THE TALE OF WOE CONCLUDED. 241 



my eyes left me more alone with my murdered ones 

 and the murderers. And I just dragged myself where 

 I could look at the setting sun, and tried with its 

 bright glare to burn the scene from off my vision, 

 so that, if I went mad, there would n't be any mem- 

 ory of it left. For mad people have their memories 

 and suffer from them, and they know it, and the very 

 fact that they know it keeps them mad. I went 

 through it all. 



"A person dreaming is not rational, and yet may 

 suffer so, and feel it too, as to shudder hours after 

 waking up. There was John, running toward the 

 house with our baby boy, and the savages yelling and 

 whipping their ponies, trying to get between the open 

 door and him. Alone, he could have saved himself. 

 And our baby thought John was running for play, 

 and was clapping his little hands and chirping at me 

 as the savages closed around my husband. I had 

 only time to pray five words, " God, save my hus- 

 band ! " and it did not seem an instant until I saw 

 the poor body I loved so well lying on the ground, 

 and they standing over, shooting their arrows into 

 it. Baby was not killed, but thrown forward under 

 one of the horses, and I had just taken a step or so 

 toward him, when an Indian, who seemed to be the 

 chief, lifted him by the dress to his saddle. I think 

 his first intention was to carry him with them, but, see- 

 ing some of our neighbors hurrying toward us, they 

 struck the baby with a hatchet, and hurled him to the 

 ground. At the instant they struck him, he was 

 looking back at me with his great blue eyes wide open 

 and staring with fright." 



