pile of white, fragrant shavings, but he hospitably left his work to become my guide. We went into the field beside his house where, near a white shock of withered corn, a little stone post marked the spot where Mr. Brokaw many years ago discovered unmistakable evidence of the original site of the blockhouse. It will be remembered that the relief party which came to Big Bottom the day after the massacre buried the dead within the half-burned building for, elsewhere, the ground was frozen. The bodies were removed later to their present resting-place on the hillside to the east, but when plowing very deep one spring Mr. Brokaw found the old burial place, and, consequently, the site of the old blockhouse; here he erected the little monument which marks the spot.
Beside this stone and with the wind sighing in the withered corn, Mr. Brokaw pointed out, on the range of hills beyond the river, the old path over which the Indians came. He said the trail was as plain there today as the country road yonder. Noting my growing curiosity to know more of such an odd thing as an old trail, my
