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Richardson, John, 1796-1852

"Hardscrabble; or, the fall of Chicago. a tale of Indian warfare"

Of course I always
intended to disinter it at some future, but not distant
period, and bestow upon it the usual rites of burial.
"This painful task accomplished, and the soil having been
carefully replaced, so as to leave no inequality of
surface, I accompanied my friends back by the same route,
and about nine o'clock left the Pottawattamie encampment
with them and a few other warriors of the tribe for the
Fort, which in the crowd I entered without difficulty or
creating suspicion. Watching my opportunity, I stole to
the rear of my bed-room--opened and entered the window--
changed my dress, and made my appearance on parade as
you saw."
"All is ready, sir," said Sergeant Nixon, entering just
as he had concluded, and before Elmsley could offer any
remark on this singular adventure--"the coffin is in the
scow, and Corporal Collins, Green and Philips are there
also with their shovels, ropes, and picks. If Mr. Elmsley
will give me permission," and he touched his cap to that
officer. "I will go too, sir."
"As sergeant of the guard--no, Nixon, my good fellow,
that will never do.


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