calculations, for within that time
the stack itself was burning with such fury that all the water in Belle
Creek could not have put it out. Still, this was not the worst of it.
Before we had time to recover from our astonishment the fire had spread
over the best part of the valley and consumed all the remaining grass,
which was pretty dry at that time of the year. Inexperienced as we were,
we commenced to run a race with the wind, and tried to stop the fire
before reaching another fine patch of grass about a mile to the north;
but this attempt was, of course, a complete failure, and we returned to
our cheerless tent mourning over this serious misfortune.

The next morning we all started out in different directions to see if
any grass was left in Goodhue County, and fortunately we found plenty of
it near our first camping-ground. Having put up a second stack of very
poor hay, we proceeded to build a rude log house, and had just finished
it when my brother-in-law, Mr. Willard, surprised us by appearing in our
midst, having left in Red Wing his wife and baby, now Mrs. Zelma
Christensen of Rush City, who is, as far as I know, the first child born
of Swedish parents in St. Paul. Mr. Willard who was a scholarly
gentleman and not accustomed to manual labor, had found it rather hard
to work with shovel and pick on the hilly streets of St. Paul, and made
up his mind that he would better do that kind of work on a farm.
Messers. Roos and Kempe having furnished all the money for the outfit, I
really had no share in it, and as we could not expect Mr. Willard and
his family to pass the winter in that cabin, I immediately made up my
mind to return with him to Red Wing. In an hour we were ready and
without waiting for dinner we took the trail back to that place. I
remember distinctly how, near the head of the Spring Creek Valley, we
sat down in a little grove to rest and meditate on the future. We were
both very hungry, especially Mr. Willard, who had now walked over twenty
miles since breakfast. Then espying a tempting squirrel in a tree close
by, we tried to kill it with sticks and rocks; but we were poor
marksmen, and thus missed a fine squirrel roast.

Tired and very hungry we reached Red Wing late in the afternoon, and
soon found my sister, Mrs. Willard, comfortably housed with one of the
families there. Her cheerful and hopeful nature and the beautiful baby
on her arm gave us fresh joy and strength to battle with the hardships