SOLON ROBINSON, 1841 193 



mately of no little advantage to me. For whether I de- 

 served the appellation or not, I soon became extensively 

 known among the Indians as the "good che-mo-ko-man." 

 A short time after the above interview, the old man came 

 to my house with a paper written by the Indian Agent 

 at Chicago, and intended as a cautionary notice to those 

 persons about settling in this section of country. The 

 substance of the notice was, "that Sho-bon-nier, a French 

 Indian, and who was also called Chevalier, (pronounced 

 Sho-val-ya,) was entitled to a reservation of two sections 

 of land at this village, near the lake of Red Cedars, and 

 that persons making improvements near them, should be 

 careful not to get on this reservation before it should be 

 surveyed and located." Here was another piece of intelli- 

 gence, in the spelling and pronunciation of this name, 

 of little interest to me, that if it could have been known 

 to those deeply interested, would have saved them months 

 of toil and painful anxiety. But their toilsome wander- 

 ings, which at times seemed like the wandering of an 

 ignis fatuus, draws to a close. 



One cold snowy night in December which had suddenly 

 come on from a warm day, while we were gathered 

 around that most cheerful and pleasant of all places, on 

 a cold winter night, the broad log heap fire of a warm log 

 cabin, one of the sons of old Sho-val-ya stopped in to tell 

 me just before dark he saw a wagon about six miles off 

 on the trackless Prairie, heading towards my wigwam, 

 and that "two men and one squaw, may be so freeze to 

 death." In five minutes more, and the broad glare of a 

 torch of dry hickory bark threw its strong rays of light 

 far away through the mist of driving snow, while ever 

 and again the sudden flash and loud report of a pair of 

 muskets, spread their light and sound for miles around. 

 Who that ever has been in distress upon the ocean, or 

 upon the ocean-like prairies of the west, bewildered and 

 lost, that will not feel the light and sound of this descrip- 

 tion of welcome signals, penetrating to the innermost 

 recesses of his heart. So felt those wanderers upon that 



