"White Buffalo trusts not."
Not far from the Morris homestead was a log cabin recently erected by a young settler named Moses Digly, who had a wife and a sister-in-law named Grace Chowith. Digly came from the west of England, having tired of trying to make a living there by farming. He had cleared quite a garden patch, and expected to do considerate planting early in the spring. His wife and sister-in-law were much interested in fowls, of which they kept a large number in several sheds.
One night somebody came to the place and stole several chickens. This angered Moses Digly and he set a watch for the thief, on the very evening of the day that Withe Buffalo left the Morris homestead.
The sun was just setting when some Indians stole out of the woods and surrounded the little cabin. Moses Digly was drawing a pail of water from the well when an arrow whizzed through the air and pierced his back, entering his left lung.
"I am shot!" he cried, and fell over the well curb. Seeing this, his wife ran out to aid him, when an Indian came up behind her and sunk his tomahawk deeply into her head. She fell beside her husband, and both expired almost at the same time.
The sister-in-law of the settler, Grace Chowith, was at that time in one of the sheds with the fowls. As the Indians ran toward the cabin, she turned and hurried into the woods as fast as her trembling limbs would permit. She ran for a long distance and at last stumbled into a hollow where an aged Indian sat smoking his pipe.
"Do not kill me! Do not kill me!" she shrieked and threw herself at the feet of the red man. Then she began to rave, and from that moment on she was, for nearly a year, practically insane.
The aged Indian in the hollow happened to be White Buffalo. He had seen Grace Chowith several times, and he at once surmised that something was wrong.
"What has happened to my white sister?" he questioned.
"They are dead! You have killed them!" shrieked the poor bewildered woman. And these words she repeated over and over again.