The
morning mists passed slowly away as if they loved to linger round the
hills. Pilot Knob rose above them, proud to be the burial place of her
warrior children, while on the opposite side of the Mine Soto [Footnote:
Mine Soto, or Whitish Water, the name that the Sioux give to the St.
Peter's River. The mud or clay in the water has a whitish look.] the
frowning walls of Fort Snelling; told of the power of their enemies. Not
a breath disturbed the repose of nature, till the voice of the song
birds rose in harmony singing the praise of the Creator.
But a few hours have passed away, and how changed the scene. Numbers of
canoes are seen rapidly passing over the waters, and the angry savages
that spring from them as hastily ascending the hill. From the gates of
the fort, hundreds of Indians are seen collecting from every direction,
and all approaching the house of the interpreter. We will follow them.
Few have witnessed so wild a scene. The house of the interpreter
employed by government is near the fort, and all around it were
assembled the excited Indians. In front of the house is a piazza, and on
it lay the body of a young Dahcotah; his black hair plaited, and falling
over his swarthy face.
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