des Sioux, that there was a white man sick
and suffering with them.

The missionaries came immediately; took the man to their home, and with
kind nursing he was soon able to account for the miserable situation in
which he had been found.

"We left the state of Missouri," said the man, whose name was Bennett,
"for the purpose of carrying cattle to Fort Snelling. My companions'
names were Watson and Turner. We did not know the road, but supposed a
map would guide us, with what information we could get on the way. We
lost our way, however, and were eagerly looking for some person who
could set us right. Early one morning some Sioux came up with us, and
seemed inclined to join our party. One of them left hastily as if sent
on a message; after a while a number of warriors, accompanied by the
Indian who had left the first party, came towards us. Their leader had a
dark countenance, and seemed to have great influence over them. We tried
to make them understand that we had lost our way; we showed them the
map, but they did not comprehend us.

"After angrily addressing his men for a few moments, the leader shot
Watson through the shoulder, and another sent an arrow through his body
and killed him. They then struck Watson's brother and wounded him.

"In the mean time the other Indians had been killing our cattle; and
some of the animals having run away, they made Watson, who was sadly
bruised with the blows he had received from them, mount a horse and go
with them to hunt the rest of the cattle. We never heard of him again.
The Indians say he disappeared from among the bushes, and they could
not find him; but the probability is that they killed him. Some seemed
to wish to kill Turner and myself--but after a while they told us to go,
giving us our horses and a little food. We determined to retrace our
steps. It was the best thing we could do; but our horses gave out, and
we were obliged to leave them and proceed on foot.

"We were soon out of provisions, and having no means of killing game,
our hearts began to fail us. Turner was unwell, and on arriving at a
branch of Crow river, about one hundred miles northwest of Fort
Snelling, he found himself unable to swim. I tried to carry him across
on my back, but could not do it; he was drowned, and I barely succeeded
in reaching the shore. After resting, I proceeded on my journey. When I
came in sight of the Indian village, much as I needed food and rest, I
dreaded to show myself,