CHAPTER V.
THE CAPTIVITY.

A person never knows what he would do under conditions and circumstances never before experienced: a mother who would flee from a cow, would, to protect her child, fight a tiger without thought of her own safety; a timid deer that would flee from a baby, when its nature is changed by a serious wound will fight a hunter to death; a soldier’s nature becomes so changed in battle that he obeys orders like an automaton and in his efforts to kill men exerts himself until the sweat rolls down his face as it would down the face of a harvest hand mowing grass.

Sylvia and Rachel Hall, who in the peace of their home would faint at the sight of blood, had their nature so changed during the slaughter and mutilation of their dear relatives and friends that they viewed the scene with horror that almost paralyzed them and put them in a psychological condition of mental aberration.

The spell of lethargy was rudely broken when the girls were dragged off as captives, first to the creek, and, after Rachel had been pulled half way across the stream, then back again to the yard. There two Indians, each seizing one of Sylvia’s hands, and two others taking Rachel in a similar manner, hustled the girls northward along the easterly side of the creek. The girls were soon in unknown lands through which they were tugged on, and on, not knowing whither nor to what fate. Did they cry? Of course they did; strong men would have wept under similar circumstances. Did they pray? Yes; but their prayers were not like the Pharisee’s: they prayed with an intense feeling from the bottom of their hearts and with all the power of their souls. Were their prayers answered? Were they? Read on, read on!

After being hustled and half dragged about a mile and a half, they came to where a number of horses were tied in the edge of a grove. Here they met friends: horses belonging to their father and their neighbors. The horses pricked up their ears, looked at the girls and whinnied—returning the girls’ recognition. If the girls could have mounted two of these friendly animals that were bred in Kentucky they might have ridden to freedom; but it was not so to be.

The Indians put each girl on a pony furnished with an Indian saddle and led by a warrior. Thus they traveled on, keeping due north. After the sun had set the additional terror of darkness was enveloping them. Occasionally a night-hawk would break the awful silence by swooping down from his great height with his accustomed “Boo-oo-oo,” and a whippoor-will would add his monotonous whistle from a decayed log in the adjacent woods. Otherwise, it was as solemn a procession as ever moved to the grave, and only for the crack of his whip and an occasional “ugh” from an Indian there was little to attract attention until they passed a large grove on their left. The girls had heard of Shabona’s Grove. Was this that historical sylvan place? Would Shabona come to their relief? He had saved them and their friends before, and if it had not been for the obstinacy of Davis they would not have been in their awful predicament. But the chief, worn out and tired from his long wild ride of the night before and asleep in his tent, was unconscious of the passing of that strange and unusual procession.

Hour after hour passed as the girls rode along weary and heart-sick on that dark night, with nothing but the stars to light their way, and not a ray of hope in their hearts. The head waters of Indian creek and of the Somonauk had been passed and the source of the Sycamore was reached just as the moon was rising, 51 minutes after twelve o’clock.16 Here the first stop was made and the girls were allowed to rest on some blankets on which they sat together, not daring to lie down to sleep. The Indians holding their ponies by the bridles, danced a little, but nothing was said that would indicate their intent, either as to the place of destination or what they intended to do with their captives. As the girls could not speak the Indian language or understand it, there was little medium of communication between them and the Indians. Their feelings of sorrow for their murdered relatives mixed with the uncertainty of their own fate, and their disheveled hair and soiled cheeks through which their tears washed courses, made them objects of woeful misery. Oh! if the girls could only wash their faces, which were stained with powder and the blood of their dear friends, or even in their sorrow comb each other’s hair as they had often done at their father’s cottage, it would have refreshed them, and, to some extent, relieved their distress.

About half-past three o’clock in the morning of May 22nd, the girls were replaced on the ponies, the Indians remounted, and once more the train proceeded in its former order, with Indians before, on the sides, and in the rear of the girls. They passed groves, here and there, and hour after hour, with tiresome monotony, they moved along.

After the sun had lapped the dew, it grew very warm and Rachel became weary almost to collapse. She thought that if she could walk for a little while it would give her relief, notwithstanding her weak condition from fasting and worry. She did not know the language of the Indians, but necessity finds a way: she made signs of distress and indicated that she wanted to walk. The Indians understood her and assisted her from her pony. This little act of gallantry gave her the first indication of their human sympathy and inspired her with some confidence in their honor.

Limp and staggering, she managed to keep pace with the procession. When they reached the Kishwaukee there was no hesitation and all plunged into the stream. Rachel, who had not been replaced on her pony, was forced to wade across through water three feet deep.

It was now about two o’clock in the afternoon and a stop was made about twenty-five miles easterly from Stillman’s Run, on the west of a large grove, to allow the ponies to graze on the bank of the river. Here they remained for about two hours. The Indians scalded some beans and roasted some acorns, of which they ate heartily and offered portions to the girls, who tried to eat so as not to offend the Indians.

After the Indians had finished their lunch they busied themselves in stretching on little hoops the scalps that they had taken in the massacre at Indian Creek. The girls immediately recognized the scalps of some of their friends, particularly the scalp of their mother. The sight caused Sylvia to faint. Limp and unconscious she lay beside her sister, who by the incident was again put into her former psychic condition, being oblivious to everything about her excepting her sister’s care. The subconscious thought that she had to protect Sylvia inspired her with superhuman strength as well as the fighting spirit of a lioness. If Sylvia should die! what then? If she should be unable to travel, would the Indians kill her? What torture of mind Rachel must have suffered!

About four o’clock Sylvia regained her consciousness, to the great relief of Rachel who recovered her normal condition of mind. By this time the Indians had gathered their horses, and replacing the girls on the ponies that they had been riding, all moved forward leisurely.

Shortly after starting a detachment of the Indians was sent out to scout to the westward, and after being gone some time they returned apparently excited, and immediately the procession assumed a double-quick, during which the Indian guards in the rear held their spears poised, as though they expected an attack. After traveling in that manner for about five miles, the Indians resumed their composure and slackened their speed to a walking pace.

Had the Indians seen some of Gen. Whiteside’s scouts? Had they learned that a detachment of Illinois Militia, of which Abraham Lincoln was a member, was moving towards them up the Kishwaukee?17 Or, were the Indians pursued by the friends of the girls?

If the whites should attack the Indians, Sylvia and Rachel feared that they would share the fate of their relatives and friends at the Davis Settlement. Therefore, when the excitement of the Indians subsided, a feeling of relief from danger of immediate death calmed the girls.

The extra exertion during the scare caused the pony that Sylvia was riding to give out, and it was abandoned. Sylvia was then placed behind an Indian on a fine horse belonging to Mr. Henderson, which, like the girls, had been taken captive at Indian Creek. Thus they traveled, on and on, until about nine o’clock in the evening when they arrived at Black Hawk’s Grove on the east side of the present city of Janesville, Wisconsin, where the whole of Black Hawk’s tribe was encamped.18 During twenty-eight hours the girls had traveled about eighty miles from the place of their capture, and were worn out almost beyond description. No one can fully comprehend their condition without reflecting upon that extremely long ride on horseback, without food or drink, mourning their dead, and tortured with the worry over their future fate.

On their arrival at Black Hawk’s Grove there was great rejoicing at the Indian camp. Several squaws hurried to the girls, assisted them off their horses, and conducted them to the center of the camp where they had prepared a comfortable place in the form of beds of animal skins and blankets. Also, the squaws brought in wooden bowls, parched corn, meal and maple-sugar mixed, which they invited the girls to eat. More through fear than appetite, the girls partook of the food, although it was disgusting to them.

The squaws requested the girls to throw on the fire particles of food and some tobacco which they handed them. The girls complied with the request of their dusky hosts, although they did not know for what purpose it was required. As a matter of fact, it was a common practice among the Indian tribes to make the offering of food and tobacco to their gods in case of escape from death or as thanks for some extraordinary good fortune.19

The squaws requested Sylvia and Rachel to lie down on separate beds, and then a squaw lay on each side of each of the girls, so that there was no chance for escape. Thus abed, they had a night of confused, disordered sleep, in which visions of their friends and the scenes of the massacre haunted them almost continually. The squaws endeavored to soothe the girls, but they could not take the place of that mother who in their childish nightmares would say to them: “My dears, say a prayer and try to sleep.”

CHAPTER VI.
TO THE RESCUE.

When John W. Hall arrived at Ottawa he did not know that his sisters had been taken prisoners, but he supposed that they had been massacred with the rest of the people at the Davis cottage. His first impulse was revenge, and he rushed wildly about, urging men to arm and go with him to the scene of the massacre. The spirit of adventure was rampant among the people at the time, and John soon found himself at the head of a considerable number of mounted men armed with all kinds of guns, who followed him like a mob, from Ottawa to the Davis Settlement.

On their way out they met some of the men who were defeated at Stillman’s Run, returning to Ottawa. John endeavored to have these men accompany him to the Davis Settlement, but they had enough of Indian adventure, and instead of assisting John, discouraged the men with him from engaging in a fight with the Indians.

When John’s squadron arrived at the Davis cottage there was presented an awful sight—thirteen murdered and mutilated bodies in and about the cottage, some hung on shambles like butchered pigs, just as they were left by the Indians. On the creek below the cottage were found the bodies of Norris and George where they fell from the bullets of the Indians. The absence of his sisters Rachel and Sylvia from among the dead, presented to John a new quandary. A careful search was made about the premises but no traces of the girls could be found.

After having seen the awful deaths of their fellow-whites, the men who accompanied John had their desire for adventure changed to a feeling of fear, which they tried to hide under the excuse that it would be impossible to proceed after the Indians without rations and tents.

The situation was a trying one for John. In vain did he appeal to the men to help him rescue his sisters. Not one would volunteer to go with him, and after burying all the dead in one grave in front of the little cottage, John and his squadron hastily returned to Ottawa.

In hopes of rescuing his sisters, John again recruited a force and obtained the necessaries to follow up the Indians. Early on the second day after the massacre, with about forty men and two days’ rations, without any commissary, John led his little army to the Davis Settlement and along the Indian trail until he lost it on the great prairie. He concluded that the Indians had taken the “Kishwaukee Trail” to where the Kishwaukee flows into the Rock River, and he followed that route until he arrived at his objective point without attaining his chief aim. Disappointed in not even getting any information of his sisters and in not finding further track of the Indians, and his rations having run out, John was again obliged to return with his troops to Ottawa for a fresh supply, when once more he started on a fruitless search for his sisters.

CHAPTER VII.
MILITARY MOVEMENTS.

When a remnant of Stillman’s men returned to Dixon after an exciting ride of twenty-four miles from Stillman’s Run, they reported that they had been attacked by thousands of Indians and that all the rest of the army had been massacred. The exaggerated report set a few of the men who had not been with Stillman, keen to fight; but it instilled into most of them a sense of home-sickness, and many of them requested to be excused from duty. Gen. Taylor immediately reported the situation to Gen. Atkinson, at Ottawa, and the latter ordered Generals Whiteside and Harney, who were in command of some United States regulars, to pursue the Indians.

When the troops arrived at Stillman’s Run they found the bodies of thirteen soldiers and most of the deserted commissary which had included a barrel of whiskey that Black Hawk emptied on the ground. Black Hawk destroyed the wagons and everything else that could not be carried away, excepting a few boats that belonged to the Indians which were left on the river bank.

As a matter of fact Black Hawk had only forty warriors with him at the time of the attack on him by Stillman’s men, while Stillman had about three hundred men. At the time of the attack many of Stillman’s men were under the influence of liquor and most of them in such a state of insubordination that they paid no attention to the orders of their officers. Thus they rushed into the camp of Black Hawk, and, as each was acting independently, it was but a short time until the Indians by their shots and yells had the militia scared crazy and on the run.20

On May 22nd, in accordance with Gen. Anderson’s order, Gen. Whiteside took up and followed the Indian trail for thirty-six miles along the Kishwaukee and the Sycamore; but when the high prairie was reached, the Indians scattered so in all directions that the troops were unable to track them further, and the army proceeded to the Fox River and down that stream to Ottawa, where it arrived on May 27th.

On the day that the girls passed a few miles to the east, the United States troops found on the Sycamore, articles belonging to the Indians who committed the massacre at Davis Settlement, among which were three scalps. Perhaps it was fortunate for the girls that Gen. Whiteside had not discovered and attacked the Indians, because under such circumstances the Indians might have murdered them.

Among the troops under Gen. Whiteside was the company in which Captain Abraham Lincoln, subsequently the great president of the United States, served. Probably the girls had not yet heard of him, who, if he had known of their predicament, might have ended their captivity on that day.

During the march up the Sycamore, an old Pottawatomie Indian came into camp, tired and hungry, with a letter of safe conduct, signed by Gen. Lewis Cass. Some of the men declared the letter was a forgery, and that the Indian was a spy and should be put to death. When the soldiers threatened the poor fellow, Capt. Lincoln stepped forward and said that he would shoot any man who would assault the Indian.21 It can be readily seen how a man of Lincoln’s bravery and superior mental resources, might have freed the girls without injury to them.

CHAPTER VIII.
REWARD OFFERED.

The day after the massacre messengers carried the news in all directions to the various settlements in Illinois, southern Wisconsin, northern Indiana and western Michigan. At every settlement block-houses or stockades were built and the whites prepared to defend themselves against attacks of the Indians. At Galena the people assembled on May 28th and passed resolutions (among other things) deploring the captivity of the Hall girls and declaring their obligations to obtain the release of the captives. In Michigan along the lake shore, there was great excitement, intensified by frequent rumors that the Indians were coming.22

Gen. Atkinson who was then at Ottawa offered the Indians a reward of $2,000 in horses, goods or money, for the safe delivery of the girls, as it was feared that if force were used the Indians would murder the girls. In Wisconsin, Col. Dodge who had command at Blue Mounds Fort (25 miles west of Madison, Wisconsin), immediately recruited an army and made plans to get the girls. Lieutenant Edward Beouchard at Blue Mounds and Henry Gratiot of Gratiot’s Grove (15 miles northeast of Galena), who were friends of the Indians with whom they had great influence, engaged in the search for the girls.

Gratiot went to Turtle Village (now Beloit, Wisconsin), where there was a tribe of Winnebagoes with whom he had been on friendly terms and who were supposed to be friends of the whites. However, the Indians took him prisoner and he almost sacrificed his life in his endeavor to obtain the release of the Hall girls. He succeeded, however, in making his message known to the Indians, and arousing among them a strong incentive to obtain the reward. While he was held as a prisoner, an Indian chief to whom Gratiot had often given presents and shown kindness, came to him and offered his services to aid in Gratiot’s escape. Also Col. Gratiot was the government agent who paid the Winnebagoes their annual allowance from the United States government, which, no doubt, had some influence. The Indian took the Colonel to his tent, and late in the night silently conducted him to the river and gave him a canoe in which he paddled to safety. On his return home, Gratiot reported that the captive girls were somewhere near the head of Rock River in southern Wisconsin. He had gleaned that much information from conversations among the Indians whose language he understood.

Not knowing that Col. Gratiot had visited Turtle Village, Gen. Anderson sent by messenger to Blue Mounds, the following letter:

“Headquarters Right Wing West. Dept.,
Dixon’s Ferry, 27th May, 1832.

“Sir:

“In the attack of the Sac Indians on the settlements on a branch of Fox River the 22nd inst., fifteen men, women, and children, were killed, and two young women were taken prisoners. This heart-rending occurrence should not only call forth our sympathies, but urge us to relieve the survivors.

“You will therefore proceed to the Turtle Village or send someone of confidence and prevail on the head chiefs and braves of the Winnebagoes there to go over to the hostile Sacs and endeavor to ransom the prisoners. Offer the Winnebagoes a large reward to effect the object: $500 or $1000 for each.

“I expected to have heard from you before this.

Very respectfully your obt. sevt.,
H. ATKINSON,
Brig. Gen., U. S. Army.”

“Henry Gratiot, Esq.,
Indian Agent.”

When the dispatch reached the Mounds on May 28, Col. Gratiot who had already visited Turtle Village had not returned, and Lieutenant Beouchard who was then in command of the Port, opened the dispatch and forwarded it to the Colonel. Also, Beouchard sent the substance of the dispatch to Col. Dodge, who was then at Port Union, Col. Dodge’s residence, near Dodgeville. Then Lieutenant Beouchard mounted his horse and rode to a Winnebago encampment which was situated northeast of Blue Mounds where Chief Wau-kon-kah was the head Indian. Beouchard requested the chief to go to White Crow, Whirling Thunder and Spotted Arm and inform them of the captivity of the Hall girls, and the reward that had been offered for their release, instructing the Indians to get the girls at any risk: by purchase, if possible; but by force, if necessary. He assured the Indians that they would receive the reward in case of success. The Indians promised to make the attempt.

May 28th, Col. Gratiot wrote a letter to Governor Porter, of Michigan, telling of the Indian Creek Massacre and the captivity of the Hall girls, and, among other things, said: “Compelled by our feelings and relying on the justice of our country, we did not hesitate to promise a few of my trusty Winnebagoes a reward if they would bring us those ladies unhurt. We promised them the highest reward that could be offered.” Therefore, it is evident that Gratiot had offered a reward for the release of the girls before he received Gen. Anderson’s dispatch.

On the day that Col. Gratiot returned from Turtle Village, he received Gen. Anderson’s letter. On the same day he received further information that the Winnebagoes had success in their endeavors to ransom the unfortunate girls, and he immediately started for Blue Mounds, where he arrived on June 2nd.

CHAPTER IX.
THE CAPTIVE GIRLS.

In Chapter V we left the girls as prisoners at Black Hawk’s Grove, Janesville, Wisconsin. Notwithstanding their night of disturbed sleep and great need for rest, the girls were awakened at daylight by the noise of the Indians around the tent.

Soon after the girls arose the squaws brought them their breakfast which consisted of dried sliced meat, coffee and porridge made of corn pounded and water, that was served in wooden bowls with wooden spoons. The little rest that the girls got through the night, revived them and gave them some appetite, so that they were able to eat part of the food, although they did not relish it.

Breakfast being finished, the Indians cleared off a piece of ground about ninety feet in circumference and erected in the center a pole about twenty-five feet high, around which they set up fifteen spears, on the points of which were placed the scalps of the murdered friends of the girls. To the horror of the girls, they recognized the scalps of their father, mother and Mrs. Pettigrew. Upon three separate spears the Indians placed three human hearts, which added greatly to the horror of the girls. Was one of the hearts their mother’s?

The Indians jabbered among themselves for awhile and then the squaws painted one side of the face of each of the girls red and the other side black. Then the girls were laid with their faces downward on blankets near the center, just leaving room for the Indians to pass between them and the pole. When these preliminaries were completed, the warriors, grasping in their hands their spears, which they occasionally struck into the ground, and yelling all the while as Indians only can, danced around the girls. Every moment while this was going on, the girls expected to be thrust through with the spears; but they had become so harrassed with dread of torture, that they almost wished to have death end their troubles. However, not one of the spears touched the girls, and outside of keeping them in terror, they were in nowise injured.

After the warriors had continued their dance for about half an hour, two old squaws (one of whom was the wife of Black Hawk) led the girls away to a wigwam where they washed off the paint as well as they could by scrubbing them unmercifully. The squaws had adopted the girls, and, as the children of chiefs, they were not required to work.

The Indians having finished their dance, struck their tents, and, after a good deal of bustle and confusion, the whole camp started in a northerly direction. When they reached a point beyond the grove, it seemed to the girls that the whole earth was alive with Indians. Probably not less than 4,000 warriors, squaws, and children constituted that army.

Tired and sore from their former long ride and greatly exhausted by their constant fears, it was an extraordinary ordeal for the girls to plunge still farther into the wilderness. During traveling hours the girls were separated and each was placed in charge of two squaws. Whenever the army halted the girls were brought together, but always kept under the surveillance of the four squaws.

Their march from Black Hawk’s Grove was very slow and over a broad prairie. Shortly before sundown the Indians pitched their tents at Cold Spring, about three miles southeast of Ft. Atkinson, near “Burnt Village,” the camp of Little Priest.23

As soon as the tents were erected everybody partook of some food, most of the Indians without any utensils, but the girls were supplied with the usual dishes: wooden plates, bowls and spoons. At this place maple-sugar seemed to be abundant and the girls were furnished all of it that they could eat. Also, the squaws seemed to appreciate the fact that the girls were suffering from exposure, and took great pains to make their quarters as comfortable as possible.

During their long tramp through the brush, the light working dresses that the girls had on at the time that they were captured had become badly torn, and the squaws brought Rachel a red and white calico dress with ruffles around the bottom, and Sylvia, a blue calico. The Indians requested the girls to throw away their shoes and put on moccasins, against which the latter strongly protested and refused to take off their shoes. No violence to take away their shoes was used, and the girls continued to wear them. An Indian threw away Rachel’s comb and she immediately went after it and kept it so that it could not be snatched away again without using force, to which the Indians did not resort.

As night set in the Indians retired and each of the girls had to sleep between two squaws, which they were compelled to do thereafter up to the time that they were turned over to the Winnebagoes.

Day after day the Indians changed the location of their camp, probably to evade the whites if they should pursue them. From Cold Spring by circuitous routes, through the beautiful lake country around Oconomowoc, they moved northward until they reached the rolling hills near Horicon Lake where they pitched their camp not far from the rapids, and southeast of the Indian village of Big Fox.24

The girls had now traveled about 150 miles north from their home. It was the eighth day of their captivity, and to them the time was so long that every minute seemed almost a day; and since they last sat at dinner in the little cottage of William Davis at Indian Creek, although very vivid in their minds, seemed an age. Also, the unknown places at which they had camped being in such various directions from each other, the girls had no idea how far they had gone from Black Hawk’s Grove (Janesville). Everywhere they traveled Indian camps were numerous, because as soon as spring had opened the Indians divided into small camps to make maple sugar. Were the girls to put an estimate upon the number of Indians in that unknown region, it certainly would have reached high up into the thousands.

At every camp the dance around the pole with all its hideous surroundings, accompanied by the Indian yells and war-whoops, the rattling of gourds, and waving of weapons, was repeated.

Among the tribes east of the Mississippi River it was an honor principle that their female captives should not be tortured nor their chastity violated; but if white men were taken captives they were reduced to slavery and obliged to wait upon the white women after they had been adopted by the Indians.25 Notwithstanding this unwritten law, these dances with the scalps on the spears harrassed the girls and caused them to sob and weep bitterly.

One morning after many repetitions of the dance around the pole, the program was varied by a party of warriors coming to the lodge where the girls were in the custody of the squaws, placing in their hands small red flags, and then the Indians with their captives marched around the encampment, stopping at each wigwam and waving their flags at the doors, accompanied by some recitation of a chief and the rattling of gourds, all of which was not understood by the girls and they were unable to comprehend the significance of what they were doing. As a matter of fact the performance was a religious ceremony in which the gourds took the place of bells used by several Christian denominations during their religious ceremonies.

CHAPTER X.
RANSOMED.

On the morning of the ninth day of their captivity, some warriors took Sylvia off about forty rods to where a number of chiefs seemed to be holding a council. One of the Indians told Sylvia that she must go with an old chief who was pointed out to her, namely, White Crow, a chief of the Winnebagoes, who was about fifty years of age, tall, slim, with a hawk nose, and as much of sinister look as a man who had only one eye could have, for one of his eyes had been put out in a brawl. He was addicted to drink, gambling, fighting, and other disreputable practices.26 Under any circumstances Sylvia might have protested against going with him; but when he informed her that Rachel must stay behind, Sylvia declared that she would not go without her sister. White Crow, who was a fine and fluent orator, and spokesman of his band on all occasions, made a long, loud speech in which he exhibited considerable excitement, but was listened to with great interest by the other warriors. After he had finished, Chief Whirling Thunder arose, walked over to where Rachel was and brought her to where the council was being held. The situation was painfully interesting to the girls, because they had some intimation that it was all about their fate.

After some conversation among the chiefs they shook hands and the captives were surrendered to White Crow, who must now get the girls to Blue Mounds Fort to obtain the $2,000 reward. The Port was about eighty miles to the southwest in a bee line. By the nearest trail through the Madison lake region, it was about ninety-three miles; and by way of Portage and thence on the Military Road to the Blue Mounds Fort, it was about one hundred and seven miles. The Sacs and Foxes were along the former route, which meant great danger, and the Military Road was the best in that country. Therefore, White Crow chose the latter route. The horses were brought, riding switches were cut and White Crow and Whirling Thunder with their captives seemed ready to go. The squaws with whom the girls had been staying were very much grieved at parting with them, tears rolling down their cheeks, and the girls who now reciprocated the affection of the squaws, preferred to stay with them rather than to go with the warriors; but the chief’s stern orders had to be obeyed.

At this trying moment of the girls, a young warrior suddenly stepped up to Rachel and with a large knife cut a lock of hair from over her right ear and another from the back of her head. At the same time he muttered to White Crow, in the Indian language, something which the girls afterwards learned, was that he would have Rachel back in three or four days. His example was followed by another Indian who stepped up to Sylvia and without leave or a word of explanation, cut a lock of hair from the front of her head and placed it in his hunting-pouch. Sometime afterward a number of Indians made an attack on Kellogg’s Grove colony (near Dodgeville, Wis.) and one of them who was shot by a miner named Casey had around his neck a lock of braided hair which was subsequently identified as that taken from the head of Rachel Hall.

It might not be amiss, here, to state that among some of the Indian tribes the cutting of the hair had a mystical meaning closely allied to the life of a person, and was usually attended with religious rites. The first clipping of a child’s hair was retained for religious purposes. A scalp had a double meaning: it indicated an act of supernatural power that had decreed the death of the man, and it served as tangible proof of the warrior’s prowess over his enemies.27

While the Indians were taking locks of hair from the girls, White Crow, Whirling Thunder, and a few more Indians, had mounted their horses, and with their captives on ponies, all rode off at a gallop, keeping up a rapid speed during the rest of the day and far into the night, the Indians looking back frequently.

No doubt White Crow feared that the Sacs might regret that they let the girls go, and would try to recapture them. It was about forty-seven miles to Portage, and until that place was reached the danger was great. The girls appreciated the danger; otherwise, they would have dropped off their ponies from sheer exhaustion. A ride of forty-seven miles on wabbly ponies!

Finally, they arrived on the bank of the Wisconsin River near the mouth of Duck Creek (just below Portage, Wis.) where was located a village of Chief Dekorah.28

At this place the Indians prepared a bed upon a low scaffold, which was furnished with abundant blankets and furs, where the girls lay until daylight. The sun had not yet arisen when a party of Sac warriors, some of whom were dressed in the clothing of white men, came into camp. They wanted to talk to the girls, but Whirling Thunder told the girls not to listen to them and to keep away from them. Then a long conversation of loud angry words was kept up between the Indians for some time, when the Sacs mounted their horses and rode away.

It was ascertained later that one of the Indians who helped to capture the girls at Indian Creek was on a hunting trip when the captives were turned over to the Winnebagoes and on his return finding the prisoners gone and not having received his portion of the ransom, he started off with a number of warriors with the determination to recapture the girls or kill them. No doubt that if the Sacs had overtaken the Winnebagoes with their captives before they had reached the Winnebago camp, they would have fought for the girls, which would either have ended in the death of the girls or their being again carried off into captivity. Such was the Indian custom.29 What an almost miraculous escape the girls had!

Immediately after the Sacs left, a hastened breakfast was prepared. No doubt White Crow feared an attack if he should keep the girls at that place or if he should continue his journey along the Military Road. Whatever caused him to change his course, he arranged to take the girls down the Wisconsin River30 and to send the horses around over the hills, on the west side of the river, to the next camping place.

Breakfast was eaten as hastily as it had been prepared and then the girls were placed in canoes and with a convoy of about one hundred Indians, were paddled off. At first the girls feared that their little barks would tip, but soon they found their canoes were in expert and safe hands and that the new manner of travel was far superior to horse-back riding. It was restful and gave them a fine opportunity for observation, which under favorable circumstances would drive an artist into ecstasy. The majestic bluffs with wooded slopes and craggy crests, lined the river for many miles, stretching off to the west around Devil’s Lake. It was ideal scenery and connected with many a romantic Indian tale.

The spring freshets from the melting snows and heavy rains, had swollen the river so that it spread considerably over its banks, reaching in places from the foot of one bluff to the foot of another. Down this murky water the Indians paddled their canoes, hour after hour, over a distance of about thirty miles, and landed on the west bank, where they camped for the night.

In speaking of this canoe ride the girls say: “The name of the river we never knew, neither can we tell whether we traveled up or down the stream.” The name of the river was learned from Shabona. It is not strange that the girls could not tell which way the river flowed. The writer has often been on that river during freshets, and the way the water flows back and forth, dotted with eddies, would easily confuse a stranger.

Early the next morning White Crow went around to the wigwams with a gourd in each hand, and stopping at the door of each wigwam he would shake the gourds violently and talk as if he were lecturing.

Having finished this religious service, he left the camp and did not return again until sundown. Probably, he crossed the river and went to his own village at the west end of Mendota Lake to get information concerning the ransom offered for the captives. He was a sly chief, and if he did not have considerable confidence in the success of his undertaking, instead of taking the girls across to Blue Mounds he might have them run further down the river and there hold them longer in captivity.

The thirty-first day of May had arrived and for the second night the Indians camped on the west side of the Wisconsin River. Before retiring, White Crow for the first time spoke to the girls in the English language. He inquired whether their father, mother, or any sister or brother, was alive, to which the girls replied that all had been killed on the day of their captivity. White Crow appeared sad, shook his head, and after hesitating a moment, said he would take the girls home in the morning. He asked the girls if they thought the whites would hang him if he took them to the fort, to which they replied that on the contrary the people at the fort would give him money and presents for his trouble.

The conversation with White Crow roused the hopes of the girls considerably, but a lingering doubt as to the truth of his words kept revolving in their minds throughout the night.