circumstances which showed that he had some reason for it, he was
condemned and sentenced, by the chief, to sit on the grave of his victim
for a certain length of time. That was his only hope and his "City of
refuge." If any of the relatives of the deceased wanted to kill him
there they had a right (according to their law) to do so. If he remained
and lived his time out, on the horrible place, he was received back
again to the fellowship of his tribe. This must have been a terrible
punishment. It showed, however, the Indian's love of his tribe and
country, to sit there and think of the danger of being shot or
tomahawked, and of the terrible deed he had committed. He had taken away
what he could never give. How different was his case from the one who
left tribe, friends and home, and ran away to save the life of a white
man who had given him bread.

About two and a half miles southwest of our house there was a large sand
hill. Huckleberries grew there in abundance. I went there and picked some
myself. On the top of that hill we found Indian graves, where some had
been recently buried. There were pens built of old logs and poles around
them, and we called it the "Indian Hill." It is known by that name to
this day. The old telegraph road runs right round under the brow of this
hill. This hill is in the town of Taylor. I don't suppose there are many
in that town who do not know the hill or have heard of it, and but few in
the town of Dearborn. I don't suppose there are six persons living who
know the reason it is called the "Indian Hill" for we named it in a very
early day.

Some twelve or fifteen years after this a man by the name of Clark had
the job of grading down a sand hill nearly a mile south of Taylor Center.
In grading he had to cut down the bank six or seven feet and draw it off
on to the road. He hired me with my team to go and help him. I went. He