nor was she alone in her night vigils; other hearts, burdened and borne down with unutterable anguish, petitioned God to so direct the soldiers who were on the way, that their release might be sure. The soldiers are coming, and are these weary, anxious, fearful days and nights to end? At the first dawning of the day, September 26th, the Indian camp was astir and preparations made to receive distinguished guests. And who were these guests? Colonel Sibley, the big white chief, and his staff. Extra paint, paint of every hue, and beads, together with eagle feathers and white flags, were conspicuous throughout this excited Indian tepee village.
The bright gleam of muskets away in the distance, banners fluttering in the breeze and the sound of martial music as it struck the glad expectant ear, was an answer to all their prayers: “Deliverance had come!” Hearts made glad because the terrible nightmare of weeks had been dissipated, the anxious days and sleepless nights were at an end, prayers had been answered, and it was now a time for thanksgiving. Was it ended, this horrible dream? Yes. But with it all, strong attachments sprang up between the captive and the captor. They would have been less than human if it were not so. These sturdy and determined Indian women and men who protected them had jeopardized their lives, and what greater love can we show one for the other than that we lay down our lives?