all the
guns they could. Of course we were paralyzed with fear. From that on the
trouble began.

As soon as the rumor reached Fort Snelling my husband's company was sent
back. On the day they arrived I got a good dinner for them. I knew they
would be tired and when he arrived he looked worn and haggard, having
marched all the way from Fort Snelling to Mankato. We could not eat much
dinner, we were so excited. He left right away for the frontier. The
last thing he told me before he went away was, "Fight 'til you die,
never be taken prisoner."

The bluest day of all was one Sunday. Everyone who could get away was
packing up. Women and children were walking the streets and crying. They
expected the Sioux to start from Fort Ridgely to kill all the whites,
but when they got to Birch Coolie where the Winnebagoes were to join
them, the Indians found a barrel of whiskey there. They became
intoxicated and had a big fight, so they did not come to Mankato. That
was one time when whiskey served a good purpose.

One night not very long after the Indians broke out, there were four of
our neighbors' families came into our house, as they felt safer
together. There were twelve children in the house. About midnight we
heard the town bell begin to ring and one of the women got up and went
to the door to see what the trouble was. When she opened the door, she
saw a fire, which was Seward's Mill, but she cried out, "The Indians
have come, the town is all on fire." The children began screaming and we
were all nearly frightened to death but it proved it wasn't Indians at
all. Someone had set the mill on fire.

A few of the men who were left thought that we had better pack a few of
our best things and go to Leeche's old stone building for protection.
What few men there were could protect us better there than at different
homes. This old building was three stories high. Some women were sick,
some screaming. It was a scene of trouble and distress. It was the worst
bedlam I ever got into.

Mr. Hoatling was then our best friend and helped me get my things over
to this store building. We stayed one night. The cries of women in pain
and fright were unbearable, so the next day I went back home thinking I
would risk my chances there.

Judge Lorin Cray--1859.

While at St. Peter and in the early part of December, 1862 a few of us
learned, by grapevine telegraph, late one afternoon, that an effort was
to be made the following evening, by the