ryone of us to snatch us
away if it was necessary to fire on the Indians.

On Monday morning, August eighteenth, 1862, at about ten o'clock, we saw
a great cloud of dust arising. Soon it resolved itself into teams,
people on horseback and on foot coming pell mell for the fort. They said
that Redwood Agency, twelve miles distant, had been attacked and the
Indians were killing all the white settlers.

As they were flying for their lives, they passed the sutler of the
Redwood store lying face downwards with a board on his back on which was
written, "Feed your own squaws and papooses grass."

He had trusted the Indians until he would do so no longer. Their
annuities were long, long overdue and they were starving. They appealed
to him again and again and pleaded for food for their starving families.
He finally told them to "Go eat grass." The settlers had seen the
consequence. They had passed seven dead, besides on the way.

This was only the beginning of a sad multitude of refugees, who, wounded
in every conceivable way, and nearly dead from terror, poured into the
fort.

Captain Marsh, as soon as he had heard the stories, called the soldiers
out on the parade ground and called for volunteers, who would go with
him to try and stop the awful carnage. Every soldier came forward.
Captain Marsh told them that he thought the sight of the soldiers would
cow them as it had so many times before. They at once departed, leaving
about thirty men with us.

We knew nothing of what was happening to this little handful of
soldiers, but as more and more refugees came in with the terribly
mutilated, our fears increased. We knew a small group of the savages
could finish us. Just at dusk, Jim Dunn, a soldier of nineteen who
always helped us about our work, came reeling in, caked with blood and
sweat. I said, "For God's sake, what is the news, Jim?" He only panted,
"Give me something to eat quick." After he had swallowed a few
mouthfuls, he told us that nearly all of the boys had been killed by the
Indians. He said, "The devils got us in the marsh by the river. Quinn
told the Captain not to go down there, but he held his sword above his
head and said, 'All but cowards will follow me.'" The Indians on the
other side of the river were challenging us to come by throwing up their
blankets way above their heads. Only three more of the boys came in that
night.

All of us who were living outside, had gone into the stone barracks with
the ref