Read Ebook: Narrative of My Captivity Among the Sioux Indians by Kelly Fanny

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Ebook has 1234 lines and 70199 words, and 25 pages

Early History--Canada to Kansas--Death of my Father--My Marriage--"Ho! for Idaho!"--Crossing the Platte River--A Storm, 11

The Attack and the Capture, 19

My Husband's Escape--Burial of the Dead--Arrival of the Survivors at Deer Creek--An ill-timed Ball, 28

Beginning of my Captivity, 37

Plan for Little Mary's Escape--Tortures of Uncertainty--Unsuccessful Attempt to Escape, 45

Continuation of our March into the Wilderness--Suffering from Thirst and Weariness--Disappearance of my Fellow-prisoner--Loss of the old Chief's Pipe, and its Consequences to me--A Scene of Terror, 49

Powder River--Another Attempt to Escape--Detection and Despair--A Quarrel--My Life saved by "Jumping Bear," 62

The Storm--Arrival at the Indian Village--The old Chief's Wife--Some Kindness shown me--Attend a Feast, 72

Preparations for Battle--An Indian Village on the Move--Scalp Dance--A Horrible Scene of Savage Exultation--Compelled to join the Orgies--A Cause of Indian Hostility--Another Battle with the White Troops--Burial of an Indian Boy--A Hasty Retreat--Made to act as Surgeon of the Wounded--Mauve Terre, or Bad Lands, 92

Mourning for the Slain--Threatened with Death at the Fiery Stake--Saved by a Speech from Ottawa--Starving Condition of the Indians, 106

Meet another White Female Captive--Sad Story of Mary Boyeau--A Child Roasted, and its Brains Dashed out--Murder of Mrs. Fletcher--Five Children Slaughtered--Fate of their Mother, 112

First Intimation of my Little Mary's Fate--Despair and Delirium--A Shower of Grasshoppers--A Feast and a Fight--An Enraged Squaw--The Chief Wounded, 120

Arrival of "Porcupine"--A Letter from Captain Marshall--Hopes of Rescue--Treachery of the Messenger--Egosegalonicha--The Tables Turned--Another Gleam of Hope--The Indian "White Tipi"--Disappointed--A White Man Bound and left to Starve--A Burial Incident, 129

Lost in the Indian Village--Black Bear's White Wife--A small Tea Party--The White Boy-captive, Charles Sylvester--The Sun Dance--A Conciliating Letter from General Sibley--A Puzzle of Human Bones--The Indian as an Artist--I Destroy a Picture and am Punished with Fire-brands--A Sick Indian, 136

Preparing the Chi-cha-cha, or Killikinnick--Attack on Captain Fisk's Emigrant Train--Fourteen Whites Killed--A big Haul of Whisky--A Drunken Debauch--I write a Letter to Captain Fisk under dictation--Poisoned Indians--The Train saved by my Clerical Strategy, 147

Scenes on Cannon Ball Prairie--Reflections, 154

A Prairie on Fire--Scenes of Terror, 159

Last days with the Ogalalla Sioux--Massacre of a Party returning from Idaho--A Woman's Scalp--A Scalp Dance--Suspicious Circumstance--Arrival of Blackfeet Indians--Negotiations for my Ransom--Treachery, 164

Indian Customs, 175

An Indian tradition--Arrival at the Blackfeet Village--An offer to purchase me indignantly rejected--A Yankton attempts my Capture, 191

Appearance of Jumping Bear--I prevail on him to carry a Letter to the Fort--A War Speech--Intended Treachery--Resume our Journey to the Fort--Singular Meeting with a White Man--"Has Richmond Fallen?"--Arrival at the Fort--I am Free! 199

Retrospection--A Border Trading post--Garrison Hospitality--A Visit from the Commandant of Fort Rice--Arrival of my Husband--Affecting Scene, 212

Sad Fate of Little Mary, 218

What occurred at Fort Laramie after my Capture--Efforts to Rescue--Lieutenant Brown killed--Reward offered--It is the Means of restoring another White Woman and Child--Her Rescuers hung for Former Murders--A Letter announcing my Safe Arrival at Fort Sully, 223

Supper in Honor of our Re-union--Departure from Fort Sully--Incidents by the way--Arrival at Geneva--Mother and Child--A Happy Meeting, 228

Elizabeth Blackwell--Mormon Home--A brutal Father--The Mother and Daughters flee to the Mountains--Death of the Mother and Sisters from exposure--Elizabeth saved by an Indian--A White Woman tortured--Rescued Children--The Boxx Family--Capture of Mrs. Blynn, 238

Move to Wyoming--False Friends--The Manuscript of my Narrative taken by another party and published--I go to Washington, 250

General Sully's Expedition, 255

POEM TO MRS. FANNIE KELLY, 268

CERTIFICATE OF INDIAN CHIEFS, 270

CERTIFIED COPIES OF MY CORRESPONDENCE WITH CAPTAIN FISK, 274

STATEMENT OF LIEUTENANT G. A. HESSELBERG, 279

EARLY HISTORY--CANADA TO KANSAS--DEATH OF MY FATHER--MY MARRIAGE--"HO! FOR IDAHO!"--CROSSING THE PLATTE RIVER--A STORM.

I was born in Orillia, Canada, in 1845. Our home was on the lake shore, and there amid pleasant surroundings I passed the happy days of early childhood.

The years 1852 to 1856 witnessed, probably, the heaviest immigration the West has ever known in a corresponding length of time. Those who had gone before sent back to their friends such marvelous accounts of the fertility of the soil, the rapid development of the country, and the ease with which fortunes were made, the "Western fever" became almost epidemic. Whole towns in the old, Eastern States were almost depopulated. Old substantial farmers, surrounded apparently by all the comforts that heart could wish, sacrificed the homes wherein their families had been reared for generations, and, with all their worldly possessions, turned their faces toward the setting sun. And with what high hopes! Alas! how few, comparatively, met their realization.

In 1856, my father, James Wiggins, joined a New York colony bound for Kansas. Being favorably impressed with the country and its people, they located the town of Geneva, and my father returned for his family.

Reaching the Missouri River on our way to our new home, my father was attacked with cholera, and died.

In obedience to his dying instructions, my widowed mother, with her little family, continued on the way to our new home. But, oh! with what saddened hearts we entered into its possession. It seemed as if the light of our life had gone out. He who had been before to prepare that home for us, was not there to share it with us, and, far away from all early associations, almost alone in a new and sparsely settled country, it seemed as though hope had died.

But God is merciful. He prepares the soul for its burdens. Of a truth, "He tempers the wind to the shorn lamb."

Our family remained in this pleasant prairie home, where I was married to Josiah S. Kelly.

My husband's health failing, he resolved upon a change of climate. Accordingly, on the 17th of May, 1864, a party of six persons, consisting of Mr. Gardner Wakefield, my husband, myself, our adopted daughter , and two colored servants, started from Geneva, with high-wrought hopes and pleasant anticipations of a romantic and delightful journey across the plains, and a confident expectation of future prosperity among the golden hills of Idaho.

A few days after commencing our journey, we were joined by Mr. Sharp, a Methodist clergyman, from Verdigris River, about thirty miles south of Geneva; and, a few weeks later, we overtook a large train of emigrants, among whom were a family from Allen County with whom we were acquainted--Mr. Larimer, wife, and child, a boy eight years old. Preferring to travel with our small train, they left the larger one and became members of our party. The addition of one of my own sex to our little company was cause of much rejoicing to me, and helped relieve the dullness of our tiresome march.

The hours of noon and evening rest were spent in preparing our frugal meals, gathering flowers with our children, picking berries, hunting curiosities, or gazing in wrapt wonder and admiration at the beauties of this strange, bewildering country.

Our amusements were varied. Singing, reading, writing to friends at home, or pleasant conversation, occupied our leisure hours.

So passed the first few happy days of our emigration to the land of sunshine and flowers.

When the sun had set, when his last rays were flecking the towering peaks of the Rocky Mountains, gathering around the camp-fires, in our home-like tent, we ate with a relish known only to those who, like us, scented the pure air, and lived as nature demanded.

At night, when our camp had been arranged by Andy and Franklin, our colored men, it was always in the same relative position, Mr. Kelly riding a few miles ahead as evening drew near to select the camping ground.

The atmosphere, which during the day was hot and stifling, became cool, and was laden with the odor of prairie flowers, the night dews filling their beautiful cups with the waters of heaven.

The solemnity of night pervaded every thing. The warblings of the feathered tribe had ceased. The antelope and deer rested on the hills; no sound of laughing, noisy children, as in a settled country; no tramping of busy feet, or hurrying to and fro. All is silent. Nature, like man, has put aside the labors of the day, and is enjoying rest and peace.

Yonder, as a tiny spark, as a distant star, might be seen from the road a little camp-fire in the darkness spread over the earth.

Every eye in our little company is closed, every hand still, as we lay in our snugly-covered wagons, awaiting the dawn of another day.

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