He assured the messengers that I was perfectly friendly, had breathed nothing but kindliness for them, and was thoroughly contented; had so expressed myself, and there was no cause to imagine evil.
This man trafficked and traded with the Indians, disposing of his goods in St. Louis and in eastern cities, and was then on his way to his home, near the mouth of the Yellowstone River.
Early in the forenoon of the last day’s travel, my eager and anxious eyes beheld us nearing the fort. The Indians paused and dismounted to arrange their dress and see to the condition of their arms. Their blankets and furs were adjusted; bows were strung, and the guns examined by them, carefully. They then divided into squads of fifties, several of these squads remaining in ambush among the hills, for the purpose of intercepting any who might escape the anticipated massacre at the fort; the others then rode on toward the fort, bearing me with them.
A painfully startling sight (the last I was destined to see), here met my gaze. One of the warriors, in passing, thrust out his hand to salute me. It was covered by one of my husband’s gloves, and the sight of such a memento filled me with inexpressible dread as to his fate. Nothing in the least way connected with him had transpired to throw any light upon his whereabouts, or whether living or dead, since we had been so suddenly and cruelly separated. All was darkness and doubt concerning him.
Mr. Kelly had been a Union soldier, and happening to have his discharge papers with me at the time of my capture, I had been able to secrete them ever since, treasuring them merely because they had once belonged to him and contained his name.
Now, as we approached the place where his fate would be revealed to me, and, if he lived, we would meet once more, the appearance of that glove, on the savage hand, was like a touch that awakened many chords, some to thrill with hope, some to jar painfully with fear.
In appearance I had suffered from my long estrangement from home life. I had been obliged to paint daily, like the rest of my companions, and narrowly escaped tattooing, by pretending to faint away every time the implements for the marring operation were applied.
During the journey, whenever an opportunity offered, I would use a handful of snow to cleanse my cheeks from savage adornment; and now, as we drew nearer the fort, and I could see the chiefs arranging themselves for effect, my heart beat high, and anticipation became so intense as to be painful.
Eight chiefs rode in advance, one leading my horse by the bridle, and the warriors rode in the rear. The cavalcade was imposing. As we neared the fort they raised the war song, loud and wild, on the still, wintry air; and, as if in answer to its notes, the glorious flag of our country was run up, and floated bravely forth on the breeze from the tall flag-staff within the fort.
