lers did not go back to their homes for several years.

The Indians finally came in force just across the Sound and defied the
troops. They also prevented the soldiers from landing from the steamer
sent against them. A few days later we heard the guns from Fort
Nisqually, which, however, I have always thought was a false alarm. It
was when a captive child was brought in that we began to feel the
gravity of the situation.

Yet many of our fears turned out to be baseless. For instance, one day
Johnny Boatman, a little boy not quite four years old, was lost. His
mother was almost crazed, for word went out that the Indians had stolen
him. A day later the lad was found under a tree, asleep. He had simply
wandered away.

A perplexing feature of the whole affair came from the fact that there
were two warring camps among the forces of both the Indians and the
whites. Some of the Indians were friendly; we had ample proof of that
fact. Some of the whites were against the harsh measures taken by those
in charge. This dissension led to much unnecessary trouble and
bloodshed.

[Illustration: The blockhouse, a haven of safety.]

The war was brought on by the fact that the Indians had been wronged.
This seems certain. They had been robbed of their lands, by the treaties
made in 1854, and there had been atrocious murders of Indians by
irresponsible white men. The result was suffering and trouble for all of
us.

The war brought troops, many of whom were reckless men; the army then
was not up to the standard of today. Besides, there came in the wake of
the soldiers a trail of gamblers and other disreputable people to vex
and perplex us. In the blockhouses could be seen bullet marks which we
knew did not come from Indians.

I remember a little drummer boy, known as Scotty, who used frequently to
come over to our home. He was a bright little fellow, and the Colonel,
finding it was agreeable to us, encouraged him to make these visits,
perhaps to get him away a little from the rough life of the post. Scotty
had been living with a soldier there who, as report had it, used to get
drunk and beat his wife. When my wife asked Scotty one day if the
soldier abused his wife, he replied, "Well, I can't say exactly that he
abuses her. He only cuffs and kicks her around the house sometimes."
Poor boy! he had seen so much rough living that he didn't know what
abuse meant.

Not all the soldiers were of this drunken cast, of course. Many brave