Old Rail Fence Corners | Page 3

House had been built after the fort was, by
Mr. Baker, a trader, to accommodate people from the south, who
wanted to summer here. It was now deserted by its owners and any one
of the sparse settlers or traders would occupy it. He said a trader by the
name of Martin McLeod was living there and that Kittson, another
trader, lived at his trading post about fifty yards away from the house.
There was a good wagon road about where the road is now. My friend,
for such he later became, told me it led to the government mill at the
Falls of St. Anthony, but that it took longer to walk it than it did the
Indian trail that led along the bank of the Mississippi. So I took this as
advised. There were many Indians on the trail going and coming. All at
once I heard a great commotion ahead of me. Indians were running
from every direction. When I came to the place where they all were, I
heard lamentations and fierce imprecations. I saw the reason there. Two
of their warriors were lying dead and scalped, while clambering up the
opposite bank of the river, three of the Sioux's sworn enemies, three
Chippewas, could be seen. The slain were head men in the tribe. The
guns and arrows of the Sioux could not carry across the river, so they
escaped for the time being. I was afraid the Sioux vengeance would fall
on me, but it did not.
I soon came to the St. Louis house. While there, I saw Walter McLeod,
then a baby.
McLeod, the father, had fled from Canada at the time of one of the
rebellions, in company with others, but was the only one to survive a
terrible blizzard and reach Mendota. Mr. Sibley at once employed him
as he was well educated. When he was married later, he gave him some
fine mahogany furniture, from his own home, to set up housekeeping
with.

While at the St. Louis House, I walked with a soldier along the Indian
trail that followed the river bank to the government mill at the Falls of
St. Anthony. On our way, we went down a deep ravine and crossed the
creek on a log. We could hear the roaring of falls and walked over to
see them. They were the most beautiful I had ever seen and were called
Brown's Falls, but General LeDuc in 1852 gave them the name
Minnehaha. I thought I had never seen anything quite so pretty looking
as the river and woods. The deer were everywhere and game of all
kinds bountiful. The soldier told me that no white man could settle here
anywhere for ten miles as it was all in the Fort Snelling reservation.
That is why the town of St. Anthony was built on the east side of the
river instead of on the west side and why there was no town on this side
of the river for many years after. We saw some Sioux tepees and met
the Indians constantly. They were a fine sturdy race, with fine features
and smiling faces. The soldier said they could be depended on and
never broke a promise. The old mill was on the river bank about where
we used to take the cars in the old Union Station. It was not then in use,
as the rocks had broken off, leaving it perhaps forty or fifty feet from
the Falls. A flume had to be constructed before it could again be used.
The Falls were a grand sight. We heard their roaring long before we
could see them and saw the spray sparkling in the sunlight. There was a
watchman living in a little hut and he gave us a nice meal. A few Sioux
wigwams were near.
On the other side, we could see smoke 'way up above where the
suspension bridge now is. He said some Frenchmen and half breeds
lived there. The place was called St. Anthony. We did not go over. He
also said there were many white people, French, Scotch and English
living in the country upon the Red River. Some were called Selkirk
settlers. He did not know why. He said Martin McLeod had been one of
these.
We passed some squaws in a big dugout. It was thirty feet long. There
were fourteen of them in the boat.
There was no boat leaving the fort for some time so I went to Mendota,
crossing the Minnesota River in a canoe ferry. My business at Mendota

was to present a letter of introduction to Mr. Sibley, Manager of the
American Fur Trading Co., from the missionary board of Ohio and see
how I could reach Lac qui Parle. I arrived at Mr.