It could have been either before or after Jean’s arrival that Bud and I had a scary escape from the Indians. Grandma, who was born at Wabasha, Minnesota in Sioux country told hair-raising stories about family experiences there: when they fled to the woods to escape a raid, her father’s terrible experiences during the Civil War and the rumer that he had been a hangman of condemned Sioux. So, not too surprisingly, at an early age we knew that Indians were not to be trifled with.

That day, somehow Bud and I found out that there was a camp of Indians at the ravine less than half a mile away from our home at the Potvin house. We just could not resist the opportunity to take a look at these strange, dangerous people. We quietly crept up along the road toward the known location of their tent. Then danger suddenly struck. The Indians had packed up camp, and were coming along the road strait for us. We were too far from home to flee to safety so we hid among the weeds in the ditch beside the road. On came the team of horses with a low walled box on a wagon and a man driving the team, a woman beside him on the seat and a number of children in the box behind them. Much to our relief, they passed right by, while we kept a close eye on that warrior; a man, that surprisingly, didn’t look too much different from our own Dad, except with darker skin. I now am quite sure that the family were quite aware of the frightened little boys hiding in the ditch but were kind enough to not even look in that direction and maybe could hardly hold back on their snickers.

Anyway, having made a safe escape, Bud and I carried on to investigate the remains of the Indian camp. There was nothing there but a small hatchet which we took home and used for many years. We were told by our parents how harmless those people were and that they were probably on there way to some neighbour to help out with some farm work.

Sue’s note : This is one of my favourite stories. I can easily picture these two little boys laying on their bellies in the long grass hiding from the terrifying Indian family as the rumble by in their wagon. Dad says “I can still remember clearly how they looked driving by; looking straight ahead, ignoring two silly boys in the grass.”