G. O. Mellem, the pioneer, par excel­lence, of Worth county, relates, in com­municating the reminiscences of the days when first he located here, the following singular incident:

In the summer of 1854, a party started out from Dubuque to survey and lay out a part of Worth county into the proper divisions and sub-divisions. The head of this company was John Pennybaker, a a nephew of the surveyor-general, and who was in a bad state of health, being of a consumptive tendency, and advised by his friends to breathe the pure, free air of the Iowa prairies. He had assem­bled his squad of five men, himself mak­ing the sixth, and after loading up their teams, in Dubuque, preparatory to start­ing, took a rest of a day before making the move. John Blew, one of his com­panions, set down upon the tongue of one of their wagons to rest. The day was bright and beautiful; an afternoon sun shown from a cloudless sky, and all nature rejoiced, as it seems always to do when we are blessed with that rarest of all days, a perfect spring day. Blew leaned his head upon his hands in ap­parent meditation, and suddenly looking up into the sky, told his companions, who were standing by, that he had seen before him, in the heavens, six men march­ing, in Indian file, from the east to the west, and after they had gone a short distance, a man came from the south, and joining them, the seven continued on their westward march. All at once they stopped and appeared to dig, and when they proceeded on in a moment, there were but six of them. All soon melted into thin air shortly after this. A hearty laugh greeted this tale, and Blew was rallied about it quite often afterwards.

The party set out and while they were crossing the prairie, somewhere, perhaps, in Howard county, an Irishman, from Chickasaw county, joined them as cook for the party. The advent of this man from the south, was so remarkable a coin­cidence with the vision, that, although they still laughed "with counterfeited glee," yet in their own minds, they all felt troubled. After their advent into this county they related the whole story to Mr. Mellem, and he laughed with them.

Now comes the singular part of the story. While they were yet running the lines in Northwood township, one of their number fell sick, and the horrible incubus of the vision weighed upon each man, that they were doomed to lose one of their number, and, of course, who else could it be but the sick man? He, lying there, ill, conjured up all the whole story of the vision, and feeling that he must die, de­sired that he might be taken to Charles City, that he might not die in "this hor­rid wilderness," as he termed it. Accordingly Mr Mellem was employed to drive him there, and whilst he was ab­sent, the denouement came. It seems that one day it became necessary for the compass and other instruments to be carried across the creek, where it is very deep, and while the party were congregated to­gether, discussing whether it was best to go above the head of the stream, and thus turn it, or to build a little raft to carry their tools over the deep water, the cook, the Irishman, who had joined them from Chickasaw county, approached. See­ing that they were in a quandary, he, na­turally enough, inquired the cause. He was informed. "Is that all," he said, "why, I'll put 'em on me back and swim across fur yees." Now, he was quite a noted swimmer among them, and all felt that no danger could come to him, so Paddy stripped, and, taking the compass by the legs, threw it over his shoulder, and struck out for the other shore. He had hardly made a half-dozen strokes, when he was seen to sink beneath the water, and not rising again every effort was made to reach him. All, however, failed in their object; until too late, for when he was finally hauled up on the shore, life was extinct. His companions buried him on the banks of the pellucid stream, and all but Blew left for the set­tlements. The latter lingered a short time when he, too, went back east. Thus the survey was broken up by a singular —dream—was it? and its fatal fulfillment. It has been the endeavor to preserve in the above recital, as near as possible, the sequence and relation of events, as de­tailed by Mr. Mellem.

THE INDIAN SCARE.

Mr. Gulbrand O. Mellem speaking of the Indian scare of 1854, says:

"I did not see any Indians, after coming here, until the morning of Christmas day, 1853. It was early in the morning, and we had just finished eating our breakfast, and my wife was washing the baby, seated by the fire, when the door was partially pushed open and a painted, plumed head was shoved in over the top of the low door. I supposed, not think­ing of the reality, that some of our friends from St. Ansgar, having come over to visit us, had indulged in the old country pastime of dressing up in fantastic dress, with the intent of scaring me. I rose up and shouted, "come in you fools, do you think you can frighten me?" Imagine my feeling when there entered my cabin three buck Indians. Two of these were evidently of some rank, as they were the handsomest dressed Indians I have ever seen, whilst the third was the shabbiest, meanest looking. They, looking around the room, asked for "Minnie, Minnie," I, misunderstanding them, said I had no money, for that is what I thought they wanted, and it would hardly do to let them know I had any. They, seeing the pail setting near, on a stool, pointed to it and then to their months, saying as before, "Minnie," which, now, I understood to be the Sioux for water. I gave them a drink. My wife was sitting there, in fear and trembling, scared almost to death, and told me to give them anything they wanted. They now began to try and question me, but as neither could speak the language of the other, it had to be done by signs. They peered in the cupboard, went down in the cellar and up overhead, peering in every nook and corner, as if in search of something or somebody. I now came to the conclusion that somebody had been into their camp, up north, and hooked some of their horses, and they were in search of them and the thieves. I determined, therefore, to take them to my stables and show them my stock, so that they could see that I had none of theirs. This I did, but it did not seem to be what they wanted, and we seemed no nearer an explanation than before. They now took my foot and planting it in the snow, showed me the track of a boot, asking, this time plainly, by signs, if I had seen a man, or the tracks of a man with boots on going south. I shook my head no; at this, one of them grabbed me by the head with one hand, while with the other he flourished a knife, drawing it across my throat. I thought my hour had come, and for the only time I can remember felt scared. The Indian dropped his hold on me, and seeing how frightened I looked, they all indulged in a good hearty laugh.

While I was thinking what to do they started suddenly for the cabin. Now, I thought, the slaughter will begin, and did not know, hardly, what to do, whether to run and hide in the timber, go to the cabin, or what. After a moment's reflec­tion I felt that my duty was to go to the house and see just what was going on, and at once proceeded there. I drew near with fear and trembling, and peep­ing in, expecting to view a horrible scene of bloodshed, saw my three red friends seated on stools around the fire, quietly smoking their pipes. I knew that all danger, if there had been any, was now over, and I entered quite boldly. I tried hard to learn their errand, and partially succeeded before their departure, which was soon after.

It seems, from what I gathered from them, and from others, learned afterwards, that Joseph Hewitt, of Clear Lake, had been up among the Sioux, in the quality of trader, and to help his trade in ammuni­tion, etc., he had told them that the Win nebagoes were coming to raid them, and that they had better be prepared. Now, they, not seeing their savage foes make an appearance, came south to Round Prairie where they threw up fortifica­tions, remnants of which can be yet seen, sent out scouting parties, of which my visitors were one, in search of Joseph Hewitt, to learn of him the whereabouts of the Winnebagoes. They remained encamped there for sometime, and early in the spring two Norwegians, returning from the Blue Earth country, north, on foot, came in view of six or seven hundred natives, who were indulging in war dances and hallooing like mad around a pole. This post was ornamented with the head of a Winnebago boy, who had been an attendant of Capt. Hewitt's, and whom they had shot that day. The Indians had, by this time, understood the reason of Hewitt's telling them the story, and wanted to get hold of him to kill him. These two Scandinavians did not tarry long when they caught a sight of the ghastly trophy, but "gave leg bail for security," and on reaching the settlement spread the report of what they had seen. All was consternation now, and all were making ready to leave the country at once. On their making a visit to Hewitt, who they all knew was perfectly familiar with the Indians, he assured them that there was no danger, whatever; but when they looked around for him next morning, he too, had fled, and they, without any more ado, gathered up their traps, left for the more thickly settled country, rousing up and scaring the country as they passed with their stories. Some, it is said, did not stop short of Decorah, and a few even reached McGregor.

The Indians, not finding Hewitt, made preparations for their return, not having injured a single white man.

I would not run, nor was I scared as I partially understood how matters were. Shortly after this, in the spring,

I had to go to St. Ansgar to have my plough sharpened, and hitching up my team, I packed in the wagon the wife and baby. While crossing the prairie, about on the line between this and Mitchell county, looking ahead, I discovered a grove, where I had never seen a grove before. My curiosity led me to drive nearer and I finally saw it move. Can it be elk? I thought. On a closer examination I dis­covered it to be about 300 Indians, emigrating to their homes in Minnesota. When I got closer up they treated me very kindly, entreating me by signs to go back, that they meant no harm, for they thought I was trying to run away, as I was journeying toward the settlement. They wanted me to buy a horse of one of them, but I did not think it best to be the purchaser, so drove off in peace.

Soon after this they moved north and left the country for good.

Transcribed by Gordon Felland, March 5, 2009