Mrs. Blynn had a presentiment of evil—of the fate of their unfortunate company, and her own dark impending destiny, in a dream, the realization of which proved too true.
When she related her dream to her husband, he tried to laugh away her superstitious fears, and prevent its impression on her mind.
It was not many days after that a large number of warriors of the Sioux tribe were seen in the distance, and the people of the train arranged themselves in a shape for attack.
The Indians, seeing this preparation, and, fearing a powerful resistance, fired a few shots, and, with yells of rage and disappointment, went off.
Within the succeeding days the travelers saw Indians, but they did not come near enough to make trouble.
Confident of no disturbance or hinderance to their journey, the happy emigrants journeyed on fearless (comparatively) of the red skins, and boasting of their power.
But the evil hour at last approached. When the column had reached Sand Creek, and was in the act of crossing, suddenly the wild yells of Indians fell upon their ears, and soon a band of Cheyennes charged down upon them.
Two wagons had already got into the stream, and, instead of hastening the others across, and thus putting the creek between themselves and their pursuers, the whites drove the two back out of the water, and, entangled in the others, threw every thing in confusion. This confusion is just what the Indians like, and they began whooping, shouting, and firing furiously, in order to cause a stampede of the live-stock.
In five minutes all was accomplished; all the animals, except those well fastened to the wagons, were dashing over the prairie. The Indians then circled around and fired a volley of bullets and arrows. Mr. Blynn was killed at the second fire, while standing before the wagon in which were his wife and child.
“God help them!” was all he said, as, firing his rifle at the Indians for the last time, he sank down dead.