45. The eldest sister’s name was Temperance Cutright, who was living

in McLean County, Illinois, at the time, and was about 27 years old; eldest brother’s name was John W., who was at home, aged 23; Edward H. Hall, aged 21; Greenbury Hall, aged 19 (these two last named were not at the house at the time when the Indians made the attack); Sylvia Hall, aged 17; Rachael Hall, aged 15; Elizabeth, aged 8. The house in which we were belonged to Wm. Davis, who, with his family, contained nine members. Mr. Pettigrew’s family, consisting of four members, were also at the house, where those families were stopping together, in order to protect each other in case of danger from the Indians. John H. Henderson, Henry George and Robert Norris also were stopping at the same house. “John H. Henderson, Alexander Davis, Edward and Greenbury Hall, Allen Howard, Wm. Davis, Jr., were in the field, about 100 rods south, at the time when the Indians approached the house. Wm. Hall, Wm. Davis, John W. Hall, Norris and George were at the time in a blacksmith shop about sixty or eighty steps from the house, rather down the creek, and near the bank and not far from the north end of a mill dam, which was being built. “Mr. Pettigrew was in the house, when all of a sudden the Indians came to the door of the house. Pettigrew, with a child in his arms, flew to the door and tried to shut it, but failed to accomplish his object, being shot, and fell in the house. Then commenced a heart-rending scene. Mrs. Pettigrew had her arms around Rachael at the time she was shot, and the flash of the burning powder blew in her face. We were trying to hide or get out of the way, while there was no place to get. We were on the bed when the Indians caught us, and took us out into the yard, two Indians taking each of us by the arms and hurrying off as fast as possible, and while going, we saw an Indian take Pettigrew’s child by the feet and strike its head against a stump, and Davis’ little boy was shot by an Indian, two other Indians holding the boy by each hand. “We passed on to the creek, about 80 steps, when they dragged Rachael into the creek and about half way across, when they turned back and went near half way to the house, where Sylvia and Rachael got together and were hurried up the creek on the north side, being the same side the house stood upon, to where the Indians had left their ponies, about 1-1/2 miles from the house. Here we found the Indians with father’s horses and some of the neighbors tied up with their ponies. We were then placed on a pony apiece, on an Indian saddle, and placed near the center of the procession, each of our ponies being led, and occasionally the ponies we were riding received the lash from someone behind. “We supposed that there was somewhere about 40 warriors, no squaws being in this party. In this way we traveled until late in the night, when the party halted about two hours, and the Indians danced a little, holding their ponies by the bridles. We rested during this time on some blankets, and both permitted to sit together. Then we were remounted and traveled on in the same order until one or two o’clock the next day, when they halted again near some bushes, not far from a grove of timber (on our right). Just before we stopped, Rachael made signs to them that she was tired, and was allowed to get off her pony and walk awhile, and while walking we came to a stream of water some three feet deep, and she was compelled to wade through the water. Here we rested one or two hours while the ponies picked a little, and some beans were scalded by the Indians and some acorns roasted, and the Indians ate heartily, and we tried to, but it was very hard to get much down while expecting all the time to fare like our beloved friends, or worse. After thus resting, we were packed up as usual, and traveled on a while, when some of the Indians left us for some time. When they returned we were hurried on at a rapid rate some five miles, while the Indians that were following had their spears drawn, and we expected that the party while absent had seen some whites, and that if we were overtaken they would destroy us. “After having rode at this rapid rate for about one hour, they slacked or checked their speed and rode on as usual, until near sundown, when the whole party halted for the night, and, having built a fire, the Indians required us to burn some tobacco and corn meal in the fire, which was placed in our hands by them, which we did, not knowing why we did so, except to obey them. We, however, supposed it might be to show that they had been successful in their undertaking. The Indians then prepared their supper, consisting of dried meat sliced, coffee boiled in a copper kettle, corn pounded and made in a kind of soup; they then gave us some of this preparation in wooden bowls, with wooden ladles. We partook of those provisions, but did not relish them, after which the Indians partook of their supper, prepared in the same manner. After supper the warriors held a dance, and after the dance concluded, we were conducted to a tent or wigwam, and a squaw placed on each side of us, where we remained during this night, sleeping what we could, which was but little. The Indians kept stirring round all night. In the morning, breakfast in about the same manner as supper. Breakfast over, the Indians cleared off a piece of ground about 90 feet in circumference, and placed a pole about 25 feet high in the center, and 15 or 20 spears set up around this pole, and on the top of the spears were placed the scalps of our murdered friends. Father’s, mother’s and Mr. Pettigrew’s were recognized by us. There were also two or three hearts placed upon separate spears; then squaws, under the directions of the warriors, as we understood it by their jabbering, painted one side of our faces and heads red and the other black, we being seated on our blankets near the center pole, just leaving room for the Indians to pass between us and the pole. Then the warriors commenced to dance around us with their spears in their hands, and occasionally sticking them in the ground. And now we expected at every round the spears would be thrust through us and our troubles brought to an end, yet no hostile demonstration was made by them toward us. “After they had continued their dance about half an hour or more, two old squaws led us away to one of their wigwams and washed the paint off our faces, as well as they could, after scrubbing very hard. Then the whole encampment struck tents and started in a northward direction, while the whole earth seemed to be alive with Indians. This being the third day of our suffering, we were very much exhausted, and still we must obey the savage murderers, and while traveling now, we were separated from each other during traveling hours, under charge of two squaws to each of us, and being permitted to stay together when not on the march under the direction of our four squaws, we now traveled slowly over rough, barren prairie land until near sundown, when we camped again, being left with our four squaws, with whom we were always in company, day or night, they sleeping on each side of us during the night. “The warriors now held another dance, but not around us this time, as before. Here we had all the maple sugar we desired, while the Indians seemed to make as good preparations for our accommodation as they could. “About this time our dresses were changed, the Indians furnishing the dresses. The one furnished Rachael was a red and white calico dress, ruffled around the bottom. Sylvia’s was blue calico. The Indians now tried to get us to throw away our shoes and put on moccasins, which we would not do. They also threw away Rachael’s comb, and she went and got it again and kept it. We now traveled and camped about as usual, until the seventh day, when the Indians came to where we were and took Sylvia off on to the side of a hill, about 40 rods from where we were before, to where the Indians seemed to have been holding a council, and one of the Indians said that Sylvia must go with an old Indian, which we afterward learned was the chief of the Winnebagoes, and called himself White Crow, and was blind in one eye, and that Rachael was to remain with the Indians we had been with all the time. Sylvia said she could not go unless Rachael went also. He, the White Crow, then got up and made a speech, loud and long, and seemed very much excited and interested. After he had concluded his speech, some Indian, who called himself Whirling Thunder, went and brought Rachael to where Sylvia was, and the chiefs shook hands together, and horses were brought, switches cut to whip them with, and we were both placed on horses, while one of the young Indians stepped up, and with a large knife cut a lock of hair out of Rachael’s head over the right ear, and one out of the back of the head and said to the old chief White Crow that he would have her back (as we afterwards learned) in three or four days. One of the Indians also cut a lock of hair out of the front part of Sylvia’s head. Then we started and rode at a rapid rate, until the next morning near daylight, when we halted at the encampment of the Winnebagoes, and where a bed was prepared on a low scaffold with blankets and furs, upon which we lay down until after daylight. This was the morning of the ninth day of our captivity. After breakfast the whole encampment packed up and placed us and themselves in canoes, and we traveled all day until near sundown, by water, and camped on the bank of the stream, the name of which we never knew, neither can we now tell whether we traveled up or down; neither can we tell what went with the horses on which we rode the day before. “On the morning of the 9th we were up and had breakfast as usual with the Indians very early, after which White Crow went round to each camp or wigwam, as far as we could see, and stood at the opening with a gourd with pebbles in it, shaking it and occasionally talking as if he was lecturing, then he went off and was gone all day, while we remained in camp. He came back at night, and for the first time spoke to us in English and asked if father or mother was alive, and whether we had any brothers or sisters. We told him we thought not, for we expected they were all killed. When he heard this he shook his head and looked very sorry, and then informed us that he was going to take us home in the morning. “Things remained as usual through the night. Next morning, being the 10th, White Crow went through the same performance as on the morning of yesterday. Then 26 of the Winnebagoes went with us into the canoes and crossed over the stream, swimming their ponies by the side of the canoes. After landing on the other shore, all were mounted on the ponies, and we traveled all day through wet land, sloughs and a growth of underbrush, no water being where the underbrush grew. “At night we came to where there were two or three families encamped. (They expressed great joy at seeing us.) Here we stopped for the night and camped. At the camp where we staid, White Crow and Whirling Thunder staid. Here we had pickled pork, potatoes, coffee and bread for supper for ourselves and the two chiefs, which we relished better than anything we had since our captivity. “After all the Indians had laid down, except White Crow, we laid down on the bed prepared for us, and White Crow came and sat down by our bed and commenced smoking his pipe and continued there, smoking the most of the time until morning, never going to sleep, as we believe. “The next morning, 11th, breakfast about the same as supper. The Indian families with whom we staid bid us good-bye, and the same company of 26 Indians as the day before started with us, and we traveled over land that seemed to be higher than that traveled over the day before, and more barren timber. About 10 a.m. we came to some old tracks of a wagon, and now for the first time we began to have some hopes that these Indians were going to convey us home, as they said they would. And as we passed on we began to see more and more signs of civilization. About three o’clock p.m. we stopped and had some dinner, broiled venison and boiled duck eggs, and if they had not been boiled so soon, the young ducks would have made their appearance, and our stomachs would have revolted at such a mess as this. But the Indians would never starve, if they could always get young ducks boiled in the shell. After this sumptuous feast, we traveled on until we found we were near the fort at the Blue Mounds. White Crow then took Rachael’s white handkerchief, or one that had once been white, and made a flag of it, raised it on a pole, rode on about one-half mile, and halted. There the Indians formed a ring around us, and White Crow and two others went on towards the fort until they came within about one-half mile of the fort, where they halted and remained until an interpreter met him and ascertained what he wanted. When the interpreter learned what was wanted, he returned to the fort, and the Indian Agent, Henry Gratiot, in company with a company of soldiers, returned to where we were enclosed. White Crow then delivered us over to the company of soldiers, and we returned with the troops to the fort and found, to the great joy of our hearts, two of our uncles in the company, Edward Hall and Reason Hall. “We remained here in the fort two nights and one day; obtained here a change of clothing. It was now about the 1st of June. We started in company with the same 26 Indians and a company of soldiers, with the Indian agent, Henry Gratiot, for Gratiot’s Grove, which place we reached at night, and remained over night with a family, the agent and interpreter remaining with us, while the Indians camped near by. Next morning White Crow made a speech to the company, in which he referred to the incidents of our rescue. He also proposed to give each of us a Sac squaw for a servant during life, which we declined, telling him that we did not desire to have them placed in such a situation. Then we, in company with the troops, went on to the fort at the White Oak Springs (the Indians bidding us a final adieu at Gratiot’s Grove). Here we remained three or four days, when J.W. Hall, our dear brother, who we supposed murdered, met us, and from whom we learned that all the families that were at the house of Davis, and all the individuals that were present, were killed, himself excepted. Those in the field at the time of our captivity made their escape to the fort at Ottawa, LaSalle County, Illinois, and he, J.W. Hall, after seeing all fall by the hands of the Indians, made his escape by jumping down the bank of the creek and keeping under said bank on the side nearest the Indians, until he could venture out in the prairie and get across to said fort. His statements will be found in this work. There we remained two or three weeks, and while there we were furnished with materials (by the merchants and others, who seemed to take a great interest in our welfare) to make us some clothing, which we made, in order to prepare ourselves to pass through the country honorably, decently and respectably. And we are very sorry we cannot recollect the names of those kind friends, that they might appear upon record as a testimony of their kindness to us in our destitute condition. May the blessings of our Father in Heaven rest upon them all! “From this place we went, in company with brother John W. Hall and uncle Edward Hall to Galena. Here we staid at the house of Mr. Bells, with whom we had a little acquaintance, some days. While here we received rations from the army. We also found kind friends in abundance, and received donations in clothing and other things, and needed nothing to make us comfortable as we could be under such circumstances. For what was supplied, all those friends have our thanks, and now we take our leave of them and pass down the Fevre River, to the Mississippi, then to St. Louis, Mo. Here we stopped with Governor Clark, where we received all the attention necessary to make us comfortable and happy, that could be bestowed by himself and kind family. We also here received many presents in the way of clothing, and through his (Hon. Gov. William Clark) influence, a sum of money was raised and placed in his hands for our special benefit, amounting in all, we believe, to the sum of four hundred and seventy dollars, to be laid out in land and intrusted to the care of Rev. R. Horn, of Cass County, Illinois, which was done at our request. There were also other smaller sums donated to pay our expenses up the river homeward. Those kind friends also have our thanks for their kindness and liberality. We remained here a few days and took our leave of those kind friends, probably never to meet again in this world. Leaving here, we took boat for Beardstown, Cass County, Illinois, on the Illinois River, where we were safely landed in due time and escorted out in the country five miles east, by brother J.W. Hall and uncle Edward Hall, who had been with us all the time since leaving Blue Mounds, to where we had an uncle, Robert Scott, living here. Here we remained about two months while brother J.W. Hall went up to Bureau County, Illinois, which is about 40 miles from where we were captured, Uncle Edward returning to Galena. About the last of September or first of October, 1832, brother J.W. Hall returned, and in his company we went to Bureau County, Illinois, where we remained with brother J.W. Hall until the next spring. “Some time in March, 1833, sister Rachael was married to a William Munson. Then sister Sylvia staid part of the time with brother Green and part with Rachael until in May, 1833, sister Sylvia was also married to William S. Horn, and removed to Cass County, Ill.[A] Thus we have given the circumstances of our captivity and rescue as near as we can recollect at this date, September 7, 1867, in the county of Nemaha, State of Nebraska, where Sylvia Horn lives and where I and my husband have been paying them a visit. “Rachael Munson, “Sylvia Horn.” In presence of: “W.S. Horn, “W. Munson.” State of Nebraska} September, 1867. County of Nemaha.} “I, John W. Hall, being requested by my sisters, Sylvia Horn and Rachael Munson, to state what I recollect in reference to the massacre of my father’s family, and the captivity of my two sisters, Rachael and Sylvia, would most gladly comply with their request, so far as I can; but after 35 years of toil have passed over my head since that memorable occasion, my memory is in some things rather dim; yet there are some things that I do remember most distinctly, and shall as long as I have a being (I think). ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Illustration: MRS. RACHAEL HALL MUNSON.] [Illustration: MRS. SYLVIA HALL HORN.] [Illustration: INDIAN CREEK MONUMENT. Inscribed thereon is: “William Hall, aged 45; Mary J. Hall, aged 45; Elizabeth Hall, aged 8; William Pettigrew, wife and two children; –– Davis, wife and five children, and Emery George. Killed May 20, 1832.” ] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ “It was in 1832, as near as I now recollect, on or about the 15th or 16th of May, Old Shabbona, chief of the Pottawatomies, notified my father and other neighbors that the Sac and Fox Indians were hostile, and would in all probability make a raid on the settlement where we lived and murder us and destroy our property, and advised him to leave that part of the country (LaSalle County, Illinois) and seek a place of safety; but Indian rumors were so common, and some of our neighbors did not sufficiently credit this old Indian, and we were advised by them, in connection with others, to collect together as many as possible and stand our ground and defend each other; so after spending the night and consulting together and hiding all heavy property that we could, my father loaded up his wagon and we started for Ottawa, and meeting Mr. Davis, who lived about two and a half miles west, who had been at Ottawa the day before, and had learned that a company had gone out in a northerly direction, to see what they could learn about the Indian movement, who were to report on their return, to Mr. Davis, in case of danger, he, my dear father, was prevailed on by Davis to abandon his retreat and stop at Davis’, where Mr. Pettigrew and family, Mr. Howard and son, Mr. John H. Henderson and two men that were hired by Mr. Davis, Robert Norris and Henry George, were all stopping. On or about the 20th day of May myself and dear father were working under a shed adjoining a blacksmith shop, and on the west side, next to the dwelling house, Mr. Davis and Norris were at work in the shop. Henry George and William Davis, Jr., were at work on a mill dam a little south of the shop. It being a very warm day in the afternoon, someone brought a bucket of cool water from the spring to the shop, and we all went into the shop to rest a few minutes and quench our thirst. “Brother Edward Hall, Greenberry Hall and Mr. Howard and son, Henderson and two of Mr. Davis’ sons were at this time in the field, on the south side of the creek, and in full view of the house, and about one-half mile from the house, planting corn. While we were sitting resting ourselves in the shop, we heard a scream at the house. I immediately said, ‘There are the Indians now!’ and jumped out of the door of the shop, it being on the opposite side from the house, and the others followed as fast as they could, and as we turned the corner of the shop, I discovered the dooryard full of Indians. I next saw the Indians jerk Mr. Pettigrew’s child, four or five months old, taking it by the feet and dashing its brains out against a stump. Seeing Mr. Pettigrew back in the house, I heard two guns, seemingly in the house, and then the tomahawk soon ended the cries of those in the house, and as near this moment as possible they fired about twenty shots at our party of five, neither of us being hurt, that I know of. The next motion of the Indians was to pour some powder down their guns and drop a bullet out of their mouths and raise their guns and fire; this time I heard a short sentence of a prayer to my right and a little behind. On turning my eyes to the right I saw that my dear father was lying on the ground shot in the left breast and expiring in death. On looking around, I saw the last one of the company were gone or going, and the Indians had jumped the fence and were making towards me. Mr. Davis was running in a northeast direction for the timber. Looked back and said, ‘Take care,’ he having his gun in his hands. I at this time discovered quite a number of Indians on horseback in the edge of the woods as though they were guarding the house, to prevent any escape. Then it flashed into my mind that I would try and save myself. I think there were 60 or 80 Indians. I immediately turned toward the creek, which was fifteen or twenty steps from where I stood. The Indians by this time were within three paces of me, under full charge, with their guns in hand. I jumped down the bank of the creek, about 12 feet, which considerably stunned me. At this moment the third volley was fired, the balls passing over my head, killing Mr. Norris and George, who were ahead of me, and who had crossed the creek to the opposite shore, one in the water and the other on the bank. I then passed as swiftly as possible down the stream, on the side next the Indians, the bank hiding me from them. I passed down about two miles, when I crossed and started for Ottawa, through the prairie, overtaking Mr. Henderson, who had started ahead of me, and we went together until we got within four miles of Ottawa, when we fell into company with Mr. Howard and son and three sons of Mr. Davis and my two brothers, all of whom were in the field referred to, except one of Mr. Davis’ sons, who was in the shop when the first alarm was given, and who immediately left when he heard the cry of Indians. We all went to Ottawa together in the short space of one hour or less, it being twelve miles (and the county seat of LaSalle County). Here we aroused the inhabitants and raised a company during the night and started the next morning for the dreadful scene of slaughter and butchery. “On the way we met with Stillman’s defeated troops, who had been defeated a night or two before, they having encamped within four miles of where the bloodthirsty Indians passed the night, after they had killed my dear friends, and instead of going with us and helping bury the dead, they passed on to Ottawa, and we went to the place where the massacre took place. And what a scene presented itself! Here were some with their hearts cut out, and others cut and lacerated in too shocking a manner to mention, or behold without shuddering. We buried them all in great haste, in one grave, without coffin, box or anything of the kind, there to remain until Gabriel’s trump shall wake the nations under the ground, and call to life the sleeping dead. “We then returned to Ottawa and organized a company out of a few citizens and some of Stillman’s defeated troops, into which company I enlisted. The next day we were on the line of march, in pursuit of the red savages, to try, if possible, to get possession of my two eldest sisters, who were missing, and who, we were satisfied, had been carried away with the Indians when they retreated, from signs found on the trails. We proceeded up Rock River, above Sycamore Creek, and our provisions failing, we returned to Ottawa and laid in provisions for a second trip. Here I had a conversation with General Atkinson and proposed that some means be used with friendly Indians, in order to purchase my sisters, as I feared the Indians would, in case we overtook them, kill my sisters. He then informed me that he had that morning made arrangements with Winnebago Indians to try to purchase my sisters. “Now we started the second time in pursuit, and proceeded up Rock River, and fell in with a company of volunteers, under General Dodge, from whom we learned that the friendly Indians had succeeded in obtaining my sisters, and that they were at White Oak Grove or Springs. Then, in company with a company of regulars, under General Atkinson’s orders, we marched to a place called the Burr Oak Grove, or Kellogg’s old station. Here I, with some others, was detached to guard one of the company, who had stabbed his comrade, to Galena, and we started at midnight. Arriving at Galena, I obtained a furlough, and went to the White Oak Springs, where I found my sisters, and returned with them to Galena, stopping at the house of Mr. Sublets, visiting Mr. Rhodes and Mr. Bells, who were acquaintances of father’s. “Here we remained a week or ten days. Then bidding those kind friends adieu on board the steamer Winnebago, we glided down Fever River to the Mississippi, and down that stream to St. Louis, Mo., and stopped at the Honorable William Clark’s mansion (governor of Missouri), where we met and enjoyed the company of his kind family. Here we remained about one week, and were made as comfortable and happy as his family and friends could make us. “We received presents and money, an account of which has been given by my sisters in their statement, and here I wish to express my thanks to those kind friends for their hospitality, sympathy and love, for I feel that we have been brought under lasting obligations to them. “Leaving here, we took a steamer for Beardstown, on the Illinois River, in Cass County, near to which we had an uncle Scott living. Arriving safely at Beardstown, we were conveyed to our uncle’s, five miles out, where we remained a few days, and, leaving my sisters here, I went up the Illinois River to Bureau County and lived in a camp until I could build me a house. This county adjoins LaSalle on the west. The Indians, having received a dreadful scourging, had become peaceable, and in the fall I returned to Cass County and took my sisters and returned to Bureau County again, where we tried to make ourselves as comfortable as possible. This fall I married, and my sisters lived with me through the winter and in the spring, after which they both married, and now I am at the house of the eldest, Sylvia Horn, and dictated the above lines, while my brother-in-law, W.S. Horn, committed them to paper. “September, 1867. “J.W. Hall.” In presence of: “W.S. Horn, “Sylvia Horn.” Late in the afternoon of the 20th, while Capt. George McFadden, Wilbur Walker and others who had been to ask Governor Reynolds and General Atkinson for the four companies ordered by them to go under Colonel Johnson were passing this point, some two miles distant, on their return trip, the shots of that frightful massacre were heard, but in their haste to reach their own settlements they did not pause to investigate the cause. The following day the company of Capt. Joseph Naper, from Chicago, which had been ranging the country, reached the scene and buried all the dead except little Jimmie Davis, a lad of seven years, who had been spared at first and taken along, but who, being unable to keep the pace demanded, was shot a short distance out. The scene was awful, but the lad showed a spirit of fortitude attained by none other in this war of brutal slaughter. The two Indians who had him in charge held him between them, one by each hand, while another shot him down in cold blood, and then, before life was extinct, his scalp was lifted and his body left a prey for wolves or carrion birds. The little fellow blanched like marble, but received the fatal shot without a quaver. Later his body was fortunately discovered and buried with the others. To-qua-mee and Co-mee, who were indicted for complicity in the murders, were brought to bar for the crime, but by reason of the uncertainty of the times and judges to try them, the first term of court passed with nothing done except to admit the culprits to bail on the bond of Shab-bo-na, Shem-e-non, Snock-wine, Sha-a-toe, Mee-au-mese and Sash-au-quash, chiefs and head men of the Pottowatomie nation. Before the next term of court could be held the tribe had been removed west of the Mississippi, whither went the two defendants. When needed for trial they were sought by Sheriff George E. Walker, who alone journeyed into the Indian country. He gathered together the several chiefs, according to custom, who decided the two must return, which they did, with no effort or inclination to escape. This conduct, together with the lavish use of paint, rendered recognition almost impossible by the Hall girls, who were the chief witnesses for the State, and procured their acquittal by the jury.[136] A deep scar ran across the face of To-qua-mee, by which the Hall girls easily recognized him at the murder of their parents, and by which they could easily have recognized him on his trial, but, thanks to the ingenuity of counsel, who had him so bedaub his face with paint, recognition was all but impossible. A little later, when he bathed in the Illinois River with his friends, the imposture was discovered and he was forced to flee for his life to escape the wrath of the settlers. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Illustration: CAPT. ROBERT BARNES.] [Illustration: CAPT. WILLIAM HAWS.] [Illustration: COL. JOHN STRAWN.] [Illustration: LIEUT. COL. WILLIAM COWEN.] ----- Footnote 132: Iles’ Early Life and Times, p. 43. The author claimed the presence of Col. William S. Hamilton in his party, but in that he was mistaken, as Col. Hamilton returned to Galena with Strode. Footnote 133: The statement by Matson that one Mike Girty was connected with the Indian Creek massacre is incorrect. Footnote 134: Matson’s “Memories of Shau-be-na.” Footnote 135: Matson. Footnote A: That part of Morgan County subsequently organized into Cass County in 1837. Footnote 136: Kee-was-see was another defendant, Armstrong 368. Richard M. Young was the judge, Thomas Ford the prosecutor, and Hamilton and Bigelow attorneys for defense at that time. ----- ------------------------------------------------------------------------