s with her." They passed her along, one handing her hand to
another, till the one nearest the door pushed her out. The Indians out
doors shot her through the arm and breast and she fell forward. I seized
my baby from the cradle and looking out the door, saw that five or six
of the Indians had their feet on little Susan's breast, scalping her. I
screamed for the men who were hidden from view by the trees between the
house and clearing. When they reached the house the Indians--Chippewas,
were gone. For months afterwards arrow heads and other things which they
had dropped in their flight were found about the place. One large bundle
was found in the yard. There is a stone in memory of little Susan in the
Bloomington cemetery.

Often as I came up the hill from the spring with water, an Indian would
softly cross the path in his moccasined feet and give me such a start
that I nearly dropped my pail of water. This spring is the one from
which the Minneapolis Automobile club, situated on the Minnesota river
draws its supply. Just a little west of the club house is the place
where little Susan was killed, also an Indian mound and the marks of an
old trail.

One day an Indian walked into my house and asked me for a whetstone. I
gave it, not daring to refuse him. He sat down and sharpened his knife,
feeling its edge and pointing often and looking significantly at me.

A Shakopee Indian once said to Mr. James Brown, keeper of the ferry,
"Our Pond's a good deal better man than your Pond. Your Pond preaches
for nothing, but our Pond preaches for nothing and gives a good deal to
the church."

Mr. Pond once met a Shakopee Indian on the trail and neither would turn
out for the other. They ran into each other "bump." Indian said "Ho."
Mr. Pond said, "Ho." Each continued on his way.

ROCHESTER CHAPTER

BELLE BOYNTON WELCH

(Mrs. E. A. Welch)

MISS IDA WING

Marion L. Dibble--1855.

After a tedious journey alternating between steam boats and railroad
cars, we arrived at Red Wing. Here father left us and went on foot to
his new home. Procuring a yoke of oxen from a kind neighbor, he returned
to Red Wing and brought us there. Our first work was to cover our bark
roof with sods taken from our future garden, and to build a stone
fireplace to warm our house and cook our food.

The country was wild prairie with some strips of timber along the
branches of Zumbro River, which ran about a mile east of our house,
along the bank