During the winter of '25 and '26, the wolves were unusually troublesome, and came every night to the barns and out-houses, carrying off any small stock they could find. We were occupying the stone cottage at that time, and my brother and I were much interested in the case of some chickens and other pets which we were allowed to call ours.
Of course we grieved over the result of these nightly raids, and, finally, thought we would try and catch some of the marauders; so procuring a steel-trap, we had a dead carcass of some animal hauled to the foot of our garden, and began our work in real earnest. Our success was far beyond our hopes, and it was our custom to rise every morning at reveille, dress ourselves hastily and run down to look at the trap, which was rarely without an occupant. One morning, to our astonishment, the trap was gone, but the blood on the snow, and the peculiar track leading toward the woods, satisfied us that a wolf was in that trap somewhere between the fort and the "Little Falls." Hoping to find him near home, we started in pursuit, without any protection from the cold, which was intense, but the sun shone so brightly that we did not think of the cold; our one idea was—the wolf, and how to catch him. I was bare-headed and bare-handed; my brother, boy-like, had seized his cap and mittens as he left the house, and was better off than I. After traveling on, and on, not in the beaten path, but wherever that track led us, we, of course, became cold and very tired, but still could not think of giving up our search, and my dear, brave brother insisted on my wearing his cap and mittens, saying, "boys can stand the cold better than girls." We must have gone more than a mile when our consciences, aided by the cold, began to warn us that we were doing wrong, that our parents would be anxious about us, and we ought to go back, but how could we give up the pleasure of taking that wolf back in triumph, for the track assured us we should find him crippled and fast to the trap, and we thought how pleased Captain Scott would be to see us there with our prisoner as he came out to breakfast. Looking back over the long years, I can clearly remember that that thought gave me courage, and enabled me to hold out so long. But, as we talked the matter over, setting duty against inclination, and unable to decide, there appeared to us what may have been an angel in disguise; to us it was an Indian boy in a blanket, with his bow and quiver, emerging from the bushes very near "Minnehaha," and thus my brother accosted him: "How! Nitchie." After a friendly reply to this invariable salutation, Malcolm told him in the Indian language, which was then as familiar to us as our mother tongue, why we were there and what we wanted, offering him a loaf of bread and piece of pork if he would find our wolf and bring him to our door immediately. The lad gladly closed with the offer, took the trail and started after him, while we turned our faces homeward. And now, the excitement of expectancy being over, we began to have serious misgivings as to the propriety of having gone so far from home without the knowledge of our parents, and the wind, which blew keenly in our faces, sided with our consciences, and convinced us we had much better have either staid at home or prepared ourselves with a permit and good warm wrappings. It all comes back to me so plainly that I can almost feel the pinchings of the cold and the torment of a guilty conscience as I write, and I feel a real pity for these two little children as they trudge along over the prairie, so troubled and so cold. My dear brother being older than I, and the chief party interested, generously took most of the blame to himself, and comforted me as well as he could, running backwards in front of me to shelter me from the wind, and assuring me he would tell father all about it, and he would forgive us. I have carried in my heart of hearts for sixty years the image of that beautiful, bright-eyed, unselfish brother; and when, not many years ago, the terrible news came to me that treacherous hands had taken his precious life, like one of old I cried in my anguish, "Oh, Malcolm! my brother, would to God that I had died for thee, my brother, oh, my brother!" Just as we reached our garden fence we heard the familiar breakfast drum, and saw our father and Captain Scott walking in a somewhat excited manner, back and forth, and discussing something, we could not hear what. We afterwards learned it was our conduct, and that while father felt that we should at least be severely reprimanded, our friend, the Captain, made him promise he would say nothing in the way of reproof, until he had drunk his coffee. In consequence of this we were simply saluted kindly, but not warmly, and we followed the gentlemen to the breakfast-room, where a rousing fire in the great fireplace, and a most appetizing breakfast awaited us, which our long tramp in the bitter morning air had prepared us to enjoy most thoroughly, notwithstanding the mental disturbance which could not be allayed, until confession had been made and forgiveness granted. Just as our meal was ending, a soldier entered the room, and said: "Malcolm, there is an Indian boy here with a wolf, who wants to see you." This announcement brought all to their feet, and every one rushed out so see the sight, and there, with his foot fast in our trap, lay a large timber-wolf, exhausted with pain and fatigue. Captain Scott examining him carefully, pronounced him the very one they had tried in vain to capture, and he congratulated the little boy and girl who had succeeded so fully where older ones had failed. That was a proud moment in our lives, but until we had told our parents how sorry we were to have grieved and distressed them, and had obtained full pardon, sealed with a loving kiss from each, we could not wholly enjoy it. Then we gave our Indian a royal breakfast, and his promised reward beside, and the wolf was taken away and put out of his misery, while beside the comfortable fireside we told all about our morning walk, from reveille to breakfast-drum.
After this Captain Scott took me to the Sutler's store, and made me select for myself a handsome dress, as a present from him, to a brave little girl, as he was pleased to call me, and he took me in his sleigh, drawn by one of his beautiful horses (I think his name was "Telegraph"), back to my mother, telling her, not many little girls of seven years old could go out before breakfast on a cold morning, and chase a wolf so successfully. To my brother he gave a pretty pony, which was a never-ending source of joy to him, and which, under the skillful training of the mighty hunter, he learned to ride fearlessly and most gracefully.
The story of this, my first and last wolf hunt, has entertained children and grandchildren, not only mine, but many others, and has been repeated so often that it has been learned by heart, so that if, in telling it, I have sometimes varied the phraseology, I have been promptly corrected and set right. If any of those, once my little hearers, should read this written history, it may carry them back to the days when life was new and fresh, and when adventures of any kind seemed greater and more important than they do now. "God bless them, every one."
CHAPTER IX.
RED RIVER OR SELKIRK SETTLEMENT.
The story of the early days of Minnesota would be incomplete without a more detailed account of the Red River or Selkirk settlement than the allusions made to it in the history of the Tully boys, and turning to "Harpers Monthly" of December 1878, I find a most satisfactory and interesting history of the enterprise, by General Chetlain of Chicago, who is a descendant of one of the settlers and is so well and favorably known in the Northwest as to need no introduction from me.