ady to attack us. The news was anything but
cheering, for with a village of that size the warriors would number
two or three hundred, and could assail us from every side.

Still, nothing could be done, but stand and take what was to come,
for there was no chance of escape--it being supreme folly to
undertake in wagons a race with Indians to Fort Stevenson, sixty
miles away. To make the best of the situation, we unloaded the
baggage, distributing and adjusting the trunks, rolls of bedding,
crackerboxes, and everything else that would stop a bullet, in such
manner as to form a square barricade, two sides of which were the
wagons, with the mules haltered to the wheels. Every man then
supplied himself with all the ammunition he could carry, and the
Mandan scouts setting up the depressing wail of the Indian
death-song, we all awaited the attack with the courage of despair.

But no attack came; and time slipping by, and we still unmolested,
the interpreter and scouts were sent out to make another
reconnoissance. Going through just such precautions as before in
approaching the ridge, their slow progress kept us in painful
suspense; but when they got to the crest the strain on our nerves was
relieved by seeing them first stand up boldly at full height, and
then descend beyond. Quickly returning, they brought welcome word
that the whole thing was a mistake, and no Sioux were there at all.
What had been taken for a hundred Indian lodges turned out to be the
camp of a Government train on its way to Fort Stevenson, and the
officer in charge seeing the scouts before they discovered him, and
believing them to be Sioux, had sent out to bring his herds in. It
would be hard to exaggerate the relief that this discovery gave us,
and we all breathed much easier. The scare was a bad one, and I have
no hesitation in saying that, had we been mounted, it is more than
likely that, instead of showing fight, we would have taken up a
lively pace for Fort Stevenson.

After reciprocal explanations with the officer in charge of the
train, the march was resumed, and at the close of that day we camped
near a small lake about twenty miles from Fort Totten. From Totten
we journeyed on to Fort Abercrombie. The country between the two
posts is low and flat, and I verily believe was then the favorite
abiding-place of the mosquito, no matter where he most loves to dwell
now; for myriads of the pests rose up out of the tall rank grass
--more than