Indian Heroes and Great Chieftains - Chapters X-XV



CHAPTER X. AMERICAN HORSE 

One of the wittiest and shrewdest of the Sioux chiefs was American Horse, 
who succeeded to the name and position of an uncle, killed in the battle 
of Slim Buttes in 1876. The younger American Horse was born a little 
before the encroachments of the whites upon the Sioux country became 
serious and their methods aggressive, and his early manhood brought him 
into that most trying and critical period of our history. He had been 
tutored by his uncle, since his own father was killed in battle while he 
was still very young. The American Horse band was closely attached to a 
trading post, and its members in consequence were inclined to be friendly 
with the whites, a policy closely adhered to by their leader. 

When he was born, his old grandfather said: "Put him out in the sun! Let 
him ask his great-grandfather, the Sun, for the warm blood of a warrior!" 
And he had warm blood. He was a genial man, liking notoriety and 
excitement. He always seized an opportunity to leap into the center of the 
arena. 

In early life he was a clownish sort of boy among the boys -- an expert 
mimic and impersonator. This talent made him popular and in his way a 
leader. He was a natural actor, and early showed marked ability as a 
speaker. 

American Horse was about ten years old when he was attacked by three Crow 
warriors, while driving a herd of ponies to water. Here he displayed 
native cunning and initiative. It seemed he had scarcely a chance to 
escape, for the enemy was near. He yelled frantically at the ponies to 
start them toward home, while he dropped off into a thicket of willows and 
hid there. A part of the herd was caught in sight of the camp and there 
was a counter chase, but the Crows got away with the ponies. Of course his 
mother was frantic, believing her boy had been killed or captured; but 
after the excitement was over, he appeared in camp unhurt. When questioned 
about his escape, he remarked: "I knew they would not take the time to 
hunt for small game when there was so much bigger close by." 

When he was quite a big boy, he joined in a buffalo hunt, and on the way 
back with the rest of the hunters his mule became unmanageable. American 
Horse had insisted on riding him in addition to a heavy load of meat and 
skins, and the animal evidently resented this, for he suddenly began to 
run and kick, scattering fresh meat along the road, to the merriment of 
the crowd. But the boy turned actor, and made it appear that it was at his 
wish the mule had given this diverting performance. He clung to the back 
of his plunging and braying mount like a circus rider, singing a Brave 
Heart song, and finally brought up amid the laughter and cheers of his 
companions. Far from admitting defeat, he boasted of his horsemanship and 
declared that his "brother" the donkey would put any enemy to flight, and 
that they should be called upon to lead a charge. 

It was several years later that he went to sleep early one night and slept 
soundly, having been scouting for two nights previous. It happened that 
there was a raid by the Crows, and when he awoke in the midst of the 
yelling and confusion, he sprang up and attempted to join in the fighting. 
Everybody knew his voice in all the din, so when he fired his gun and 
announced a coup, as was the custom, others rushed to the spot, to find 
that he had shot a hobbled pony belonging to their own camp. The laugh was 
on him, and he never recovered from his chagrin at this mistake. In fact, 
although he was undoubtedly fearless and tried hard to distinguish himself 
in warfare, he did not succeed. 

It is told of him that he once went with a war party of young men to the 
Wind River country against the Shoshones. At last they discovered a large 
camp, but there were only a dozen or so of the Sioux, therefore they hid 
themselves and watched for their opportunity to attack an isolated party 
of hunters. While waiting thus, they ran short of food. One day a small 
party of Shoshones was seen near at hand, and in the midst of the 
excitement and preparations for the attack, young American Horse caught 
sight of a fat black-tail deer close by. Unable to resist the temptation, 
he pulled an arrow from his quiver and sent it through the deer's heart, 
then with several of his half-starved companions sprang upon the yet 
quivering body of the animal to cut out the liver, which was sometimes 
eaten raw. One of the men was knocked down, it is said, by the last kick 
of the dying buck, but having swallowed a few mouthfuls the warriors 
rushed upon and routed their enemies. It is still told of American Horse 
how he killed game and feasted between the ambush and the attack. 

At another time he was drying his sacred war bonnet and other gear over a 
small fire. These articles were held in great veneration by the Indians 
and handled accordingly. Suddenly the fire blazed up, and our hero so far 
forgot himself as to begin energetically beating out the flames with the 
war bonnet, breaking off one of the sacred buffalo horns in the act. One 
could almost fill a book with his mishaps and exploits. I will give one of 
them in his own words as well as I can remember them. 

"We were as promising a party of young warriors as our tribe ever sent 
against any of its ancestral enemies. It was midsummer, and after going 
two days' journey from home we began to send two scouts ahead daily while 
the main body kept a half day behind. The scouts set out every evening and 
traveled all night. One night the great war pipe was held out to me and to 
Young-Man-Afraid-of- His-Horses. At daybreak, having met no one, we hid 
our horses and climbed to the top of the nearest butte to take an 
observation. It was a very hot day. We lay flat on our blankets, facing 
the west where the cliff fell off in a sheer descent, and with our backs 
toward the more gradual slope dotted with scrub pines and cedars. We stuck 
some tall grass on our heads and proceeded to study the landscape spread 
before us for any sign of man. 

"The sweeping valleys were dotted with herds, both large and small, of 
buffalo and elk, and now and then we caught a glimpse of a coyote slinking 
into the gulches, returning from night hunting to sleep. While intently 
watching some moving body at a distance, we could not yet tell whether of 
men or animals, I heard a faint noise behind me and slowly turned my head. 
Behold! a grizzly bear sneaking up on all fours and almost ready to 
spring! 

"'Run!' I yelled into the ear of my companion, and we both leaped to our 
feet in a second. 'Separate! separate!' he shouted, and as we did so, the 
bear chose me for his meat. I ran downhill as fast as I could, but he was 
gaining. 'Dodge around a tree!' screamed Young-Man-Afraid. I took a deep 
breath and made a last spurt, desperately circling the first tree I came 
to. As the ground was steep just there, I turned a somersault one way and 
the bear the other. I picked myself up in time to climb the tree, and was 
fairly out of reach when he gathered himself together and came at me more 
furiously than ever, holding in one paw the shreds of my breechcloth, for 
in the fall he had just scratched my back and cut my belt in two, and 
carried off my only garment for a trophy! 

"My friend was well up another tree and laughing heartily at my 
predicament, and when the bear saw that he could not get at either of us 
he reluctantly departed, after I had politely addressed him and promised 
to make an offering to his spirit on my safe return. I don't think I ever 
had a narrower escape," he concluded. 

During the troublous times from 1865 to 1877, American Horse advocated 
yielding to the government at any cost, being no doubt convinced of the 
uselessness of resistance. He was not a recognized leader until 1876, when 
he took the name and place of his uncle. Up to this time he bore the 
nickname of Manishnee (Can not walk, or Played out.) 

When the greater part of the Ogallalas, to which band he belonged, came 
into the reservation, he at once allied himself with the peace element at 
the Red Cloud agency, near Fort Robinson, Nebraska, and took no small part 
in keeping the young braves quiet. Since the older and better-known 
chiefs, with the exception of Spotted Tail, were believed to be hostile at 
heart, the military made much use of him. Many of his young men enlisted 
as scouts by his advice, and even he himself entered the service. 

In the early part of the year 1876, there was a rumor that certain bands 
were in danger of breaking away. Their leader was one Sioux Jim, so 
nicknamed by the soldiers. American Horse went to him as peacemaker, but 
was told he was a woman and no brave. He returned to his own camp and told 
his men that Sioux Jim meant mischief, and in order to prevent another 
calamity to the tribe, he must be chastised. He again approached the 
warlike Jim with several warriors at his back. The recalcitrant came out, 
gun in hand, but the wily chief was too quick for him. He shot and wounded 
the rebel, whereupon one of his men came forward and killed him. 

This quelled the people for the time being and up to the killing of Crazy 
Horse. In the crisis precipitated by this event, American Horse was again 
influential and energetic in the cause of the government. From this time 
on he became an active participant in the affairs of the Teton Sioux. He 
was noted for his eloquence, which was nearly always conciliatory, yet he 
could say very sharp things of the duplicity of the whites. He had much 
ease of manner and was a master of repartee. I recall his saying that if 
you have got to wear golden slippers to enter the white man's heaven no 
Indian will ever get there, as the whites have got the Black Hills and 
with them all the gold. 

It was during the last struggle of his people, at the time of the Messiah 
craze in 1890-1891 that he demonstrated as never before the real greatness 
of the man. While many of his friends were carried away by the new 
thought, he held aloof from it and cautioned his band to do the same. When 
it developed into an extensive upheaval among the nations he took his 
positive stand against it. 

Presently all Indians who did not dance the Ghost Dance were ordered to 
come into camp at Pine Ridge agency. American Horse was the first to bring 
in his people. I was there at the time and talked with him daily. When 
Little was arrested, it had been agreed among the disaffected to have him 
resist, which meant that he would be roughly handled. This was to be their 
excuse to attack the Indian police, which would probably lead to a general 
massacre or outbreak. I know that this desperate move was opposed from the 
beginning by American Horse, and it was believed that his life was 
threatened. 

On the day of the "Big Issue", when thousands of Indians were gathered at 
the agency, this man Little, who had been in hiding, walked boldly among 
them. Of course the police would arrest him at sight, and he was led 
toward the guardhouse. He struggled with them, but was overpowered. A 
crowd of warriors rushed to his rescue, and there was confusion and a 
general shout of "Hurry up with them! Kill them all!" I saw American Horse 
walk out of the agent's office and calmly face the excited mob. 

"What are you going to do?" he asked. "Stop, men, stop and think before 
you act! Will you murder your children, your women, yes, destroy your 
nation to-day?" He stood before them like a statue and the men who held 
the two policemen helpless paused for an instant. He went on: "You are 
brave to-day because you outnumber the white men, but what will you do to-
morrow? There are railroads on all sides of you. The soldiers will pour in 
from every direction by thousands and surround you. You have little food 
or ammunition. It will be the end of your people. Stop, I say, stop now!" 

Jack Red Cloud, son of the old chief rushed up to him and thrust a 
revolver almost in his face. "It is you and men like you," he shouted, 
"who have reduced our race to slavery and starvation!" American Horse did 
not flinch but deliberately reentered the office, followed by Jack still 
flourishing the pistol. But his timely appearance and eloquence had saved 
the day. Others of the police force had time to reach the spot, and with a 
large crowd of friendly Indians had taken command of the situation. 

When I went into the office I found him alone but apparently quite calm. 
"Where are the agent and the clerks?" I asked. "They fled by the back
door," he replied, smiling. "I think they are in the cellar. These fools 
outside had almost caught us asleep, but I think it is over now." 

American Horse was one of the earliest advocates of education for the 
Indian, and his son Samuel and nephew Robert were among the first students 
at Carlisle. I think one or two of his daughters were the handsomest 
Indian girls of full blood that I ever saw. His record as a councilor of 
his people and his policy in the new situation that confronted them was 
manly and consistent. 



CHAPTER XI. DULL KNIFE 

The life of Dull Knife, the Cheyenne, is a true hero tale. Simple, child-
like yet manful, and devoid of selfish aims, or love of gain, he is a 
pattern for heroes of any race. 

Dull Knife was a chief of the old school. Among all the Indians of the 
plains, nothing counts save proven worth. A man's caliber is measured by 
his courage, unselfishness and intelligence. Many writers confuse history 
with fiction, but in Indian history their women and old men and even 
children witness the main events, and not being absorbed in daily papers 
and magazines, these events are rehearsed over and over with few 
variations. Though orally preserved, their accounts are therefore 
accurate. But they have seldom been willing to give reliable information 
to strangers, especially when asked and paid for. 

Racial prejudice naturally enters into the account of a man's life by 
enemy writers, while one is likely to favor his own race. I am conscious 
that many readers may think that I have idealized the Indian. Therefore I 
will confess now that we have too many weak and unprincipled men among us. 
When I speak of the Indian hero, I do not forget the mongrel in spirit, 
false to the ideals of his people. Our trustfulness has been our weakness, 
and when the vices of civilization were added to our own, we fell heavily. 

It is said that Dull Knife as a boy was resourceful and self-reliant. He 
was only nine years old when his family was separated from the rest of the 
tribe while on a buffalo hunt. His father was away and his mother busy, 
and he was playing with his little sister on the banks of a stream, when a 
large herd of buffalo swept down upon them on a stampede for water. His 
mother climbed a tree, but the little boy led his sister into an old 
beaver house whose entrance was above water, and here they remained in 
shelter until the buffalo passed and they were found by their distracted 
parents. 

Dull Knife was quite a youth when his tribe was caught one winter in a 
region devoid of game, and threatened with starvation. The situation was 
made worse by heavy storms, but he secured help and led a relief party a 
hundred and fifty miles, carrying bales of dried buffalo meat on pack 
horses. 

Another exploit that made him dear to his people occurred in battle, when 
his brother-in-law was severely wounded and left lying where no one on 
either side dared to approach him. As soon as Dull Knife heard of it he 
got on a fresh horse, and made so daring a charge that others joined him; 
thus under cover of their fire he rescued his brother-in-law, and in so 
doing was wounded twice. 

The Sioux knew him as a man of high type, perhaps not so brilliant as 
Roman Nose and Two Moon, but surpassing both in honesty and simplicity, as 
well as in his war record. (Two Moon, in fact, was never a leader of his 
people, and became distinguished only in wars with the whites during the 
period of revolt.) A story is told of an ancestor of the same name that 
illustrates well the spirit of the age. 

It was the custom in those days for the older men to walk ahead of the 
moving caravan and decide upon all halts and camping places. One day the 
councilors came to a grove of wild cherries covered with ripe fruit, and 
they stopped at once. Suddenly a grizzly charged from the thicket. The men 
yelped and hooted, but the bear was not to be bluffed. He knocked down the 
first warrior who dared to face him and dragged his victim into the 
bushes. 

The whole caravan was in the wildest excitement. Several of the swiftest-
footed warriors charged the bear, to bring him out into the open, while 
the women and dogs made all the noise they could. The bear accepted the 
challenge, and as he did so, the man whom they had supposed dead came 
running from the opposite end of the thicket. The Indians were delighted, 
and especially so when in the midst of their cheers, the man stopped 
running for his life and began to sing a Brave Heart song as he approached 
the grove with his butcher knife in his hand. He would dare his enemy 
again! 

The grizzly met him with a tremendous rush, and they went down together. 
Instantly the bear began to utter cries of distress, and at the same time 
the knife flashed, and he rolled over dead. The warrior was too quick for 
the animal; he first bit his sensitive nose to distract his attention, and 
then used the knife to stab him to the heart. He fought many battles with 
knives thereafter and claimed that the spirit of the bear gave him 
success. On one occasion, however, the enemy had a strong buffalo-hide 
shield which the Cheyenne bear fighter could not pierce through, and he 
was wounded; nevertheless he managed to dispatch his foe. It was from this 
incident that he received the name of Dull Knife, which was handed down to 
his descendant. 

As is well known, the Northern Cheyennes uncompromisingly supported the 
Sioux in their desperate defense of the Black Hills and Big Horn country. 
Why not? It was their last buffalo region -- their subsistence. It was 
what our wheat fields are to a civilized nation. 

About the year 1875, a propaganda was started for confining all the 
Indians upon reservations, where they would be practically interned or 
imprisoned, regardless of their possessions and rights. The men who were 
the strongest advocates of the scheme generally wanted the Indians' 
property -- the one main cause back of all Indian wars. From the warlike 
Apaches to the peaceful Nez Perces, all the tribes of the plains were 
hunted from place to place; then the government resorted to peace 
negotiations, but always with an army at hand to coerce. Once disarmed and 
helpless, they were to be taken under military guard to the Indian 
Territory. 

A few resisted, and declared they would fight to the death rather than go. 
Among these were the Sioux, but nearly all the smaller tribes were 
deported against their wishes. Of course those Indians who came from a 
mountainous and cold country suffered severely. The moist heat and malaria 
decimated the exiles. Chief Joseph of the Nez Perces and Chief Standing 
Bear of the Poncas appealed to the people of the United States, and 
finally succeeded in having their bands or the remnant of them returned to 
their own part of the country. Dull Knife was not successful in his plea, 
and the story of his flight is one of poignant interest. 

He was regarded by the authorities as a dangerous man, and with his 
depleted band was taken to the Indian Territory without his consent in 
1876. When he realized that his people were dying like sheep, he was 
deeply moved. He called them together. Every man and woman declared that 
they would rather die in their own country than stay there longer, and 
they resolved to flee to their northern homes. 

Here again was displayed the genius of these people. From the Indian 
Territory to Dakota is no short dash for freedom. They knew what they were 
facing. Their line of flight lay through a settled country and they would 
be closely pursued by the army. No sooner had they started than the 
telegraph wires sang one song: "The panther of the Cheyennes is at large. 
Not a child or a woman in Kansas or Nebraska is safe." Yet they evaded all 
the pursuing and intercepting troops and reached their native soil. The 
strain was terrible, the hardship great, and Dull Knife, like Joseph, was 
remarkable for his self-restraint in sparing those who came within his 
power on the way. 

But fate was against him, for there were those looking for blood money who 
betrayed him when he thought he was among friends. His people were tired 
out and famished when they were surrounded and taken to Fort Robinson. 
There the men were put in prison, and their wives guarded in camp. They 
were allowed to visit their men on certain days. Many of them had lost 
everything; there were but a few who had even one child left. They were 
heartbroken. 

These despairing women appealed to their husbands to die fighting: their 
liberty was gone, their homes broken up, and only slavery and gradual 
extinction in sight. At last Dull Knife listened. He said: "I have lived 
my life. I am ready." The others agreed. "If our women are willing to die 
with us, who is there to say no? If we are to do the deeds of men, it 
rests with you women to bring us our weapons. 

As they had been allowed to carry moccasins and other things to the men, 
so they contrived to take in some guns and knives under this disguise. The 
plan was to kill the sentinels and run to the nearest natural trench, 
there to make their last stand. The women and children were to join them. 
This arrangement was carried out. Not every brave had a gun, but all had 
agreed to die together. They fought till their small store of ammunition 
was exhausted, then exposed their broad chests for a target, and the 
mothers even held up their little ones to be shot. Thus died the fighting 
Cheyennes and their dauntless leader. 



CHAPTER XII. ROMAN NOSE 

This Cheyenne war chief was a contemporary of Dull Knife. He was not so 
strong a character as the other, and was inclined to be pompous and 
boastful; but with all this he was a true type of native American in 
spirit and bravery. 

While Dull Knife was noted in warfare among Indians, Roman Nose made his 
record against the whites, in defense of territory embracing the 
Republican and Arickaree rivers. He was killed on the latter river in 
1868, in the celebrated battle with General Forsythe. 

Save Chief Gall and Washakie in the prime of their manhood, this chief had 
no peer in bodily perfection and masterful personality. No Greek or Roman 
gymnast was ever a finer model of physical beauty and power. He thrilled 
his men to frenzied action when he came upon the field. It was said of him 
that he sacrificed more youths by his personal influence in battle than 
any other leader, being very reckless himself in grand-stand charges. He 
was killed needlessly in this manner. 

Roman Nose always rode an uncommonly fine, spirited horse, and with his 
war bonnet and other paraphernalia gave a wonderful exhibition. The 
Indians used to say that the soldiers must gaze at him rather than aim at 
him, as they so seldom hit him even when running the gantlet before a 
firing line. 

He did a remarkable thing once when on a one-arrow-to-kill buffalo hunt 
with his brother-in-law. His companion had selected his animal and drew so 
powerfully on his sinew bowstring that it broke. Roman Nose had killed his 
own cow and was whipping up close to the other when the misfortune 
occurred. Both horses were going at full speed and the arrow jerked up in 
the air. Roman Nose caught it and shot the cow for him. 

Another curious story told of him is to the effect that he had an intimate 
Sioux friend who was courting a Cheyenne girl, but without success. As the 
wooing of both Sioux and Cheyennes was pretty much all effected in the 
night time, Roman Nose told his friend to let him do the courting for him. 
He arranged with the young woman to elope the next night and to spend the 
honeymoon among his Sioux friends. He then told his friend what to do. The 
Sioux followed instructions and carried off the Cheyenne maid, and not 
until morning did she discover her mistake. It is said she never admitted 
it, and that the two lived happily together to a good old age, so perhaps 
there was no mistake after all. 

Perhaps no other chief attacked more emigrants going west on the Oregon 
Trail between 1860 and 1868. He once made an attack on a large party of 
Mormons, and in this instance the Mormons had time to form a corral with 
their wagons and shelter their women, children, and horses. The men stood 
outside and met the Indians with well-aimed volleys, but they circled the 
wagons with whirlwind speed, and whenever a white man fell, it was the 
signal for Roman Nose to charge and count the "coup." The hat of one of 
the dead men was off, and although he had heavy hair and beard, the top of 
his head was bald from the forehead up. As custom required such a deed to 
be announced on the spot, the chief yelled at the top of his voice: 

"Your Roman Nose has counted the first coup on the longest-faced white man 
who was ever killed!" 

When the Northern Cheyennes under this daring leader attacked a body of 
scouting troops under the brilliant officer General Forsythe, Roman Nose 
thought that he had a comparatively easy task. The first onset failed, and 
the command entrenched itself on a little island. The wily chief thought 
he could stampede them and urged on his braves with the declaration that 
the first to reach the island should be entitled to wear a trailing war 
bonnet. Nevertheless he was disappointed, and his men received such a warm 
reception that none succeeded in reaching it. In order to inspire them to 
desperate deeds he had led them in person, and with him that meant victory 
or death. According to the army accounts, it was a thrilling moment, and 
might well have proved disastrous to the Forsythe command, whose leader 
was wounded and helpless. The danger was acute until Roman Nose fell, and 
even then his lieutenants were bent upon crossing at any cost, but some of 
the older chiefs prevailed upon them to withdraw. 

Thus the brilliant war chief of the Cheyennes came to his death. If he had 
lived until 1876, Sitting Bull would have had another bold ally. 



CHAPTER XIII. CHIEF JOSEPH 

The Nez Perce tribe of Indians, like other tribes too large to be united 
under one chief, was composed of several bands, each distinct in 
sovereignty. It was a loose confederacy. Joseph and his people occupied 
the Imnaha or Grande Ronde valley in Oregon, which was considered perhaps 
the finest land in that part of the country. 

When the last treaty was entered into by some of the bands of the Nez 
Perce, Joseph's band was at Lapwai, Idaho, and had nothing to do with the 
agreement. The elder chief in dying had counseled his son, then not more 
than twenty-two or twenty-three years of age, never to part with their 
home, assuring him that he had signed no papers. These peaceful non-treaty 
Indians did not even know what land had been ceded until the agent read 
them the government order to leave. Of course they refused. You and I 
would have done the same. 

When the agent failed to move them, he and the would-be settlers called 
upon the army to force them to be good, namely, without a murmur to leave 
their pleasant inheritance in the hands of a crowd of greedy grafters. 
General O. O. Howard, the Christian soldier, was sent to do the work. 

He had a long council with Joseph and his leading men, telling them they 
must obey the order or be driven out by force. We may be sure that he 
presented this hard alternative reluctantly. Joseph was a mere youth 
without experience in war or public affairs. He had been well brought up 
in obedience to parental wisdom and with his brother Ollicut had attended 
Missionary Spaulding's school where they had listened to the story of 
Christ and his religion of brotherhood. He now replied in his simple way 
that neither he nor his father had ever made any treaty disposing of their 
country, that no other band of the Nez Perces was authorized to speak for 
them, and it would seem a mighty injustice and unkindness to dispossess a 
friendly band. 

General Howard told them in effect that they had no rights, no voice in 
the matter: they had only to obey. Although some of the lesser chiefs 
counseled revolt then and there, Joseph maintained his self-control, 
seeking to calm his people, and still groping for a peaceful settlement of 
their difficulties. He finally asked for thirty days' time in which to 
find and dispose of their stock, and this was granted. 

Joseph steadfastly held his immediate followers to their promise, but the 
land-grabbers were impatient, and did everything in their power to bring 
about an immediate crisis so as to hasten the eviction of the Indians. 
Depredations were committed, and finally the Indians, or some of them, 
retaliated, which was just what their enemies had been looking for. There 
might be a score of white men murdered among themselves on the frontier 
and no outsider would ever hear about it, but if one were injured by an 
Indian -- "Down with the bloodthirsty savages!" was the cry. 

Joseph told me himself that during all of those thirty days a tremendous 
pressure was brought upon him by his own people to resist the government 
order. "The worst of it was," said he, "that everything they said was 
true; besides" -- he paused for a moment -- "it seemed very soon for me to 
forget my father's dying words, 'Do not give up our home!'" Knowing as I 
do just what this would mean to an Indian, I felt for him deeply. 

Among the opposition leaders were Too-hul-hul-sote, White Bird, and 
Looking Glass, all of them strong men and respected by the Indians; while 
on the other side were men built up by emissaries of the government for 
their own purposes and advertised as "great friendly chiefs." As a rule 
such men are unworthy, and this is so well known to the Indians that it 
makes them distrustful of the government's sincerity at the start. 
Moreover, while Indians unqualifiedly say what they mean, the whites have 
a hundred ways of saying what they do not mean. 

The center of the storm was this simple young man, who so far as I can 
learn had never been upon the warpath, and he stood firm for peace and 
obedience. As for his father's sacred dying charge, he told himself that 
he would not sign any papers, he would not go of his free will but from 
compulsion, and this was his excuse. 

However, the whites were unduly impatient to clear the coveted valley, and 
by their insolence they aggravated to the danger point an already strained 
situation. The murder of an Indian was the climax and this happened in the 
absence of the young chief. He returned to find the leaders determined to 
die fighting. The nature of the country was in their favor and at least 
they could give the army a chase, but how long they could hold out they 
did not know. Even Joseph's younger brother Ollicut was won over. There 
was nothing for him to do but fight; and then and there began the peaceful 
Joseph's career as a general of unsurpassed strategy in conducting one of 
the most masterly retreats in history. 

This is not my judgment, but the unbiased opinion of men whose knowledge 
and experience fit them to render it. Bear in mind that these people were 
not scalp hunters like the Sioux, Cheyennes, and Utes, but peaceful 
hunters and fishermen. The first council of war was a strange business to 
Joseph. He had only this to say to his people: 

"I have tried to save you from suffering and sorrow. Resistance means all 
of that. We are few. They are many. You can see all we have at a glance. 
They have food and ammunition in abundance. We must suffer great hardship 
and loss." After this speech, he quietly began his plans for the defense. 

The main plan of campaign was to engineer a successful retreat into 
Montana and there form a junction with the hostile Sioux and Cheyennes 
under Sitting Bull. There was a relay scouting system, one set of scouts 
leaving the main body at evening and the second a little before daybreak, 
passing the first set on some commanding hill top. There were also decoy 
scouts set to trap Indian scouts of the army. I notice that General Howard 
charges his Crow scouts with being unfaithful. 

Their greatest difficulty was in meeting an unencumbered army, while 
carrying their women, children, and old men, with supplies and such 
household effects as were absolutely necessary. Joseph formed an auxiliary 
corps that was to effect a retreat at each engagement, upon a definite 
plan and in definite order, while the unencumbered women were made into an 
ambulance corps to take care of the wounded. 

It was decided that the main rear guard should meet General Howard's 
command in White Bird Canyon, and every detail was planned in advance, yet 
left flexible according to Indian custom, giving each leader freedom to 
act according to circumstances. Perhaps no better ambush was ever planned 
than the one Chief Joseph set for the shrewd and experienced General 
Howard. He expected to be hotly pursued, but he calculated that the 
pursuing force would consist of not more than two hundred and fifty 
soldiers. He prepared false trails to mislead them into thinking that he 
was about to cross or had crossed the Salmon River, which he had no 
thought of doing at that time. Some of the tents were pitched in plain 
sight, while the women and children were hidden on the inaccessible 
ridges, and the men concealed in the canyon ready to fire upon the 
soldiers with deadly effect with scarcely any danger to themselves. They 
could even roll rocks upon them. 

In a very few minutes the troops had learned a lesson. The soldiers showed 
some fight, but a large body of frontiersmen who accompanied them were 
soon in disorder. The warriors chased them nearly ten miles, securing 
rifles and much ammunition, and killing and wounding many. 

The Nez Perces next crossed the river, made a detour and recrossed it at 
another point, then took their way eastward. All this was by way of 
delaying pursuit. Joseph told me that he estimated it would take six or 
seven days to get a sufficient force in the field to take up their trail, 
and the correctness of his reasoning is apparent from the facts as 
detailed in General Howard's book. He tells us that he waited six days for 
the arrival of men from various forts in his department, then followed 
Joseph with six hundred soldiers, beside a large number of citizen 
volunteers and his Indian scouts. As it was evident they had a long chase 
over trackless wilderness in prospect, he discarded his supply wagons and 
took pack mules instead. But by this time the Indians had a good start. 

Meanwhile General Howard had sent a dispatch to Colonel Gibbons, with 
orders to head Joseph off, which he undertook to do at the Montana end of 
the Lolo Trail. The wily commander had no knowledge of this move, but he 
was not to be surprised. He was too brainy for his pursuers, whom he 
constantly outwitted, and only gave battle when he was ready. There at the 
Big Hole Pass he met Colonel Gibbons' fresh troops and pressed them close. 
He sent a party under his brother Ollicut to harass Gibbons' rear and rout 
the pack mules, thus throwing him on the defensive and causing him to send 
for help, while Joseph continued his masterly retreat toward the 
Yellowstone Park, then a wilderness. However, this was but little 
advantage to him, since he must necessarily leave a broad trail, and the 
army was augmenting its columns day by day with celebrated scouts, both 
white and Indian. The two commands came together, and although General 
Howard says their horses were by this time worn out, and by inference the 
men as well, they persisted on the trail of a party encumbered by women 
and children, the old, sick, and wounded. 

It was decided to send a detachment of cavalry under Bacon, to Tash Pass, 
the gateway of the National Park, which Joseph would have to pass, with 
orders to detain him there until the rest could come up with them. Here is 
what General Howard says of the affair. "Bacon got into position soon 
enough but he did not have the heart to fight the Indians on account of 
their number." Meanwhile another incident had occurred. Right under the 
eyes of the chosen scouts and vigilant sentinels, Joseph's warriors fired 
upon the army camp at night and ran off their mules. He went straight on 
toward the park, where Lieutenant Bacon let him get by and pass through 
the narrow gateway without firing a shot. 

Here again it was demonstrated that General Howard could not depend upon 
the volunteers, many of whom had joined him in the chase, and were going 
to show the soldiers how to fight Indians. In this night attack at Camas 
Meadow, they were demoralized, and while crossing the river next day many 
lost their guns in the water, whereupon all packed up and went home, 
leaving the army to be guided by the Indian scouts. 

However, this succession of defeats did not discourage General Howard, who 
kept on with as many of his men as were able to carry a gun, meanwhile 
sending dispatches to all the frontier posts with orders to intercept 
Joseph if possible. Sturgis tried to stop him as the Indians entered the 
Park, but they did not meet until he was about to come out, when there was 
another fight, with Joseph again victorious. General Howard came upon the 
battle field soon afterward and saw that the Indians were off again, and 
from here he sent fresh messages to General Miles, asking for 
reinforcements. 

Joseph had now turned northeastward toward the Upper Missouri. He told me 
that when he got into that part of the country he knew he was very near 
the Canadian line and could not be far from Sitting Bull, with whom he 
desired to form an alliance. He also believed that he had cleared all the 
forts. Therefore he went more slowly and tried to give his people some 
rest. Some of their best men had been killed or wounded in battle, and the 
wounded were a great burden to him; nevertheless they were carried and 
tended patiently all during this wonderful flight. Not one was ever left 
behind. 

It is the general belief that Indians are cruel and revengeful, and surely 
these people had reason to hate the race who had driven them from their 
homes if any people ever had. Yet it is a fact that when Joseph met 
visitors and travelers in the Park, some of whom were women, he allowed 
them to pass unharmed, and in at least one instance let them have horses. 
He told me that he gave strict orders to his men not to kill any women or 
children. He wished to meet his adversaries according to their own 
standards of warfare, but he afterward learned that in spite of 
professions of humanity, white soldiers have not seldom been known to kill 
women and children indiscriminately. 

Another remarkable thing about this noted retreat is that Joseph's people 
stood behind him to a man, and even the women and little boys did each his 
part. The latter were used as scouts in the immediate vicinity of the 
camp. 

The Bittersweet valley, which they had now entered, was full of game, and 
the Indians hunted for food, while resting their worn-out ponies. One 
morning they had a council to which Joseph rode over bareback, as they had 
camped in two divisions a little apart. His fifteen-year-old daughter went 
with him. They discussed sending runners to Sitting Bull to ascertain his 
exact whereabouts and whether it would be agreeable to him to join forces 
with the Nez Perces. In the midst of the council, a force of United States 
cavalry charged down the hill between the two camps. This once Joseph was 
surprised. He had seen no trace of the soldiers and had somewhat relaxed 
his vigilance. 

He told his little daughter to stay where she was, and himself cut right 
through the cavalry and rode up to his own teepee, where his wife met him 
at the door with his rifle, crying: "Here is your gun, husband!" The 
warriors quickly gathered and pressed the soldiers so hard that they had 
to withdraw. Meanwhile one set of the people fled while Joseph's own band 
entrenched themselves in a very favorable position from which they could 
not easily be dislodged. 

General Miles had received and acted on General Howard's message, and he 
now sent one of his officers with some Indian scouts into Joseph's camp to 
negotiate with the chief. Meantime Howard and Sturgis came up with the 
encampment, and Howard had with him two friendly Nez Perce scouts who were 
directed to talk to Joseph in his own language. He decided that there was 
nothing to do but surrender. 

He had believed that his escape was all but secure: then at the last 
moment he was surprised and caught at a disadvantage. His army was 
shattered; he had lost most of the leaders in these various fights; his 
people, including children, women, and the wounded, had traveled thirteen 
hundred miles in about fifty days, and he himself a young man who had 
never before taken any important responsibility! Even now he was not 
actually conquered. He was well entrenched; his people were willing to die 
fighting; but the army of the United States offered peace and he agreed, 
as he said, out of pity for his suffering people. Some of his warriors 
still refused to surrender and slipped out of the camp at night and 
through the lines. Joseph had, as he told me, between three and four 
hundred fighting men in the beginning, which means over one thousand 
persons, and of these several hundred surrendered with him. 

His own story of the conditions he made was prepared by himself with my 
help in 1897, when he came to Washington to present his grievances. I sat 
up with him nearly all of one night; and I may add here that we took the 
document to General Miles who was then stationed in Washington, before 
presenting it to the Department. The General said that every word of it 
was true. 

In the first place, his people were to be kept at Fort Keogh, Montana, 
over the winter and then returned to their reservation. Instead they were 
taken to Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, and placed between a lagoon and the 
Missouri River, where the sanitary conditions made havoc with them. Those 
who did not die were then taken to the Indian Territory, where the health 
situation was even worse. Joseph appealed to the government again and 
again, and at last by the help of Bishops Whipple and Hare he was moved to 
the Colville reservation in Washington. Here the land was very poor, 
unlike their own fertile valley. General Miles said to the chief that he 
had recommended and urged that their agreement be kept, but the 
politicians and the people who occupied the Indians' land declared they 
were afraid if he returned he would break out again and murder innocent 
white settlers! What irony! 

The great Chief Joseph died broken-spirited and broken-hearted. He did not 
hate the whites, for there was nothing small about him, and when he laid 
down his weapons he would not fight on with his mind. But he was 
profoundly disappointed in the claims of a Christian civilization. I call 
him great because he was simple and honest. Without education or special 
training he demonstrated his ability to lead and to fight when justice 
demanded. He outgeneraled the best and most experienced commanders in the 
army of the United States, although their troops were well provisioned, 
well armed, and above all unencumbered. He was great finally, because he 
never boasted of his remarkable feat. I am proud of him, because he was a 
true American. 



CHAPTER XIV. LITTLE WOLF 

If any people ever fought for liberty and justice, it was the Cheyennes. 
If any ever demonstrated their physical and moral courage beyond cavil, it 
was this race of purely American heroes, among whom Little Wolf was a 
leader. 

I knew the chief personally very well. As a young doctor, I was sent to 
the Pine Ridge agency in 1890, as government physician to the Sioux and 
the Northern Cheyennes. While I heard from his own lips of that gallant 
dash of his people from their southern exile to their northern home, I 
prefer that Americans should read of it in Doctor George Bird Grinnell's 
book, "The Fighting Cheyennes." No account could be clearer or simpler; 
and then too, the author cannot be charged with a bias in favor of his own 
race. 

At the time that I knew him, Little Wolf was a handsome man, with the 
native dignity and gentleness, musical voice, and pleasant address of so 
many brave leaders of his people. One day when he was dining with us at 
our home on the reservation, I asked him, as I had a habit of doing, for 
some reminiscences of his early life. He was rather reluctant to speak, 
but a friend who was present contributed the following: 

"Perhaps I can tell you why it is that he has been a lucky man all his 
life. When quite a small boy, the tribe was one winter in want of food, 
and his good mother had saved a small piece of buffalo meat, which she 
solemnly brought forth and placed before him with the remark: 'My son must 
be patient, for when he grows up he will know even harder times than 
this.' 

"He had eaten nothing all day and was pretty hungry, but before he could 
lay hands on the meat a starving dog snatched it and bolted from the 
teepee. The mother ran after the dog and brought him back for punishment. 
She tied him to a post and was about to whip him when the boy interfered. 
'Don't hurt him, mother!' he cried; 'he took the meat because he was 
hungrier than I am!'" 

I was told of another kind act of his under trying circumstances. While 
still a youth, he was caught out with a party of buffalo hunters in a 
blinding blizzard. They were compelled to lie down side by side in the 
snowdrifts, and it was a day and a night before they could get out. The 
weather turned very cold, and when the men arose they were in danger of 
freezing. Little Wolf pressed his fine buffalo robe upon an old man who 
was shaking with a chill and himself took the other's thin blanket. 

As a full-grown young man, he was attracted by a maiden of his tribe, and 
according to the custom then in vogue the pair disappeared. When they 
returned to the camp as man and wife, behold! there was great excitement 
over the affair. It seemed that a certain chief had given many presents 
and paid unmistakable court to the maid with the intention of marrying 
her, and her parents had accepted the presents, which meant consent so far 
as they were concerned. But the girl herself had not given consent. 

The resentment of the disappointed suitor was great. It was reported in 
the village that he had openly declared that the young man who defied and 
insulted him must expect to be punished. As soon as Little Wolf heard of 
the threats, he told his father and friends that he had done only what it 
is every man's privilege to do. 

"Tell the chief," said he, "to come out with any weapon he pleases, and I 
will meet him within the circle of lodges. He shall either do this or eat 
his words. The woman is not his. Her people accepted his gifts against her 
wishes. Her heart is mine." 

The chief apologized, and thus avoided the inevitable duel, which would 
have been a fight to the death. 

The early life of Little Wolf offered many examples of the dashing bravery 
characteristic of the Cheyennes, and inspired the younger men to win 
laurels for themselves. He was still a young man, perhaps thirty-five, 
when the most trying crisis in the history of his people came upon them. 
As I know and as Doctor Grinnell's book amply corroborates, he was the 
general who largely guided and defended them in that tragic flight from 
the Indian Territory to their northern home. I will not discuss the 
justice of their cause: I prefer to quote Doctor Grinnell, lest it appear 
that I am in any way exaggerating the facts. 

"They had come," he writes, "from the high, dry country of Montana and 
North Dakota to the hot and humid Indian Territory. They had come from a 
country where buffalo and other game were still plentiful to a land where 
the game had been exterminated. Immediately on their arrival they were 
attacked by fever and ague, a disease wholly new to them. Food was scanty, 
and they began to starve. The agent testified before a committee of the 
Senate that he never received supplies to subsist the Indians for more 
than nine months in each year. These people were meat-eaters, but the beef 
furnished them by the government inspectors was no more than skin and 
bone. The agent in describing their sufferings said: 'They have lived and 
that is about all.' 

"The Indians endured this for about a year, and then their patience gave 
out. They left the agency to which they had been sent and started north. 
Though troops were camped close to them, they attempted no concealment of 
their purpose. Instead, they openly announced that they intended to return 
to their own country. 

We have heard much in past years of the march of the Nez Perces under 
Chief Joseph, but little is remembered of the Dull Knife outbreak and the 
march to the north led by Little Wolf. The story of the journey has not 
been told, but in the traditions of the old army this campaign was 
notable, and old men who were stationed on the plains forty years ago are 
apt to tell you, if you ask them, that there never was such another 
journey since the Greeks marched to the sea. . . . 

"The fugitives pressed constantly northward undaunted, while orders were 
flying over the wires, and special trains were carrying men and horses to 
cut them off at all probable points on the different railway lines they 
must cross. Of the three hundred Indians, sixty or seventy were fighting 
men -- the rest old men, women, and children. An army officer once told me 
that thirteen thousand troops were hurrying over the country to capture or 
kill these few poor people who had left the fever-stricken South, and in 
the face of every obstacle were steadily marching northward. 

"The War Department set all its resources in operation against them, yet 
they kept on. If troops attacked them, they stopped and fought until they 
had driven off the soldiers, and then started north again. Sometimes they 
did not even stop, but marched along, fighting as they marched. For the 
most part they tried -- and with success -- to avoid conflicts, and had 
but four real hard fights, in which they lost half a dozen men killed and 
about as many wounded." 

It must not be overlooked that the appeal to justice had first been tried 
before taking this desperate step. Little Wolf had gone to the agent about 
the middle of the summer and said to him: "This is not a good country for 
us, and we wish to return to our home in the mountains where we were 
always well. If you have not the power to give permission, let some of us 
go to Washington and tell them there how it is, or do you write to 
Washington and get permission for us to go back." 

"Stay one more year," replied the agent, "and then we will see what we can 
do for you. "No," said Little Wolf. "Before another year there will be 
none left to travel north. We must go now." 

Soon after this it was found that three of the Indians had disappeared and 
the chief was ordered to surrender ten men as hostages for their return. 
He refused. "Three men," said he, "who are traveling over wild country can 
hide so that they cannot be found. You would never get back these three, 
and you would keep my men prisoners always." 

The agent then threatened if the ten men were not given up to withhold 
their rations and starve the entire tribe into submission. He forgot that 
he was addressing a Cheyenne. These people had not understood that they 
were prisoners when they agreed to friendly relations with the government 
and came upon the reservation. Little Wolf stood up and shook hands with 
all present before making his final deliberate address. 

"Listen, my friends, I am a friend of the white people and have been so 
for a long time. I do not want to see blood spilt about this agency. I am 
going north to my own country. If you are going to send your soldiers 
after me, I wish you would let us get a little distance away. Then if you 
want to fight, I will fight you, and we can make the ground bloody at that 
place." 

The Cheyenne was not bluffing. He said just what he meant, and I presume 
the agent took the hint, for although the military were there they did not 
undertake to prevent the Indians' departure. Next morning the teepees were 
pulled down early and quickly. Toward evening of the second day, the 
scouts signaled the approach of troops. Little Wolf called his men 
together and advised them under no circumstances to fire until fired upon. 
An Arapahoe scout was sent to them with a message. "If you surrender now, 
you will get your rations and be well treated." After what they had 
endured, it was impossible not to hear such a promise with contempt. Said 
Little Wolf: "We are going back to our own country. We do not want to 
fight." He was riding still nearer when the soldiers fired, and at a 
signal the Cheyennes made a charge. They succeeded in holding off the 
troops for two days, with only five men wounded and none killed, and when 
the military retreated the Indians continued northward carrying their 
wounded. 

This sort of thing was repeated again and again. Meanwhile Little Wolf 
held his men under perfect control. There were practically no 
depredations. They secured some boxes of ammunition left behind by 
retreating troops, and at one point the young men were eager to follow and 
destroy an entire command who were apparently at their mercy, but their 
leader withheld them. They had now reached the buffalo country, and he 
always kept his main object in sight. He was extraordinarily calm. Doctor 
Grinnell was told by one of his men years afterward: "Little Wolf did not 
seem like a human being. He seemed like a bear." It is true that a man of 
his type in a crisis becomes spiritually transformed and moves as one in a 
dream. 

At the Running Water the band divided, Dull Knife going toward Red Cloud 
agency. He was near Fort Robinson when he surrendered and met his sad 
fate. Little Wolf remained all winter in the Sand Hills, where there was 
plenty of game and no white men. Later he went to Montana and then to Pine 
Ridge, where he and his people remained in peace until they were removed 
to Lame Deer, Montana, and there he spent the remainder of his days. There 
is a clear sky beyond the clouds of racial prejudice, and in that final 
Court of Honor a noble soul like that of Little Wolf has a place. 



CHAPTER XV. HOLE-IN-THE-DAY 

[I wish to thank Reverend C. H. Beaulieu of Le Soeur, Minnesota, for much 
of the material used in this chapter.] 

In the beginning of the nineteenth century, the Indian nations of the 
Northwest first experienced the pressure of civilization. At this period 
there were among them some brilliant leaders unknown to history, for the 
curious reason that they cordially received and welcomed the newcomers 
rather than opposed them. The only difficulties were those arising among 
the European nations themselves, and often involving the native tribes. 
Thus new environments brought new motives, and our temptations were 
increased manyfold with the new weapons, new goods, and above all the 
subtly destructive "spirit water." 

Gradually it became known that the new race had a definite purpose, and 
that purpose was to chart and possess the whole country, regardless of the 
rights of its earlier inhabitants. Still the old chiefs cautioned their 
people to be patient, for, said they, the land is vast, both races can 
live on it, each in their own way. Let us therefore befriend them and 
trust to their friendship. While they reasoned thus, the temptations of 
graft and self-aggrandizement overtook some of the leaders. 

Hole-in-the-Day (or Bug-o-nay-ki-shig) was born in the opening days of 
this era. The word "ki-shig" means either "day" or "sky", and the name is 
perhaps more correctly translated Hole-in-the-Sky. This gifted man 
inherited his name and much of his ability from his father, who was a war 
chief among the Ojibways, a Napoleon of the common people, and who carried 
on a relentless warfare against the Sioux. And yet, as was our custom at 
the time, peaceful meetings were held every summer, at which 
representatives of the two tribes would recount to one another all the 
events that had come to pass during the preceding year. 

Hole-in-the-Day the younger was a handsome man, tall and symmetrically 
formed, with much grace of manner and natural refinement. He was an astute 
student of diplomacy. The Ojibways allowed polygamy, and whether or not he 
approved the principle, he made political use of it by marrying the 
daughter of a chief in nearly every band. Through these alliances he held 
a controlling influence over the whole Ojibway nation. Reverend Claude H. 
Beaulieu says of him: 

"Hole-in-the-Day was a man of distinguished appearance and native 
courtliness of manner. His voice was musical and magnetic, and with these 
qualities he had a subtle brain, a logical mind, and quite a remarkable 
gift of oratory. In speech he was not impassioned, but clear and 
convincing, and held fast the attention of his hearers." 

It is of interest to note that his everyday name among his tribesmen was 
"The Boy." What a boy he must have been! I wonder if the name had the same 
significance as with the Sioux, who applied it to any man who performs a 
difficult duty with alertness, dash, and natural courage. "The Man" 
applies to one who adds to these qualities wisdom and maturity of 
judgment. 

The Sioux tell many stories of both the elder and the younger Hole-in-the-
Day. Once when The Boy was still under ten years of age, he was fishing on 
Gull Lake in a leaky birch-bark canoe. Presently there came such a burst 
of frantic warwhoops that his father was startled. He could not think of 
anything but an attack by the dreaded Sioux. Seizing his weapons, he ran 
to the rescue of his son, only to find that the little fellow had caught a 
fish so large that it was pulling his canoe all over the lake. "Ugh," 
exclaimed the father, "if a mere fish scares you so badly, I fear you will 
never make a warrior! 

It is told of him that when he was very small, the father once brought 
home two bear cubs and gave them to him for pets. The Boy was feeding and 
getting acquainted with them outside his mother's birch-bark teepee, when 
suddenly he was heard to yell for help. The two little bears had treed The 
Boy and were waltzing around the tree. His mother scared them off, but 
again the father laughed at him for thinking that he could climb trees 
better than a bear. 

The elder Hole-in-the-Day was a daring warrior and once attacked and 
scalped a Sioux who was carrying his pelts to the trading post, in full 
sight of his friends. Of course he was instantly pursued, and he leaped 
into a canoe which was lying near by and crossed to an island in the 
Mississippi River near Fort Snelling. When almost surrounded by Sioux 
warriors, he left the canoe and swam along the shore with only his nose 
above water, but as they were about to head him off he landed and hid 
behind the falling sheet of water known as Minnehaha Falls, thus saving 
his life. 

It often happens that one who offers his life freely will after all die a 
natural death. The elder Hole-in-the-Day so died when The Boy was still a 
youth. Like Philip of Massachusetts, Chief Joseph the younger, and the 
brilliant Osceola, the mantle fell gracefully upon his shoulders, and he 
wore it during a short but eventful term of chieftainship. It was his to 
see the end of the original democracy on this continent. The clouds were 
fast thickening on the eastern horizon. The day of individualism and 
equity between man and man must yield to the terrific forces of 
civilization, the mass play of materialism, the cupidity of commerce with 
its twin brother politics. Under such conditions the younger Hole-in-the-
Day undertook to guide his tribesmen. At first they were inclined to doubt 
the wisdom of so young a leader, but he soon proved a ready student of his 
people's traditions, and yet, like Spotted Tail and Little Crow, he 
adopted too willingly the white man's politics. He maintained the 
territory won from the Sioux by his predecessors. He negotiated treaties 
with the ability of a born diplomat, with one exception, and that 
exception cost him his life. 

Like other able Indians who foresaw the inevitable downfall of their race, 
he favored a gradual change of customs leading to complete adoption of the 
white man's ways. In order to accustom the people to a new standard, he 
held that the chiefs must have authority and must be given compensation 
for their services. This was a serious departure from the old rule but was 
tacitly accepted, and in every treaty he made there was provision for 
himself in the way of a land grant or a cash payment. He early departed 
from the old idea of joint ownership with the Lake Superior Ojibways, 
because he foresaw that it would cause no end of trouble for the 
Mississippi River branch of which he was then the recognized head. But 
there were difficulties to come with the Leech Lake and Red Lake bands, 
who held aloof from his policy, and the question of boundaries began to 
arise. 

In the first treaty negotiated with the government by young Hole-in-the-
Day in 1855, a "surplus" was provided for the chiefs aside from the 
regular per capita payment, and this surplus was to be distributed in 
proportion to the number of Indians under each. Hole-in-the-Day had by far 
the largest enrollment, therefore he got the lion's share of this fund. 
Furthermore he received another sum set apart for the use of the "head 
chief", and these things did not look right to the tribe. In the very next 
treaty he provided himself with an annuity of one thousand dollars for 
twenty years, beside a section of land near the village of Crow Wing, and 
the government was induced to build him a good house upon this land. In 
his home he had many white servants and henchmen and really lived like a 
lord. He dressed well in native style with a touch of civilized elegance, 
wearing coat and leggings of fine broadcloth, linen shirt with collar, 
and, topping all, a handsome black or blue blanket. His moccasins were of 
the finest deerskin and beautifully worked. His long beautiful hair added 
much to his personal appearance. He was fond of entertaining and being 
entertained and was a favorite both among army officers and civilians. He 
was especially popular with the ladies, and this fact will appear later in 
the story. 

At about this time, the United States government took it upon itself to 
put an end to warfare between the Sioux and Ojibways. A peace meeting was 
arranged at Fort Snelling, with the United States as mediator. When the 
representatives of the two nations met at this grand council, Hole-in-the-
Day came as the head chief of his people, and with the other chiefs 
appeared in considerable pomp and dignity. The wives of the government 
officials were eager for admission to this unusual gathering, but when 
they arrived there was hardly any space left except next to the Sioux 
chiefs, and the white ladies soon crowded this space to overflowing. One 
of the Sioux remarked: "I thought this was to be a council of chiefs and 
braves, but I see many women among us." Thereupon the Ojibway arose and 
spoke in his courtliest manner. "The Ojibway chiefs will feel highly 
honored," said he, "if the ladies will consent to sit on our side." 

Another sign of his alertness to gain favor among the whites was seen in 
the fact that he took part in the territorial campaigns, a most unusual 
thing for an Indian of that day. Being a man of means and influence, he 
was listened to with respect by the scattered white settlers in his 
vicinity. He would make a political speech through an interpreter, but 
would occasionally break loose in his broken English, and wind up with an 
invitation to drink in the following words: "Chentimen, you Pemicans 
(Republicans), come out and drink!" 

From 1855 to 1864 Hole-in-the-Day was a well-known figure in Minnesota, 
and scarcely less so in Washington, for he visited the capital quite often 
on tribal affairs. As I have said before, he was an unusually handsome 
man, and was not unresponsive to flattery and the attentions of women. At 
the time of this incident he was perhaps thirty-five years old, but looked 
younger. He had called upon the President and was on his way back to his 
hotel, when he happened to pass the Treasury building just as the clerks 
were leaving for the day. He was immediately surrounded by an inquisitive 
throng. Among them was a handsome young woman who asked through the 
interpreter if the chief would consent to an interview about his people, 
to aid her in a paper she had promised to prepare. 

Hole-in-the-Day replied: "If the beautiful lady is willing to risk calling 
on the chief at his hotel, her request will be granted." The lady went, 
and the result was so sudden and strong an attachment that both forgot all 
racial biases and differences of language and custom. She followed him as 
far as Minneapolis, and there the chief advised her to remain, for he 
feared the jealousy of some of his many wives. She died there, soon after 
giving birth to a son, who was brought up by a family named Woodbury; and 
some fifteen years ago I met the young man in Washington and was taken by 
him to call upon certain of his mother's relatives. 

The ascendancy of Hole-in-the-Day was not gained entirely through the 
consent of his people, but largely by government favor, therefore there 
was strong suppressed resentment among his associate chiefs, and the Red 
Lake and Leech Lake bands in fact never acknowledged him as their head, 
while they suspected him of making treaties which involved some of their 
land. He was in personal danger from this source, and his life was twice 
attempted, but, though wounded, in each case he recovered. His popularity 
with Indian agents and officers lasted till the Republicans came into 
power in the sixties and there was a new deal. The chief no longer 
received the favors and tips to which he was accustomed; in fact he was in 
want of luxuries, and worse still, his pride was hurt by neglect. The new 
party had promised Christian treatment to the Indians, but it appeared 
that they were greater grafters than their predecessors, and unlike them 
kept everything for themselves, allowing no perquisites to any Indian 
chief. 

In his indignation at this treatment, Hole-in-the-Day began exposing the 
frauds on his people, and so at a late day was converted to their defense. 
Perhaps he had not fully understood the nature of graft until he was in a 
position to view it from the outside. After all, he was excusable in 
seeking to maintain the dignity of his office, but he had departed from 
one of the fundamental rules of the race, namely: "Let no material gain be 
the motive or reward of public duty." He had wounded the ideals of his 
people beyond forgiveness, and he suffered the penalty; yet his courage 
was not diminished by the mistakes of his past. Like the Sioux chief 
Little Crow, he was called "the betrayer of his people", and like him he 
made a desperate effort to regain lost prestige, and turned savagely 
against the original betrayers of his confidence, the agents and Indian 
traders. 

When the Sioux finally broke out in 1862, the first thought of the local 
politicians was to humiliate Hole-in-the-Day by arresting him and 
proclaiming some other "head chief" in his stead. In so doing they almost 
forced the Ojibways to fight under his leadership. The chief had no 
thought of alliance with the Sioux, and was wholly unaware of the proposed 
action of the military on pretense of such a conspiracy on his part. He 
was on his way to the agency in his own carriage when a runner warned him 
of his danger. He thereupon jumped down and instructed the driver to 
proceed. His coachman was arrested by a file of soldiers, who when they 
discovered their mistake went to his residence in search of him, but 
meanwhile he had sent runners in every direction to notify his warriors, 
and had moved his family across the Mississippi. When the military reached 
the river bank he was still in sight, and the lieutenant called upon him 
to surrender. When he refused, the soldiers were ordered to fire upon him, 
but he replied with his own rifle, and with a whoop disappeared among the 
pine groves. 

It was remarkable how the whole tribe now rallied to the call of Hole-in-
the-Day. He allowed no depredations to the young men under his leadership, 
but camped openly near the agency and awaited an explanation. Presently 
Judge Cooper of St. Paul, a personal friend of the chief, appeared, and 
later on the Assistant Secretary of the Interior, accompanied by Mr. 
Nicolay, private secretary of President Lincoln. Apparently that great 
humanitarian President saw the whole injustice of the proceeding against a 
loyal nation, and the difficulty was at an end. 

Through the treaties of 1864, 1867, and 1868 was accomplished the final 
destiny of the Mississippi River Ojibways. Hole-in-the-Day was against 
their removal to what is now White Earth reservation, but he was defeated 
in this and realized that the new turn of events meant the downfall of his 
race. He declared that he would never go on the new reservation, and he 
kept his word. He remained on one of his land grants near Crow Wing. As 
the other chiefs assumed more power, the old feeling of suspicion and 
hatred became stronger, especially among the Pillager and Red Lake bands. 
One day he was waylaid and shot by a party of these disaffected Indians. 
He uttered a whoop and fell dead from his buggy. 

Thus died one of the most brilliant chiefs of the Northwest, who never 
defended his birthright by force of arms, although almost compelled to do 
so. He succeeded in diplomacy so long as he was the recognized head of his 
people. Since we have not passed over his weaknesses, he should be given 
credit for much insight in causing the article prohibiting the 
introduction of liquor into the Indian country to be inserted into the 
treaty of 1858. I think it was in 1910 that this forgotten provision was 
discovered and again enforced over a large expanse of territory occupied 
by whites, it being found that the provision had never been repealed. 

Although he left many children, none seem to have made their mark, yet it 
may be that in one of his descendants that undaunted spirit will rise 
again.