Indian Heroes and Great Chieftains - Chapters VI-IX



CHAPTER VI. CRAZY HORSE 

Crazy Horse was born on the Republican River about 1845. He was killed at 
Fort Robinson, Nebraska, in 1877, so that he lived barely thirty-three 
years. 

He was an uncommonly handsome man. While not the equal of Gall in 
magnificence and imposing stature, he was physically perfect, an Apollo in 
symmetry. Furthermore he was a true type of Indian refinement and grace. 
He was modest and courteous as Chief Joseph; the difference is that he was 
a born warrior, while Joseph was not. However, he was a gentle warrior, a 
true brave, who stood for the highest ideal of the Sioux. Notwithstanding 
all that biased historians have said of him, it is only fair to judge a 
man by the estimate of his own people rather than that of his enemies. 

The boyhood of Crazy Horse was passed in the days when the western Sioux 
saw a white man but seldom, and then it was usually a trader or a soldier. 
He was carefully brought up according to the tribal customs. At that 
period the Sioux prided themselves on the training and development of 
their sons and daughters, and not a step in that development was 
overlooked as an excuse to bring the child before the public by giving a 
feast in its honor. At such times the parents often gave so generously to 
the needy that they almost impoverished themselves, thus setting an 
example to the child of self-denial for the general good. His first step 
alone, the first word spoken, first game killed, the attainment of manhood 
or womanhood, each was the occasion of a feast and dance in his honor, at 
which the poor always benefited to the full extent of the parents' 
ability. 

Big-heartedness, generosity, courage, and self-denial are the 
qualifications of a public servant, and the average Indian was keen to 
follow this ideal. As every one knows, these characteristic traits become 
a weakness when he enters a life founded upon commerce and gain. Under 
such conditions the life of Crazy Horse began. His mother, like other 
mothers, tender and watchful of her boy, would never once place an 
obstacle in the way of his father's severe physical training. They laid 
the spiritual and patriotic foundations of his education in such a way 
that he early became conscious of the demands of public service. 

He was perhaps four or five years old when the band was snowed in one 
severe winter. They were very short of food, but his father was a tireless 
hunter. The buffalo, their main dependence, were not to be found, but he 
was out in the storm and cold every day and finally brought in two 
antelopes. The little boy got on his pet pony and rode through the camp, 
telling the old folks to come to his mother's teepee for meat. It turned 
out that neither his father nor mother had authorized him to do this. 
Before they knew it, old men and women were lined up before the teepee 
home, ready to receive the meat, in answer to his invitation. As a result, 
the mother had to distribute nearly all of it, keeping only enough for two 
meals. 

On the following day the child asked for food. His mother told him that 
the old folks had taken it all, and added: "Remember, my son, they went 
home singing praises in your name, not my name or your father's. You must 
be brave. You must live up to your reputation." 

Crazy Horse loved horses, and his father gave him a pony of his own when 
he was very young. He became a fine horseman and accompanied his father on 
buffalo hunts, holding the pack horses while the men chased the buffalo 
and thus gradually learning the art. In those days the Sioux had but few 
guns, and the hunting was mostly done with bow and arrows. 

Another story told of his boyhood is that when he was about twelve he went 
to look for the ponies with his little brother, whom he loved much, and 
took a great deal of pains to teach what he had already learned. They came 
to some wild cherry trees full of ripe fruit, and while they were enjoying 
it, the brothers were startled by the growl and sudden rush of a bear. 
Young Crazy Horse pushed his brother up into the nearest tree and himself 
sprang upon the back of one of the horses, which was frightened and ran 
some distance before he could control him. As soon as he could, however, 
he turned him about and came back, yelling and swinging his lariat over 
his head. The bear at first showed fight but finally turned and ran. The 
old man who told me this story added that young as he was, he had some 
power, so that even a grizzly did not care to tackle him. I believe it is 
a fact that a silver-tip will dare anything except a bell or a lasso line, 
so that accidentally the boy had hit upon the very thing which would drive 
him off. 

It was usual for Sioux boys of his day to wait in the field after a 
buffalo hunt until sundown, when the young calves would come out in the 
open, hungrily seeking their mothers. Then these wild children would enjoy 
a mimic hunt, and lasso the calves or drive them into camp. Crazy Horse 
was found to be a determined little fellow, and it was settled one day 
among the larger boys that they would "stump" him to ride a good-sized 
bull calf. He rode the calf, and stayed on its back while it ran bawling 
over the hills, followed by the other boys on their ponies, until his 
strange mount stood trembling and exhausted. 

At the age of sixteen he joined a war party against the Gros Ventres. He 
was well in the front of the charge, and at once established his bravery 
by following closely one of the foremost Sioux warriors, by the name of 
Hump, drawing the enemy's fire and circling around their advance guard. 
Suddenly Hump's horse was shot from under him, and there was a rush of 
warriors to kill or capture him while down. But amidst a shower of arrows 
the youth leaped from his pony, helped his friend into his own saddle, 
sprang up behind him, and carried him off in safety, although they were 
hotly pursued by the enemy. Thus he associated himself in his maiden 
battle with the wizard of Indian warfare, and Hump, who was then at the 
height of his own career, pronounced Crazy Horse the coming warrior of the 
Teton Sioux. 

At this period of his life, as was customary with the best young men, he 
spent much time in prayer and solitude. Just what happened in these days 
of his fasting in the wilderness and upon the crown of bald buttes, no one 
will ever know; for these things may only be known when one has lived 
through the battles of life to an honored old age. He was much sought 
after by his youthful associates, but was noticeably reserved and modest; 
yet in the moment of danger he at once rose above them all -- a natural 
leader! Crazy Horse was a typical Sioux brave, and from the point of view 
of our race an ideal hero, living at the height of the epical progress of 
the American Indian and maintaining in his own character all that was most 
subtle and ennobling of their spiritual life, and that has since been lost 
in the contact with a material civilization. 

He loved Hump, that peerless warrior, and the two became close friends, in 
spite of the difference in age. Men called them "the grizzly and his cub." 
Again and again the pair saved the day for the Sioux in a skirmish with 
some neighboring tribe. But one day they undertook a losing battle against 
the Snakes. The Sioux were in full retreat and were fast being overwhelmed 
by superior numbers. The old warrior fell in a last desperate charge; but 
Crazy Horse and his younger brother, though dismounted, killed two of the 
enemy and thus made good their retreat. 

It was observed of him that when he pursued the enemy into their 
stronghold, as he was wont to do, he often refrained from killing, and 
simply struck them with a switch, showing that he did not fear their 
weapons nor care to waste his upon them. In attempting this very feat, he 
lost this only brother of his, who emulated him closely. A party of young 
warriors, led by Crazy Horse, had dashed upon a frontier post, killed one 
of the sentinels, stampeded the horses, and pursued the herder to the very 
gate of the stockade, thus drawing upon themselves the fire of the 
garrison. The leader escaped without a scratch, but his young brother was 
brought down from his horse and killed. 

While he was still under twenty, there was a great winter buffalo hunt, 
and he came back with ten buffaloes' tongues which he sent to the council 
lodge for the councilors' feast. He had in one winter day killed ten 
buffalo cows with his bow and arrows, and the unsuccessful hunters or 
those who had no swift ponies were made happy by his generosity. When the 
hunters returned, these came chanting songs of thanks. He knew that his 
father was an expert hunter and had a good horse, so he took no meat home, 
putting in practice the spirit of his early teaching. 

He attained his majority at the crisis of the difficulties between the 
United States and the Sioux. Even before that time, Crazy Horse had 
already proved his worth to his people in Indian warfare. He had risked 
his life again and again, and in some instances it was considered almost a 
miracle that he had saved others as well as himself. He was no orator nor 
was he the son of a chief. His success and influence was purely a matter 
of personality. He had never fought the whites up to this time, and indeed 
no "coup" was counted for killing or scalping a white man. 

Young Crazy Horse was twenty-one years old when all the Teton Sioux chiefs 
(the western or plains dwellers) met in council to determine upon their 
future policy toward the invader. Their former agreements had been by 
individual bands, each for itself, and every one was friendly. They 
reasoned that the country was wide, and that the white traders should be 
made welcome. Up to this time they had anticipated no conflict. They had 
permitted the Oregon Trail, but now to their astonishment forts were built 
and garrisoned in their territory. 

Most of the chiefs advocated a strong resistance. There were a few 
influential men who desired still to live in peace, and who were willing 
to make another treaty. Among these were White Bull, Two Kettle, Four 
Bears, and Swift Bear. Even Spotted Tail, afterward the great peace chief, 
was at this time with the majority, who decided in the year 1866 to defend 
their rights and territory by force. Attacks were to be made upon the 
forts within their country and on every trespasser on the same. 

Crazy Horse took no part in the discussion, but he and all the young 
warriors were in accord with the decision of the council. Although so 
young, he was already a leader among them. Other prominent young braves 
were Sword (brother of the man of that name who was long captain of police 
at Pine Ridge), the younger Hump, Charging Bear, Spotted Elk, Crow King, 
No Water, Big Road, He Dog, the nephew of Red Cloud, and Touch-the-Cloud, 
intimate friend of Crazy Horse. 

The attack on Fort Phil Kearny was the first fruits of the new policy, and 
here Crazy Horse was chosen to lead the attack on the woodchoppers, 
designed to draw the soldiers out of the fort, while an army of six 
hundred lay in wait for them. The success of this stratagem was further 
enhanced by his masterful handling of his men. From this time on a general 
war was inaugurated; Sitting Bull looked to him as a principal war leader, 
and even the Cheyenne chiefs, allies of the Sioux, practically 
acknowledged his leadership. Yet during the following ten years of 
defensive war he was never known to make a speech, though his teepee was 
the rendezvous of the young men. He was depended upon to put into action 
the decisions of the council, and was frequently consulted by the older 
chiefs. 

Like Osceola, he rose suddenly; like Tecumseh he was always impatient for 
battle; like Pontiac, he fought on while his allies were suing for peace, 
and like Grant, the silent soldier, he was a man of deeds and not of 
words. He won from Custer and Fetterman and Crook. He won every battle 
that he undertook, with the exception of one or two occasions when he was 
surprised in the midst of his women and children, and even then he managed 
to extricate himself in safety from a difficult position. 

Early in the year 1876, his runners brought word from Sitting Bull that 
all the roving bands would converge upon the upper Tongue River in Montana 
for summer feasts and conferences. There was conflicting news from the 
reservation. It was rumored that the army would fight the Sioux to a 
finish; again, it was said that another commission would be sent out to 
treat with them. 

The Indians came together early in June, and formed a series of 
encampments stretching out from three to four miles, each band keeping 
separate camp. On June 17, scouts came in and reported the advance of a 
large body of troops under General Crook. The council sent Crazy Horse 
with seven hundred men to meet and attack him. These were nearly all young 
men, many of them under twenty, the flower of the hostile Sioux. They set 
out at night so as to steal a march upon the enemy, but within three or 
four miles of his camp they came unexpectedly upon some of his Crow 
scouts. There was a hurried exchange of shots; the Crows fled back to 
Crook's camp, pursued by the Sioux. The soldiers had their warning, and it 
was impossible to enter the well-protected camp. Again and again Crazy 
Horse charged with his bravest men, in the attempt to bring the troops 
into the open, but he succeeded only in drawing their fire. Toward 
afternoon he withdrew, and returned to camp disappointed. His scouts 
remained to watch Crook's movements, and later brought word that he had 
retreated to Goose Creek and seemed to have no further disposition to 
disturb the Sioux. It is well known to us that it is Crook rather than 
Reno who is to be blamed for cowardice in connection with Custer's fate. 
The latter had no chance to do anything, he was lucky to save himself; but 
if Crook had kept on his way, as ordered, to meet Terry, with his one 
thousand regulars and two hundred Crow and Shoshone scouts, he would 
inevitably have intercepted Custer in his advance and saved the day for 
him, and war with the Sioux would have ended right there. Instead of this, 
he fell back upon Fort Meade, eating his horses on the way, in a country 
swarming with game, for fear of Crazy Horse and his braves! 

The Indians now crossed the divide between the Tongue and the Little Big 
Horn, where they felt safe from immediate pursuit. Here, with all their 
precautions, they were caught unawares by General Custer, in the midst of 
their midday games and festivities, while many were out upon the daily 
hunt. 

On this twenty-fifth of June, 1876, the great camp was scattered for three 
miles or more along the level river bottom, back of the thin line of 
cottonwoods -- five circular rows of teepees, ranging from half a mile to 
a mile and a half in circumference. Here and there stood out a large, 
white, solitary teepee; these were the lodges or "clubs" of the young men. 
Crazy Horse was a member of the "Strong Hearts" and the "Tokala" or Fox 
lodge. He was watching a game of ring-toss when the warning came from the 
southern end of the camp of the approach of troops. 

The Sioux and the Cheyennes were "minute men", and although taken by 
surprise, they instantly responded. Meanwhile, the women and children were 
thrown into confusion. Dogs were howling, ponies running hither and 
thither, pursued by their owners, while many of the old men were singing 
their lodge songs to encourage the warriors, or praising the "strong 
heart" of Crazy Horse. 

That leader had quickly saddled his favorite war pony and was starting 
with his young men for the south end of the camp, when a fresh alarm came 
from the opposite direction, and looking up, he saw Custer's force upon 
the top of the bluff directly across the river. As quick as a flash, he 
took in the situation -- the enemy had planned to attack the camp at both 
ends at once; and knowing that Custer could not ford the river at that 
point, he instantly led his men northward to the ford to cut him off. The 
Cheyennes followed closely. Custer must have seen that wonderful dash up 
the sage-bush plain, and one wonders whether he realized its meaning. In a 
very few minutes, this wild general of the plains had outwitted one of the 
most brilliant leaders of the Civil War and ended at once his military 
career and his life. 

In this dashing charge, Crazy Horse snatched his most famous victory out 
of what seemed frightful peril, for the Sioux could not know how many were 
behind Custer. He was caught in his own trap. To the soldiers it must have 
seemed as if the Indians rose up from the earth to overwhelm them. They 
closed in from three sides and fought until not a white man was left 
alive. Then they went down to Reno's stand and found him so well 
intrenched in a deep gully that it was impossible to dislodge him. Gall 
and his men held him there until the approach of General Terry compelled 
the Sioux to break camp and scatter in different directions. 

While Sitting Bull was pursued into Canada, Crazy Horse and the Cheyennes 
wandered about, comparatively undisturbed, during the rest of that year, 
until in the winter the army surprised the Cheyennes, but did not do them 
much harm, possibly because they knew that Crazy Horse was not far off. 
His name was held in wholesome respect. From time to time, delegations of 
friendly Indians were sent to him, to urge him to come in to the 
reservation, promising a full hearing and fair treatment. 

For some time he held out, but the rapid disappearance of the buffalo, 
their only means of support, probably weighed with him more than any other 
influence. In July, 1877, he was finally prevailed upon to come in to Fort 
Robinson, Nebraska, with several thousand Indians, most of them Ogallala 
and Minneconwoju Sioux, on the distinct understanding that the government 
would hear and adjust their grievances. 

At this juncture General Crook proclaimed Spotted Tail, who had rendered 
much valuable service to the army, head chief of the Sioux, which was 
resented by many. The attention paid Crazy Horse was offensive to Spotted 
Tail and the Indian scouts, who planned a conspiracy against him. They 
reported to General Crook that the young chief would murder him at the 
next council, and stampede the Sioux into another war. He was urged not to 
attend the council and did not, but sent another officer to represent him. 
Meanwhile the friends of Crazy Horse discovered the plot and told him of 
it. His reply was, "Only cowards are murderers." 

His wife was critically ill at the time, and he decided to take her to her 
parents at Spotted Tail agency, whereupon his enemies circulated the story 
that he had fled, and a party of scouts was sent after him. They overtook 
him riding with his wife and one other but did not undertake to arrest 
him, and after he had left the sick woman with her people he went to call 
on Captain Lea, the agent for the Brules, accompanied by all the warriors 
of the Minneconwoju band. This volunteer escort made an imposing 
appearance on horseback, shouting and singing, and in the words of Captain 
Lea himself and the missionary, the Reverend Mr. Cleveland, the situation 
was extremely critical. Indeed, the scouts who had followed Crazy Horse 
from Red Cloud agency were advised not to show themselves, as some of the 
warriors had urged that they be taken out and horsewhipped publicly. 

Under these circumstances Crazy Horse again showed his masterful spirit by 
holding these young men in check. He said to them in his quiet way: "It is 
well to be brave in the field of battle; it is cowardly to display bravery 
against one's own tribesmen. These scouts have been compelled to do what 
they did; they are no better than servants of the white officers. I came 
here on a peaceful errand." 

The captain urged him to report at army headquarters to explain himself 
and correct false rumors, and on his giving consent, furnished him with a 
wagon and escort. It has been said that he went back under arrest, but 
this is untrue. Indians have boasted that they had a hand in bringing him 
in, but their stories are without foundation. He went of his own accord, 
either suspecting no treachery or determined to defy it. 

When he reached the military camp, Little Big Man walked arm-in-arm with 
him, and his cousin and friend, Touch-the-Cloud, was just in advance. 
After they passed the sentinel, an officer approached them and walked on 
his other side. He was unarmed but for the knife which is carried for 
ordinary uses by women as well as men. Unsuspectingly he walked toward the 
guardhouse, when Touch-the-Cloud suddenly turned back exclaiming: "Cousin, 
they will put you in prison!" 

"Another white man's trick! Let me go! Let me die fighting!" cried Crazy 
Horse. He stopped and tried to free himself and draw his knife, but both 
arms were held fast by Little Big Man and the officer. While he struggled 
thus, a soldier thrust him through with his bayonet from behind. The wound 
was mortal, and he died in the course of that night, his old father 
singing the death song over him and afterward carrying away the body, 
which they said must not be further polluted by the touch of a white man. 
They hid it somewhere in the Bad Lands, his resting place to this day. 

Thus died one of the ablest and truest American Indians. His life was 
ideal; his record clean. He was never involved in any of the numerous 
massacres on the trail, but was a leader in practically every open fight. 
Such characters as those of Crazy Horse and Chief Joseph are not easily 
found among so-called civilized people. The reputation of great men is apt 
to be shadowed by questionable motives and policies, but here are two pure 
patriots, as worthy of honor as any who ever breathed God's air in the 
wide spaces of a new world. 



CHAPTER VII. SITTING BULL 

IT is not easy to characterize Sitting Bull, of all Sioux chiefs most 
generally known to the American people. There are few to whom his name is 
not familiar, and still fewer who have learned to connect it with anything 
more than the conventional notion of a bloodthirsty savage. The man was an 
enigma at best. He was not impulsive, nor was he phlegmatic. He was most 
serious when he seemed to be jocose. He was gifted with the power of 
sarcasm, and few have used it more artfully than he. 

His father was one of the best-known members of the Unkpapa band of Sioux. 
The manner of this man's death was characteristic. One day, when the 
Unkpapas were attacked by a large war party of Crows, he fell upon the 
enemy's war leader with his knife. In a hand-to-hand combat of this sort, 
we count the victor as entitled to a war bonnet of trailing plumes. It 
means certain death to one or both. In this case, both men dealt a mortal 
stroke, and Jumping Buffalo, the father of Sitting Bull, fell from his 
saddle and died in a few minutes. The other died later from the effects of 
the wound. 

Sitting Bull's boyhood must have been a happy one. It was long after the 
day of the dog-travaux, and his father owned many ponies of variegated 
colors. It was said of him in a joking way that his legs were bowed like 
the ribs of the ponies that he rode constantly from childhood. He had also 
a common nickname that was much to the point. It was "Hunkeshnee", which 
means "Slow", referring to his inability to run fast, or more probably to 
the fact that he seldom appeared on foot. In their boyish games he was 
wont to take the part of the "old man", but this does not mean that he was 
not active and brave. It is told that after a buffalo hunt the boys were 
enjoying a mimic hunt with the calves that had been left behind. A large 
calf turned viciously on Sitting Bull, whose pony had thrown him, but the 
alert youth got hold of both ears and struggled until the calf was pushed 
back into a buffalo wallow in a sitting posture. The boys shouted: "He has 
subdued the buffalo calf! He made it sit down!" And from this incident was 
derived his familiar name of Sitting Bull. 

It is a mistake to suppose that Sitting Bull, or any other Indian warrior, 
was of a murderous disposition. It is true that savage warfare had grown 
more and more harsh and cruel since the coming of white traders among 
them, bringing guns, knives, and whisky. Yet it was still regarded largely 
as a sort of game, undertaken in order to develop the manly qualities of 
their youth. It was the degree of risk which brought honor, rather than 
the number slain, and a brave must mourn thirty days, with blackened face 
and loosened hair, for the enemy whose life he had taken. While the spoils 
of war were allowed, this did not extend to territorial aggrandizement, 
nor was there any wish to overthrow another nation and enslave its people. 
It was a point of honor in the old days to treat a captive with kindness. 
The common impression that the Indian is naturally cruel and revengeful is 
entirely opposed to his philosophy and training. The revengeful tendency 
of the Indian was aroused by the white man. It is not the natural Indian 
who is mean and tricky; not Massasoit but King Philip; not Attackullakulla 
but Weatherford; not Wabashaw but Little Crow; not Jumping Buffalo but 
Sitting Bull! These men lifted their hands against the white man, while 
their fathers held theirs out to him with gifts. 

Remember that there were councils which gave their decisions in accordance 
with the highest ideal of human justice before there were any cities on 
this continent; before there were bridges to span the Mississippi; before 
this network of railroads was dreamed of! There were primitive communities 
upon the very spot where Chicago or New York City now stands, where men 
were as children, innocent of all the crimes now committed there daily and 
nightly. True morality is more easily maintained in connection with the 
simple life. You must accept the truth that you demoralize any race whom 
you have subjugated. 

From this point of view we shall consider Sitting Bull's career. We say he 
is an untutored man: that is true so far as learning of a literary type is 
concerned; but he was not an untutored man when you view him from the 
standpoint of his nation. To be sure, he did not learn his lessons from 
books. This is second-hand information at best. All that he learned he 
verified for himself and put into daily practice. In personal appearance 
he was rather commonplace and made no immediate impression, but as he 
talked he seemed to take hold of his hearers more and more. He was bull-
headed; quick to grasp a situation, and not readily induced to change his 
mind. He was not suspicious until he was forced to be so. All his meaner 
traits were inevitably developed by the events of his later career. 

Sitting Bull's history has been written many times by newspaper men and 
army officers, but I find no account of him which is entirely correct. I 
met him personally in 1884, and since his death I have gone thoroughly 
into the details of his life with his relatives and contemporaries. It has 
often been said that he was a physical coward and not a warrior. Judge of 
this for yourselves from the deed which first gave him fame in his own 
tribe, when he was about twenty-eight years old. 

In an attack upon a band of Crow Indians, one of the enemy took his stand, 
after the rest had fled, in a deep ditch from which it seemed impossible 
to dislodge him. The situation had already cost the lives of several 
warriors, but they could not let him go to repeat such a boast over the 
Sioux! 

"Follow me!" said Sitting Bull, and charged. He raced his horse to the 
brim of the ditch and struck at the enemy with his coup-staff, thus 
compelling him to expose himself to the fire of the others while shooting 
his assailant. But the Crow merely poked his empty gun into his face and 
dodged back under cover. Then Sitting Bull stopped; he saw that no one had 
followed him, and he also perceived that the enemy had no more ammunition 
left. He rode deliberately up to the barrier and threw his loaded gun over 
it; then he went back to his party and told them what he thought of them. 

"Now," said he, "I have armed him, for I will not see a brave man killed 
unarmed. I will strike him again with my coup-staff to count the first 
feather; who will count the second?" 

Again he led the charge, and this time they all followed him. Sitting Bull 
was severely wounded by his own gun in the hands of the enemy, who was 
killed by those that came after him. This is a record that so far as I 
know was never made by any other warrior. 

The second incident that made him well known was his taking of a boy 
captive in battle with the Assiniboines. He saved this boy's life and 
adopted him as his brother. Hohay, as he was called, was devoted to 
Sitting Bull and helped much in later years to spread his fame. Sitting 
Bull was a born diplomat, a ready speaker, and in middle life he ceased to 
go upon the warpath, to become the councilor of his people. From this time 
on, this man represented him in all important battles, and upon every 
brave deed done was wont to exclaim aloud: 

"I, Sitting Bull's boy, do this in his name!" 

He had a nephew, now living, who resembles him strongly, and who also 
represented him personally upon the field; and so far as there is any 
remnant left of his immediate band, they look upon this man One Bull as 
their chief. 

When Sitting Bull was a boy, there was no thought of trouble with the 
whites. He was acquainted with many of the early traders, Picotte, 
Choteau, Primeau, Larpenteur, and others, and liked them, as did most of 
his people in those days. All the early records show this friendly 
attitude of the Sioux, and the great fur companies for a century and a 
half depended upon them for the bulk of their trade. It was not until the 
middle of the last century that they woke up all of a sudden to the danger 
threatening their very existence. Yet at that time many of the old chiefs 
had been already depraved by the whisky and other vices of the whites, and 
in the vicinity of the forts and trading posts at Sioux City, Saint Paul, 
and Cheyenne, there was general demoralization. The drunkards and hangers-
on were ready to sell almost anything they had for the favor of the 
trader. The better and stronger element held aloof. They would not have 
anything of the white man except his hatchet, gun, and knife. They utterly 
refused to cede their lands; and as for the rest, they were willing to let 
him alone as long as he did not interfere with their life and customs, 
which was not long. 

It was not, however, the Unkpapa band of Sioux, Sitting Bull's band, which 
first took up arms against the whites; and this was not because they had 
come less in contact with them, for they dwelt on the Missouri River, the 
natural highway of trade. As early as 1854, the Ogallalas and Brules had 
trouble with the soldiers near Fort Laramie; and again in 1857 Inkpaduta 
massacred several families of settlers at Spirit Lake, Iowa. Finally, in 
1869, the Minnesota Sioux, goaded by many wrongs, arose and murdered many 
of the settlers, afterward fleeing into the country of the Unkpapas and 
appealing to them for help, urging that all Indians should make common 
cause against the invader. This brought Sitting Bull face to face with a 
question which was not yet fully matured in his own mind; but having 
satisfied himself of the justice of their cause, he joined forces with the 
renegades during the summer of 1863, and from this time on he was an 
acknowledged leader. 

In 1865 and 1866 he met the Canadian half-breed, Louis Riel, instigator of 
two rebellions, who had come across the line for safety; and in fact at 
this time he harbored a number of outlaws and fugitives from justice. His 
conversations with these, especially with the French mixed-bloods, who 
inflamed his prejudices against the Americans, all had their influence in 
making of the wily Sioux a determined enemy to the white man. While among 
his own people he was always affable and genial, he became boastful and 
domineering in his dealings with the hated race. He once remarked that "if 
we wish to make any impression upon the pale-face, it is necessary to put 
on his mask." 

Sitting Bull joined in the attack on Fort Phil Kearny and in the 
subsequent hostilities; but he accepted in good faith the treaty of 1868, 
and soon after it was signed he visited Washington with Red Cloud and 
Spotted Tail, on which occasion the three distinguished chiefs attracted 
much attention and were entertained at dinner by President Grant and other 
notables. He considered that the life of the white man as he saw it was no 
life for his people, but hoped by close adherence to the terms of this 
treaty to preserve the Big Horn and Black Hills country for a permanent 
hunting ground. When gold was discovered and the irrepressible gold 
seekers made their historic dash across the plains into this forbidden 
paradise, then his faith in the white man's honor was gone forever, and he 
took his final and most persistent stand in defense of his nation and 
home. His bitter and at the same time well-grounded and philosophical 
dislike of the conquering race is well expressed in a speech made before 
the purely Indian council before referred to, upon the Powder River. I 
will give it in brief as it has been several times repeated to me by men 
who were present. 

"Behold, my friends, the spring is come; the earth has gladly received the 
embraces of the sun, and we shall soon see the results of their love! 
Every seed is awakened, and all animal life. It is through this mysterious 
power that we too have our being, and we therefore yield to our neighbors, 
even to our animal neighbors, the same right as ourselves to inhabit this 
vast land. 

"Yet hear me, friends! we have now to deal with another people, small and 
feeble when our forefathers first met with them, but now great and 
overbearing. Strangely enough, they have a mind to till the soil, and the 
love of possessions is a disease in them. These people have made many 
rules that the rich may break, but the poor may not! They have a religion 
in which the poor worship, but the rich will not! They even take tithes of 
the poor and weak to support the rich and those who rule. They claim this 
mother of ours, the Earth, for their own use, and fence their neighbors 
away from her, and deface her with their buildings and their refuse. They 
compel her to produce out of season, and when sterile she is made to take 
medicine in order to produce again. All this is sacrilege. 

"This nation is like a spring freshet; it overruns its banks and destroys 
all who are in its path. We cannot dwell side by side. Only seven years 
ago we made a treaty by which we were assured that the buffalo country 
should be left to us forever. Now they threaten to take that from us also. 
My brothers, shall we submit? or shall we say to them: 'First kill me, 
before you can take possession of my fatherland!'" 

As Sitting Bull spoke, so he felt, and he had the courage to stand by his 
words. Crazy Horse led his forces in the field; as for him, he applied his 
energies to state affairs, and by his strong and aggressive personality 
contributed much to holding the hostiles together. 

It may be said without fear of contradiction that Sitting Bull never 
killed any women or children. He was a fair fighter, and while not 
prominent in battle after his young manhood, he was the brains of the 
Sioux resistance. He has been called a "medicine man" and a "dreamer." 
Strictly speaking, he was neither of these, and the white historians are 
prone to confuse the two. A medicine man is a doctor or healer; a dreamer 
is an active war prophet who leads his war party according to his dream or 
prophecy. What is called by whites "making medicine" in war time is again 
a wrong conception. Every warrior carries a bag of sacred or lucky charms, 
supposed to protect the wearer alone, but it has nothing to do with the 
success or safety of the party as a whole. No one can make any "medicine" 
to affect the result of a battle, although it has been said that Sitting 
Bull did this at the battle of the Little Big Horn. 

When Custer and Reno attacked the camp at both ends, the chief was caught 
napping. The village was in danger of surprise, and the women and children 
must be placed in safety. Like other men of his age, Sitting Bull got his 
family together for flight, and then joined the warriors on the Reno side 
of the attack. Thus he was not in the famous charge against Custer; 
nevertheless, his voice was heard exhorting the warriors throughout that 
day. 

During the autumn of 1876, after the fall of Custer, Sitting Bull was 
hunted all through the Yellowstone region by the military. The following 
characteristic letter, doubtless written at his dictation by a half-breed 
interpreter, was sent to Colonel Otis immediately after a daring attack 
upon his wagon train. 

"I want to know what you are doing, traveling on this road. You scare all 
the buffalo away. I want to hunt in this place. I want you to turn back 
from here. If you don't, I will fight you again. I want you to leave what 
you have got here and turn back from here. I am your friend Sitting Bull. 
I mean all the rations you have got and some powder. Wish you would write 
me as soon as you can." 

Otis, however, kept on and joined Colonel Miles, who followed Sitting Bull 
with about four hundred soldiers. He overtook him at last on Cedar Creek, 
near the Yellowstone, and the two met midway between the lines for a 
parley. The army report says: "Sitting Bull wanted peace in his own way." 
The truth was that he wanted nothing more than had been guaranteed to them 
by the treaty of 1868 -- the exclusive possession of their last hunting 
ground. This the government was not now prepared to grant, as it had been 
decided to place all the Indians under military control upon the various 
reservations. 

Since it was impossible to reconcile two such conflicting demands, the 
hostiles were driven about from pillar to post for several more years, and 
finally took refuge across the line in Canada, where Sitting Bull had 
placed his last hope of justice and freedom for his race. Here he was 
joined from time to time by parties of malcontents from the reservation, 
driven largely by starvation and ill-treatment to seek another home. Here, 
too, they were followed by United States commissioners, headed by General 
Terry, who endeavored to persuade him to return, promising abundance of 
food and fair treatment, despite the fact that the exiles were well aware 
of the miserable condition of the "good Indians" upon the reservations. He 
first refused to meet them at all, and only did so when advised to that 
effect by Major Walsh of the Canadian mounted police. This was his 
characteristic remark: "If you have one honest man in Washington, send him 
here and I will talk to him." 

Sitting Bull was not moved by fair words; but when he found that if they 
had liberty on that side, they had little else, that the Canadian 
government would give them protection but no food; that the buffalo had 
been all but exterminated and his starving people were already beginning 
to desert him, he was compelled at last, in 1881, to report at Fort 
Buford, North Dakota, with his band of hungry, homeless, and discouraged 
refugees. It was, after all, to hunger and not to the strong arm of the 
military that he surrendered in the end. 

In spite of the invitation that had been extended to him in the name of 
the "Great Father" at Washington, he was immediately thrown into a 
military prison, and afterward handed over to Colonel Cody ("Buffalo 
Bill") as an advertisement for his "Wild West Show." After traveling about 
for several years with the famous showman, thus increasing his knowledge 
of the weaknesses as well as the strength of the white man, the deposed 
and humiliated chief settled down quietly with his people upon the 
Standing Rock agency in North Dakota, where his immediate band occupied 
the Grand River district and set to raising cattle and horses. They made 
good progress; much better, in fact, than that of the "coffee-coolers" or 
"loafer" Indians, received the missionaries kindly and were soon a church-
going people. 

When the Commissions of 1888 and 1889 came to treat with the Sioux for a 
further cession of land and a reduction of their reservations, nearly all 
were opposed to consent on any terms. Nevertheless, by hook or by crook, 
enough signatures were finally obtained to carry the measure through, 
although it is said that many were those of women and the so-called "squaw-
men", who had no rights in the land. At the same time, rations were cut 
down, and there was general hardship and dissatisfaction. Crazy Horse was 
long since dead; Spotted Tail had fallen at the hands of one of his own 
tribe; Red Cloud had become a feeble old man, and the disaffected among 
the Sioux began once more to look to Sitting Bull for leadership. 

At this crisis a strange thing happened. A half-breed Indian in Nevada 
promulgated the news that the Messiah had appeared to him upon a peak in 
the Rockies, dressed in rabbit skins, and bringing a message to the red 
race. The message was to the effect that since his first coming had been 
in vain, since the white people had doubted and reviled him, had nailed 
him to the cross, and trampled upon his doctrines, he had come again in 
pity to save the Indian. He declared that he would cause the earth to 
shake and to overthrow the cities of the whites and destroy them, that the 
buffalo would return, and the land belong to the red race forever! These 
events were to come to pass within two years; and meanwhile they were to 
prepare for his coming by the ceremonies and dances which he commanded. 

This curious story spread like wildfire and met with eager acceptance 
among the suffering and discontented people. The teachings of Christian 
missionaries had prepared them to believe in a Messiah, and the prescribed 
ceremonial was much more in accord with their traditions than the 
conventional worship of the churches. Chiefs of many tribes sent 
delegations to the Indian prophet; Short Bull, Kicking Bear, and others 
went from among the Sioux, and on their return all inaugurated the dances 
at once. There was an attempt at first to keep the matter secret, but it 
soon became generally known and seriously disconcerted the Indian agents 
and others, who were quick to suspect a hostile conspiracy under all this 
religious enthusiasm. As a matter of fact, there was no thought of an 
uprising; the dancing was innocent enough, and pathetic enough their 
despairing hope in a pitiful Saviour who should overwhelm their oppressors 
and bring back their golden age. 

When the Indians refused to give up the "Ghost Dance" at the bidding of 
the authorities, the growing suspicion and alarm focused upon Sitting 
Bull, who in spirit had never been any too submissive, and it was 
determined to order his arrest. At the special request of Major 
McLaughlin, agent at Standing Rock, forty of his Indian police were sent 
out to Sitting Bull's home on Grand River to secure his person (followed 
at some little distance by a body of United States troops for 
reinforcement, in case of trouble). These police are enlisted from among 
the tribesmen at each agency, and have proved uniformly brave and 
faithful. They entered the cabin at daybreak, aroused the chief from a 
sound slumber, helped him to dress, and led him unresisting from the 
house; but when he came out in the gray dawn of that December morning in 
1890, to find his cabin surrounded by armed men and himself led away to he 
knew not what fate, he cried out loudly: 

"They have taken me: what say you to it?" 

Men poured out of the neighboring houses, and in a few minutes the police 
were themselves surrounded with an excited and rapidly increasing throng. 
They harangued the crowd in vain; Sitting Bull's blood was up, and he 
again appealed to his men. His adopted brother, the Assiniboine captive 
whose life he had saved so many years before, was the first to fire. His 
shot killed Lieutenant Bull Head, who held Sitting Bull by the arm. Then 
there was a short but sharp conflict, in which Sitting Bull and six of his 
defenders and six of the Indian police were slain, with many more wounded. 
The chief's young son, Crow Foot, and his devoted "brother" died with him. 
When all was over, and the terrified people had fled precipitately across 
the river, the soldiers appeared upon the brow of the long hill and fired 
their Hotchkiss guns into the deserted camp. 

Thus ended the life of a natural strategist of no mean courage and 
ability. The great chief was buried without honors outside the cemetery at 
the post, and for some years the grave was marked by a mere board at its 
head. Recently some women have built a cairn of rocks there in token of 
respect and remembrance. 



CHAPTER VIII. RAIN-IN-THE-FACE 

The noted Sioux warrior, Rain-in-the-Face, whose name once carried terror 
to every part of the frontier, died at his home on the Standing Rock 
reserve in North Dakota on September 14, 1905. About two months before his 
death I went to see him for the last time, where he lay upon the bed of 
sickness from which he never rose again, and drew from him his life-
history. 

It had been my experience that you cannot induce an Indian to tell a 
story, or even his own name, by asking him directly. 

"Friend," I said, "even if a man is on a hot trail, he stops for a smoke! 
In the good old days, before the charge there was a smoke. At home, by the 
fireside, when the old men were asked to tell their brave deeds, again the 
pipe was passed. So come, let us smoke now to the memory of the old days!" 

He took of my tobacco and filled his long pipe, and we smoked. Then I told 
an old mirthful story to get him in the humor of relating his own history. 

The old man lay upon an iron bedstead, covered by a red blanket, in a 
corner of the little log cabin. He was all alone that day; only an old dog 
lay silent and watchful at his master's feet. 

Finally he looked up and said with a pleasant smile: 

"True, friend; it is the old custom to retrace one's trail before leaving 
it forever! I know that I am at the door of the spirit home. 

"I was born near the forks of the Cheyenne River, about seventy years ago. 
My father was not a chief; my grandfather was not a chief, but a good 
hunter and a feast-maker. On my mother's side I had some noted ancestors, 
but they left me no chieftainship. I had to work for my reputation. 

"When I was a boy, I loved to fight," he continued. "In all our boyish 
games I had the name of being hard to handle, and I took much pride in the 
fact. 

"I was about ten years old when we encountered a band of Cheyennes. They 
were on friendly terms with us, but we boys always indulged in sham fights 
on such occasions, and this time I got in an honest fight with a Cheyenne 
boy older than I. I got the best of the boy, but he hit me hard in the 
face several times, and my face was all spattered with blood and streaked 
where the paint had been washed away. The Sioux boys whooped and yelled: 

"'His enemy is down, and his face is spattered as if with rain! Rain-in-
the-Face! His name shall be Rain-in-the-Face!' 

"Afterwards, when I was a young man, we went on a warpath against the Gros 
Ventres. We stole some of their horses, but were overtaken and had to 
abandon the horses and fight for our lives. I had wished my face to 
represent the sun when partly covered with darkness, so I painted it half 
black, half red. We fought all day in the rain, and my face was partly 
washed and streaked with red and black: so again I was christened Rain-in-
the-Face. We considered it an honorable name. 

"I had been on many warpaths, but was not especially successful until 
about the time the Sioux began to fight with the white man. One of the 
most daring attacks that we ever made was at Fort Totten, North Dakota, in 
the summer of 1866. 

"Hohay, the Assiniboine captive of Sitting Bull, was the leader in this 
raid. Wapaypay, the Fearless Bear, who was afterward hanged at Yankton, 
was the bravest man among us. He dared Hohay to make the charge. Hohay 
accepted the challenge, and in turn dared the other to ride with him 
through the agency and right under the walls of the fort, which was well 
garrisoned and strong. 

"Wapaypay and I in those days called each other 'brother-friend.' It was a 
life-and-death vow. What one does the other must do; and that meant that I 
must be in the forefront of the charge, and if he is killed, I must fight 
until I die also! 

"I prepared for death. I painted as usual like an eclipse of the sun, half 
black and half red." 

His eyes gleamed and his face lighted up remarkably as he talked, pushing 
his black hair back from his forehead with a nervous gesture. 

"Now the signal for the charge was given! I started even with Wapaypay, 
but his horse was faster than mine, so he left me a little behind as we 
neared the fort. This was bad for me, for by that time the soldiers had 
somewhat recovered from the surprise and were aiming better. 

"Their big gun talked very loud, but my Wapaypay was leading on, leaning 
forward on his fleet pony like a flying squirrel on a smooth log! He held 
his rawhide shield on the right side, a little to the front, and so did I. 
Our warwhoop was like the coyotes singing in the evening, when they smell 
blood! 

"The soldiers' guns talked fast, but few were hurt. Their big gun was like 
a toothless old dog, who only makes himself hotter the more noise he
makes," he remarked with some humor. 

"How much harm we did I do not know, but we made things lively for a time; 
and the white men acted as people do when a swarm of angry bees get into 
camp. We made a successful retreat, but some of the reservation Indians 
followed us yelling, until Hohay told them that he did not wish to fight 
with the captives of the white man, for there would be no honor in that. 
There was blood running down my leg, and I found that both my horse and I 
were slightly wounded. 

"Some two years later we attacked a fort west of the Black Hills [Fort 
Phil Kearny, Wyoming]. It was there we killed one hundred soldiers." [The 
military reports say eighty men, under the command of Captain Fetterman -- 
not one left alive to tell the tale!] "Nearly every band of the Sioux 
nation was represented in that fight -- Red Cloud, Spotted Tail, Crazy 
Horse, Sitting Bull, Big Foot, and all our great chiefs were there. Of 
course such men as I were then comparatively unknown. However, there were 
many noted young warriors, among them Sword, the younger Young-Man-Afraid, 
American Horse [afterward chief], Crow King, and others. 

"This was the plan decided upon after many councils. The main war party 
lay in ambush, and a few of the bravest young men were appointed to attack 
the woodchoppers who were cutting logs to complete the building of the 
fort. We were told not to kill these men, but to chase them into the fort 
and retreat slowly, defying the white men; and if the soldiers should 
follow, we were to lead them into the ambush. They took our bait exactly 
as we had hoped! It was a matter of a very few minutes, for every soldier 
lay dead in a shorter time than it takes to annihilate a small herd of 
buffalo. 

"This attack was hastened because most of the Sioux on the Missouri River 
and eastward had begun to talk of suing for peace. But even this did not 
stop the peace movement. The very next year a treaty was signed at Fort 
Rice, Dakota Territory, by nearly all the Sioux chiefs, in which it was 
agreed on the part of the Great Father in Washington that all the country 
north of the Republican River in Nebraska, including the Black Hills and 
the Big Horn Mountains, was to be always Sioux country, and no white man 
should intrude upon it without our permission. Even with this agreement 
Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse were not satisfied, and they would not sign. 

"Up to this time I had fought in some important battles, but had achieved 
no great deed. I was ambitious to make a name for myself. I joined war 
parties against the Crows, Mandans, Gros Ventres, and Pawnees, and gained 
some little distinction. 

"It was when the white men found the yellow metal in our country, and came 
in great numbers, driving away our game, that we took up arms against them 
for the last time. I must say here that the chiefs who were loudest for 
war were among the first to submit and accept reservation life. Spotted 
Tail was a great warrior, yet he was one of the first to yield, because he 
was promised by the Chief Soldiers that they would make him chief of all 
the Sioux. Ugh! he would have stayed with Sitting Bull to the last had it 
not been for his ambition. 

"About this time we young warriors began to watch the trails of the white 
men into the Black Hills, and when we saw a wagon coming we would hide at 
the crossing and kill them all without much trouble. We did this to 
discourage the whites from coming into our country without our permission. 
It was the duty of our Great Father at Washington, by the agreement of 
1868, to keep his white children away. 

"During the troublesome time after this treaty, which no one seemed to 
respect, either white or Indian [but the whites broke it first], I was 
like many other young men -- much on the warpath, but with little honor. I 
had not yet become noted for any great deed. Finally, Wapaypay and I 
waylaid and killed a white soldier on his way from the fort to his home in 
the east. 

"There were a few Indians who were liars, and never on the warpath, 
playing 'good Indian' with the Indian agents and the war chiefs at the 
forts. Some of this faithless set betrayed me, and told more than I ever 
did. I was seized and taken to the fort near Bismarck, North Dakota [Fort 
Abraham Lincoln], by a brother [Tom Custer] of the Long-Haired War Chief, 
and imprisoned there. These same lying Indians, who were selling their 
services as scouts to the white man, told me that I was to be shot to 
death, or else hanged upon a tree. I answered that I was not afraid to 
die. 

"However, there was an old soldier who used to bring my food and stand 
guard over me -- he was a white man, it is true, but he had an Indian 
heart! He came to me one day and unfastened the iron chain and ball with 
which they had locked my leg, saying by signs and what little Sioux he 
could muster: 

"'Go, friend! take the chain and ball with you. I shall shoot, but the 
voice of the gun will lie.' 

"When he had made me understand, you may guess that I ran my best! I was 
almost over the bank when he fired his piece at me several times, but I 
had already gained cover and was safe. I have never told this before, and 
would not, lest it should do him an injury, but he was an old man then, 
and I am sure he must be dead long since. That old soldier taught me that 
some of the white people have hearts," he added, quite seriously. 

"I went back to Standing Rock in the night, and I had to hide for several 
days in the woods, where food was brought to me by my relatives. The 
Indian police were ordered to retake me, and they pretended to hunt for 
me, but really they did not, for if they had found me I would have died 
with one or two of them, and they knew it! In a few days I departed with 
several others, and we rejoined the hostile camp on the Powder River and 
made some trouble for the men who were building the great iron track north 
of us [Northern Pacific]. 

"In the spring the hostile Sioux got together again upon the Tongue River. 
It was one of the greatest camps of the Sioux that I ever saw. There were 
some Northern Cheyennes with us, under Two Moon, and a few Santee Sioux, 
renegades from Canada, under Inkpaduta, who had killed white people in 
Iowa long before. We had decided to fight the white soldiers until no 
warrior should be left." 

At this point Rain-in-the-Face took up his tobacco pouch and began again 
to fill his pipe. 

"Of course the younger warriors were delighted with the prospect of a 
great fight! Our scouts had discovered piles of oats for horses and other 
supplies near the Missouri River. They had been brought by the white man's 
fire-boats. Presently they reported a great army about a day's travel to 
the south, with Shoshone and Crow scouts. 

"There was excitement among the people, and a great council was held. Many 
spoke. I was asked the condition of those Indians who had gone upon the 
reservation, and I told them truly that they were nothing more than 
prisoners. It was decided to go out and meet Three Stars [General Crook] 
at a safe distance from our camp. 

"We met him on the Little Rosebud. I believe that if we had waited and 
allowed him to make the attack, he would have fared no better than Custer. 
He was too strongly fortified where he was, and I think, too, that he was 
saved partly by his Indian allies, for the scouts discovered us first and 
fought us first, thus giving him time to make his preparations. I think he 
was more wise than brave! After we had left that neighborhood he might 
have pushed on and connected with the Long-Haired Chief. That would have 
saved Custer and perhaps won the day. 

"When we crossed from Tongue River to the Little Big Horn, on account of 
the scarcity of game, we did not anticipate any more trouble. Our runners 
had discovered that Crook had retraced his trail to Goose Creek, and we 
did not suppose that the white men would care to follow us farther into 
the rough country. 

"Suddenly the Long-Haired Chief appeared with his men! It was a surprise." 

"What part of the camp were you in when the soldiers attacked the lower 
end?" I asked. 

"I had been invited to a feast at one of the young men's lodges [a sort of 
club]. There was a certain warrior who was making preparations to go 
against the Crows, and I had decided to go also," he said. 

"While I was eating my meat we heard the war cry! We all rushed out, and 
saw a warrior riding at top speed from the lower camp, giving the warning 
as he came. Then we heard the reports of the soldiers' guns, which sounded 
differently from the guns fired by our people in battle. 

"I ran to my teepee and seized my gun, a bow, and a quiver full of arrows. 
I already had my stone war club, for you know we usually carry those by 
way of ornament. Just as I was about to set out to meet Reno, a body of 
soldiers appeared nearly opposite us, at the edge of a long line of cliffs 
across the river. 

"All of us who were mounted and ready immediately started down the stream 
toward the ford. There were Ogallalas, Minneconjous, Cheyennes, and some 
Unkpapas, and those around me seemed to be nearly all very young men. 

"'Behold, there is among us a young woman!' I shouted. 'Let no young man 
hide behind her garment!' I knew that would make those young men brave. 

"The woman was Tashenamani, or Moving Robe, whose brother had just been 
killed in the fight with Three Stars. Holding her brother's war staff over 
her head, and leaning forward upon her charger, she looked as pretty as a 
bird. Always when there is a woman in the charge, it causes the warriors 
to vie with one another in displaying their valor," he added. 

"The foremost warriors had almost surrounded the white men, and more were 
continually crossing the stream. The soldiers had dismounted, and were 
firing into the camp from the top of the cliff." 

"My friend, was Sitting Bull in this fight?" I inquired. 

"I did not see him there, but I learned afterward that he was among those 
who met Reno, and that was three or four of the white man's miles from 
Custer's position. Later he joined the attack upon Custer, but was not 
among the foremost. 

"When the troops were surrounded on two sides, with the river on the 
third, the order came to charge! There were many very young men, some of 
whom had only a war staff or a stone war club in hand, who plunged into 
the column, knocking the men over and stampeding their horses. 

"The soldiers had mounted and started back, but when the onset came they 
dismounted again and separated into several divisions, facing different 
ways. They fired as fast as they could load their guns, while we used 
chiefly arrows and war clubs. There seemed to be two distinct movements 
among the Indians. One body moved continually in a circle, while the other 
rode directly into and through the troops. 

"Presently some of the soldiers remounted and fled along the ridge toward 
Reno's position; but they were followed by our warriors, like hundreds of 
blackbirds after a hawk. A larger body remained together at the upper end 
of a little ravine, and fought bravely until they were cut to pieces. I 
had always thought that white men were cowards, but I had a great respect 
for them after this day. 

"It is generally said that a young man with nothing but a war staff in his 
hand broke through the column and knocked down the leader very early in 
the fight. We supposed him to be the leader, because he stood up in full 
view, swinging his big knife [sword] over his head, and talking loud. Some 
one unknown afterwards shot the chief, and he was probably killed also; 
for if not, he would have told of the deed, and called others to witness 
it. So it is that no one knows who killed the Long-Haired Chief [General 
Custer]. 

"After the first rush was over, coups were counted as usual on the bodies 
of the slain. You know four coups [or blows] can be counted on the body of 
an enemy, and whoever counts the first one [touches it for the first time] 
is entitled to the 'first feather.' 

"There was an Indian here called Appearing Elk, who died a short time ago. 
He was slightly wounded in the charge. He had some of the weapons of the 
Long-Haired Chief, and the Indians used to say jokingly after we came upon 
the reservation that Appearing Elk must have killed the Chief, because he 
had his sword! However, the scramble for plunder did not begin until all 
were dead. I do not think he killed Custer, and if he had, the time to 
claim the honor was immediately after the fight. 

"Many lies have been told of me. Some say that I killed the Chief, and 
others that I cut out the heart of his brother [Tom Custer], because he 
had caused me to be imprisoned. Why, in that fight the excitement was so 
great that we scarcely recognized our nearest friends! Everything was done 
like lightning. After the battle we young men were chasing horses all over 
the prairie, while the old men and women plundered the bodies; and if any 
mutilating was done, it was by the old men. 

"I have lived peaceably ever since we came upon the reservation. No one 
can say that Rain-in-the-Face has broken the rules of the Great Father. I 
fought for my people and my country. When we were conquered I remained 
silent, as a warrior should. Rain-in-the-Face was killed when he put down 
his weapons before the Great Father. His spirit was gone then; only his 
poor body lived on, but now it is almost ready to lie down for the last 
time. Ho, hechetu! [It is well.]" 



CHAPTER IX. TWO STRIKE 

It is a pity that so many interesting names of well-known Indians have 
been mistranslated, so that their meaning becomes very vague if it is not 
wholly lost. In some cases an opposite meaning is conveyed. For instance 
there is the name, "Young-Man-Afraid-of- His-Horses." It does not mean 
that the owner of the name is afraid of his own horse -- far from it! 
Tashunkekokipapi signifies "The young men [of the enemy] fear his horses." 
Whenever that man attacks, the enemy knows there will be a determined 
charge. 

The name Tashunkewitko, or Crazy Horse, is a poetic simile. This leader 
was likened to an untrained or untouched horse, wild, ignorant of domestic 
uses, splendid in action, and unconscious of danger. 

The name of Two Strike is a deed name. In a battle with the Utes this man 
knocked two enemies from the back of a war horse. The true rendering of 
the name Nomkahpa would be, "He knocked off two." 

I was well acquainted with Two Strike and spent many pleasant hours with 
him, both at Washington, D. C., and in his home on the Rosebud 
reservation. What I have written is not all taken from his own mouth, 
because he was modest in talking about himself, but I had him vouch for 
the truth of the stories. He said that he was born near the Republican 
River about 1832. His earliest recollection was of an attack by the 
Shoshones upon their camp on the Little Piney. The first white men he ever 
met were traders who visited his people when he was very young. The 
incident was still vividly with him, because, he said, "They made my 
father crazy," [drunk]. This made a deep impression upon him, he told me, 
so that from that day he was always afraid of the white man's "mysterious 
water." 

Two Strike was not a large man, but he was very supple and alert in 
motion, as agile as an antelope. His face was mobile and intelligent. 
Although he had the usual somber visage of an Indian, his expression 
brightened up wonderfully when he talked. In some ways wily and shrewd in 
intellect, he was not deceitful nor mean. He had a high sense of duty and 
honor. Patriotism was his ideal and goal of life. 

As a young man he was modest and even shy, although both his father and 
grandfather were well-known chiefs. I could find few noteworthy incidents 
in his early life, save that he was an expert rider of wild horses. At one 
time I was pressing him to give me some interesting incident of his 
boyhood. He replied to the effect that there was plenty of excitement but 
"not much in it." There was a delegation of Sioux chiefs visiting 
Washington, and we were spending an evening together in their hotel. 
Hollow Horn Bear spoke up and said: 

"Why don't you tell him how you and a buffalo cow together held your poor 
father up and froze him almost to death?" 

Everybody laughed, and another man remarked: "I think he had better tell 
the medicine man (meaning myself) how he lost the power of speech when he 
first tried to court a girl." Two Strike, although he was then close to 
eighty years of age, was visibly embarrassed by their chaff. 

"Anyway, I stuck to the trail. I kept on till I got what I wanted," he 
muttered. And then came the story. 

The old chief, his father, was very fond of the buffalo hunt; and being 
accomplished in horsemanship and a fine shot, although not very powerfully 
built, young Two Strike was already following hard in his footsteps. Like 
every proud father, his was giving him every incentive to perfect his 
skill, and one day challenged his sixteen-year-old son to the feat of "one 
arrow to kill" at the very next chase. 

It was midwinter. A large herd of buffalo was reported by the game scout. 
The hunters gathered at daybreak prepared for the charge. The old chief 
had his tried charger equipped with a soft, pillow-like Indian saddle and 
a lariat. His old sinew-backed hickory bow was examined and strung, and a 
fine straight arrow with a steel head carefully selected for the test. He 
adjusted a keen butcher knife over his leather belt, which held a warm 
buffalo robe securely about his body. He wore neither shirt nor coat, 
although a piercing wind was blowing from the northwest. The youthful Two 
Strike had his favorite bow and his swift pony, which was perhaps dearer 
to him than his closest boy comrade. 

Now the hunters crouched upon their horses' necks like an army in line of 
battle, while behind them waited the boys and old men with pack ponies to 
carry the meat. "Hukahey!" shouted the leader as a warning. "Yekiya wo!" 
(Go) and in an instant all the ponies leaped forward against the cutting 
wind, as if it were the start in a horse race. Every rider leaned forward, 
tightly wrapped in his robe, watching the flying herd for an opening in 
the mass of buffalo, a chance to cut out some of the fattest cows. This 
was the object of the race. 

The chief had a fair start; his horse was well trained and needed no 
urging nor guidance. Without the slightest pull on the lariat he dashed 
into the thickest of the herd. The youth's pony had been prancing and 
rearing impatiently; he started a little behind, yet being swift passed 
many. His rider had one clear glimpse of his father ahead of him, then the 
snow arose in blinding clouds on the trail of the bison. The whoops of the 
hunters, the lowing of the cows, and the menacing glances of the bulls as 
they plunged along, or now and then stood at bay, were enough to unnerve a 
boy less well tried. He was unable to select his victim. He had been 
carried deeply into the midst of the herd and found himself helpless to 
make the one sure shot, therefore he held his one arrow in his mouth and 
merely strove to separate them so as to get his chance. 

At last the herd parted, and he cut out two fat cows, and was maneuvering 
for position when a rider appeared out of the snow cloud on their other 
side. This aroused him to make haste lest his rival secure both cows; he 
saw his chance, and in a twinkling his arrow sped clear through one of the 
animals so that she fell headlong. 

In this instant he observed that the man who had joined him was his own 
father, who had met with the same difficulties as himself. When the young 
man had shot his only arrow, the old chief with a whoop went after the cow 
that was left, but as he gained her broadside, his horse stepped in a 
badger hole and fell, throwing him headlong. The maddened buffalo, as 
sometimes happens in such cases, turned upon the pony and gored him to 
death. His rider lay motionless, while Two Strike rushed forward to draw 
her attention, but she merely tossed her head at him, while persistently 
standing guard over the dead horse and the all but frozen Indian. 

Alas for the game of "one arrow to kill!" The boy must think fast, for his 
father's robe had slipped off, and he was playing dead, lying almost naked 
in the bitter air upon the trampled snow. His bluff would not serve, so he 
flew back to pull out his solitary arrow from the body of the dead cow. 
Quickly wheeling again, he sent it into her side and she fell. The one 
arrow to kill had become one arrow to kill two buffalo! At the council 
lodge that evening Two Strike was the hero. 

The following story is equally characteristic of him, and in explanation 
it should be said that in the good old days among the Sioux, a young man 
is not supposed to associate with girls until he is ready to take a wife. 
It was a rule with our young men, especially the honorable and well-born, 
to gain some reputation in the hunt and in war, -- the more difficult the 
feats achieved the better, -- before even speaking to a young woman. Many 
a life was risked in the effort to establish a reputation along these 
lines. Courtship was no secret, but rather a social event, often 
celebrated by the proud parents with feasts and presents to the poor, and 
this etiquette was sometimes felt by a shy or sensitive youth as an 
insurmountable obstacle to the fulfilment of his desires. 

Two Strike was the son and grandson of a chief, but he could not claim any 
credit for the deeds of his forbears. He had not only to guard their good 
name but achieve one for himself. This he had set out to do, and he did 
well. He was now of marriageable age with a war record, and admitted to 
the council, yet he did not seem to trouble himself at all about a wife. 
His was strictly a bachelor career. Meanwhile, as is apt to be the case, 
his parents had thought much about a possible daughter-in-law, and had 
even collected ponies, fine robes, and other acceptable goods to be given 
away in honor of the event, whenever it should take place. Now and then 
they would drop a sly hint, but with no perceptible effect. 

They did not and could not know of the inward struggle that racked his 
mind at this period of his life. The shy and modest young man was dying 
for a wife, yet could not bear even to think of speaking to a young woman! 
The fearless hunter of buffaloes, mountain lions, and grizzlies, the youth 
who had won his eagle feathers in a battle with the Utes, could not bring 
himself to take this tremendous step. 

At last his father appealed to him directly. "My son," he declared, "it is 
your duty to take unto yourself a wife, in order that the honors won by 
your ancestors and by yourself may be handed down in the direct line. 
There are several eligible young women in our band whose parents have 
intimated a wish to have you for their son-in-law." 

Two Strike made no reply, but he was greatly disturbed. He had no wish to 
have the old folks select his bride, for if the truth were told, his 
choice was already made. He had simply lacked the courage to go a-
courting! 

The next morning, after making an unusually careful toilet, he took his 
best horse and rode to a point overlooking the path by which the girls 
went for water. Here the young men were wont to take their stand, and, if 
fortunate, intercept the girl of their heart for a brief but fateful 
interview. Two Strike had determined to speak straight to the point, and 
as soon as he saw the pretty maid he came forward boldly and placed 
himself in her way. A long moment passed. She glanced up at him shyly but 
not without encouragement. His teeth fairly chattered with fright, and he 
could not say a word. She looked again, noted his strange looks, and 
believed him suddenly taken ill. He appeared to be suffering. At last he 
feebly made signs for her to go on and leave him alone. The maiden was 
sympathetic, but as she did not know what else to do she obeyed his 
request. 

The poor youth was so ashamed of his cowardice that he afterward admitted 
his first thought was to take his own life. He believed he had disgraced 
himself forever in the eyes of the only girl he had ever loved. However, 
he determined to conquer his weakness and win her, which he did. The story 
came out many years after and was told with much enjoyment by the old men. 

Two Strike was better known by his own people than by the whites, for he 
was individually a terror in battle rather than a leader. He achieved his 
honorable name in a skirmish with the Utes in Colorado. The Sioux regarded 
these people as their bravest enemies, and the outcome of the fight was 
for some time uncertain. First the Sioux were forced to retreat and then 
their opponents, and at the latter point the horse of a certain Ute was 
shot under him. A friend came to his rescue and took him up behind him. 
Our hero overtook them in flight, raised his war club, and knocked both 
men off with one blow. 

He was a very old man when he died, only two or three years ago, on the 
Rosebud reservation.