got about one acre from the house we heard shots, which we thought
were fired in the air. We paid little or no attention to them. I had
my husband by the arm. We were thus linked when old Mr. Williscraft
rushed past, bear-headed. I turned my head to see what was the cause
of his excitement, when I saw Mr. Gowanlock fall. I was about to speak
when I felt my husband's arm drop from mine--and he said, "I am shot
too." Just then the priests rushed up and Father Fafard was saying
something in French, which I could not catch. My husband staggered
over about twenty feet from me and then back again and fell down
beside me. I bent down and raised his head upon my lap. I think over
forty shots must have been fired, but I could not tell what side the
shot came from that hit my husband. I called Father Fafard and he came
over. He knelt down and asked my husband if he could say the
"confiteor." My husband said "yes" and then repeated the prayer from
end to end. As he finished the prayer, the priest said: "my poor
brother, I think you are safe with God," and as the words died upon
his lips he received his death-wound and fell prostrate across my
husband. I did not see who fired the shot. I only saw one shot fired;
I thought it was for myself but it was for my husband and it finished
him. In a couple of minutes an Indian, from the opposite side, ran up,
caught me by the wrist and told me to go with him. I refused, but I
saw another Indian shake his head at me and tell me to go on. He
dragged me by force away. I got one glance-the last-at my poor
husband's body and I was taken off. After we had gone a piece I, tried
to look back-but the Indian gave me a few shakes pretty roughly and
then dragged me through the creek up to my waist in water--then over a
path full of thorns and briars and finally flung me down in his tent.

I will not now stay to describe my feelings or attempt to give in
language, an idea of the million phantoms of dread and terror; memory