His face was bright and intelligent, and I watched it very closely as he
talked in his earnest way with father, who was equally animated in
answering him.
The Indian carried a rifle and a revolver--the latter being in plain
sight at his waist--but I never connected the thought of danger with
him as he sat there talking with father.
I describe this Indian rather closely, as he was no other than the
well-known chief, Little Crow, who was at the head of the frightful
Sioux war, which broke out within sixty days from that time.
The famous chieftain staid until the sun went down. Then he started up
and walked away rapidly in the direction of Lac Qui Parle. Father called
good-by to him, but he did not reply and soon disappeared in the woods.
The sky was cloudy, and it looked as if a storm was coming; so, as it
was dark and blustering, we remained within doors the rest of the
evening. A fine drizzling rain began to fall, and the darkness was
intense.
The evening was well advanced, and father was reading to us, when there
came a rap upon the door.
It was so gentle and timid that it sounded like the pecking of a bird,
and we all looked in the direction of the door, uncertain what it
meant.
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