They were doomed, however, to run a severe gauntlet before reaching their villages, and to pay dearly for the temerity, which had led them to proceed so far into the country, which the Ojibways claimed as their own. A party of sixty Ojibway warriors had, a short time previous, left their village at Sandy Lake (as has been mentioned), and under the leadership of Wans-uk-o-gub-ig, a distinguished war-chief, they proceeded down the Mississippi in their birchen canoes, to the haunts of their enemies. Meeting with no success in their foray after scalps, they left their canoes in the enemy's country, and were returning home on foot, when, arriving at Crow Wing, they discovered the late encampment of the Dakotas, who were making the grand circuit of the northern country.

From the marks thus discovered, the Ojibways became satisfied that the enemy, who had gone up the Crow Wing River, would either soon return the same way, or come down the Mississippi, after having perhaps massacred their wives and children at Sandy Lake. They determined, therefore, to await their coming at the confluence of these rivers, and notwithstanding the apparent strength of their enemies, to give them battle.

About half a mile below the main mouth of the Crow Wing, and a few rods above Allan Morrison's present1 establishment, or trading post, on the east side of the Mississippi, the river makes a curve, and the whole force of the current is thrown against the banks in the bend, which rise almost perpendicular from the water's edge, fifty feet high, and on the brow of which stands a few pine trees. Boats or canoes passing down the river are naturally drawn by the current immediately under this bank; and, with an eye to these advantages, the Ojibway warriors determined to post themselves here in ambuscade. They dug several holes along this bank, for two or three hundred feet, capable of holding eight or ten men each, in rows, from which, perfectly invisible to their passing enemy, and sheltered from their missiles, they intended to commence the attack. A.D. 1852.

Satisfied at the immense odds they would have to contend with, they made every preparation. Hunters were sent out to kill and dry meat sufficient to sustain the whole party for several days, and scouts were sent some distance above the river, to watch the first coming of their enemies.

One morning after their preparations had all been completed, one of their scouts, who had been sent about a mile up the Mississippi, and who was watching on the bank for the first appearance of the Dakotas, descended carelessly to the water's edge to drink. While lapping the water with his hand to his lips, looking up the river, he perceived a canoe suddenly turn a point of land above him. Instinctively he threw himself fiat on the ground, and gradually crawled unperceived up the hank. When out of sight, on looking back, he saw the whole bosom of the river covered with the war canoes of those for whose coming he had been sent to watch. Seeing that he had not been noticed, he flew back to his comrades, who now prepared fully for the approaching conflict, by putting on their war paints and ornaments of battle.

Directly opposite the main mouth of the Crow Wing, on the spot where the American Fur Company's post is now1 located, and in plain view of their ambuscade, the Ojibways saw their enemies disembark, and proceed to cook their morning meal. They saw the large group of female prisoners, as they were roughly pushed ashore, and made to build the fires and hang the kettles. Amongst them, doubtless, were their wives, daughters, or sisters. They saw the younger warriors of the enemy form in a ring, and dance, yelling and rejoicing, over the scalps they had taken. They saw all this, and burning with rage, they impatiently awaited the moment when their foes would come within range of their bullets and arrows. With difficulty the leader restrained his younger and more foolhardy warriors from rushing forth to attack their enemies while engaged in their orgies. A. D. 1852.

Amongst the captives was an old woman, who at every encampment, had exhorted her fellows not to be cast down in their spirits, for their men who had gone on a war party would certainly, at some place, attack their captors, and in this case they must upset the canoes they were in, and swim for life to the shore from which their friends would make the attack. In this manner did she teach "her grand-children," as she called them, to be prepared for a sudden onslaught.

The Dakotas, having finished their morning meal, and scalp dancing, once more poured into their canoes. They floated down with the current in a compact mass, holding on to each other's canoes, while filling and lighting their pipes, and passing them from one to another, to be alternately smoked. Above them, dangling from the ends of poles, were the bloody scalps they had taken. In the foremost canoes were the war leaders, and planted before them were the war ensigns of feathers. After smoking out their pipes, the Jeen-go-dum was uttered by the whole party, with a tremendous noise. The drums commenced beating, accompanied with yells and songs of triumph. Still moving in a compact flotilla, in full rejoicing, the force of the current at length brought them immediately under the deadly ambuscade of their enemies. The Jeen-go-dum is a peculiar cry, uttered by warriors after killing an enemy.

The moment had now come which the Ojibways had so long been aching for, and at the sound of their leader's war-whistle, they suddenly let fly a flight of bullets and barbed arrows into the serried ranks of the enemies, picking out for death the most prominent and full plumed figures amongst them. Yelling their fear-striking sas-sak-way, or war-whoop, they sent their deadly missiles like hail amongst their enemies, sending many of their bravest warriors to the land of spirits. The confusion amongst the Dakotas at this sudden and unexpected attack was immense. The captives overturned the canoes they were in, and the rest running against one another, and those in the water struggling to re-embark, and the sudden jumps of those that were wounded, caused many of them to overturn, leaving their owners struggling in the deep current. Many were thus drowned, and as long as they remained within range of their enemies' weapons, the Dakotas suffered severely.

Some dove and swam ashore on the opposite side--then running down the bank of the river, they joined those of their fellows who still floated, about a mile below the place of the attack, where they all landed and collected their up-turned canoes, and such of their articles as floated past. Many of their captives made their escape by swimming to their friends. Some were dispatched at the first onset, and the few that still remained in their hands, the Dakotas took and tied to trees, to await the consequences of the coming struggle, for, smarting under the loss of their bravest men, and having noticed the comparatively small numbers of the Ojibways, they determined to go back and fight the battle anew, and revenge the death of their relatives.

They bravely made the attack, but the Ojibways were so strongly and securely posted, that they sustained the fight till dark without losing any of their men, while the Dakotas suffered severely, being obliged to fight from open ground, without shelter. The fight lasted till night, when the Dakotas retreated. They encamped where they had landed, and in plain view and hearing of their enemies, who, during the night distinctly heard their lamentations, as they wept for their relatives who had been slain during the day's fight.

In the morning, the Dakotas, burning for vengeance, returned to the attack. Acting with greater caution and wariness, they approached the Ojibway defenses by digging counter holes, or making embankments of earth or logs before them, to shield them from their missiles. The ammunition of the contending warriors failing them, the Dakotas dug their hiding holes so close to those of their foes, that large stones were easily thrown from hole to hole. In this manner, a late noted Ojibway chief named We-esh-coob (Sweet), who was then a young man, received a stunning blow on his face, which broke his jawbone. Some of the bravest warriors fought hand to hand with clubs and knives, and the Ojibways lost one of their numbers, who, fighting rather rashly, was dispatched by a Dakota brave, and scalped.

The Ojibways, however, defended themselves so obstinately, that they eventually forced their enemies to retreat. Having suffered a severe loss, the Dakota warriors returned to their villages, and for fear that the Ojibways would retaliate, by making a similar incursion into their country, the M'dé-wak-an-ton section of the tribe evacuated the Rum River country, and moved to the Minnesota River.

DAKOTA LEGEND.

The following Dakota legend connected with the invasion of their tribe to the heads of the Mississippi, of which we have given the preceding account, was related to the writer by Waub-o-jeeg (White Fisher), a chief of the Mississippi Ojibways, who being of part Dakota origin, in his younger days lived more or less with them, and learned to speak their language. In this manner he picked up many of their traditions and beliefs, and among the number, the following simple, but affecting story:--
A young Dakota warrior, eager to gain renown, determined to join the war party, which was gathering at his village at St. Anthony's Falls, and destined to sweep the Ojibway country, and put out the fires which this tribe had lighted on the Upper Mississippi. He had just taken to wife a beautiful girl of his tribe, whom he loved, and who dearly loved him. She endeavored to dissuade him from going to war on this occasion. tie would not listen to the soft persuasions, nor allow her loving caresses to affect his determination, for all the young men of his village were going, and they would laugh at him were he to remain alone with the women, when there were eagle plumes and renown to be gained. With tears the young wife importuned her husband to remain. She told him that a presentiment weighed on her heart, that he would never return from this warpath.

The young warrior, though he dearly loved his bride, was resolute in withstanding her persuasions, but to appease her anxious mind, and her dreams of ill boding, he solemnly promised and called on the spirits to hear him, that he would return to her. Their last parting was sad and tearful, and she could not even bear to witness the ceremonies attendant on the departure of the warriors from their village. She counted every day of his absence, and as the days increased in number, she daily eagerly looked for his return. The warriors had overstayed the appointed number of days, in which they had promised to return, and they were now hourly expected back to their homes. Their wives and sweethearts decked themselves out in their finery, in anticipation of their coming.

The anxious young wife retired to the water's side early one morning, and sat down on the grassy banks of the flowing Mississippi, to comb and braid her long and beautiful hair. The glassy surface of the bright waters at her feet served her for a mirror. Notwithstanding her former presentiments, she expected the return of her young husband that day, for he had solemnly promised it by the name of the spirits. She prepared, therefore, to appear to him to the best advantage. As she cast her eyes at the current, which sluggishly swept past her feet, she noticed a dark object floating beneath the surface of the waters. The circling eddies brought it to her feet, and with a slight scream of surprise, and a cold thrill at her heart, she recognized human figure. Instinctively she sprang forward, and catching the body by the arm, pulled it partly on shore. As if an ice bolt had been applied to her heart, she knew the features of her young husband. The leathered end of a barbed arrow which had pierced his heart, still stuck from his breast. He had kept his promise--he had returned, indeed, but in death. The young, heart-broken wife, uttering a piercing shriek, fell senseless on the inanimate body. The villagers hearing that despairing cry, ran to the water's side, and at sight of the dead warrior, they received the first intimation of the loss which their warriors had suffered at Crow Wing fight. The young husband had probably been killed while floating down the river in his canoe, at the first fire of the ambushed Ojibways, and the current might naturally have taken his body to the spot where his wife was awaiting his arrival, while his fellows were fighting at Crow Wing, and during their return homeward.

The shattered remains of this grand war party returned the same day. The young wife whose presentiment had thus been most awfully fulfilled, pined away, and wept herself to death. She died happy in the hope and belief of rejoining her young warrior husbands in the happy land of spirits.

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