our little company. We managed to keep track of the days of the week, but missed on the day of the month by one week. However, all days were alike to us in the work in which we were engaged. Our provisions for this trip were purchased in St. Louis, carried by boat up the Mississippi and Minnesota Rivers to Mankato and from there we hauled them by team. The food consisted of side pork, beans, flour, and coffee. We had no vegetables, no milk, no butter.
In the spring of 1865, about the middle of April, as we were leaving Lake Shetek at the close of the trapping season, there was another party of three young men from Estherville, Iowa, who were preparing to make the trip home in a skiff. They sold us what furs they had and I learned afterwards that they had some difficulty in navigating the river. When they arrived at or near Lake Talcot they concluded to abandon that mode of transportation and having discovered a trapper's shack, they moved their possessions into it. The oldest one then shouldered his pack of blankets and grub and started out for home on foot, where he was to get a team and return for the other boys. The boys in the meantime amused themselves by shooting muskrats. Things went along all right for a day or two, but, one morning before the boys got up, the door was suddenly thrown open and several shots were fired into the shack. The boys sprang out of bed, slammed the door shut and proceeded to dress in short order and get down their shot-guns. About this time, an Indian stuck his face up to the window to reconnoiter and one of the boys snapped his gun at him, but the cap failed to explode and no harm was done—probably a good thing for the boys. The Indians in the meantime had taken cover among the trees back of the santy. The goys now decided on a measure that I would have considered altogether too risky. They took their guns and ammunition and leaving everything else, threw the door open and made a break for the prairie. The maneuver was perfectly successful. The Indians never even fired at them. One of the boys discovered after traveling several miles that he had received a slight flesh wound in the leg, but during the excitement had not noticed it. This is merely an episode of those early days.
It was not until June 1866, that I again returned to Murray County; by this time I had changed my mind about the de-
—16—
sirability of land here and forthwith proceeded to take a claim. At this time there were a few hardy pioneers around Lake Shetek, Captain Aldrich and his two sons, Joseph and Clarence; also, Abner Marsh and his son, George. They were seventy miles from New Ulm, the nearest postoffice and trading post, and also the nearest doctor. We were seldom sick and no one died except by accident such as drowning or freezing. When anyone made the trip to New Ulm, he brought back the mail for the whole settlement and usually left it at the home of Captain Aldrich to be called for.
Some of our settlers were in the government employ as scouts and had to report to Uncle Sam now and then as to the activities of the Noble Red Men. This, however, was not generally known and what scouting they did, did not interfere with their usual vocations to any great extent. But, it was only just that they should have had some compensation from the government for taking the lead on the edge of civilization, or rather they had pushed considerably over the edge and were really out in the wilderness.
While religious meetings were the exception rather than the rule, kindness and good will always prevailed. I for one, certainly appreciate the many favors I received from those early settlers during the infant days of the settlement. While we did not always hold the same views on religious, political and other subjects, we never allowed these differences of opinion to cause any coolness in our social relations.
The first factory to operate in Murray County was, I believe, a pipe factory. Three young fellows were sent by the trader at Fort Thompson to get some pipestone pipes. They got a quantity of rock from the Pipestone Quarries and then tinkered up the lathe in an old saw mill on the Des Moines River, that had been abandoned at the time of the massacre. This factory was operated by "one Dutchman power," and that winter turned out a number of pipes which were fitted with native reeds for stems and taken to Fort Thompson and traded to the Indians at the rate of one pipe for two buffalo hides.
Our farming operations as compared with those of today were rather crude. We had only a few pieces of machinery, most of it home made. My first drag was hand made and had
—17—
Previous Page
Next Page
Table of Contents
Index of Names
Home