n bed with a three day's
old baby when the smoke from the burning homes of neighbors was seen and
they knew the time to fly had come. A wagon with a small amount of hay
on it stood near the door with part of a stack of hay by it. Her husband
and the hired man placed her and the baby on this and covered them with
as much hay as they could get on before the savages came, then mounted
the horses and started to ride away. They were at once shot by the
Indians who then began a search for her. They ran a pitch fork into the
hay over and over again, wounding the woman in many places and hurting
the child so that it died. They then set fire to the hay and went on to
continue their devilish work elsewhere. She crawled out of the hay more
dead than alive and made her way to the fort. Besides the pitchfork
holes which were in her legs and back, her hair and eyebrows were gone
and she was dreadfully burned.

None of the women seemed to think of their wounds. They lamented their
dead and lost, but as far as they themselves were concerned were
thankful they were not captives. The suffering of these women stirred me
to the depths. One poor German woman had had a large family of children.
They all scattered at the approach of the Indians. She thought they were
all killed. She would sit looking into space, calling, "Mine schilder!
Mine schilder!" enough to break your heart. I thought she had gone crazy
when I saw her look up at the sound of a child's voice, then begin to
climb on the table calling, "Mine schilder! Mine schilder!" In a group
on the other side she had seen four of her children that had escaped and
just reached the fort that Wednesday morning.

Early in the afternoon the long expected fighting began. We were all
sent up stairs to stay and obliged to sit on the floor or lie prone. All
the windows were shot in and the glass and spent bullets fell all around
us. I picked up a wash basin heaping full of these and Mrs. Dunn as many
more. By evening the savages retired, giving their awful war whoops.

Thursday there was very little fighting as the rain wet the Indians'
powder. Mrs. Dunn, Mrs. Sweatt and I spent the time making cartridges in
the powder room in our stocking feet. We also melted the spent bullets
from the day before and ran them in molds. These helped out the supply
of ammunition amazingly.

Friday was the terrific battle. A short distance from the fort was a
large mule barn. The Indians swarmed in there. Sergea