BY MRS. MARY EASTMAN.
Fire-face was willing to die, he said, but not until he had killed another white man. He was sincere in acknowledging hatred towards the people of the United States. There was no doubt but he had stained his hands with the blood of one white man; but this did not satisfy him: let him take the life of another, and he was willing to be made prisoner, and to meet what punishment might be designed for him. The mantle of Cain had indeed fallen upon him; his heart was turned even from his own people, and angry threatenings were ever upon his lips, against those with whom he had grown up side by side. Wabashaw, chief of one of the bands of Sioux on the Mississippi, left his home, where the prairies stretch out to the distance, without even a hill to relieve the level sameness, or trees to shelter them from the short but intense heat of the summer, to encamp, by permission, on the St. Peter's River, opposite Fort Snelling. Fire-face, one of the band, was with them, accompanied by his two wives.
He was feared by all of the band; even the brave chief Wabashaw, whose life he had threatened, turned from the fierce gaze of the man, over whom had been cast a spell from the spirits of evil, for he frowned alike upon friend and foe. Only his wives seemed easy when he was near, and they not only feared but loved the strange being, whose hand was against every man's.
He passed the most of his time seated near his lodge, with his medicine-bag hanging near; his implements of war and hunting glistening in the light, and his loaded gun ever by his side.
Many efforts had been made to apprehend this desperate man, yet he had always eluded the pursuit of the soldiers; and now, although aware of the danger he was in, when living so near the garrison, he appeared to be perfectly unconcerned, saying, he knew the soldiers would make every effort to arrest him; but that he would never be taken until another of the pale faces had fallen by his arm. Wabashaw, the chief, frequently visited the Fort, always accompanied by his late friend Many Lightnings, and on every occasion he pressed the necessity of taking Fire-face prisoner. "He was a bad Indian," said Wabashaw, "who loved to see blood; and, if allowed to go at liberty, some one would be murdered by him."
The chief said that he did not sleep at night in his own lodge, but went for safety to the near village of Mendoto, where he remained until the sun was high in the heavens the next day. In consequence of these representations, a party of soldiers was sent to arrest him, and the Indians were to assist in the capture.
Fire-face was on the lookout: he appeared to show himself in the way of danger for the pleasure of overcoming it. He would remain at ease until the party was near him; and then, like an arrow from the bow, he would fly through the village, no man daring to stay him: and you might as well have attempted to catch the sunbeam on the waters as the hunted man. Pursuit was unavailing, and the soldiers each time returned disappointed to the Fort.
He would soon come back to the encampment. What a courage was his, thus purposely throwing himself in the way of danger, knowing too that he had not one friend to whom he could turn. His frightened, helpless family alone cared for him. It was evidently a pleasure to him to be in a situation of peril, to show his adroitness in extricating himself.
About ten o'clock one night he sat in his lodge, gloomily meditating on his position. Could he eventually escape the pursuit of his enemies? Was he not a doomed man, when the bands of friendship were severed between him and those with whom he had fought, and whose lives had been tracing an even course with his?
The children's heavy breathing was the only sound that could be heard. His wives sat mute in the lodge. He had been hunted to the death, and now sleep was overcoming him, and his watchfulness was yielding to his fatigue; while he thought to lay his tomahawk beside him, and seek repose, the door of his lodge was turned aside, and the long-knives (as the soldiers were called) were upon him.