After that Pritchard and
other half-breeds protected us from night to night for we were not
safe a single minute.
During the two days which had passed, the bodies of the men that were
murdered had not been buried. They were lying on the road exposed to
the view of everyone. The half-breeds carried them off the road to the
side, but the Indians coming along dragged them out again. It was
dreadful to see the bodies of our _poor dear_ husbands dragged
back and forth by those demoniac savages.
On Saturday the day before Easter, we induced some half-breeds to take
our husbands' bodies and bury them. They placed them, with those of the
priests, under the church. The Indians would not allow the other
bodies to be moved. And dreadful to relate those inhuman wretches set
fire to the church, and with yelling and dancing witnessed it burn to
the ground. The bodies, I afterwards heard, were charred beyond
recognition.
Upon seeing what was done the tears ran profusely down our cheeks and
I thought my very heart would break. All the comfort we received from
that unfeeling band was, "that's right, cry plenty, we have killed
your husbands and we will soon have you."
On Easter Sunday night there was a heavy thunder storm and before
morning it turned cold and snowed; the tent pole broke, coming down
within an inch of my head, the snow blowing in and our bedding all
covered with it and nothing to keep us warm.
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