The writer did not know that at the very time he wrote these words, two thousand Sioux were encamped on the Minnesota River, within a few hours’ ride of his boys, and were ready at almost any moment to rush into a war much more cruel than that being waged on the Great River, where only armed men fought against armed men.
Men who have lived outdoors and know the moods of nature fear the breaking of a storm that has been long brewing.
The Indian War which broke over the summery plains and valleys of Minnesota on Monday morning, August 18, 1862, swept over a large section of the State with the rush and fury of a long-brewing storm.
For several years the Sioux had been gathering a store of hatred and desire of revenge for real and fancied wrongs. On Sunday, the 17th of August, a few young Indians in an accidental quarrel with some farmers in Meeker county killed some cattle and murdered several whites. Under ordinary conditions this would have ended in the surrender and punishment of the criminals, but now it was the signal for three thousand Sioux warriors to rush into a carnival of murder and rapine, which swept over the frontier settlement as a tornado rushes through the forest.
At daybreak on the 18th, Black Buffalo knocked on the cabin of Trapper Barker.
“Get up, my friend,” he called, “the war has begun. You must flee, or you will be murdered.
“I have just learned that Chief Little Crow has told the warriors to kill all white people they can find, and the warriors have started in large and small parties in all directions. Some people at the Lower Agency, near the big Indian camp, have already been killed. Make haste, Mehunka, or you will be killed.”
“Do all the Indians want the war?” asked Barker, as he hurriedly dressed himself for flight.
“No,” said Black Buffalo. “Many of us, Little Paul, John Other Day, myself, and many others think this war is foolish and will only bring tears and mourning to our women and children, and ruin to our whole people, but we are powerless to stop the madness of Little Crow and the young men.”
“I have an extra saddle-horse,” said Barker as he was ready to mount. “We must warn Bill and Tim.”
“You are right, Mehunka; I have brought an extra horse. The white boys should come with us, if they are willing.”