{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_27616/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_27616","id":"gutenberg_27616","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/27616","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Archaeology & Anthropology","Category: History - American","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Indian councils -- United States","Indians of North America","Indians of North America -- Biography","Little Bighorn, Battle of the, Mont., 1876"],"text":"PREPARER\u2019S NOTE\n\n\nPlease note that this book contains a photograph of a burial platform,\nwhich some may find offensive. The elegaic tone, typical of the time, of\nmuch of the book may also annoy the modern reader. Some of the Indian\ninterviews are still quoted today, however, and some of the photos are\nstill reproduced.\n\n\n\n\n\n [The Last Outpost]\n\n The Last Outpost\n\n\nThe Vanishing Race\n\nThe Last Great Indian Council a record in picture and story of the last\ngreat indian council, participated in by eminent indian chiefs from nearly\nevery indian reservation in the united states, together with the story of\ntheir lives as told by themselves\u2014their speeches and folklore tales\u2014their\nsolemn farewell, and the indians\u2019 story of the custer fight\nBy Dr. Joseph K. Dixon\n\nGarden City, New York\nDoubleday, Page, and Company\n\n1913\n\n\n\n\n\nDEDICATION\n\n\nTo the man of mystery\u2014\nThe earth his mother\u2014\nThe sun his father\u2014\nA child of the mountains and the plains\u2014\nA faithful worshipper in the great world cathedral\u2014\nNow a tragic soul haunting the shores of the western ocean\u2014\nMy brother the Indian\n\n\n\n\n\nILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\nThe Last Outpost\nThe Approach of the Chiefs\nA Glimpse Backward\nThe Sacrament of Winter\nThe Lone Tepee\nSinging to the Spirits\nThe Voice of the Water Spirits\nTrail of the Death Spirit\nA Leaf from the Indian\u2019s Book\nThe Song of the Arrows\nAn Imperial Warrior\nA Sunset in Camp\nLighting the Smoke Signal\nAnswering the Smoke Signal\nThe Attack on the Camp\nBuffalo Thundered Across the Plains\nAn Indian Home\nAn Indian Burden Bearer\nAn Indian Woman\u2019s Dress\u2014Mrs. Wolf Plume\nThe Flower of the Wigwam\nLittle Friends\nA Bath in the Little Big Horn\nThe Crown of Eagle Feathers\nWarriors of Other Days\nChief Plenty Coups\nThe Peaceful Camp\nChief Red Whip\nThe Pause in the Journey\nChief Timbo\nThe Downward Trail\nChief Apache John\nClimbing the Great Divide\nChief Running Bird\nChiefs Fording the Little Bighorn\nChief Brave Bear\nSkirting the Sky-Line\nChief Umapine\nDown the Western Slope\nThe Last Arrow\nChief Tin-Tin-Meet-Sa\nChief Runs the Enemy\nScouting Party on the Plains\nScouts passing under cover of the Night\nMap of the Custer Battlefield\nChief Pretty Voice Eagle\nA War Council\nThe War Party\nThe Swirl of the Warriors\nChief White Horse\nChief Bear Ghost\nChief Running Fisher\nChief Bull Snake\nMountain Chief\nWar Memories\nChief Red Cloud\nChief Two Moons\nHere Custer Fell\nCuster Scouts\nWhite Man Runs Him\u2014Custer Scout\nHairy Moccasin\u2014Custer Scout\nCurly\u2014Custer Scout\nGoes Ahead\u2014Custer Scout\nOn the War Trail\nIn Battle Line\nThe Custer Battlefield\nScouts on the March\nSunset on the Custer Field\nThe Reno Battlefield\nTwo Moons as he fought Custer\nThe Council Pipe\nChief Plenty Coups Addressing the Council\nChief Koon-Ka-Za-Chy Addressing the Council\nChief Two Moons Addressing the Council\nAn Indian Communion\nThe Final Trail\nThe Fading Sunset\nVanishing into the Mists\nFacing the Sunset\nThe Sunset of a Dying Race\nThe Empty Saddle\n\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\nAcknowledgment\nINDIAN IMPRINTS A GLIMPSE BACKWARD\nTHE STORY OF THE CHIEFS\n Chief Plenty Coups\n Chief Red Whip\n Chief Timbo\n Chief Apache John\n Chief Running Bird\n Chief Brave Bear\n Chief Umapine\n Chief Tin-Tin-Meet-Sa\n Chief Runs-the-Enemy\n Chief Pretty Voice Eagle\n Folklore Tales\u2014Sioux\n Chief White Horse\n Folklore Tales\u2014Yankton Sioux\n Chief Bear Ghost\n Chief Running Fisher\n Bull Snake\n Mountain Chief\n Mountain Chief\u2019s Boyhood Sports\n Chief Red Cloud\n Chief Two Moons\nTHE STORY OF THE SURVIVING CUSTER SCOUTS\n White-Man-Runs-Him\n Folklore Tale\u2014Crow\n Hairy Moccasin\n Curly\n Goes-Ahead-Basuk-Ore\nTHE INDIANS\u2019 STORY OF THE CUSTER FIGHT\nTHE LAST GREAT INDIAN COUNCIL\nINDIAN IMPRESSIONS OF THE LAST GREAT COUNCIL\nTHE FAREWELL OF THE CHIEFS\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE CONCEPT\n\n\nIn undertaking these expeditions to the North American Indian, the sole\ndesire has been to perpetuate the life story of the first Americans and to\nstrengthen in their hearts the feeling of allegiance and friendship for\ntheir country.\n\nFor this purpose two expeditions were sent forth to gather historic data\nand make picture records of their manners, customs, their sports and\ngames, their warfare, religion, and the country in which they live.\n\nAs a result, on Washington\u2019s Birthday, 1913, thirty-two Indian chiefs,\nrepresenting eleven tribes, assembled with the President of the United\nStates together with many eminent citizens and details from the Army and\nNavy to open ground for the Indian Memorial authorized by act of Congress\nto be erected in the harbour of New York.\n\nThe Indian chiefs assembled, hoisted the American flag, the first time in\ntheir history. This act and the flag gave birth to a thrill of\npatriotism. These warriors of other days laid claim to a share in the\ndestiny of our country. So deeply were these First Americans impressed\nwith a sense of loyalty to the flag that, again under the authority of the\nPresident of the United States, a third Expedition was sent forth to every\nIndian tribe. The purpose of this Expedition was twofold, the linking of\nevery tribe in the country with the National Indian Memorial, and the\ninspiring of an ideal of patriotism in the mind of the red man\u2014a spirit of\npatriotism that would lead to a desire for citizenship\u2014a feeling of\nfriendship and allegiance, to be eternally sealed as a convenant in the\nIndian Memorial.\n\nHere, under the blessing of God, on the shores of our beloved country,\nwhere the red man first gave welcome to the white man, this Memorial will\nstand in eternal bronze, in memory of a noble, though vanishing race, and\na token to all the world of the one and indivisible citizenship of these\nUnited States.\n\n RODMAN WANAMAKER.\n [The Approach of the Chiefs]\n\n The Approach of the Chiefs\n\n\n\n\n\nACKNOWLEDGMENT\n\n\nFIRST of all, William Howard Taft, President of the United States, gave\nhis sanction to this Expedition, and Hon. Robert Grosvenor Valentine,\nCommissioner of Indian Affairs, gave his permission to assemble eminent\nchiefs from the prominent Indian Reservations of the United States, and\ncomplemented his courtesy by helpful interest and cooperation. The\nSuperintendents of the various Indian Reservations gave spontaneous and\nwilling service; Major S. G. Reynolds, Superintendent of the Crow\nReservation by sympathetic and efficient interest made possible the\nachievement of the Last Great Indian Council; Hon. Frederick Webb Hodge,\nin charge of the Bureau of American Ethnology confirmed the data secured.\nThe Hand Book of American Indians made possible the larger scope of the\nsuggestions on Indian dress. The great chiefs who participated in the\nCouncil in noble and faithful fashion lived out the history and tradition\nof their tribes. Heartfelt appreciation is merited and given to all.\n\nSince the publication of the first edition of \u201cThe Vanishing Race\u201d,\nfurther grateful acknowledgment is accorded. While conducting a\nnation-wide Expedition of Citizenship to the North American Indian,\nembracing 189 tribes and extending over 26,000 miles, the author was\nadopted into the Wolf clan of the Mohawk nation,\u2014Iroquois Confederacy.\nThey said, \u201cYou have traveled so far, traveled so fast, and brought so\nmuch light and life to the Indian that we call you \u2018Ka-ra-Kon-tie, Flying\nSun\u2019.\u201d\n\n THE AUTHOR.\n\n\n\n\n\nPERSON\u00c6\n\n\nRepresentative North American Indian Chiefs, scouts, and warriors\nparticipating in the Last Great Indian Council, held in the valley of the\nLittle Horn, Montana, September, 1909, with their English, tribal, and\nIndian designations.\n\nCHIEF PLENTY COUPS, Chief of the Crow Nation, bearing the Indian name of\nAleck-shea-Ahoos, signifying Many Achievements.\n\nCHIEF RED WHIP, an eminent Chief of the Gros Ventres Tribe, bearing the\nIndian name of Bein-es-Kanach.\n\nCHIEF TIMBO, OR HAIRLESS, Head Chief of the Comanche Tribe, bearing the\nIndian name of Tah-cha-chi.\n\nCHIEF APACHE JOHN, an eminent Apache Chief, bearing the Indian name of\nKoon-kah-za-chy, signifying Protector of his Tepee.\n\nCHIEF RUNNING BIRD, an eminent Chief of the Kiowa Tribe, bearing the\nIndian name of Ta-ne-haddle.\n\nCHIEF BRAVE BEAR, Head Chief of the Southern Cheyennes, bearing the Indian\nname of Ni-go High-ez, Ni-go, bear\u2014High-ez, brave.\n\nCHIEF UMAPINE, Head Chief of the Cayuse Tribe, bearing the Indian name of\nWa-kon-kon-we-la-son-mi.\n\nCHIEF TIN-TIN-MEET-SA, Chief of the Umatilla Tribe, bearing the Indian\nname of Wil-Lou-Skin.\n\nCHIEF RUNS-THE-ENEMY, Chief of the Teton Sioux, bearing the Indian name of\nTok-kahin-hpe-ya.\n\nCHIEF PRETTY VOICE EAGLE, Chief of the Yankton Sioux, bearing the Indian\nname of Wambli-ho-waste.\n\nCHIEF WHITE HORSE, Chief of the Southern Yankton Sioux, bearing the Indian\nname of Sung-ska.\n\nCHIEF BEAR GHOST, Chief of the Crow Creek Tribe, bearing the Indian name\nof Mato-Wanagi, signifying the Ghost of a Bear.\n\nCHIEF RUNNING FISHER, an eminent Chief of the Gros Ventres Tribe, bearing\nthe Indian name of Itn-tyi-waatyi.\n\nBULL SNAKE, an eminent Crow warrior and scout, bearing the Indian name of\nEar-Ous-Sah-Chee-dups, signifying Male Snake.\n\nMOUNTAIN CHIEF, Chief of the Blackfoot Tribe, bearing the Indian name of\nOmaq-kat-tsa, signifying Big Brave.\n\nCHIEF RED CLOUD, Chief of the Ogallalla Sioux, bearing the Indian name of\nMarpiya-Luta.\n\nCHIEF TWO MOONS, Head Chief of the Northern Cheyennes, bearing the Indian\nname of Ish-hayu-Nishus, meaning Two Moons or Two Suns.\n\nWHITE-MAN-RUNS-HIM, Chief of the Custer scouts, an eminent Crow warrior,\nbearing the Indian name of Mias-tas-hede-Karoos, signifying The White Man\nRuns Him.\n\nHAIRY MOCCASIN, a noted Custer scout, of the Crow Tribe, bearing the\nIndian name of Esup-ewyshes.\n\nCURLY, a noted Custer scout, of the Crow Tribe, bearing the Indian name of\nShes-his.\n\nGOES-AHEAD, a noted Custer scout, of the Crow Tribe, bearing the Indian\nname of Basuk-Ose, signifying Goes First.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n [A Glimpse Backward]\n\n A Glimpse Backward\n\n\nINDIAN IMPRINTS A GLIMPSE BACKWARD\n\n\nWe are exchanging salutations with the uncalendared ages of the red man.\nWe are measuring footsteps with moccasined feet whose trail leads along\nthe receding sands of the western ocean. A bit of red colour set in\nimmemorial time, now a silent sentinel, weeping unshed tears with eyes\npeering into a pitiless desert.\n\nLife without humour is intolerable. The life of the Indian has been a\nseries of long and bitter tragedies. There is a look in his face of\nbronze that frightens us, a tone lights up the gamut of his voice that\nmakes it unlike any other voice we have ever heard\u2014a voice that will echo\nin the tomb of time\u2014a Spartan courage that shall be regnant a millennium\nbeyond the Thermopyl\u00e6 of his race.\n\nWe have come to the day of audit. Annihilation is not a cheerful word,\nbut it is coined from the alphabet of Indian life and heralds the infinite\npathos of a vanishing race. We are at the end of historical origins. The\nimpression is profound.\n\nA vision of the past and future confronts us. What we see is more\nwonderful than a view the points of which can be easily determined. We\nbehold a dead sea of men under the empty and silent morning, a hollow land\ninto which have flowed thousands upon thousands\u2014at last the echo of a\nchild\u2019s cry. The door of the Indian\u2019s yesterdays opens to a new world\u2014a\nworld unpeopled with red men, but whose population fills the sky, the\nplains, with sad and spectre-like memories\u2014with the flutter of unseen\neagle pinions. A land without the tall and sombre figure worshipping the\nGreat Mystery; without suns and snows and storms\u2014without the scars of\nbattle, swinging war club, and flashing arrow\u2014a strange, weird world,\nholding an unconquered race, vanquished before the ruthless tread of\nsuperior forces\u2014we call them the agents of civilization. Forces that have\nin cruel fashion borne down upon the Indian until he had to give up all\nthat was his and all that was dear to him\u2014to make himself over or die. He\nwould not yield. He died. He would not receive his salvation by\nsurrender; rather would he choose oblivion, unknown darkness\u2014the melting\nfires of extermination. It is hard to think this virile, untamed creation\nhas been swept like hurrying leaves by angry autumn gusts across the\nsunlit plains into a night without a star.\n\nThe white is the conquering race, but every-whither there is a cry in the\nheart to delve into the mystery of these ancient forerunners. This type\nof colour holds the eye, rivets and absorbs the interest.\n\nMen are fast coming to recognize the high claim of a moral obligation to\nstudy the yesterdays of this imperial and imperious race. The\npreservation of this record in abiding form is all the more significant\nbecause all serious students of Indian life and lore are deeply convinced\nof the insistent fact that the Indian, as a race, is fast losing its\ntypical characters and is soon destined to pass completely away. So\nrapidly are the remaining Western tribes putting aside their native\ncustoms and costumes, their modes of life and ceremonies, that we belong\nto the last generation that will be granted the supreme privilege of\nstudying the Indian in anything like his native state. The buffalo has\ngone from the continent, and now the Indian is following the deserted\nbuffalo trail. All future students and historians, all ethnological\nresearches must turn to the pictures now made and the pages now written\nfor the study of a great race.\n\nIt is little short of solemn justice to these vanishing red men that\nstudents, explorers, artists, poets, men of letters, genius, generosity,\nand industry, strive to make known to future generations what manner of\nmen and women were these whom we have displaced and despoiled.\nIndisputable figures, the result of more than five years of painstaking\nresearch on the part of the Bureau of Ethnology at Washington, place the\ndecrease of Indian population in the United Sates, north of Mexico, since\nthe coming of the white man, at 65 per cent. They have gone from the\nforests and plains, from the hills and valleys over which they roamed and\nreigned for uncounted ages. We have taken their land, blotted out their\nfaith and despoiled their philosophy. It has been the utter extinction of\na whole type of humanity. The conquering Anglo-Saxon speech has swept out\nof existence over a thousand distinct languages. These original Americans\n_Deserve a Monument_. They have moved majestically down the pathway of\nthe ages, but it culminates in the dead march of Saul.\n\nThe record of the North American Indian has naught to do with the\ntabulation of statistics, the musty folios of custom reports, the\nconquests of commerce. He has never walked up to the gates of the city\nand asked entrance to its portals, nor subscribed himself as a contestant\nin the arena of finance. He has had no share in the lofty ideals of\nstatecraft, nor the spotless ermine of the judiciary. He lived and moved\nand had his being in the sanctuary of the hills, the high altar-stairs of\nthe mountains, the sublime silences of the stately pines\u2014where birds sung\ntheir matins and the \u201cstars became tapers tall\u201d; where the\nzitkada_n_to\u2014the blue bird\u2014uttered its ravishing notes. He sought the\nkat-yi-mo\u2014the \u201cenchanted mesa\u201d\u2014as the place of prayer, the hour in which\nto register his oath. On the wide extended plain, rolling green, like the\nbillows of the ocean, he listened for wana\u2019gipi tah\u2019upahupi\u2014\u201cthe wings of\nthe spirits.\u201d In wana\u2019gi ta\u2019ca_n_ku\u2014the milky way\u2014he saw the footprints\nof departed warriors. His moccasined feet penetrated wa-koniya\u2014\u201cthe place\nwhere water is born\u201d\u2014the springs that gushed forth to give life, and\nrefreshing to all the earth. Ca_n_hotka ska\u2014the \u201cwhite frost\u201d\u2014became the\npriest\u2019s robe as he petitioned at the sacrament of winter. The universe\nto him became a sounding-board of every emotion that thrilled his being.\nHe found in its phenomena an answer to his longings and the high\nexpression of every fervour of his soul. We cannot understand this,\nbecause the Indian chased the ethereal, the weird, the sublime, the\nmysterious: we chase the dollar. He heard the voice of nature; we listen\nfor the cuckoo clock of commerce.\n\n [The Sacrament of Winter]\n\n The Sacrament of Winter\n\n\nThe camera, the brush, and the chisel have made us familiar with his\nplumed and hairy crests, but what of the deep fountains of his inner life?\nWhat did he think? How did he feel? What riotous impulses, or communion\nwith the Great Mystery, carved his face of bronze? These no scientist, no\ndiscoverer, no leader of expeditions have ever borne into the light. No\nfootprints along the trail can spell out for us his majestic mien, his\nstolid dignity, his triumphant courage, his inscrutable self-poise, and\nall of these dyed with a blood-red struggle for survival such as crowns no\nother page of American history.\n\nTo gain this close measure of the Indian mind, his friendship and\nconfidence must not suffer eclipse. It is a superlative task, for the\ninner Indian shrine is crossed by only a favoured few. The Indian is\naverse to being photographed, for he feels that every picture made of\nhimself by so much shortens his life. He looks at his portrait, then\nfeels of his person; he realizes that he has not lost a hand or a foot,\nbut feels most profoundly that his soul will be that much smaller in the\nfuture world. His medicine is sacred, and you may not interrupt the daily\ntenure of his life without destroying some ceremonial purpose. It is\nmeaningful, therefore, that these red men allowed us daily communion.\nThis story is then simply instinct with the Indian\u2019s inner self: how we\nsat with him in his wigwam, and amid his native haunts, surrounded by\nevery element of the wild life we were to commemorate; how his confidence\nwas gained, and he was led to put aside his war-shirt and eagle feathers,\nand pull in twain the veil of his superstitious and unexplained reserve\nand give to the world what the world so much craves to know\u2014what the\nIndian thinks and how he feels.\n\nMemorable hours these under clear Montana skies, or at the midnight hour\nby the dim campfire light, the rain beating its tattoo on the tepee above\nour heads\u2014surrounded by an army of shining tepees, like white ghosts of\nthe plains, while these pathetic figures told the story of their lives.\nThe warrior of other days gave himself up to mirthful tale, to boyhood\u2019s\ntransports, to manhood\u2019s achievements, to the wild chase of the hunter, to\nthe weaponry and woes of savage warfare, to the hallowed scenes of home\nlife, to the primitive government of the tribe, and the busy and engaging\nactivities of the camp; finally, to the royalty of the Great Council, when\nthe chiefs assembled in solemn conclave to hold communion, to say a long\nand last farewell.\n\n [The Lone Tepee]\n\n The Lone Tepee\n\n\nMonths of arduous labour were spent in the effort to make a comprehensive\nand permanent record of an old-time Indian council. For this purpose\neminent Indian chiefs were assembled in the Valley of the Little Big Horn\nin Montana, from nearly every Indian tribe in the United States. This\ncouncil involved permission and unstinted aid from the Bureau of Indian\nAffairs at Washington, the cooperation of the Indian superintendents on\nall the reservations; the selection of the most distinguished\nchiefs\u2014chiefs eminent for ability and honourable achievement among their\ntribes. The council involved the necessity of interpreters from each\ntribe, for they could only talk in the sign language. It involved the\nconstruction of a primitive council lodge along the lines of history and\ntradition, and again, the reproduction of primitive customs and\ntraditions, both in paraphernalia, costume, and conduct.\n\nThese imprints are the trail marks left by this Great Council of\nChiefs\u2014the last Great Indian Council that will ever be held on American\nsoil. The story most faithfully records the idiom and phrasing and\natmosphere of the Indian\u2019s speech as it came from Indian lips. The\nlanguage of the landscape where the Indian made his home, where he fought\nhis battles and lived his life, where this solemn council was held, is\nmanifest in the accompanying photogravures. On the Indian trail, we may\nnote as a hint of the many, a few of his imprints.\n\n\n\n\n [Singing to the Spirits]\n\n Singing to the Spirits\n\n\n HIS RELIGION\n\n\nThe life of the Indian is one vast and glittering mosaic of rite and\nritual. His warfare, his dress, his medicine, his ceremonies, his wooing,\nand his dying are all of them expressive of a dominant idea that pervades\nhis life and controls his purpose. He lives constantly and absorbingly in\na mystic land. He is beckoned by unseen hands and is lured into the\nrealms of mystery by the challenge of voices silent to all other ears.\nHis dress is studded with resplendent colours significant of the green\nearth, the blue sky, and the cry of his soul for a place in the great\nbeyond. Like the high priest of old, he wears on his breast the fiery\nfilaments of his faith.\n\nThe Indian sits in the tabernacle of the mighty forest or on the heights\nof some deserted and wind-swept mesa, beats his tomtom or drones song upon\nsong, prays to the Great Mystery, pleads with the fires of the sun to give\nhim strength and life and health, and calls the sun his father. The\nwhispering winds tell his tale to the clouds. He peers into the depths of\nthe stars, watches the aurora as the death dance of the spirits, answers\nthe high call of the thunder as the voice of the Great Mystery, utters the\ncry of his soul to the lightnings\u2014the arrows of taowity\u2014communes with the\nrivers and the lakes, the moon, and the legion of wild beasts, and all of\nit with a pitiful longing that his days of fasting and his vicarious\ndevotion may bring upon his life and his tribe the favour of the gods.\n\nThese primitive men hold time and money and ambition as nothing. But a\ndream, or a cloud in the sky, or a bird flying across the trail from the\nwrong direction, or a change of the wind will challenge their deepest\nthoughts. To the Indian mind all signs are symbolic. Their ceremonies\nare as complicated as any of ancient Hebrew or Greek tradition. The\nIndian aspires to be a great hunter, he seeks fame as a noble warrior; he\nstruggles for the eagle feathers of distinction, but his greatest longing\nis to become a Medicine Man and know the Great Mystery. All medicine\npeople of the tribes carry on their necks, or in a pouch at the belt, some\nsacred thing used in their magic practices\u2014the claw of a bear, the rattle\nof a snake, a bird\u2019s wing, the tooth of an elk, a bit of tobacco. Every\nIndian carries his individual medicine, and his medicine is good or bad\naccording to his success. If he finds a feather at wrong angle in his\npath, his medicine is bad for that day. The Indian fasts and dances and\nchants, using his mind, his spirit, and his body as pliable instruments in\nthe making of his prayer. He finds in the veritable exhaustion of his\nbody the spirit path made clear for his dreams, until the very stars seem\nas the eyes of the gods, and the sighing of the pines comes to him as the\nrustle of eagle wings to bear his spirit to loftier realms. Instead of\nthe common acceptation that the Indian has no religion whatever, every\nsingle act of his life carries with it some ceremonial function, and his\nwhole being is surrounded by a shining host of ceremonial spirits. The\nIndian goes with prayer thoughts to the water. His bath is a sacrament.\nHe cuts the long supple willow withes that grow on the banks of the\nstream, enters the sharpened end into the soil, bends and ties the\nfeathery tops into an arch; over the arches thus made he throws his\nblankets; meanwhile, gathered stones have been heated in the burning fire.\nThese stones glowing white with heat are placed in a tiny pit underneath\nthe covering of this booth, now to be called his sweat bath. First one\nstone until four have been counted are placed by the attendant in the pit,\nand then the fiery pile is thrown in promiscuous fashion on the heap. The\nIndians enter the closed covering, the ceremonial pipe is smoked, a gourd\nof cold water is handed to each; they then disrobe, the attending priest\nlowering the blanket over the entrance. Cold water is then poured over\nthe heated stones, filling the enclosure with steam. In silence they\ncommune with the Great Mystery until one of their number is blessed with a\nvision; then a call is made and the attendant lifts the blanket, almost\nimmediately lowering it again. This action is repeated until the vision\nhas been vouchsafed four times, when they all come forth and plunge into\nthe river. These sweat baths are always located on the banks of a flowing\nstream. The Indian sees in every ripple of the flashing water that comes\nto meet him a shining token of the medicine he has seen in his vision.\nThey then repair to the wigwam and listen in solemn silence to the\nchanting cadences of the Indian who has been favoured.\n\n [The Voice of the Water Spirits]\n\n The Voice of the Water Spirits\n\n\nThe curling smoke from the long-stemmed pipe breathes forth the fumes of\nwar or the pale quiet of peace. With his pipe he pacifies the elements.\nOn festal occasions, or when the camp rejoices at the joys of harvest, the\npriest smokes his pipe, blowing the smoke first to the earth, then to the\nsky, to the north, the south, the east, and the west, in token of\ngratitude for the favour of the gods. With the pipe the Indian also seals\nhis councils.\n\n [Trail of the Death Spirit]\n\n Trail of the Death Spirit\n\n\nThe Indian buries his dead upon some high elevation, because it is a\nnearer approach to the spirit world. They bury on scaffolds and in trees\nthat in some mute, sorrowful way they may still hold communion with their\nloved and their lost. At the grave they go to the four points of the\ncompass and mourn, singing all the while a weird chant. They bury with\ntheir dead all of the belongings of the deceased, the playthings of the\nIndian child, for the Indian boy and girl have dolls and balls and baubles\nas does the white child: you may see them all pendent from the poles of\nthe scaffold or the boughs of a tree. When the great Chief Spotted Tail\ndied they killed his two ponies, placing the two heads toward the east,\nfastening the tails on the scaffold toward the west. The war-bonnets and\nwar-shirts are folded away with the silent dead; then follow the desolate\ndays of fasting and mourning. In some instances hired mourners are\nengaged, and for their compensation they exact oftentimes the entire\npossessions of the deceased. The habitation in which the death occurs is\nburned, and many times when death is approaching the sick one is carried\nout so that the lodge may be occupied after the loved one has been laid to\nrest. The grief of the sorrowing ones is real and most profound. They\nwill allow no token of the departed to remain within sight or touch. In\ntheir paroxysms of sorrow the face and limbs are lacerated, and often the\ntips of fingers are severed. Until the days of mourning are over, which\nis for more than a year, they absent themselves from all public\ngatherings. The bereaved fold themselves in a white blanket, repair to\nsome desolate hillside overlooking the valley, the camp and the distant\nweird scaffold, and sit, amid cloud, sunshine, and storm, with bowed head,\nin solemn silence. White blankets are worn by the mourners as they move\nthrough the camp, significant of the white trail of the stars whither the\nIndian feels his loved ones have gone.\n\nThe Indian has a sublime idea of creation. He loves the brown earth and\ncalls it his mother, because it has creative power and because it\nnourishes. And thus we might gather in from the thirty-two points of the\ncompass the forces operant in earth and sky, and each would become a\nherald of the Indian\u2019s life of faith.\n\n\n\n\n [A Leaf from the Indian\u2019s Book]\n\n A Leaf from the Indian\u2019s Book\n\n\n THE BOOKS OF HIS LIBRARY\n\n\nThe Indian child is nursed on Indian song and story. Tribal traditions\nare handed down from age to age by enacting in the dance, on the part of\nthe warriors and braves, their deeds of valour in war, their triumphs in\nthe chase, their prowess against all foes. Forest lore is a constant text\nbook. He is taught to observe which side of a tree has the lightest\nbark\u2014which side the most branches; why the tree reaches forth longer arms\non the edge of the wood than in the depths of the forest where his eye is\ntaught to penetrate. The squirrel, the rabbit and the birds all become\nhis little friends: where and how they get their food, their manner of\nlife, their colour, and how they call their mates, who are their enemies,\nand how they may be protected. His ear is trained to hear sounds\nordinarily inaudible, his nostrils are early taught to distinguish the\nscent of the different wild animals. Then came his ability to imitate the\ncall of this wild life, sometimes by direct vocalization, or by placing\ntwo reeds to the lips so dexterously that the timid fawn is led to his\nfeet. This literature the Indian child studies, until his arms are strong\nenough to bend the bow and send an arrow speeding to its mark. He soon\nessays the r\u00f4le of a warrior. His study of the birds enables him to find\nthe eerie of the eagle, for a victory means that he may add an eagle\nfeather to his war bonnet or coup stick. His study of the hills enables\nhim to find in their vermilion and golden seams the colours for his war\npaint. In the crimson berries festooning the banks of the stream, when\ncrushed, he finds still another element of decoration. The white man\nmakes a book whose leaves talk. The sunshine bears speech and light to\nthe Indian. He lives by communion with the stars. The Great Bear of the\nstars is called the great animal of cold weather. When a shadow crosses\nhis mind he watches the clouds that touch the moon when it is new. He\nreads the stars, for they travel to him in a familiar pathway across the\nsky. They are bright spirits sent earthward by the Great Mystery, and\nwhen thick worlds gather in clusters, there are so many souls of earth\npeople that their trail makes luminous the white way of the sky. The wing\nof a bird is the symbol of thoughts that fly very high. From the bird\nthat soars nearest the blue he plucks prayer feathers. These he dyes and\ncherishes with jealous care. The Indian possesses a strange love for\ngrowing things, tall grasses with lace-like plumes forming a lattice for\nthe deep green of the slender bushes that bear the rich clusters of\ncrimson buffalo berries. He knows and loves the wild flowers that hang\ntheir golden heads along the banks of the purling stream or that in\ngleaming colours enamel the wide stretches of the plain. There are a\nthousand leaves in every book, and with every book in nature\u2019s library he\nis familiar to the point of success.\n\n [The Song of the Arrows]\n\n The Song of the Arrows\n\n\n\n\n HIS ADORNMENT\n\n\nTo the casual observer the costume and character of the Indian all look\nalike. The mind is confused amid a riotous and fantastic display of\ncolours. The fact is that the minor details of Indian dress are an index\nto Indian character and often tell the story of his position in the tribe,\nand surely tell the story of his individual conception of the life here,\nand what he hopes for in the life hereafter, and like the laurel wreath on\nthe brow of the Grecian runner, they spell out for us his exploits and\nachievements. To the white man all these decorations are construed as a\nfew silly ornaments, the indulgence of a feverish vanity, but they open\nlike a book the life of the Indian. His motive in adornment is to mark\nindividual, tribal, or ceremonial distinction. The use of paint on the\nface, hair, and body, both in colour and design, generally has reference\nto individual or clan beliefs, or it indicates relationship, or personal\nbereavement, or is an act of courtesy. It is always employed in\nceremonies, religious and secular, and is an accompaniment of gala dress\nfor the purpose of honouring a guest or to celebrate an occasion. The\nface of the dead was frequently painted in accordance with tribal or\nreligious symbolism. Paint is also used on the faces of children and\nadults as a protection from wind and sun. Plucking the hair from the face\nand body is a part of the daily program. The male Indian never shaves and\nthe beard is a disgrace. A pair of tweezers becomes his razor. Sweet\ngrasses and seeds serve as a perfume. Ear ornaments are a mark of family\nthrift, wealth or distinction, and indicate honour shown to the wearer by\nhis kindred.\n\nAmong the Plains Indians the milk teeth of the elk were the most costly\nadornments. They were fastened in rows on a woman\u2019s tunic and represented\nthe climax of Indian fashion, the garment possessing a value of several\nhundred dollars. Head bands, armlets, bracelets, belts, necklaces, and\ngarters of metal and seeds and embroidered buckskin were in constant use.\nThey were not only decorative but often symbolic. Archaeological\ntestimony tells of the almost general use of sea shells as necklace\nornaments, which found their way into the interior by barter or as\nceremonial gifts. The chiefs of the tribe were fond of wearing a disk cut\nfrom a conch-shell, and these were also prominent in religious rites,\nranking among the modern tribes as did the turquoise among the people of\nthe Southwest. A necklace of bear claws marks the man of distinction, and\nsometimes was worn as an armlet. In the buffalo country the women seldom\nornamented their own robes, but embroidered those worn by the men.\nSometimes a man painted his robe in accordance with a dream or pictured\nupon it a yearly record of his own deeds, or the prominent events of the\ntribe. Among the southern tribes a prayer rug was made on deer skin, both\nthe buffalo and deer skins having been tanned and softened by the use of\nthe brains taken from the skull of the animal. The skins were painted\nwith intricate ornamentation, symbols and prayer thoughts adorning the\nskin in ceremonial colours; white clouds and white flowers, the sun god,\nand the curve of the moon with its germ of life, the morning star, and\nalso a symbol of the messengers from the gods. Above it all zigzag lines\nran through the blue of the sky to denote the lightning by which the\nchildren above sent their decrees to the earth children who roamed the\nplains.\n\n [An Imperial Warrior]\n\n An Imperial Warrior\n\n\nFootgear often proclaimed the tribal relation, the peculiar cut and\ndecoration of the moccasin denoting a man\u2019s tribe. The war-shirt was\nfrequently ornamented to represent the life story of the man wearing it.\nThe breast contained a prayer for protection, and on the back might be\nfound woven in beaded tapestry the symbols of victory. He had conquered\nthe trail behind him. The shirt was often decorated with a fringe of\nhuman hair, the more warlike appending the scalps of the slain. The\nwarrior wore no regalia so imposing as his war-bonnet with its crown of\ngolden eagle feathers. Before the coming of the horse the flap at the\nback rarely extended below the waist, but when the warriors came to be\nmounted, the ruff of feathers was so lengthened that when the Indian was\ndismounted it trailed on the ground. The making of a war-bonnet was\naccompanied by song and ceremony. Each feather before it was placed in\nposition was held in the hand and had recounted over it the story of some\nwar honour. A bonnet could not be made without the consent of all the\nwarriors and it stood as a record of tribal valour and a special mark of\ndistinction granted to the man by his tribe. Every Indian takes great joy\nin laying out his colour scheme. It becomes a mosaic of artistic talent.\nFeathers are gathered from the eagles\u2019 flight. Skins are taken from the\nwild beasts. Bones, beads, sparkling metals, soft-tinted sea shells, and\nall of them blended with the varicoloured paints that he has compounded in\nnature\u2019s mortar. The woman enters into the work with intelligent zest,\nand when completed the whole array of blended colours is beyond the\ncriticism of the tribe. The back of an Indian\u2019s war-bonnet and war-shirt\nis always more gaudy and sumptuous than the front view and this because\nwhen Indians pass each other their salutation is brief and formal. They\nride right on. But after the meeting they turn in the saddle and look\nback to take an inventory. The wealth of the Indian, his position in the\ntribe, his ceremonial attainment are all passed upon and estimate entered.\nThis colour scheme goes on through the entire Indian wardrobe to pipe\nsack, coup stick and moccasins. The Indian could not have received his\nsuggestion for a colour scheme from the tinted leaves of autumn for they\nare dull in comparison. He may have had a hint from the glowing sunsets\nthat in that western land fill earth and sky with a glory so transcendent\nthat mere rhetoric is a profanation. More likely is it that when free and\nunrestrained he roamed over plain and hill his soul became enamoured with\nthe dazzling array of colours, beyond the genius of the proudest palette,\nto be found in the marvellous formations that surround the great geysers\nof the Yellowstone, colours more exquisitely beautiful than the supremest\nrefinement of art. Every-whither down the cone-shaped mounds are tiny\nsteam-heated rivulets interlacing each other, edged with gold and\nvermilion and turquoise and orange and opal. Indian trails have been\nfound also interlacing each other all through this wonderland. Deep\nfurrows in the grassy slopes of these ancient footprints are still plainly\nvisible. Thither we may believe came the red man imbued with the spirit of\nreverence and awe before all this majesty and beauty, and from this\nexhaustless laboratory claimed the vivid colouring for the expression of\nhis life of faith.\n\n [A Sunset in Camp]\n\n A Sunset in Camp\n\n\n\n\n [Lighting the Smoke Signal]\n\n Lighting the Smoke Signal\n\n\n HIS WARFARE\n\n\nThe Indian has lived such a life of hazard for long centuries that he has\nhad trained into him a first great instinct to fight. They have a war\nstar in the sky, and when it moves the time to make war is heavy upon\nthem. There are many cogent reasons for the belief that before the coming\nof the white man there were no general or long-continued wars among the\nIndians. There was no motive for war. Quarrels ensued when predatory\ntribes sought to filch women or horses. Strife was engendered on account\nof the distribution of buffalo, but these disturbances could not be\ndignified by the name of war. The country was large and the tribes were\nwidely separated. Their war implements were of the crudest sort. A shield\nwould stop a stone-headed arrow, and it necessitated a hand-to-hand\nconflict for the use of a flint-headed lance and the ponderous war club.\nThe white man came, and for hundreds of years their contest has been waged\nagainst a superior force. They have disputed every mile of territory\nwhich has been acquired from them. During all that time they could not\nmake a knife, a rifle or a round of ammunition. Their method of\ncommunication was confined to the smoke signal, signal fires and scouts.\nThey had no telegraph, no heliograph, no arsenal. Modern implements of\nwar they have been able to obtain only in late years and then in meagre\nquantities, even then only by capture or at exorbitant rates. The Indian\nhas proved himself a redoubtable and masterful foe. For more than three\nhundred years millions of civilized white people have fought a bitter\nbattle with three hundred thousand red men. During all these tragic years\nthe nations of the world have moved on to discovery, subjugation, and\nconquest. Nation has taken up arms against nation. England, France, and\nSpain have put a rim of colonies about the globe. Our own great civil\nstruggle has been written down on the pages of history with letters of\nblood. England, France, Spain, and the United States have during this\nperiod tried their prowess with these less than three hundred thousand\nbraves and only now has the decimation become complete. No such striking\nexample of endurance, power of resistance, and consummate generalship has\nbeen recorded in the annals of time. Sitting-Bull, Red Cloud,\nLooking-Glass, Chief Joseph, Two Moons, Grass, Rain-in-the-Face, American\nHorse, Spotted Tail, and Chief Gall are names that would add lustre to any\nmilitary page in the world\u2019s history. Had they been leaders in any one of\nthe great armies of the nation they would have ranked conspicuously as\nmaster captains. The Indian, deprived of the effectiveness of supplies\nand modern armament, found his strongest weapon in the oratory of the\ncouncil lodge. Here, without any written or established code of laws,\nwithout the power of the press and the support of public sentiment,\nabsolutely exiled from all communication with civilized resources, unaided\nand alone, their orators presented the affairs of the moment to the\nassembled tribe, swaying the minds and wills of their fellows into\nconcerted and heroic action. The wonderful imagery of the Indian\norator\u2014an imagery born of his baptism into the spirit of nature\u2014his love\nof his kind, and the deathless consciousness of the justice of his cause\nmade his oratory more resistless than the rattle of Gatling guns, and also\nformed a model for civilized speech. It was an oratory that enabled a few\nscattering tribes to withstand the aggressions of four great nations of\nthe world for a period of several centuries, and to successfully withstand\nthe tramping columns of civilization. The science and art of Indian\nwarfare would take volumes to compass. His strategy and statesmanship\ncompelled victory. He was almost always assured of victory before he\nproceeded to battle. He knew no fear. A thousand lives would have been a\nsmall gift had he the power to lay them on the altar of his cause. He\npitted the perfection of details against the wily strategy of his own\ncolour and the pompous superiority of the white man\u2019s tactics. On the\ntrail care was taken to cover up or obliterate his footprints. When a\nfire became necessary he burned fine dry twigs so that the burning of\ngreen boughs would not lift to the wind an odour of fire, nor carry a\ntrail of smoke. He conceived and carried out a wonderful deception in\ndress. In winter a band of warriors were painted white. They rode white\nhorses and their war dress was all of it made of the plainest white so\nthat a group of warriors, stationed on the brow of a hill, would appear in\nthe distance like a statuesque boulder clad in snow. This disguise also\nenabled them to come with stealthy step upon wild game. In autumn their\nhorses were painted yellow and they wore a garb of yellow so that fringing\nthe edge of the forest they could not be distinguished from the leaves of\nthe dying year. The blue-green of the sagebrush, so conspicuously\nomnipresent on the prairies, furnished the Indian with another helpful\nform of disguise. He would almost completely disrobe and paint his face,\nhis arms, and his hair, as well as the body of his horse, exactly the\ncolour of the sagebrush; and when scouting, after their crouching fashion,\namong the clusters of sagebrush, or riding in the distance along the\nverdure-covered banks of a stream, the disguise would be so absolutely\ncomplete that detection became a difficult task. It was an ingenious and\nartistic display of war talent.\n\n [Answering the Smoke Signal]\n\n Answering the Smoke Signal\n\n\nWe are led to wonder often concerning the Indian\u2019s passion for his coup\nstick (pronounced coo). This rod, bedecked with eagle feathers and his\nown colour scheme, is the Indian\u2019s badge of empire. It is the \u201cVictoria\nCross\u201d of his deeds of valour. In battle he rushes amid his foes, touches\nthe enemy with his coup stick\u2014that man is his prisoner, and he has counted\na coup. He slays an enemy, then rushes up and touches him with the stick,\ntakes his scalp; another coup is counted. The credit of victory was taken\nfor three brave deeds: killing an enemy, scalping an enemy, or being the\nfirst to strike an enemy, alive or dead; any one of these entitles a man\nto rank as a warrior and to recount his exploit in public; but to be the\nfirst to touch an enemy is regarded as the bravest deed of all, as it\nimplied close approach in battle. In the last Great Indian Council and on\nthe journey home the attention of the writer was called to the prominence\ngiven to the coup stick. They are present at all ceremonial functions and\nare carried on all ceremonial parades. The warrior who can strike a tepee\nof the enemy in a charge upon a home camp thus counted coup upon it and is\nentitled to reproduce its particular design in the next new tepee which he\nmade for his own use, and to perpetuate the pattern in his family. The\neagle feathers on the stick can only be placed there after the warrior has\ncounted his coup, recounted it in public, and the deed has met with the\napproval of all the warriors. The eagle, the proudest and most victorious\nof birds, then yielded a feather, which is deftly fastened with a circle\nof shining beads to the stick, and the proud victor flaunts another emblem\nof his bravery.\n\n [The Attack on the Camp]\n\n The Attack on the Camp\n\n\nThe buffalo, once the king of the prairies, has been practically\nexterminated. Perhaps no greater grief has ever entered into the life of\nthe Indian than this wilful waste and irreparable loss. To this hour the\nIndian mourns the going away of the buffalo. He cannot be reconciled. He\ndates every joyful and profitable event in his life to the days of the\nbuffalo. In the assembly of chiefs at the last Great Council the buffalo\nwas the burden of every reminiscence. These veteran chiefs studied with\nmelancholy eyes the old buffalo trails, and in contemplation of the days\nof the chase they said, as they thought backward, \u201cMy heart is lonely and\nmy spirit cries.\u201d So much did they love the buffalo that the Indian\nchildren played hunting the buffalo. The animal furnished food and\nclothing, and many parts of the stalwart frame they counted as sacred.\nThe annihilation of these vast herds aroused the darkest passions in the\nheart of the Indian, and many times stirred his war spirit and sent him\nforth to do battle against the aggressors. Within the nine years between\n1874 and 1883 over eight millions of buffalo were ruthlessly slain. But\nthe war curtain of the Indian has been rung down, and the vast area which\ntwoscore years ago supported these vast herds of wild game is covered\nto-day with domestic animals and teems with agricultural life, furnishing\nfood supplies for millions upon millions all over the civilized world.\n\n [Buffalo Thundered Across the Plains]\n\n Buffalo Thundered Across the Plains\n\n\n\n\n [An Indian Home]\n\n An Indian Home\n\n\n HIS HOME LIFE\n\n\nFar stretches of prairie, winding watercourses, leagues of white desert\nwith only the clouds in the sky and the shadow of the clouds on the\nblistering sand, an army of buttes and crags, storm carved, forests whose\nprimeval stillness mocks the calendar of man, the haunts of the eagle, the\nantelope, the deer and the buffalo\u2014and the edge of the curtain is lifted\non the land where the Indian roamed and where he made his home.\n\nGame has been found, a semi-circle of cone-shaped tepees dot the green of\nthe plain; a stream, tree-fringed, fresh from the mountains, flows by the\ncamp\u2014a camp that in earlier times was pitched upon some tableland as an\noutlook for the enemy, white or red. Horses are browsing near at hand or\nfar afield; old warriors and medicine men sit in the shade and smoke the\nlong-stemmed, red sandstone pipe, and tell of the days of yore. Gayly\nclad figures dart hither and yon as the women are bent upon their tasks.\nGreat loads of wood are brought into camp on an Indian woman\u2019s back. She\ncarries water from the river, bakes the cake, upturned against the fire,\nboils the coffee and then all are seated on the ground when they partake\nof jerked beef, coffee, bread, and berries. Hands are better than knives\nand forks, one cup answers for many, and the strip of dried beef is passed\nalong that all may cut off his desired portion. A noisy, gleeful group of\nchildren play with their dolls and their dogs\u2014dogs that are made to serve\nas beasts of burden and instruments of torture. At night beds are made on\nthe ground around the interior circle of the tepee and the chill of frost\nis driven out by a fire in the very centre\u2014the most perfectly ventilated\nstructure in the world\u2014the air passing underneath the edge of the tepee in\nthe loop where it is tied at the bottom of the poles, then passing on out\nthrough the opening at the top, carrying with it all dust and smoke. The\nIndian never knew anything about tuberculosis until the white man confined\nhim in log cabins where a score of people live in one room, the cracks and\nkeyhole entirely filled, and where they breath each other over times\nwithout number. Within the tepee the chief has the place of honour. A\nrest is made with supports like an easel. A lattice-work of slender willow\nrods passed down the front, which is covered by a long strip of buffalo\nhide. Against this the chief rests. Each member of the family has his\nallotted place inside the lodge and he may decorate his own section\naccording to ability or fancy. Here the warrior hangs his war-bonnet and\nsometimes records his achievements in the chase or on the warpath. Lying\nall about the circle are many highly coloured parflesche bags containing\nthe minor details of dress or any personal possession. Many of the tepees\nin an Indian village are embellished with Indian paintings setting forth\nthe heroic deeds of the warriors who abide in the lodge. The figures are\noften grotesque and without parallel in the realm of art. The medicine is\ngiven a conspicuous place in the lodge. No one sits or lies down on the\nside of the tepee where they have placed the medicine of the household,\nand when they pass it on entering or leaving the lodge all heads are\nbowed. The medicine tepee is distinct from all others. It is painted a\nmaroon, with a moon in green surrounded by a yellow circle. The medicine\nof the ordinary Indian family is hung over the entrance of the doorway or\nsuspended on a pole, and may consist of a wolf skin or a dark blanket\nrolled in oblong fashion containing the sacred tokens of the family.\nEvery Indian family takes pride in the ownership of a bevy of dogs. They\nare rich in dogs. In our camp of about thirty tepees a reliable Indian\nestimated that there were over three hundred dogs. These canines have\nfree run of the lodge, and at night they crawl in under the edge of the\ncanvas and sleep by their Indian master. Let an intruder enter the camp\nduring the hours of darkness and they rush out simultaneously, howling\nlike a pack of wolves until one might think the bowels of the earth had\ngiven forth an eruption of dogs. The Indian warrior makes a companion of\nhis dog, and he can show no greater hospitality to a guest than to kill\nhis favourite friend and serve his visitor with dog soup. To refuse this\ndiet is an insult most vital.\n\n [An Indian Burden Bearer]\n\n An Indian Burden Bearer\n\n\nThe Indian woman is master of the lodge. She carries the purse. Any\nmoney that comes into the hands of the husband is immediately handed over.\nThe servile tasks of the camp are performed by the women. Herein we have\nan expression of the law of equality. The husband has to perform the\nexhausting and dangerous task of hunting wild game for food and the skins\nfor clothing. He had to protect the camp against hostile attacks, and the\nwoman felt that her task was easy in comparison. The Indian child rules\nthe family. They are rarely, if ever, corrected. No Indian mother was\never known to strike her child. If they want anything they cry until they\nget it\u2014and they know how to cry. In play they are as mirthful and\nboisterous as any white child. They ride mock horses, and play mud ball.\nThe Indian boy prepares willow sticks, peels off the bark, then rolls the\nwet clay into balls, and, sticking the ball on the end of the twig, he\nthrows it at a mark with great speed and accuracy. Perhaps the most\npopular sport among the children is what they term the stick game. Again\nwillow rods are used without the bark, only this time they are cut short\nenough to be rigid, and they drive them with great velocity up an inclined\nboard. When the stick leaves the board it speeds like an arrow far in the\ndistance. Every Indian boy and girl owns a pony, from which they are\nalmost inseparable, and which they ride with fearless abandon.\n\n [An Indian Woman\u2019s Dress\u2014Mrs. Wolf Plume]\n\n An Indian Woman\u2019s Dress\u2014Mrs. Wolf Plume\n\n\nWhile men are off in search of game the women make bead work of a most\nbewitching order, meanwhile watching the pappoose, fastened completely in\nits wooden bead-covered cradle, only the head protruding. The cradle is\nhung from a lodge pole or the bough of a tree, rattles and bells playing\nin the breeze. Other women gather in the shade and play the game of plum\nstone, a gambling game. They use the stones of the wild plum, which they\ncolour with fanciful devices, and toss them up in a wooden bowl.\n\n [The Flower of the Wigwam]\n\n The Flower of the Wigwam\n\n\nThe wooing of Indian lovers varies with the tribes. One pair of lovers\nseal their vows by standing a little removed from the parental lodge, with\na blanket covering their heads. In another tribe the negotiations are\nmade entirely through the parents, when the transaction resolves itself\ninto a barter, so many ponies for a bride; while in still another tribe,\nwhen a love fancy strikes a young man, he arranges to meet the young woman\nwho has attracted him as she goes to the river for water. They pass each\nother in the path without any recognition. This occurs two or three\ntimes. Finally if the young girl welcomes these attentions she looks\ntoward him as they pass. That night he comes to the lodge of her parents,\nremains outside, beating a tomtom and singing the love song. The young\ngirl then goes out to meet him and they sit outside and talk. The next\nmorning the mother asks her daughter about the affair, and then the mother\ninvites the young man to come and dine with them and sit around the\ncampfire. Thus the courtship proceeds until he finally says, \u201cI will take\nthis girl for my wife,\u201d and the two go to their own lodge. The Indian has\nan unwritten code of family morals to which he most rigidly adheres. In\nsome tribes no Indian will cross the threshold of another if the wife of\nthat man is alone, and in others no brother goes into the house where his\nsister is unless she has a companion. This is an ancient law and belongs\nto many tribes. The Crows have an eccentric custom that a sister after\nmarriage is not allowed to be seen in public with her brother. Should an\nIndian alienate the affections of the wife of another Indian or steal his\nhorse the injured one would be justified in taking his rifle and killing\nthe offender. The whole camp would sanction the action on the ground that\nit would rid the camp of bad blood.\n\n [Little Friends]\n\n Little Friends\n\n\nThe Indian\u2019s civility and hospitality, both to his own kind and to\nstrangers, has been a marked feature of his character from the coming of\nthe white man to the present day. When Columbus touched the shores of the\nNew World the friendly Caribs gave him hearty welcome. The heart\u2019s right\nhand of fellowship was stretched out in welcome and hospitality as\nexplorers and settlers landed on American soil. Dignity, generosity, and\ncourtesy marked the attitude of the Indian toward these new white\nstrangers. The character generally attributed to the Indian is that of a\nsavage, but this blemish came upon him through contact with the white man.\nTheir ingenuous and trustful nature quickly degenerated as they were\nenslaved, betrayed, and slain. Advantage was taken of their ignorance and\nkindness. Then came on a race war unparalleled in ferocity and barbarism.\nThe inexorable march of civilization regardless of ethics swept on until\nwe heard the Indians\u2019 war cry and failed to see the diviner grace of\nfriendship. The Indian returned with interest every injury and hardship,\nevery bitter assault and wicked aggression. He paid in full all accounts\nin the coin of pitiless revenge. These shadows obliterate our thought of\nhim as courtier and hospitable host. The Indian will divide his last\ncrust and then go hungry himself that you may have his half of the crust.\nHad it not been for Indian generosity in furnishing supplies of food, the\nearly settlers in both New England and Virginia must have perished with\nhunger. Every guest entering an Indian wigwam is met by all the graces of\nhospitality\u2014in cordial greeting\u2014in a splendid home feeling.\n\n [A Bath in the Little Big Horn]\n\n A Bath in the Little Big Horn\n\n\nIndian trails are no longer worn deep through the prairie sod, they have\nbeen growing ever more dim and indistinct. It is to-day, the \u201cthin red\nline,\u201d a swift gathering of all that is left, in the gloaming, after the\nsunset.\n\n\n\n\n\n [The Crown of Eagle Feathers]\n\n The Crown of Eagle Feathers\n\n\nTHE STORY OF THE CHIEFS\n\n\nThe American mind could conceive a republic but not an Indian. America\ncould conquer the Old World and rise redeemed and victorious when rent by\nthe awful whirlwind of internal strife. But the red man defied her. His\ncall rang across the plain like an autumn storm through the forests, and\nhis fellow red men answered like clustering leaves. History shudders at\nthe tale. Now look over the shoulder. When the fiery tongue of the\nRevolution blazed into the undying speech of liberty, Madison, Mason,\nPatrick Henry, and Edmund Randolph uttered their declaration that like a\nsunbeam has been written upon every page of the nation\u2019s history: \u201cAll men\nare by nature equally free and have inherent rights\u2014namely, the enjoyment\nof life and liberty, with the means of acquiring and possessing property\nand pursuing and obtaining happiness and safety.\u201d Upon the inviolability\nof this sublime doctrine the early colonists fought for liberty, and the\nnation flung a battle line more than two thousand miles long, and engaged\nat arms over two millions of men, in order to procure liberty for another\nrace. Once again, set each luminous word in this declaration over against\nthe disposition and destiny that we have imposed upon the North American\nIndian. And then picture these famous Indian chiefs, gathered from many\nwidely scattered wigwams; hear again and for the last time a life story\nthat rounds itself out into an epic of sorrow; listen for the heavy\nfootfalls of departing greatness; watch the grim faces, sternly set toward\nthe western sky rim, heads still erect, eagle feathers, emblems of\nvictory, moving proudly into the twilight, and a long, solitary peal of\ndistant thunder joining the refrain of the soul\u2014and it is night.\n\n [Warriors of Other Days]\n\n Warriors of Other Days\n\n\n\n\n [Chief Plenty Coups]\n\n Chief Plenty Coups\n\n\nChief Plenty Coups\n\n\nChief Plenty Coups, chief of the Crow Nation, was exalted to the head of\nall the Crows because of his untarnished valour on the field of battle,\nbecause of the supremacy of his statesmanship, and his loyalty to the\ninterests of his tribe. He derived his name, \u201cmany coups,\u201d from the fact\nthat he was able to add eagle feather after eagle feather to his coup\nstick, counting coups in victory. When a lad of sixteen his brother was\nkilled by the Sioux. The boy, bewildered with grief, climbed for two\ndays, struggling to reach the summit of some high peak in the Crazy\nMountains, there to give vent to his grief and pray for revenge. While he\nprayed to the sun he mutilated his body. Upon those lonely heights, never\nbefore desecrated by human footsteps, he dedicated his life to battle.\nBefore he was twenty-six he had counted a coup of each kind and was made a\nchief, and named \u201cMany Achievements.\u201d At sixty-three years of age he\nstands as erect as a solitary pine on a lonely hill crest. He has the\nbearing and dignity of a royal prince and wears his honours and war dress\nwith all the pride and courtliness of a patrician. He glories in the fact\nthat from his earliest days he has never fought the white man, but his\nlife has been a long series of conflicts with other Indian nations.\nBefore the white man ever placed his footsteps upon Indian soil his days\nwere filled with struggle in warding off the blows of hostile tribes who\nsought the women and the horses of his own people. Then, to use his own\nexpression: \u201cThe Great Father ordered that we should stop fighting and\nlive in peace, and since that time we have had allotments of land, schools\nhave been built for the education of our children, and as an illustration\nof the feelings of my heart to-day, I am at peace with all the tribes,\nthey are all my brothers, and I meet them all as one man. I shall live\nfor my country and shall remain in peace, as I feel peaceful toward my\ncountry.\u201d The reign of this great chief over his tribe is one of\nbenignity and beneficence. He is greatly concerned in his last days to\nraise up young men who shall know the rights and opportunities of his\npeople and who shall thus have influence at Washington, which he has many\ntimes visited and where he is always welcome. The smile of Chief Plenty\nCoups is worth crossing many miles of prairie to see. It was eminently\nfitting that this great chief on the grounds of his own Indian tribe\nshould receive the chiefs attending the last Great Indian Council.\n\n [The Peaceful Camp]\n\n The Peaceful Camp\n\n\n\n\n [Chief Red Whip]\n\n Chief Red Whip\n\n\nChief Red Whip (1)\n\n\nChief Red Whip is considered by his tribe as one of the greatest of the\nold hunters and warriors. The varying fortunes of the Gros Ventres, the\nstrenuous war career of this noted chief, have ploughed deep furrows and\nwritten serious lines in his face. He is too old a man at fifty-five, but\nwounds and scars and battle rush age upon any man.\n\nChief Red Whip said to me: \u201cThe greatest event in my life was my fight\nwith the Sioux in the Little Rocky Mountains. There were eleven Crows and\nthree Gros Ventres in our band; our leader was a Crow. There were about\none hundred and thirty Sioux. We were making the ascent of the Little\nRockies, and my friends went down into the ravine to shoot some buffalo.\nWhile they were down there shooting the buffalo and cutting them up the\nleader sent me to do scout work. While I was up on the hills I saw the\nSioux sneaking up to where we had killed the buffalo. I ran down at once\nto my friends and told them. We went back a little ways and made a fort\nand got ready to fight. I was painted yellow and red and was naked. When\nthe fort was finished I went myself, taking two others with me, to find\nout the location of the Sioux. We went right up to where I saw them last.\nI could tell by their tracks that there were a great many of them. I went\nup a little ridge that divided our band from the Sioux, and just as I\nstuck my head up above the grass they all fired at me, about a hundred\nguns, but they did not hit me. When my friends heard the firing they came\nto where I was, and we went right down on the Sioux, and the Sioux came at\nus, and we had a fight for a few minutes at close quarters. After we had\na short fight we rushed right on to the Sioux and they retreated. The\nSioux had to go up a hill and we wounded some and killed others. After\nthe Sioux had got up the hill I was the first one to get to a man who was\nkilled. I scalped him and claimed everything he had. After the Sioux\nfound out that we were only a small band they rushed down upon us and we\nretreated to where we had made the fort. Inside this fort there were two\nCrows killed with one bullet. The leader of the Sioux band was Chief\nFlying Cloud. I found out afterward who he was. It was Flying Cloud that\nwe killed coming up the hill; he was trying to protect his band. When we\nwere in the fort the Sioux people surrounded us. After the two Crows were\nkilled the leader of our band became scared. I jumped out of the fort and\nled the way for my band. We ran the Sioux back to the Little Rockies, and\nthen I told my friends to escape. As we retreated the Sioux pursued us.\nOne Sioux was in advance and called upon me to stop, and as I stopped he\nfired at me but missed me, and then I fired and killed him. The Sioux\nthen rushed on me so that I could not scalp the Sioux I had killed. We\nran on into the mountains and escaped into another fort. In this last\nfort one of the Gros Ventres was shot and wounded. After we had rested a\nwhile the Sioux surrounded us again, and I rushed out at the Sioux so that\nmy friends might escape again. While we were retreating again the Sioux\nshot one of the Gros Ventres through the leg, and he had to crawl on his\nhands and knees. I stayed with this wounded man, and the rest made their\nescape. I took this man on my back and carried him to some water at the\nhead of a coulee. This Gros Ventre told me to go on and make my escape\nand leave him alone to die. While we were resting in the weeds at the\nwashout the Sioux surrounded us again and waited for us to show ourselves.\nWhile we were waiting my wounded friend gave me his knife and paint and\ntold me to tell his mother that she might have all his horses; then I\njumped out and ran to catch up with my friends. After I had left my\nwounded friend about a quarter of a mile I looked back to see how the\nSioux would treat him. There was one shot fired, and they all jumped into\nthe washout, and then I made my escape. This gave me a great name in my\ntribe and among the Sioux and the Crows.\u201d\n\n [The Pause in the Journey]\n\n The Pause in the Journey\n\n\n\u201cOnce on Tongue River there was a white soldier of the United States\ntroops whom the Indians called Bear Shirt; he wore long hair like Custer.\nI was with him scouting for him. We called him Bear Shirt because he used\nto wear a bear coat. We came upon a band of Sioux, and there was a fight.\nThis was a long fight, and there were many killed on both sides. In this\nfight when the Sioux got the best of the soldiers and the soldiers\nretreated, I stayed behind to protect them. The soldiers were so tired\nthey could not run, and the Sioux killed off those who were too tired to\nrun. I remained in the rear to protect them until they came to the main\nbody of troops. When we were rested we went back to the main body of the\nSioux and had another long fight and fought until sundown. There were a\ngreat many killed on both sides. We camped right where we quit fighting.\nThe next morning we started to fight again and fought all day; again many\nwere killed on both sides. The next day we went over the two battlefields\nand gathered up the dead soldiers and buried them. These battles were on\nTongue River. After we had buried the soldiers I came back with the rest\nof the troops as far as the Yellowstone, and then went home.\u201d And yet\nsuch heroisms wrought out in lonely mountain fastnesses or on sun-parched\nplains will go unhonoured and unsung.\n\n\n\n\n [Chief Timbo]\n\n Chief Timbo\n\n\nChief Timbo\n\n\nChief Timbo, known as Tah-cha-chi, or Hairless, ranks as one of the\nleading chiefs of the Comanche Indians. With his stature of more than six\nfeet, he is a commanding figure among any Indians. The portrait of Timbo\nreveals the striking difference to be found in the physiognomy of the\nsouthern tribes as compared with the northern tribes of the Plains\nIndians. In the photogravure presented Chief Timbo holds a long\nsteel-headed spear, girdled with varicoloured beads, ornamented with great\ntufts of eagle feathers, and at the end of its ten feet of length bearing\na picturesque plume. This staff descended to Timbo from Quanah Parker,\nonce the leading chief of the Comanches. Chief Timbo brought this\ninsignia of office from the southland to the council of the chiefs. In\nhis own tribe the possession of such a mace answers among the Indians for\nthe sceptre of a monarch. It is a coup stick with manifold emphasis.\nChief Timbo accompanied the Kiowa, Cheyenne, and Apache chiefs to the\ncouncil. They came as brothers, but no fierce fighting among these\nwarlike tribes found a stronger or more fearless foe in the days gone by\nthan this stalwart chief. In the assembly of the chiefs he moved among\nhis fellows with a solemn and ponderous dignity, always silent and full of\ncommanding reserve. In the battles that raged over the southern plains\neven far to the north, between the Comanches and the fierce Kiowas, Chief\nTimbo led his fighting bands to certain victory. Fierce blood runs in the\nveins of this masterful man, and only within recent years, and then not\neasily, has he submitted to Government rule.\n\n [The Downward Trail]\n\n The Downward Trail\n\n\n\n\n [Chief Apache John]\n\n Chief Apache John\n\n\nChief Apache John\n\n\nThe very name Apache means enemy and stands on the pages of all Indian\nhistory as a synonym for terror. Since our knowledge of them, the Apaches\nhave been hostile and in every conflict they were favoured with rare and\ngifted leadership. It required the skill, strategy, and profoundest\ngeneralship of two of the greatest generals of the Civil War to subdue and\ncapture the daring and reckless Geronimo, whose recent death closed the\nfinal chapter of a long line of unspeakable Apache atrocities.\nKoon-kah-za-chy, familiarly known as Apache John, because of his surrender\nto civilization, visited the last Great Indian Council as a representative\nof one of the many groups of this great body of Indians scattered through\nthe southwest. There is an indefinable air of stoicism in the demeanour\nof all of these great chieftains. The subject of this text is not lacking\nin this prominent Indian element. A keen and piercing eye, a sadly kind\nface, a tall and erect figure, Apache John bears his sixty years of life\nwith broad and unbending shoulders. He was fond of becoming reminiscent\nand said: \u201cThe first thing I can remember is my father telling me about\nwar. We then lived in tepees like the one in which we are now sitting.\nWe were then moving from place to place, and the old people were\nconstantly talking about war. That was the school in which I was brought\nup\u2014a war school. We kept on moving from place to place until I grew to\nmanhood. Then I came to see a real battle. The first time I was in a\nbattle I thought of what my father had told me. He told me to be a brave\nman and fight and never run away. I think this was good fighting, because\nI know what fighting meant from what my father had told me. At that time\nif an Indian wanted to win distinction he must be a good man as well as a\ngood fighter. I was in a good many battles, until finally I had to give\nup fighting. About seven years ago the Government gave me advice, and\nwith that advice they gave me different thoughts, and to-day I am one of\nthe head men among the Apaches. I am head chief among the Kiowa-Apaches\nand I counsel peace among them. I used to think that my greatest honour\nwas to be won in fighting, but when I visited the Commissioner in\nWashington he gave me other thoughts and other ways of thinking and doing\nuntil I felt that the new kind of life was the better. When the\nCommissioner told me these things I wrote them down in my mind and I\nthought that it was good. One of the greatest events in my life was when\nI found myself surrounded by two tribes of my enemies. This fight was by\nthe El Paso River, and the bands of our enemies wore yellow headgear; the\nfight continued all day long until about five o\u2019clock, when the Apaches\nwere victorious.\u201d\n\nBy long and stubborn tutelage both from his father and the members of his\ntribe, this boy was taught the war spirit and in manhood he exemplified\nit. The principles of peace taught him in one short hour at Washington\nchanged the whole tenor of his life: a pathetic commentary on what\ncivilization might have accomplished with the Indian.\n\n [Climbing the Great Divide]\n\n Climbing the Great Divide\n\n\n\n\n [Chief Running Bird]\n\n Chief Running Bird\n\n\nChief Running Bird\n\n\nTa-ne-haddle, Chief Running Bird, is an eminent leader of the Kiowa tribe\nnow located in Oklahoma. His massive frame, lion-like head, and dignified\nbearing show few of the marks of the more than threescore years written\nupon his life. His very walk betokens supremacy and his constant demeanour\nassumes a spirit of generalship. His large head is set directly upon his\nshoulders, which seems to give no neck-play for his voice, which issues in\nharsh and guttural tones.\n\n\u201cIn the old times when the Indians used to live in tepees like this,\u201d he\nsaid, \u201cwhen I was about eighteen years old, I began to go out with war\nparties. I have been in many wars, and lived in tents and tepees and\nmoved from one place to another, and all this time I kept in good health.\nI remember a fight we had where there were thirty-eight Indians against\nfour tribes. The battle began late in the evening and while the fight was\nraging high I thought I would never escape with my life. The enemy\npressed us hotly, and finally we killed one of the chiefs, and then the\nIndians turned and left, and that saved our lives.\u201d\n\nThe construction of our Indian camp on the banks of the Little Horn\nawakened in this man, as it did in all the Indians, a disposition to turn\nback to primitive conditions. Running Bird said: \u201cI was very glad to come\nhere and see the old-time tepees, the kind of tepees our fathers used to\nlive in. I grew up to manhood myself in this kind of a tepee, and I had\ngood health, and now when they give us a house to live in I am not healthy\nat all. The reason we cannot have good health in a house is because the\nGreat Father gave us tepees to live in where we have plenty of air; we\nfeel smothered in a house. When I came out and sleep in a tepee I can\nsleep a great deal better. I am getting old now, and am getting up in\nyears, and all I wish at the present time is for my children to grow up\nindustrious and work, because they cannot get honour in the war as I used\nto get it. They can only get honour by working hard. I cannot teach my\nchildren the way my father taught me, that the way to get honour was to go\nto war, but I can teach my children that the way to get honour is to go to\nwork and be good men and women. I shall go home and tell the other\nIndians and our agent about you.\u201d\n\nAnd thus out of his gruff, austere, and soldier-like personality there\nissued words of a plain, homely philosophy that marks the path of success\nfor all men. \u201cThe way to get honour is to go to work and be good men and\nwomen.\u201d\n\n [Chiefs Fording the Little Bighorn]\n\n Chiefs Fording the Little Bighorn\n\n\n\n\n [Chief Brave Bear]\n\n Chief Brave Bear\n\n\nChief Brave Bear\n\n\nBrave Bear, in the language of the Cheyennes, of whom he is head chief, is\nNi-go High-ez, Ni-go meaning bear, and High-ez, brave. This name he has\nkept to the standard on many a hard-fought field, and in helping to\nreconstruct his tribe in the ways of civilization. He is tactful and\ncourteous, and his smile resembles the sunlight breaking a path across a\ndarkened sheet of water; it is the most winsome that I have seen for years\non the face of any man.\n\nShowing the Indian\u2019s long continued aversion to any speech regarding the\nCuster battle, Brave Bear said: \u201cI was in the battle of the Little Big\nHorn. The Indians called the General \u2018Long Hair.\u2019 It is a fight that I do\nnot like to talk about.\u201d\n\nJust here it may be well to carry in our minds the distinction between the\nNorthern and Southern Cheyennes. When the tribe was a compact whole they\nwere constantly pressed farther into the plains by the hostile Sioux and\nestablished themselves on the upper branches of the Platte River. In\nconsequence of the building of Bent\u2019s Ford upon the upper Arkansas in\nColorado, a large part of the tribe decided to move south, the other\nsection moving north to the Yellow-stone. The two sections of the one\ntribe have since been known officially as the Northern and Southern\nCheyennes. Ever and again the Southern branch of the tribe came to the\nfar north to help their brothers when in conflict. This may account for\nBrave Bear being present with the Northern Cheyennes in the Custer fight.\nThen came the story of Brave Bear concerning one of the battles in the\nsouth. \u201cThere is,\u201d he said, \u201ca Cheyenne called \u2018Tall Bear\u2019; he was the\nhead man at the time we began to fight down on the Platte River. From that\nhard battle we were returning home. In front of us there were a lot of\nsoldiers camped, and some of the Pawnee scouts were with the soldiers. We\nthought they were Pawnee tents, but when we came close enough we saw it\nwas a soldier camp, and they fired upon us and pursued us. That day we\nkept on fighting, and they killed three of us. It was a great fight, and\nit still remains with me when I think about it.\u201d\n\n\u201cI like the white man\u2019s way of living to-day better, because I feel that\nwhen the new day comes everything else is new, and the things of the white\nman grow new with every day. I try to do as our agent directs. I have\nnever had any trouble with him.\u201d\n\nThere is a touch of humanness about these tall, graceful, feather-bedecked\nmen, willingly assuming the role of children, that they may learn the\nbetter ways of the white man. The hard ideals of the warpath are all\nmerged in pursuing the path of peace.\n\n [Skirting the Sky-Line]\n\n Skirting the Sky-Line\n\n\n\n\n [Chief Umapine]\n\n Chief Umapine\n\n\nChief Umapine\n\n\nThis eminent chief of the Cayuse tribe of Umatilla Indians, located in\nnorthern Oregon, resembles in stature the graceful outlines of a forest\npine. A commanding figure, six feet two inches in height, noble and\ndignified in bearing, quiet and reserved in manner, he creates an\natmosphere of intellectuality. His speech is sparkling and eloquent. His\nface wears the soul-mark of serenity and triumph. As he stood against the\nliving green of the forest, clad in the rich Indian raiment of his tribe,\nwolfskin, gray with the tinge of the prairies, otterskin, smooth and dark\nlike the velvet of moss, myriads of ermine tails glistening white in the\nsunlight, glimmering beads from necklace to moccasins, flaunting eagle\nfeathers tipped with orange and crimson tassels, that must have floated in\nmany a sky, all gave to this man the appearance of some god of the forest\nwho had just come forth from its primeval depths bringing with him the\nlaurels of wood and mountain crag and sky, some king standing on the edge\nof the wood amazed at the flatness and tameness of the valley and plains.\nUmapine stood there the embodiment and glorification of Indian manners,\ncostume, and tradition, a vivid picture of Indian life and story. The\nwaymarks of such a life are, always tense with interest: they are more so\nas he points them out himself. We will let him tell his own story:\n\n\u201cIt was the custom among my people to narrate to their children the\nhistory of the past and they narrated to me that my tribe had learned to\nmake clothing from furs which were gotten from animals, and this clothing\nwas comfortable during the winter time as well as in the summer time.\nThere is still some of this clothing remaining among older Indians of my\ntribe. My understanding is that all the Indians in this part of the\ncountry used animal furs and skins for clothing. The old Indians believed\nin those days that they had the best kind of clothing, but they do not\nfeel that it would be right at the present time to dress that way, as the\nIndians of to-day are more civilized. Yet the clothes that we have now\nare derived from animals. We get fur from animals, and our blankets and\nclothes are made from animals. From that point I cannot say which I like\nthe better. I like the clothing of civilized people as far as I can see.\nThe white man\u2019s clothing is fit for men to wear. I like to wear his\nclothes very well, but I also like to wear the clothing my people used to\nwear in the olden time, but I do not like to wear it now on account of my\nfriends the white people, who live with me. I remember when I was a small\nboy I used to see so many wagon trains going west. I knew these were\nwhite people, but at that time I did not know where they were going. I\nsaw these wagons going through nearly the whole summer, and my folks told\nme these people were going west and were to live there, and that I must\nnot injure them in any way, and that I must have respect for them, because\nthey were always kind to my folks. And I was instructed later to respect\nthese people, and so I did. Furthermore, my grandfather lived on a river\ncalled Walla Walla. Many white people came to that place and put up their\ntents and lived there, and also there was some kind of other people which\nwe have found were French. My grandfather had a great respect for these\nwhite people as well as his own tribe, and thought very much of them and\ntried to help them get along. As soon as the other tribes learned there\nwere some white people living near my grandfather\u2019s place, there was a\ngreat gathering of the tribes to meet these white folks who were living on\nthe river. I have it in my heart to always remember what my folks told\nme, and when I grew old enough to know I had respect for these white\npeople as well as my own tribe, and to-day my heart is just the same as it\nwas in those days. Furthermore, I have respect for any kind of people; it\ndoes not make any difference to me from what part of the country they\ncome. It does not make any difference whether I don\u2019t understand their\nlanguage, but I always have respect for any kind of people who come to\nthis land, and to-day I am sitting here in a strange country and I am\nworrying about my property in my own country, but at the same time I am\nrejoicing in the work that Mr. Dixon is doing here, and I highly\ncongratulate him in this work. The work he is doing here to-day is work\nthat may never be done any more after this, and I have a great respect for\nhim this day because he is taking these photographs of my friends whom I\nmeet here at this place, and whom I will never see any more. I rejoice to\nmeet my own class of people who are coming here now. They all come from\ndifferent parts of the United States. I cannot speak their language nor\ncan I understand them all, but I do all I can to talk with them; and you,\ntoo, Mr. Valentine, I am thinking of you as I am here talking with Mr.\nDixon, and at the same time I am rejoicing just as he has opened my eyes\nand I hope that we will get along well. I am going to say I have respect\nfor the people you send to this country. I see that they have two eyes,\nthey have two ears, two limbs, two feet, and fingers as I have, but we all\nhave one head and one heart; we all breathe the same air and we stand on\nthe earth as brothers. The only difference between myself and the white\nman is that his complexion is lighter than mine.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have a great love for you, President Taft, although I never saw your\nface, or never listened to any of your talk, but I know what you want, and\nI find you are greatly interested in the Indian, and so I am sitting here\nand giving the history of the Indian life, which will be a great benefit\nto you, and also benefit the people who are coming in later years. This\nevening I am rejoicing here, and I feel just as if you were present with\nthis gentleman, and I feel just as if I were about to talk with you.\u201d\n\n [Down the Western Slope]\n\n Down the Western Slope\n\n\nWe may pass on now to some events in the life of Umapine. Again he must\nspeak for himself: \u201cWhen I grew old enough to know something, I saw my\nfolks digging potatoes and onions, and gathering corn; these they got from\nthe white people the summer before. The Indians used to plant these every\nyear, and when the emigrants went through and asked for a little my folks\nused to give them all they could spare. There came a time when the\nIndians and the white people had a war. I did not feel like interfering\nor trying to make any trouble, so I did not go to the war at that time.\nSome years after that the Indians had a fight among themselves, and I\nparticipated in that war. The Sioux Indians used to ride all over this\ncountry, and they stole horses from my tribe. When my people learned that\ntheir horses were stolen, they started on the warpath. We overtook the\nSioux with the horses along about 3 P.M. as near as I can remember; we did\nnot have watches in those days, and I think it was about that time. We\nkilled four of the Sioux Indians and recovered our horses, the Sioux only\nkilling one Nez Perce who was with us. I remember another war that\nhappened not very long ago. These were Indians from the southern part of\nOregon. They were on the warpath and had started up north and killed many\nsheep herders and farmers, and killed their children and destroyed their\nhouses\u2014burned them up. They came to our country and began to burn up the\nhouses of the white farmers. These Indians came into our agency. Major\nConyer, Uncle Sam\u2019s man, was agent at that time. I think he died last\nApril. The Indians then met Uncle Sam\u2019s men about a mile and a half south\nof the agency, and we Indians were watching to see if the soldiers would\nbe driven back by these Indians; we were ready to help Uncle Sam\u2019s men.\nThe hostile Indians headed down to our camp, and when we saw them coming\ntoward our camp we at once knew that they wanted us to get into the mixup\nso that we would be on the warpath as well as themselves, but all of our\nmen got their weapons and we met these Bannock Indians and chased them\nback to the hills. At that time there were a few cavalrymen and the rest\nwas infantry. All the Indians were on horseback, and the infantry could\nnot very well keep up. We took after these Indians, but did not kill many\nof them, as most of them had a good start. The same evening we were\nrequested to go with Uncle Sam\u2019s men that we might overtake these Indians\nand capture them if possible. The next morning we found that we were in\nadvance of the enemy, and just as the sun rose two Indians on horseback\ncame direct to where we were. We immediately got our arms ready and met\nthese two Indians; one of them got so excited that he jumped off his horse\nand started to run for the timber, leaving his horse behind him. As he\ntook to the thick brush we fired at him. I had a fast horse and was close\nbehind him. I jumped off my horse and ran after him on foot. I found him\nlying wounded, and watched him a little while and he died. He had a very\nnice belt which I took and put around my waist. Meanwhile the rest of the\npeople had the other Indian captured; he had been also wounded. Later on\nwe saw a band of these Indians coming up direct to where we were. They\nhad their pack animals with them. We took after them and tried to capture\nevery one of them, but they had already seen us, and rode away for a\ncanyon, where there was some thick brush. I saw one old woman\u2014I thought\nshe was an old woman\u2014but I was mistaken, for when I overtook the Indian a\nman jumped off his horse and got behind a tree. When I saw my mistake, it\nwas too late to stop my horse. I was but a few feet away from him at that\ntime. He shot at me once and missed me. I was lucky that time or I would\nnot be telling this story now, if he had been a better shot than that. My\nhorse gave a big jump just as he fired at me and I kept on going, as I\nknew there were some more Indians close behind me who would capture the\nold man, and I went on after the rest of the Indians. Just as I came to a\nlittle opening I saw two Indians on horseback, and one Indian lying down\non the ground; he was wounded. When I got there I learned that this\nIndian was a good friend of ours. I just left him there wounded. After\nwe left I told the other two Indians: \u2018This man has been on the warpath,\nand if he had a chance to kill us he would.\u2019 So I turned back and\nfinished his life and scalped him. My tribe captured many of those\npeople, and I was presented with a fine animal that one of the hostile\nIndians had been riding. That was the only time I ever scouted for Uncle\nSam\u201d.\n\nWith sublime pathos, Umapine referred to the old days of the buffalo. He\nsaid: \u201cI have hunted buffalo in this country many times. I feel lonesome\nsince the buffalo have been driven away. In the old days the Indians\nkilled the buffalo with bows and arrows; they did not have any guns as\nthey have now, and needed a fast horse to overtake these animals. A man\nmight think they could not run fast, but he would find out he could not\novertake them with an ordinary horse. My people used to hunt buffalo in\nthis part of the country, and while on the way over here I could see\ntrails of these large animals now worn deep by the storms of many years,\nand I cried in my heart.\u201d\n\n [The Last Arrow]\n\n The Last Arrow\n\n\n\n\n [Chief Tin-Tin-Meet-Sa]\n\n Chief Tin-Tin-Meet-Sa\n\n\nChief Tin-Tin-Meet-Sa\n\n\nIt was midnight. A dim campfire accentuated the loneliness. Flickering\nshadows wrote weird lines on the cone-shaped walls of the tepee. The rain\nceased not the beating of its soft tattoo on the frail roof above our\nheads. Old Tin-Tin-Meet-Sa, bent and tottering with his more than eighty\nyears of life, his noble old face still wearing great dignity, his almost\nsightless eyes looking for the last flicker of life\u2019s sunset, presented a\npathetic picture as he faced the firelight and told of his loneliness as\nhe passed the deserted buffalo trails.\n\nTin-Tin-Meet-Sa, or Willouskin, is one of the notable chiefs of the\nUmatillas. He rendered valuable services to the Government as a scout\nduring the Indian wars of 1855 and 1856. The heroic deeds of those\nfaraway days have not been written down in history, and no doubt will be\nforgotten by future generations, but they have been written large on the\ncharacter lines of this gigantic frame and Savonarola-like face\u2014a poet, a\ndreamer, a warrior, and chieftain.\n\nIt is better to let Tin-Tin-Meet-Sa open the door himself upon that mighty\npast: \u201cMy days have been spent for many suns along the great rivers and\nhigh mountains of Oregon. It has been many years ago that I was selected\nby our agent as the head man of my tribe. In those days I was a very\nactive man, but since I have become so old, although they look upon me as\nthe head man of the tribe, I must leave the work for others to do. During\nmy younger days I had a big herd of cattle and horses, but as the years\nhave come over me, I am not able to look after my stock any more. I\nconsider the greatest event in my life the assistance I rendered in the\ncapture and killing of Chief Eagan, war chief of the Piutes, during the\nBannock or Sheep-Eater war. These Bannock Indians created great\ndestruction wherever they went; they burned my tepee and killed over\nseventy head of my cattle. I did not know at that time how many cattle I\nhad, because there was not any one around to steal them. This led me to\ngo on the warpath against the Bannocks.\u201d\n\n\u201cThis country all looks familiar to me because, in my younger days, I\ntravelled all over these prairies fighting the Sioux Indians who had\nstolen horses from my tribe. Again I have travelled all over this country\nmany times, long years ago, as we came here to hunt the buffalo. I had a\nnumber of fast horses, with which I could easily kill as many buffalo as I\nwanted, but I only killed as many as I needed to last for a few days.\nWhen I came here the other day to meet all these chiefs, and I looked at\nthis country for the last time, I felt lonesome when I saw how it was all\nchanged, and all of the buffalo gone out of the country, for I could still\nsee traces of these large animals. It is easy for an old hunter to\ndiscover these buffalo trails, for they all walked in the same place, and\nnow the rains of many moons have cut those trails deep, just as if a man\nhad been irrigating some field. I can scarcely see, but my eyes could\nfind the old trail. The buffalo has gone, and I am soon going.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n [Chief Runs the Enemy]\n\n Chief Runs the Enemy\n\n\nChief Runs-the-Enemy\n\n\nImagine a Roman warrior with clear-cut visage and flashing eye, his face\nwritten all over with battle lines, his voice running the entire gamut\nfrom rage to mirth, and you have a mental picture of Chief Runs-the-Enemy,\na tall, wiry Teton Sioux whose more than sixty-four years of life have\ncrossed many a battlefield and won many a triumph. From boyhood days a\nringing challenge to battle seemed ever vibrant in the air he breathed.\nWhen I asked him to let me drink at some of the secret springs of his life\nhis very first sentence contained the ring of battle!\n\n\u201cThe first thing that I remember is that my father made me a bow and\narrow; it was a small bow and arrow, and made in proportion to my size,\ncompared with the bows and arrows used in killing buffalo. I had seen the\nbuffalo meat that they brought in and the wild game. My father taught me\nhow to use the bow and arrow, and also how to ride a horse, and soon it\nbecame natural for me to ride. I soon grew to be able to use the bow and\narrow that my father used; with it I killed buffalo. My father also\ntaught me how to skin the buffalo, so that when I killed the buffalo I\nknew how to skin it and bring the buffalo meat home. My father taught me\nto pity the old men and women, and when I went on the warpath to be brave,\nand even try to die on the field. My father also taught me that it was\nbetter to go on the field of battle and have my body filled with arrows\nfrom the enemy and die on the field, and let the wolves come and eat up my\nflesh and bones, rather than be wrapped up and buried in some high tree,\nand in this spirit I went forth into all my fights. I remember when I was\nvery young I went on the warpath and carried the bundles of moccasins and\nprovisions for the war party. When I was fifteen years old I went with my\nfirst war party. The snow was very deep and hard, so that the horses\nslipped round. We charged upon the Assinaboines. I remember when we\ncharged the camp we found one Indian down in the creek trapping foxes. We\ndid not know he was there. As soon as he saw us he ran toward his own\ncamp, and I whipped up my horse and ran after him. The enemy came out\nwith guns and bows and arrows. I ran the man clear into the midst of the\nsmoke; I came back without even myself or my horse getting hurt. That is\nhow I got my name, Runs-the-Enemy. I was then at the age of fifteen.\nWhen we got back to camp the Sioux people said I did not know what I was\ndoing, and I replied that I knew that was what my father had taught me. I\nperformed this deed in the face of a lot of brave warriors, and this is\nhow my name is great among the Sioux. There was a lifelong enmity between\nthe Sioux and the Assinaboines. My father was wounded by the\nAssinaboines, and I made up my mind I was going to do something to that\ntribe. I have been in about forty battles altogether, rather\ninsignificant some of them, but about ten great battles. When I was about\neighteen, a band of Sioux, including myself, went down to the Black Rees.\nThey greatly outnumbered us. We attacked them, but did not kill any of\nthem. They pursued us a long way, killing five of our number. My horse\nwas hit with an arrow, and I jumped off, and while I was running I was\nshot through the ankle with an arrow. The enemy surrounded me; my own\nfriends had gone on. I crossed my wounded ankle over the other foot and\ndefended myself as best I could. I looked at the ground and the sky, and\nmade up my mind that this was my last day. Just at this moment, while I\nwas surrounded by my enemies, one of my friends was brave enough to come\nback; he rode into the midst of our foes and put me on the back of his\nhorse, and we rode away in safety. Let me tell you about the other wound\nthat I received. In one of the late battles that we had with the tribe of\nBlack Rees, in 1874, I was shot through the thigh, a ball also going\nthrough the forearm, and breaking the bone.\u201d\n\n [Scouting Party on the Plains]\n\n Scouting Party on the Plains\n\n\n\u201cLet me tell you about my connection with the battle of the Little\nRosebud. With my war party I joined the Sioux camp on the Rosebud River.\nWe camped first at Lame Deer. When I arrived at the Sioux camp at Lame\nDeer we were near the Cheyenne camp, and the Cheyennes had built a big\nbonfire. They were singing and dancing around the fire. I was told that\nthere were some Cheyennes that had reached camp that day or the day before\nfrom the Black Hills, and they brought the news that the soldiers were\ncoming. The reason for the campfire and the dancing was to pick out the\nbravest of the Cheyennes and send them back to find out the location of\nthe troops and bring back word. The campfire was so big and so bright and\nthe dancing and shooting so boisterous that I went over to the Cheyenne\ncamp to see for myself. And I saw them choosing the braves for this\nscouting duty. The scouts must have numbered ten. They started right off\non their mission. The next morning we broke camp and came over the hills.\nWe camped about half a day\u2019s journey from the Custer battlefield. That\nnight, after we camped, there was no news, and I went to bed and went to\nsleep. The next morning I was awakened by firing, and the report came to\nme that there was going to be trouble, for the troops were coming. Almost\nat once everybody who could ride a horse or hold a gun mounted his horse\nand rode away to meet the troops. The Cheyenne scouts led the way. It\nwas not very long until I heard the report of rifles, over in the gully.\nAfter the report of the guns we heard a cry from the hilltop; an Indian\nwas on the hill crying as hard as he could, telling us to make the charge\nat once. Then one of their number was killed outright. The occasion of\nthe shots was that four or five of our Sioux had gone around us and had\ngone into the soldiers\u2019 camp and stolen some horses, and the soldiers were\nfiring at the horse-thieves; four of them escaped, one being killed. This\nwas the screaming we heard. We no sooner heard it than we made a dash. I\ncannot tell you the number of our Indians. There were the different bands\nof the Sioux, and the entire tribe of the Cheyennes. The charge we made\nwas enough to scare anybody. As we got on top of the hill the soldiers,\nwho were already after the horse-thieves, knowing that we outnumbered\nthem, all fled back. The cavalry supported by a file of infantry stopped,\nand we also stopped and had a great battle there. We simply circled them,\nand did not give them a chance to charge, as we greatly outnumbered them.\nWe killed a great many soldiers, shot down a good many of their horses,\nfor there were lots of them lying on the ground, wounded and dead. This\nbattle the Indians called the Battle of the Wolf Mountains, known to the\nsoldiers and the Crows by this name, and to the Sioux as the Battle of the\nHead of the Rosebud. The general sentiment was that we were victorious in\nthat battle, for the soldiers did not come upon us, but retreated back\ninto Wyoming. We understood that General Crook was in command of the\nUnited States troops, led by Crow scouts. They called General Crook,\n\u2018Three Stars.\u2019 When our Indians made the charge upon the United States\ntroops we found the Crow scouts standing between us and the troops. If it\nhad not been for the Crow scouts we would have charged right through to\nthe soldiers. The Crow scouts were in between us, and received the fire\nfrom both sides. After the battle ended and the soldiers returned, we got\nhome to our camp without any fear. We spent the whole of the next day in\ncamp at the Little Rosebud, and the day after we came over on to the\nplains by the Custer Battlefield.\u201d\n\n [Scouts passing under cover of the Night]\n\n Scouts passing under cover of the Night\n\n\nThe most graphic Indian story of the Custer fight is told by\nRuns-the-Enemy in the chapter on \u201cThe Indians\u2019 Story of the Custer Fight.\u201d\nChief Runs-the-Enemy continued:\n\n\u201cA great event in changing my life was marked when I returned to the\nreservation and the Government took from us our horses and guns and told\nus that we were to live in that place at peace with everybody. The\nGovernment took the best warriors from among the tribe, made them lift\ntheir hands to God and swear that they would be true to the Government;\nand they made out of these men policemen who were to guard the Government\nand keep the Indians good. When the Government made a policeman of me\nthey bound my hands with chains and I had to obey them. They gave me\nimplements with which to till the soil, and raise stock and build a home,\nand it seemed to me I must obey every word they said. They told me that\nthe wild game, now roaming the hills, would soon die off, and that if I\ntilled the soil and raised stock and grain, I could get money for it, and\nmoney is what makes everything move along. As I told you, whatever they\ntold me, I did. They told me to send my children to school, which I did.\nI sent all of my children to school, and they came home and all of them\ndied. They told me if I sent the children to school and educated them,\nthey would be all right. Instead of that I sent them to school and they\nall came home with consumption and died, seven in number. If I had kept\nthem home, some of them might have been living to-day. Now as to myself:\nI am getting old every day; I cannot take care of my stock. My limbs are\nweak, and my knees are getting weak; it will not be long until I will go\nunder the ground. As you look at me now I am old. As I said, I will die\nin a little while, but I am not afraid of dying. I have two children\nliving and I look ahead for them. Although I have done all I could for my\npeople, I have also helped the Government and done whatever they told me\nto do.\u201d\n\n [Map of the Custer Battlefield]\n\n Map of the Custer Battlefield\n\n\nWe have been listening to the minor in the carol, that is always the major\nstrain in Indian life, but we mistake much if we do not hear more jubilant\nnotes in the scale. When Runs-the-Enemy was asked to tell the story of\nhis boyhood days all the fierce combativeness expressed in gesture, voice,\nand piercing eye gave way to a tender and gentle calm. The warrior became\na child, living again the life of a child with all the spontaneous\ngleefulness of a child. We may now have one of his folklore tales.\n\n\n\n FOLKLORE TALE\n\n\nThere goes a spider. As he was journeying along he came upon a man\u2014in our\nlegends these men do anything; they take a whole community of men right\ndown\u2014and he met him face to face. The man-eater stood in the path, the\nspider in front of him. The big man kept letting out his breath and\ntaking it in in great gusts, and when he drew in his breath he drew the\nspider toward him, and when he blew out his breath he blew him away from\nhim. And the spider was so scared he did not know what to do. But he\nfinally said: \u201cNow, my young brother, you take in your breath, and let out\nyour breath, and you pull me around; and if I did the same thing you would\nsoon be gone, for I am older than you are.\u201d The big man said to the\nspider: \u201cNow, my older brother, you hold on.\u201d The spider said to the big\nman: \u201cI am going over here where there is a great big camp of people, and\nI am going to swallow all of these people. However, as you are hungry, I\nwill give you half of them. Now you stay right here. I am going over to\nlook at the big camp. I am going to find out whether I will give you any\nof them or not, and then I will tell you.\u201d With these words the spider\nwent ahead of the man a little, and then came right back to the big man\nagain and said: \u201cMy young brother, I am afraid of some certain things, and\nI am going to tell you about it. Are you the same way?\u201d The big man said:\n\u201cYes, my little brother, I am very much afraid of some things.\u201d The\nspider then asked him: \u201cWhat are the things you are afraid of?\u201d The big\nman then told the spider that he was afraid of drums beating, that he was\nafraid of old tambourines that the Indians used to have, and he was also\nafraid of shouting and yelling. The spider then said to him: \u201cYou are my\nbrother for sure; these are just the things that I am afraid of.\u201d Just as\nhe said these things to the big man, the spider was very much afraid of\nhim, fearing that he could not hold himself steady as he stood in front of\nthe big man. The spider said to the big man: \u201cYou just sit right still\nhere. I am going over to see this big camp, and will be right back.\u201d The\nspider went over the hill as fast as he could, looking back every once in\na while to the big man. He went right ahead into the big camp. He told\neverybody around there to get all their drums and their tambourines, that\nhe had a great big man over there, and these were the things that he was\nafraid of. \u201cI am going back to him and I want you to take all your drums\nand tambourines, and yell and scream, for he is afraid of these things.\u201d\nThe spider then went back to the big man and told him the camp was big\nenough for them both. Then he marked a place which divided them half and\nhalf, and said: \u201cYou are to have the one half and I am to have the other\nhalf; but if you go ahead and eat your half and eat half of my half, I\nwill swallow you too.\u201d As they went along to the camp the spider said to\nthe big man: \u201cI am the older, and will go ahead of you a little.\u201d In the\nmeantime he had told those in camp that they must all gather in one place\nwhere he would lead this big man. As the big man walked along, he grew\ntired, and would let out his breath and take in a great big breath, and\nevery time the spider would be drawn up against him. The spider told him\nif he did it again he would draw in his breath and the big man would soon\nbe inside his stomach. As the spider went on into the place where all the\npeople were gathered, they began to beat their drums and yell and scream\nand howl. The spider fell down as though he were dead, and kicked and\nsquirmed. The big man was really scared, and he fell down dead. When\nthey got up to the big man and found him dead, the spider told them how he\nhad worked the big man, and saved their lives. And thus the story ends.\n\n\n\n\n [Chief Pretty Voice Eagle]\n\n Chief Pretty Voice Eagle\n\n\nChief Pretty Voice Eagle\n\n\nSixty-eight years is a long time to be an Indian. Within this span of\nlife Pretty Voice Eagle has run with swift feet the warpath, and held with\nstrong hand the battle spear. Bearing well his weight of years and his\nheavier burden of struggle, he moves erect and with lithe footstep. He\nbecame stormy and vociferous as he told his story of broken treaties, how\nthe Indian had been wronged by the white man, and how his life had been\nscarred by the storms of life. Then the calm of old age came over him and\nthe placid joy of childhood memories when asked to tell a folklore tale.\nWhile relating his battle experiences we had the equinoctial gale of\nIndian life and then the mellow haze of Indian summer. Recalling his\nboyhood days, Pretty Voice Eagle told me that his tribe roamed along the\nriver, chiefly the Missouri River. There were then no white people in\nthat country. \u201cI was about ten years old when I saw large boats bringing\nwhite people over the Missouri River. I saw a great many of the white\npeople killed by the Sioux when they came up the river in small boats. It\nwas not until I was about twenty years old that they began to build the\nrailroad along the Platte River going west, and there were also emigrant\nwagons going west driving large herds of cattle. The Indians killed the\nwhite people as they came up the river because we felt they were driving\naway our game; they had guns and powder and knives, which we did not have.\nWe also wanted what they had in the boats, and we did not like to see them\ngo through our country. When I first saw the people emigrating through\nour country and then bringing iron horses there I began to be afraid. I\nwas about twenty-five or thirty years old when they began to run the iron\nhorse along through the country, and I also heard that they were going to\nmove the Indians to some hot country, and that the white people would fill\nup all the land north and west and south of us; we felt that we ought to\nfight the white people, and we began to kill the men who were building the\nrailroad. The white people began to kill the game when they came into the\ncountry. There was then plenty of buffalo on the east side of the\nMissouri River; soon they swam over to the west side, and we then\nunderstood that the President had given them the privilege of killing all\nthe game, and soon the buffalo were all gone. The white man then went\ninto the Black Hills, and killed the game. The killing of the game caused\na change in our food. We were accustomed to eating buffalo meat and other\nwild game; we loved that and we were all full of health as long as we had\nit. The change of food has compelled us to eat bread instead of wild\nmeat, and that is the reason why the Indians are all dying off. When I\nthink of those old days my heart is full of sorrow. My father, who was\nthen the chief, was sent for by the President of the United States, and\nwhen he came back he said that the Indians must adopt the white man\u2019s mode\nof living, and that we must send our children to school. The news that my\nfather brought was received by some with favour, others entirely refused\nto send their children to school, and said that they would rather fight\nthan let their children go to school. And it looked as though there would\nbe a general uprising. I remember the first group who went off to school,\nand it caused great trouble. From that time on we had trouble with the\nUnited States soldiers. While we were carrying this trouble about the\nschools in our minds, there was an emigrant train going through the Black\nHills. They had with them a cow which was lame, and and they left it.\nThe Indians thought they had thrown it away, and killed it. We killed\nthis cow not for subsistence but because it was lame and we felt sorry for\nit. It was not until a year later that the people who owned this cow made\napplication to the Government for reimbursement for the loss, and the\nGovernment sent United States soldiers there to find out who had killed\nthe cow. The two men who had killed the cow were Face Powder and Pointed\nForehead. They asked us to give up these men that they might take them to\nFort Laramie, and we refused to give them up. They then asked our head\nchief, Axe-the-Bear, to give them up, and when he would not do so he was\ntaken to Fort Laramie. Part of the Sioux Nation was at Fort Laramie, and\nthey wanted to know why the soldiers had taken this head chief there. It\nwas a mistake of the interpreter, for he told the officers in command that\nthe Sioux Indians were there to kill the soldiers if they did not give up\nthis head chief. One of the soldiers rather than let the chief go ran him\nthrough with a bayonet and killed him in cold blood. As soon as they\nkilled this chief, the Indians began to fight right there. There was a\nrunning fight after that until they finally captured Spotted-Tail with his\nband and squaws and children. A lot of Spotted-Tail\u2019s men were killed.\nThey afterward gave up the women and children. That did not satisfy the\nIndians; they wanted revenge on the soldiers and had a battle west of the\nBlack Hills. After that big battle the Indians were chased right into the\nterritory where the present camp of the great chiefs is located.\nFollowing that there was another big battle on the east side of the\nMissouri River. The women and children were all captured. Following this\nthere was a treaty with the United States not to fight. The treaty was\nsigned up near Fort Laramie. The trouble still kept up, the treaty was\nbroken, and we had another big battle near the Rocky Mountains, where a\nhundred soldiers were killed. After that there were several battles,\nincluding the Custer fight, and then the bands all split up, some of them\ngoing to Canada and some of them back to the reservations where they are\nnow located. Then there was a delegation sent to Washington, and when\nthey came back to the people from the Indian Department, we sent our\nchildren to school. The Indians who went to Canada afterward returned. A\ngreat many Sioux remained on the reservation at the time of the Custer\nfight; I was not in the battle myself. I saw General Custer when he left\nFort Lincoln previous to the Custer fight. Custer impressed me as a very\npleasant and good man; he wore his hair long. As he was about to leave\nFort Lincoln a delegation of Sioux Indians, including myself, went to see\nhim and asked him not to fight the Sioux Indians, but to go to them in a\nfriendly way. I was the leader of the delegation. We begged him to\npromise us that he would not fight the Sioux. He promised us, and we\nasked him to raise his hand to God that he would not fight the Sioux, and\nhe raised his hand. After he raised his hand to God that he would not\nfight the Sioux he asked me to go west with my delegation to see those\nroaming Sioux, and tell them to come back to the reservation, that he\nwould give them food, horses, and clothing. After we got through talking,\nhe soon left the agency, and we soon heard that he was fighting the\nIndians and that he and all his men were killed. If Custer had given us\ntime we would have gone out ahead of him, but he did not give us time. If\nwe had gone out ahead of Custer he would not have lost himself nor would\nhis men have been killed. I did all I could to persuade the Ree scouts\nnot to go with Custer. I gave them horses and saddles not to go, but for\nsome reason they went.\u201d\n\n [A War Council]\n\n A War Council\n\n\n\u201cIn the treaty the Government made with me at Fort Laramie, they were to\nfeed me fifty-five years, and they have not fulfilled it. You must be a\nman of influence, as you sent for us from all parts of the country, and I\nwish you would help us as much as you can. In the Fort Rice treaty the\nGovernment promised to give us good horses and good wagons.\u201d\n\n\u201cAfter the 1868 treaty that we had at Fort Rice we sold all the country\neast of the Missouri River and soon sold the Black Hills to the\nGovernment, and in that treaty the Government promised us that the Sioux\nIndians would be taken care of as long as there was a child living of the\nSioux tribe; and that has not been fulfilled. It was not long after that\nwhen we had a treaty with General Crook. In that treaty we were promised\na great many things the Government did not seem to care to do. Now our\nfunds are almost exhausted, and a lot of us are poor and not able to take\ncare of ourselves, and I wish that when you go back you would say what you\ncan. These are Government promises, and they have never fulfilled them.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe story I am going to tell you I am not afraid to have published\nanywhere, or to have it come right back to my own agency, or let other\nwarriors see and hear it. In my lifetime I have made about seventy raids\nagainst the different tribes. Out of these raids there must have been\nforty-five or fifty battles. Let me tell you a story concerning one of\nthese battles in which I was engaged: I was a young man, I cannot remember\njust what age. The Sioux camped at the mouth of the Rosebud River. We\ngot up a war party which numbered about two hundred. The two bands who\nwere in this party were the Two-Cattle and the Mnik-Ok-Ju tribes. It was\nin the middle of the winter when the snow was deep. We started across the\ncountry not very far from this camp, and followed the Yellowstone River\ndown, and then we turned off toward the north, and went toward the Upper\nRockies. We were then in the enemy\u2019s country. There were four of us\nchosen out of the two bands to go ahead and scout for the enemy; we did\nnot see any one, and returned. There was one man from our party out\nshooting deer, and he was right behind us. We got home without seeing\nanything, but he brought word there were enemies in sight. The enemies he\nsaw were two in number, and we got on our horses and went to where he saw\nthese two men. They were well armed and did all they could to defend\nthemselves, and our party did not come very close to them. I spurred up\nmy horse and made a straight charge at the two men. They were on foot,\nand lined up and pointed their guns at me as I went at them. I struck one\nof them with the spear that I had. I knocked him down; he fired at me,\nbut missed me. The other man also fired at me, but missed. I could not\nstrike him, as I dodged after I struck the first man. As I passed on by\nthem they fired at me again. This gave my warriors a chance to come up on\nthem before they could reload their guns, and they killed them. I was the\nfirst one who struck one and very nearly hit the other. My warriors were\nslow to come up, and I was the first one to charge them. After we killed\nthese two men we went home with their scalps. We were on our way home\nacross the Powder River and following the river up until we got to the\njunction of the Powder and Rosebud rivers. When we got there one of our\nparty went on home ahead of us. He came rushing toward us with his horse\nalmost played out, with the report that the camp had been attacked by the\nenemy while we were away, and they had stolen our horses, and were now\ncoming down the road on which we were travelling. We hid waiting for\nthem, but somehow they became aware of our presence, and went around, and\nbefore we knew it they had escaped. Although they were a great ways off\nour band made a charge on these horsemen. Most of our horses gave out\nbefore we overtook the enemy, but thirteen of us rode on, overtaking them,\nthree in number we found, who had charge of the stolen horses. Our\nthirteen horses that we were riding were nearly exhausted, but we found\nthat the enemy whom we were pursuing were also riding exhausted horses. I\nrushed on ahead as fast as my horse could go. One of the enemy was riding\na horse that was so thoroughly given out that he stood still. The enemy\ngot off his horse, turned round, pulled his bow and arrow, and shot at me;\nI was going to strike him, but I did not have time. The arrow was so near\nmy face that it made me dizzy. He fired at me and the arrow went right\nthrough my hair, which was tied in a knot on top of my head. I jumped off\nmy horse and pulled my bow and arrow, and we were firing at each other as\nwe came closer. We jumped round like jack-rabbits trying to dodge the\narrows. One of the arrows struck me right across the ribs, but the wound\nwas not very deep. Just as we came together he fired his last arrow at\nme; it passed through my arm, but it was only a skin wound. At that time\nI struck him with my arrow through the wrist and that made him lame. As I\nstruck him he moved backward and I shot him twice through the breast, with\ntwo arrows; then I threw away the arrows and struck him on the head with\nmy bow, knocking him senseless. After I knocked him down I took his bow\nand threw it a long ways off so he could not get it. He was crawling on\nhis hands and knees and I took my war club and struck him until I killed\nhim. After I had killed this man, I gathered up my bow and arrows, and\nwent on after the other two. At this time they had got off their horses\nand were defending themselves as best they could. I shot one of them\nthrough the wrist with my arrow; he made a scream as I hit him and dodged\nand went down the coulee, running as hard as he could go. He had a\nrevolver in one hand, and I followed him, shooting with my arrows, he\nshooting back at me with his revolver. This kept up until he got to the\nend of the coulee, where there was a deep precipice. I looked over the\nprecipice and saw this man, who had jumped over, rolling down the side\nlike a rock. When he got down there he was knocked senseless. I looked\nat him from over the hill, but could not get down to him. I walked back\nand forth; as I looked down I saw a Sioux Indian trying to crawl up and\nget the scalp of the Indian who had fallen down the precipice. I had a\nwar club in my teeth, and grabbed my bow and arrows, and tried to climb\ndown the hill slope in order that I might get near him. As I went down I\nslid, and as I was going down the Crow regained consciousness and I saw\nhim pointing his gun at me as I was looking down. I then thought that\nwould be my last day. As I got there the Sioux got there just in time to\ngrab the revolver away from him, and as he pulled the revolver away I fell\nright under the enemy. He pulled a knife out of my belt, for I was under\nhim, pushed up against a rock, and I could not move either way. He made a\nstrike at me and cut my clothing right across the abdomen, but did not cut\nmy stomach. The second strike he made, I got hold of the knife, and\nwrested it from him. When I had taken the knife, the other Sioux pulled\nhim off, and I got up and took my club and finished him. I killed these\ntwo Crows a little ways from the mouth of the Little Big Horn that flows\nthrough the camp where we are now. This is one of the daring events of my\nlife. These two events occurred in one war party.\u201d\n\n [The War Party]\n\n The War Party\n\n\n\u201cThen, again, let me tell you about the battle that we had between the\nSioux and the Flatheads about twenty miles north of where Billings now\nstands: In this battle the Sioux numbered about one hundred and fifty, and\nthe Flatheads consisted of the entire tribe. We sent three spies across\nthe Yellowstone, and they came back with the location of the Flatheads.\nThey reported that the entire tribe was camped there. We were afraid\nbecause of their great numbers that they would beat us. We debated as to\nwhether we should go back home or make the attack. Finally the chiefs\nselected thirty of the bravest men to go on ahead. The rest of the war\nparty remained in camp. I was numbered among the thirty who were chosen\nto go ahead. We left there in the dark of the night. We journeyed on in\nsilence until daybreak, when we first got a view of the enemy\u2019s camp.\nWhen daylight came we found that ten of our thirty had deserted from fear.\nWhen we got in sight of the camp another ten left us, so that only left\nten to advance on the camp. We made a fool charge at the camp at the\nrising of the sun. None of us expected to come back when we made the\ncharge. After we made the charge, there were about four who backed out\nagain, so that left us only six in number. We ran our horses up to the\nside of the tents and then ran back again to the hills. The women were\njust getting out to get breakfast ready. We took about fifty horses with\nus, as we rode back, as a challenge for the enemy to come after us. The\nfiring began from the camp and frightened the horses so that we only got\nabout twenty out of the fifty. There was one horse, a spotted animal,\nthat pleased me very much, and out of the six of us in number I rushed\nback to get that horse. When I went back after this horse the enemy came\nupon me so strong that I was obliged to flee to the hills. They came\nright behind us firing at us. The enemy chased us for miles and miles,\nshooting at us but never killing any of us. We turned in our saddles\nevery once in a while and fired back, and then went on. We were\nreinforced by the last ten that left us. Just at this time a horse under\none of our men was shot, and he was on foot running. We made a whirl\naround this man who was on foot, which seemed to check the enemy. At this\ntime one of the enemy was shot off his horse. This man who was shot from\nhis horse was surrounded by two of his friends who dismounted to defend\nhim. As soon as I saw this man lying on his back, I made a hard charge at\nhim; I struck at his head. An enemy standing near discharged his gun at\nme, and took the butt of the gun to strike me on the head. Just at this\nmoment my horse stumbled and fell forward which saved me from receiving\nthe blow. As I did so I made a circle and came back again to my own\npeople. But I was mad at him in my heart because he had struck at me. I\ntook my bow and arrow and shot an arrow right through his cheek. As I hit\nthis enemy through the cheek I whipped up my horse and made a charge at\nhim. One of my friends came riding up with me, and we both charged\ntogether. Our horses turned just as we reached this enemy whom I had shot\nthrough the cheek, and the enemy ran right in behind us. He got hold of\nmy friend\u2019s horse\u2019s tail and shot him through the back with his revolver\nand he fell right over my horse. I got off my horse, holding my friend\ntight, and one of my friends saw the enemy at this time and shot him.\nThis man who had been shot by my friend got up again as his wound was only\na skin wound. I let go of my dead friend and got off my horse and charged\nat this fellow. Just as I charged at him there were two angry Sioux who\nlaid their coup sticks on him. They went on by him and that left him for\nme to fight. Just as I reached him the enemy was very close behind me.\nThey had shot at me at very close range. I could smell the smoke. He\naimed his gun right at me, but he was so bewildered that he did not fire.\nI took the gun away from him and knocked him down. I got on my horse,\ntaking his gun with me, at which time my horse was shot across the nose,\nbut he kept on going toward my friends. The bullets whizzed around me,\nbewildering me for a moment. At this time it seemed as though the enemy\nwere defeated, but the rest of our band came up at this moment. The enemy\nretreated when they saw our friends, but they pursued us all the way back\nto the Yellowstone. The dead numbered about a hundred in this battle. I\ndid not go back, because my horse was exhausted. I have five more just\nsuch thrilling stories, including the one in which I was wounded.\u201d\n\n [The Swirl of the Warriors]\n\n The Swirl of the Warriors\n\n\n\u201cThe greatest event in my life, leaving behind the story that I have told,\nis to be found at the time the Indians received allotments of land, and\nwere given a home so they could not roam around; and above all, the time\nwhen I found religion and became a Christian. I was baptized and\nconfirmed in the Episcopal Church. I married my wife under the holy bonds\nof matrimony, and am trying to live an upright life. In the roaming life,\nI fought, I took many scalps, and killed many Indians. Now, put alongside\nof that the fact that I live in my own home, own my land, have my own\nfamily, and am a church member. I like the last life better than the\nfirst. In the former life while we lived to ourselves, we were always\nfighting; in the life now we have peace. The one thing now that is\nkilling me off is our mode of life. There is too much confinement;\ninstead of fighting the enemy, I am fighting disease. The white people\nknow about everything, but if they can kill that foul disease,\nconsumption, I shall feel very thankful. As I told you before, I think of\nthe buffalo time, the meat, and the hides, and the desire for it seems\nalmost like a disease, and this is especially true with the old men.\u201d\n\nWhen asked about his belief concerning the Indian\u2019s hereafter, before he\nbecame a Christian, he replied: \u201cThere was no definite Supreme Being that\nwe believed in. There were a great many gods that we had faith in. I\nprayed to my own god; then we all heard that after we died we would meet\nin some good country where we would all be happy. No matter if we had\nlots of gods, we would all meet in that country. Now, while I cannot read\nthe Bible, nor can I understand the Bible, yet we have preachers in our\nown language and they tell us that there is one God, and also His Holy\nSon, and we shall all meet in heaven, and I believe in that. A great many\nof the Sioux are followers like I am, but like a great many other people,\nthere are many who do one thing and feel another. In the old days the sun\nwas my god, the sun was my fathef\u2019s god, and I then thought the sun was my\nfather and the earth was my mother. I sang and danced to the sun; I have\nmy breast and arms tattooed with the sun, and I pierced my body through\noffering sacrifices to the sun. Now I look back upon those old Indian\ncustoms as foolishness. It is like a man coming out of darkness into\nlight. I was then in the dark; I am now going into the valley of light,\nlearning every day.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nFolklore Tales\u2014Sioux\n\n\nPretty Voice Eagle reached the other pole of life when his thoughts went\nback to the time when the old folks gathered around the campfire, and as a\nsmall lad he listened to their oft-repeated stories. \u201cI can hardly\nremember them, but I will tell you a short story: There was a great big\nspider carrying a big roll of straw on his back, and he was running along\nbetween two lakes. There was a great big flock of geese on one of the\nlakes. One of the geese yelled over to the spider: \u2018Spider, where are you\ngoing?\u2019 The spider said: \u2018You hush up now! I have heard there is a camp\nof Indians over here who have returned from a victory with many scalps,\nand they sent for me with my songs. I have them all in the bundle on my\nback, and I am taking them over to them.\u2019 The spider kept on going, and\none of the geese told him: \u2018You stop, and give us one of those songs you\nare taking over there.\u2019 The spider kept on going; said he was in a\nterrible hurry, but he still kept making the circle of the lake; he wanted\nthe geese to yell to him again, which they did, and finally the spider\nyelled over to the geese: \u2018If you want one of my songs, come over here.\u2019\nThe spider made a little booth of straw. He had a little stick and was\nstanding in the door. When the geese came over he told them to go in the\nbooth, and when they did so, he sang a song, and told every one to close\nhis eyes, for every one who opened his eyes would have red eyes. Of\ncourse they all closed their eyes, and he set about knocking them all\ndown. One of the geese happened to open his eyes, and he called out to\nthe other geese: \u2018Open your eyes and fly away; this spider is going to\nkill you all!\u2019 and he flew away. The spider said: \u2018You will have red eyes\nforever!\u2019 And so it is that the duck called hell-diver has red eyes.\u201d\n\nHere is another story: There was a solitary man going along, and he had a\nlot of meat on his back. On his journey he stopped under some trees,\nbuilt a great big fire, and was broiling some of the meat that he was\ncarrying. The branches of two trees standing near got crossed over each\nother and when the wind blew made a squeaking noise. The man looked up to\nthe tree, and said: \u201cMy brothers, you quit fighting up there!\u201d The\ncreaking continued, and he called up to them again to stop their fighting.\nBut it still continued, and he finally said: \u201cI am going to part you two;\nyou must stop fighting.\u201d And he put his hand up between the two branches;\nas he put his hand between them the wind stopped blowing. His hand was\ncaught and he was not able to get away. Just then a wolf passed along,\nand the man saw him and called out to him: \u201cGo on about your business, and\nlet my things alone.\u201d The wolf did not know anything about the broiled\nmeat being there, but when this man called to him, he said to himself:\n\u201cThat man must have something for me,\u201d and he walked over to the broiled\nbeef, took it all, and went his way. After the wolf had gone the wind\nblew again, and the man released his hand, and the squeaking began again.\nThe man cried, and was sorry in his heart, and began trailing the wolf by\nhis tracks. He went on till he came to a body of water, in which he\nplunged. He looked down into the water, and saw the wolf eating his meat.\nHe dove down into the water, and felt all around and was nearly exhausted\nwhen he came out. He then got up in a tree and when the water became\nstill again, there was the wolf down in the water again, so the man got\ndown and tied a rope around his belt, piled some rocks on his side so he\ncould stay down there long enough to get the wolf. During all this time\nthe wolf was on the branch of the tree above him; the reflection of the\nwolf was in the water. When the man got down in the water, the weight of\nthe rocks held him there, and he began to struggle to get out, and just\nbarely succeeded in getting out of the water. Just as he got out of the\nwater, he looked up and saw the wolf on the top of the tree. The man\u2019s\nsides were so filled with stones that he had great difficulty in getting\nup the steep bank, so much so that he could hardly crawl to the top of the\nbank, and as he was struggling to get out, the wolf finished eating the\nmeat, jumped down, and ran away. So ends the story.\n\n\n\n\nThe life of the Indian is complex. To gather up the sixty-eight years of\nthis man\u2019s life means that we round out a problem of infinite dimensions.\nHis cradle lullaby, a war song; his earliest memories, stained with the\nblood of the white man; his unshaken valour on the field of battle; scars\nleft on his soul by the broken treaties of the white man; his devotion to\nthe mysterious gods in the pantheon of Nature; his unrequited lament at\nthe loss of the buffalo; his natural eloquence born from the throne room\nof Nature: his final love of peace and acceptance of the shining face of\nthe Son of Righteousness all lay upon civilization the heavy hand of\ncondemnation.\n\n\n\n\n [Chief White Horse]\n\n Chief White Horse\n\n\nChief White Horse\n\n\n\u201cMy father told me I was born in the Black Hills. Ever since I can\nremember my people have lived on the shores of the Bad River, South\nDakota. While I lived there I saw the white people for the first time\ncoming up the river in the big boats. At this time the buffalo were on\nboth sides of the Missouri River, and there was plenty of game and we were\nall living fat at that time. It was not very long before the fort was\nbuilt at the mouth of the Bad River. My father liked to be with the white\npeople, and we were up at the store a good deal. The fort finally became\na great trading post. The Indians brought in skins of the various\nanimals, such as beaver, wolf, fox, panther, and buffalo. While I was\nstill a young boy I left that section of the country and came further west\nwith the other Indians. I have always tried to live without making any\ntrouble among my own people or with the whites. When I got out among the\nSioux I began to learn some of their wild tricks. I began to learn to\nfight the other Indians. I then went on the warpath, and have been in a\ngood many Indian fights. One fight in particular against the Assinaboines\nI want to mention. In this battle there were about two hundred of us\nSioux. The fight was on the Missouri River. There were charges and\ncountercharges several times. One of the bravest came in advance of the\nothers but he had to retreat. I put two arrows in his back and then\nrushed up and knocked him off his horse with my bow. After I had knocked\nthis man off his horse my own horse ran away with me and ran right into\nthe enemy\u2019s line, dashing in among the foe. They were firing arrows at me\nfrom all sides, and I expected that this was my last day. This was the\ngreatest fight I was ever in, though I have been in many others.\u201d\n\nIt is a long step from the spear to the ploughshare, but the moccasined\nfeet of White Horse soon took the step. Concerning this epoch in his\nlife, he said: \u201cThe most important event in my life was when the\nGovernment began to give annuities to the Indians and we were placed on\nthe reservation. I have always been a leader of the Indians and a chief.\nWhen farming implements were assigned us, and the allotments made, I was\nappointed head farmer over the Indians. I visited the Indians all over my\ndistrict, and tried to get them to till the soil and send their children\nto school. I sent my own boy to school first as an example to the others.\nI sent my children to a nearby school until they were old enough and then\nI was one of the first to send my children to Hampton, Virginia, to\nschool. They all came home and died of consumption. About this time the\nfirst missionary came to our country, and I was one of the first to be\nconverted to the Church. I have since done all I could to bring the other\nIndians into the Church. I went at my own expense down to the place where\nI now live. There were no people living there at the time, and I cut out\nof the woods the logs and built a church in my own home. I had no help.\nThe Indians came there to church, and afterward they named the church the\nWhite Horse Church. After this a settlement was made here by the Indians,\nand finally the Government made a post-office at this place, and they\ncalled it the White Horse post-office. It has since become a sub-agency.\nThe influence thus brought to bear on the Indians had led them to live a\ngood deal as the white man lives. I have my farm now, raise cattle and\nhorses. All I have done for the Government and for the Church I have been\nglad to do, for they have all been kind to me. While other Indians have\nbeen fighting and making trouble for the United States I have never\nparticipated in any of it.\u201d\n\nBefore passing to the folklore tale that fell from the lips of Chief White\nHorse, the attention of the reader is especially directed to the chapter\non Indian Impressions of the last Great Council, where White Horse\ndescribes his feelings and the lessons he learned while riding for the\nfirst time on the iron horse.\n\n\n\n\nFolklore Tales\u2014Yankton Sioux\n\n\n\u201cIn the evenings of my boyhood days my father always told stories. I\nremember that I used to go to sleep while he was telling stories. This is\none of the stories he used to tell: There goes a wolf on a journey. He\ncame upon three buffalo. The wolf said to the buffalo: \u2018My brothers, make\nme as one of you, and we will all live together.\u2019 The buffalo told him:\n\u2018Will you stand the life that we live?\u2019 The wolf said \u2018Yes,\u2019 and they all\ntold him to go a distance off and lie down on his back. The buffalo was\ngoing to make the wolf a buffalo, and he lay down on his back and sides\nand rolled in the dust, and then he got up and shook himself and he then\nmade a plunge for the wolf and stuck his horns in him and threw him in the\nair. Just as he got to the wolf, the wolf jumped aside, and the buffalo\nsaid: \u2018You made me make that hard run for nothing.\u2019 The wolf said: \u2018Try\nagain.\u2019 The buffalo said: \u2018This time you stand up and I will come at you.\u2019\nSo the wolf stood a good ways off. Just as the buffalo reached the wolf,\nthe wolf turned into a buffalo, and they locked horns with each other. And\nthus he became a strong buffalo. He roamed with the buffalo for a while.\nThe other buffalo went off a little way by themselves and grazed on the\ngrass while the wolf-buffalo took the first grass near where he stood.\nWhile he was eating there another wolf came along, and he said to the\nbuffalo: \u2018Make me a buffalo, and we will all be brothers together.\u2019 This\nwolf buffalo then told the wolf to stand just as he had stood before. This\nwolf buffalo lay down on his back and rolled in the dust and went for the\nwolf, and as he was going to strike him he turned back again into a wolf,\nand the two wolves were there together fighting. The wolf buffalo said:\n\u2018I was happy as a buffalo, and was living fat\u2014why did you come around here\nand make me into a wolf again?\u2019 And he began to fight him. And thus the\nstory ends. And this is why the Indians are always fighting each other.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n [Chief Bear Ghost]\n\n Chief Bear Ghost\n\n\nChief Bear Ghost\n\n\nThe great Siouan, or Dakota family, is divided into many different tribes.\nThey are the dislocated remains of the \u201cSeven Great Council Fires.\u201d The\nIndians resent the title of Sioux, meaning \u201cHated Foe,\u201d and prefer the\nword Dakota, which means \u201cLeagued,\u201d or \u201cAllied.\u201d There is the Brule\nSioux, meaning \u201cBurnt Hip\u201d; the Teton, \u201cOn a Land without Trees\u201d; the\nSantee Sioux, \u201cMen Among Leaves,\u201d a forest; the Sisseton Sioux, \u201cMen of\nPrairie Marsh,\u201d and the Yankton Sioux, which means, \u201cAt the End.\u201d Chief\nBear Ghost is a Yankton Sioux. Among the Dakotas the chiefs are\ndistinguished by a name that has either some reference to their abilities,\nhaving signalized themselves on the warpath or in the chase, or it may be\nhanded down from father to son. Chief Bear Ghost bears the hereditary\nname of his father, Mato-wanagi\u2014the ghost of a bear. The Dakotas count\ntheir years by winters, and all their records are called winter counts.\nThey say a man is so many snows old, or that so many snow-seasons have\noccurred since a certain period. Adopting their own phrasing Chief Ghost\nBear is fifty-seven snows old. Custer was not poetical when he gave the\nSioux the name of \u201ccut-throats,\u201d but he may have been true to the\ncharacter and history of these fierce and warlike tribes. We may not\nwonder then that Bear Ghost should say: \u201cThe greatest event in my life was\nthe participation in two great wars. I was on the warpath on the Missouri\nRiver against the Gros Ventres and the Mandans. It was a hard, fierce\nstruggle; we had been facing and shooting each other from early dawn until\nthe sun went down. An Indian near me, an enemy, was shot, and when I went\nafter him my horse was shot, but still I pressed on and struck the enemy\nwith a tomahawk. One of the enemy aimed at me, but I struck him with the\ntomahawk before he could shoot, and when this struggle was over the\nIndians called us men. In other years we came to that same place again.\nTwo enemies were near the camp; they were armed with guns. There were\nseven of the enemy and but two of us. We went right up to the camp. I\nshot one of the enemy and wounded him, and captured one of their horses.\nThen a great number of Indians came out and chased us. They surrounded\nus, shooting all the while, and the horse I had taken from the enemy I\nshot rather than let them have it. And while they were chasing me my\nhorse became exhausted and I had to get off and lead him. I ran into the\ncreek where my enemies were on the banks shooting at me. These two things\nI consider the greatest events in my life, for I expected to die each\ntime. Then I was made head chief of my tribe.\u201d\n\nBefore the police system was established on the reservation, Bear Ghost,\nalong with one other Indian, was detailed by Captain Daugherty to watch\nfor and capture a man who had committed murder. Bear Ghost succeeded in\ncarrying out this commission, and the sheriff was sent for and the\nprisoner turned over to him, but on the way to Bismarck the prisoner\nkilled the sheriff, jumped onto the best horse, and made his escape. Bear\nGhost has often been chosen by his people to represent them at councils\nheld among other tribes. He was also sent to Washington, on matters\npertaining to treaties made years ago. He wears the countenance of a\nRoman senator; he is tall, graceful, and full of dignity, a forceful and\nconvincing speaker, and a compelling advocate of peace.\n\n\n\n\n [Chief Running Fisher]\n\n Chief Running Fisher\n\n\nChief Running Fisher (2)\n\n\nThe story of this war-scarred Gros Ventres veteran emphasizes with double\npathos the many times expressed sentiment of this book that the Indian is\na vanishing race, for he died within two weeks after returning home from\nthe last Great Indian Council. His words, therefore, are deeply\nsignificant: \u201cI feel sad at the thought of not meeting these chiefs again,\nfor I would like to meet them all once more, but I feel pretty sure we\nwill never meet again.\u201d\n\nChief Running Fisher had measured threescore years of life, and for forty\nyears of that time he had averaged a battle for every other year. Battles\nin Canada, battles in the mountains, and battles on the plains. He had\nfought the Sioux, the Blackfeet, the Nez Perce, the Crows, the Shoshones,\nand the Piegans. He said: \u201cI have twenty shots in my body received in\nbattle. I have had my arm broken and wrist sprained. A bullet went right\nthrough one of my arms. In early days I fought with the bow and arrow.\nIn one battle I killed two men, shooting a single arrow through them both.\nThe greatest event of my life occurred when I was shot at the battle of\nBig Spring and left for dead on the field. My friends kept back the enemy\nas long as they could and when they saw that I did not revive they left\nme. I was bleeding from the inside, a coughing of blood out of the throat\nbrought me to. When I came to I found the enemy had departed and I\nfollowed the tracks of my own tribe. Some of my friends were shot and I\ncould see by the blood stains on the snow the path they had taken. I was\nnineteen years of age at this time. It was a long time before I overtook\nthe band. They travelled much faster than I could, but I finally reached\nthe camp and recovered. We had no surgeons and but little care. Every\nIndian had to be his own doctor. I will tell you about another close call\nI had. The event that I am now about to relate is the main thing that\nmakes a chief out of a warrior. We had a fight with the Piegans. One of\nthe Piegans had a gun and a dagger, one in each hand. This Piegan ran at\nme and I ran at him. As we came together I grabbed the Piegan\u2019s gun with\none hand and his dagger with the other and as I warded off his charge, his\ngun was fired, and I took the gun and the dagger away from him. Then my\nfriends rushed to my rescue and killed the Piegan and scalped him.\u201d\n\nTurning from battles and wounds, let this old chieftain recur to his\nboyhood days: \u201cI remember when I was quite a boy the wonderful sun dance.\nIt greatly impressed me. I could not understand it and I asked my father\nabout it and he told me that I could not take part in the sun dance until\nI had earned my title as a warrior. The sun dance is a custom among the\nIndians which seeks to elevate a spirit of honour among men as well as\nwomen. No young woman dare take part in the sun dance unless she is\nvirtuous, for she is sure to be pointed out and put to shame, and if she\ndoes not take part, then suspicion falls upon her and she is likewise put\nto shame. The men emulate the deeds of their fathers in order that they\nmay take part in the sun dance. And thus this wonderful dance becomes a\nschool for patriotism among the tribes and a stimulus to deeds of valour\nas well as an incentive to virtue. I do not think that anything has ever\nmade a stronger impression upon me than the sun dance. It was always held\nin May, a beautiful time of the year, and as we young people watched the\nvarious phases of the dance, both young men and young women desired to do\nright that we might have our share in this wonderful ceremony.\u201d\n\nThis passing allusion to one of the great Indian rites and its influence\nupon Indian character may lead the reader to follow further into this\nweird enactment.\n\nAnother chieftain has been folded in his blanket. The war-bonnet and\nwar-shirt he wears in the picture we made of him were laid beside him in\nhis last sleep, emblems of his last battle and tokens of his final\nconquest.\n\n\n\n\n [Chief Bull Snake]\n\n Chief Bull Snake\n\n\nBull Snake\n\n\nOld Bull Snake, or Snake Bull\u2019s, Indian name is Ear-Ous-Sah-Chee-dups,\nwhich means male snake. Years ago when far from camp he was bitten by a\nrattlesnake. The only companion with him did all within his power to save\nhis friend. The death stupor was coming on, and his companion hurried to\nthe camp with the tidings. His relations rushed to the rescue. He\nfinally recovered and has ever since been called Bull Snake. It is a\nfitting appellation for this grizzled warrior of sixty-eight years. The\nbow and arrow became the plaything of his boyhood days. With it he sought\nthe lair of wild things and shot with glee the buffalo calf; his final\nstrength winging the arrow through the heart of the buffalo bull. Then\ncame the days of the war trail, eager, savage days\u2014days when the hated foe\nwas pursued on foot and the warpath was followed for very love of war.\nThis passion for war led him to the camp of General Crook, where he was\nassigned the task of trailing the hostile Sioux. The further story of\nBull Snake is best told in his own words:\n\n\u201cAt that time I must have been about twenty-three years old. We moved\ndown to the Little Rosebud. I was the first of the scouts to discover the\nSioux who were approaching us. After I reported, I mounted my horse and\nin company with two other scouts went over to locate the Sioux. We found\nten Sioux and began to fight. My companions with both of their horses\nwere killed. Then the battle of the Little Rosebud began. The Sioux and\nCheyennes were all circling about us. General Crook sent for me. The\nentire command was surrounded. I thought it was my last day. I asked to\nbe allowed to make a dash for a weak point in the line, his soldiers to\nfollow. I did this and we broke through. Crook right flanked the enemy\nand won the day. In the counter attack two other Crows were on the ridge\nwith me fighting. I raised my coup stick to strike a Sioux and he shot\nme, hitting my horse and we fell together. I found that I was badly\nwounded and could not stand up. I raised up as far as I could and fired\nthree shots at the Sioux. There the battle ended.\u201d\n\nWar worn, halting on one foot, this savior of Crook\u2019s entire command\npresents a pitiful remnant of Indian valour. Speech more pathetic never\ncame from the lips of any man: \u201cThe greatest thing to me is the education\nof my children. Since I was wounded, about thirty-six years ago, I have\nbeen thinking over my life. My leg has been weak and my heart has been\nsorry. I feel that I have suffered because I have followed my Great\nFather\u2019s order. I am glad I fought for the soldiers, for I think it was\nthe right thing to do. Because of my wounded leg I am not able to work;\nsometimes I nearly starve, and yet I feel that I did the right thing.\nWill you be kind enough to see that I get my pension? I need it!\u201d Be kind\nenough? Let the Government make answer in gratitude to the sagacious\nbravery of a red man bearing through life his daily burden of pain and the\ngreater suffering of an unrequited heart who gloriously met the test of\nsacrifice.\n\n\n\n\n [Mountain Chief]\n\n Mountain Chief\n\n\nMountain Chief\n\n\nOmaq-kat-tsa, carrying with it the meaning of Big Brave, is a name\neminently fitting to Mountain Chief. The nobility of his presence, the\nRoman cast of his face, the keen penetration of his eye, the breadth of\nhis shoulders, the dignity with which he wears the sixty-seven years of\nhis life, all conspire to make this hereditary chief of the Fast Buffalo\nHorse band of the Blackfeet preeminent among the Indians and eminent among\nany class of men. He wears his hair on the left side in two braids; on\nthe right side he wears one braid, and where the other braid should be,\nthe hair hangs in long, loose black folds. He is very demonstrative. He\nacts out in pantomime all that he says. He carries a tin whistle pendent\nto his necklace. First he is whistling, again he is singing, then he is\non his hands and knees on the ground pawing up the dust like a buffalo\nwhen he is angry. His gestures are violent and his speech is guttural,\nlike the sputtering of water from an exhaust. He sings a war song of his\nown composition and you can hear him for a mile. When asked to tell a\nstory of his boyhood days he said that rather than tell such a story he\nwould prefer to describe the management of the camp under the two great\nchiefs; his father, Mountain Chief, and Chief Lame Bull. These two men\nsigned the treaty between the United States and the Blackfoot tribe,\ntogether with other tribes, in 1855, when Franklin Pierce was President.\nThe historic information vouchsafed by Mountain Chief regarding the\nconduct of an Indian camp, their manner and method of hunting buffalo, and\nthe purposes to which they put the buffalo, has never before been put in\ntype:\n\n\u201cI remember the different chiefs in the camp when I was a boy, and how\nthey governed the camp. My father, Mountain Chief, and his chum, Chief\nLame Bull, were living in the same tepee. They each had a medicine pipe.\nThese two chiefs made the plans before they moved the camp. After the\nplans were made, they took their medicine pipes and placed them against\nthe rear side of the tepee. That indicated that the camp was going to\nremain for another day. The women of the camp were sent around by the\nvarious warriors to note the position of the pipes so they could tell what\nthe plans were. When they came back, they told their husbands the pipes\nwere in the rear of the tepee; then the husbands would say: \u2018The camp is\ngoing to remain for another day.\u2019 Then the chiefs sent for Four Bear, who\nasked certain Indians to go around and tell the people that the camp would\nremain for another day. Then Four Bear went toward the camp from the\nsunrise and walked around the camp toward the sunset. Then the Indians\ntold their wives and children to keep still, and see what was going to be\nsaid. Four Bear would then tell the people that the camp would remain\nanother day and to tell their wives to go after wood. Then the women took\nthe travois and went after wood. Then the chiefs sent for the leaders and\nwarriors; we called them \u2018crazy dogs.\u2019 The leaders of the crazy dogs came\ninto the tepee of Mountain Chief and Lame Bull, and my father, Mountain\nChief, told these two crazy dogs to start before sunrise, and to take with\nthem the other crazy dogs to find where there was a lot of good fresh\nwater, and a lot of grass where they might camp, and also where they might\nfind the nearest herd of buffalo. The crazy dogs found a good place where\nthere was plenty of buffalo and water, and then they marked the camp.\nWhen these crazy dogs found a location for the camp they were fortunate\nenough to find a big herd of buffalo. On their return, before they\nreached the camp they began to sing a crazy dog song, riding abreast. It\nmeans: \u2018A song to sharpen your knife, and patch up your stomach, for you\nare going to have something good to eat.\u2019 They made a circle, coming to\ncamp from the sunrise, and moved toward the sunset, and then the leaders\ntold the camp they had seen lots of buffalo. Then they dismounted and\nwent home. After the crazy dogs had had their meal, they went over to the\ntepee of the chiefs; then they told the chiefs they had found a good\ncamping place, good ground, good water, and a big herd of buffalo just\nbeyond. The crazy dogs had their smoke, it was late when they went home,\nand then they sent for Four Bear. Four Bear went to the camp, told the\npeople concerning their new camp, and the next morning the women took the\nmedicine pipes and put them at the side of the tepee looking toward the\ndirection where they were going to camp. Husbands told their wives to go\nout and see on which side of the tepee the medicine pipes were placed,\nthat they might know where they were going. Then the wives came in and\ntold them that the medicine pipes pointed in a northerly direction. The\nhusbands told the wives that the camp was going to move north. The camp\nbroke up that very morning. The chiefs and their wives sat by their\ntepees in a half circle, smoking while the camp was being broken up.\nAfter the chiefs were through smoking, they got up, and found the camp\nready to move. They got a lot of mixed tobacco ready, and then they got\non their horses. The chiefs started out in procession. After going some\ndistance they halted; the crazy dogs followed, standing on each side,\nwatching the movement of the camp to see that everybody was out. After\neverybody had left the camp, the chiefs followed the procession. When\nthey thought it was noon they made a halt. They took their travois and\nsaddles from the horses, and rested; then had their lunch. The chiefs\nthen told Four Bear to get the camp in traveling shape again, and went on.\nFinally they came to the spot where the camping place was marked. They\nthen took the medicine pipes and put them on a tripod, and the warriors\ncame and sat around and smoked. Four Bear was then told to get the people\nsettled, to tie up the buffalo horses, and get ready for the hunt. Four\nBear then told the people not to get a meal but to get a little lunch, and\nget ready for the hunt. Then the chiefs started out for the buffalo, the\nhunters following. They stopped halfway before they got to the herd, and\ntold all the hunters not to start for the buffalo until they were all\nready and everybody had a fair chance. In the meantime one of the Indians\nsneaked away to crawl up toward the buffalo. Then this fellow chased the\nbuffalo, and the crazy dogs took after him. When they got him, they broke\nhis gun, his arrows and bow, broke his knife, cut his horse\u2019s tail off,\ntore off his clothes, broke his saddle in pieces, tore his robe in pieces,\ncut his rope into small bits, also his whip. Then they sent him off\nafoot. About that time the buffalo had stopped again, then the main body\ngot on their horses, and started the chase. If a hunter hit a buffalo\nwith one arrow, he gave a scream, and that indicated that he had hit him\njust once. There were very few guns in those days and those were\nflint-locks. Sometimes when a hunter rode side by side with a buffalo,\nand shot the animal, the arrow would go clear through. The Indians were\nvery proud and careful of their arrows. They did not wish to break them.\nThat is the reason why they shot them on the side, so that when the\nbuffalo fell the arrow would not be broken. Lots of the buffalo fell on\ntheir knees, and would begin to move from side to side. Then the Indian,\nfor fear that the arrow would be broken, jumped off his horse and pulled\nit out. The hunter then tied his horse to the horns of the buffalo for\nfear that he might be attacked by enemies at any moment. After this they\ntook out their knives and sharpened them on hard steel, like the flint\nwith which they made fire. All the time they were sharpening their knives\nthey were looking around for the approach of the enemy. The fire steel\nwas scarce, we had to use rocks most of the time. The knives we procured\nfrom the Hudson Bay Company. When we killed a buffalo bull, we placed him\non his knees, then we began to skin him down the back of the neck, down\nthe backbone, splitting it on each side. The cows we laid on their backs,\nand cut down the middle. We used the buffalo cowhide for buffalo robes;\nthe buffalo bulls\u2019 hides were split down the back because from this hide\nwe made war shields, parflesche bags, and saddle blankets. The husbands\nwould tell the wives to take care of the heads. The wives took the brains\nout of the buffalo skull and mixed them with the largest part of the\nliver, and after mixing well, used the brains and liver in tanning the\nhides. Then the wife was told to take out the tripe and skin it, for they\nused the skin as a bucket with which to carry water when they got home.\nThey had strips of rawhide about three feet long and a quarter of an inch\nwide and tied the meat so that they could carry it home on the horses.\nThey took the backbone after it had been cleaned of the flesh, and tied\nthe meat to that and threw it over the back of the horse so that the load\nwould not hurt the back of the horse. When we got home with the meat we\nunloaded. The men who had gone without their wives simply got off their\nhorses and went into the tepee. The women rushed out to get the meat.\nThen the women took the horse with the meat on it to their father-in-law.\nThen the mother-in-law hurried to get the meal, taking the ribs of the\nbuffalo, setting them up against the fire to roast. After the meat was\ncooked it was cut in slices and placed in a wooden bowl, and the\nmother-in-law took the meat over to the lodge of her son-in-law. That was\nall we had for our meal. We had no coffee or anything else to eat, but we\nmade a good meal from the meat of the buffalo. Then the son-in-law said\nto his wife: Your mother has been feeding me all the time, now you go out\nand catch that mare and give it to her as a present. There was plenty of\nmeat in the camp and then we boys would go out and play buffalo. We would\ntake a long piece of rawhide, fasten a piece of meat to it, and one of us\nwould drag it along while the others fired arrows into it\u2014the arrows we\nused for killing squirrels and birds. When we chased the boy dragging the\npiece of meat he would stop after we overtook him, and paw the dust and\nwould imitate the buffalo bull, and pick up the piece of meat and swing it\nround his head, all the while we were trying to shoot arrows into it. But\nsometimes in the swinging of the meat with the arrows in it a boy would\nget hit, and then he would run back and fall down, and we would run back\nto him and say that he had been hooked. He would be groaning all the\ntime. Then we would pick up weeds and squeeze the juice out of them,\nacting as though we were doctors. About that time night came on, and the\nchiefs sent for Four Bear, and Four Bear would go around and tell the\npeople that the grass in that camp was pretty well taken up. The next\nmorning the women would take their medicine pipes and put them on the\nside, indicating where the next camp was going to be, and thus we went on\nfrom camp to camp.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe years have passed on, and now the old warriors and myself get\ntogether and talk about the old buffalo days, and we feel very lonesome.\nWe talk over the camping places, and the old days of the chase, and the\nevents of those times, and we feel glad again. When we think of the old\ntimes we think also of the white man for it was their arms that made the\nbuffalo extinct. If the Indians had had nothing but arrows, the buffalo\nwould be left to-day. We blame the Government again, for they told the\nagents not to sell ammunition to the Indians, and they sold this\nammunition on the sly. This was done so that the Indians could get the\nhides for the traders.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe greatest event in my life was in the war of the Black-feet against\nthe Crees, at Hope Up, Canada. My horse and myself were both covered with\nblood. Let me tell you about this battle. The war was between the\nBlackfeet and the Crees. The camp was on Old Man\u2019s River. The bands were\nso many that they were camped on every bend of the river. My father,\nMountain Chief, was at the upper end of the camp. I was twenty-two years\nold at the time. It was in the fall of the year, and the leaves had all\nfallen. The lower camp was attacked by the Crees at night. The people\nwere just getting up in the morning when the news came that the lower camp\nhad been attacked by the Crees. I got my best horse; it was a gray horse.\nMy father led his band in company with Big Lake who that summer had been\nelected a big chief. We rode up over the ridge while in the plain below\nthe battle was raging. As we rode down the hill slope, I began to sing my\nwar song. I carried the shield in my hand and this song that I sung\nbelonged to that shield. One of the medicine men dreamed that whoever\nheld this shield would not be hit by the bullets. While singing I put in\nthe words: \u2018My body will be lying on the plains.\u2019 When I reached the line\nof battle I did not stop, but rode right in among the Crees, and they were\nshooting at me from behind and in front. When I rode back the same way\nthe men made a break for the coulee. As soon as the men got into the\ncoulee they dug a pit. I was lying about ten yards away on the side of\nthe hill. I was singing while lying there. I could not hear on account\nof the roar of the guns, and could not see for the smoke. About that time\nthey heard my whistle, and the Crees made a break for the river. Then the\nBlackfeet made an onrush for the Crees and I ran over two of them before\nthey got to the river. As they were crossing the river I jumped off my\nhorse and took my spear and stabbed one of the Crees between the\nshoulders. He had a spear and I took that away from him. I jumped off my\nhorse again, and just as I returned there was a Cree who raised his gun to\nfire at me. I ran over him, and he jumped up and grabbed my horse by the\nbridle. I swung my horse\u2019s head around to protect myself and took the\nbutt of my whip and knocked him down. When I struck him he looked at me\nand I found that his nose had been cut off. I heard afterward that a bear\nhad bitten his nose off. After I knocked him down, I killed him. I\njumped on my horse and just then I met another Cree. We had a fight on\nour horses; he shot at me and I shot at him. When we got close together I\ntook his arrows away from him, and he grabbed me by the hair of the head.\nI saw him reach for his dagger, and just then we clinched. My war-bonnet\nhad worked down on my neck, and when he struck at me with his dagger it\nstruck the war-bonnet, and I looked down and saw the handle sticking out,\nand grabbed it and killed the other Indian. Then we rushed the Crees into\nthe pit again, and my father came up with one of the old muskets and\nhanded it to me. It had seven balls in it, and when I fired it it kicked\nso hard it almost killed me. I feel that I had a more narrow escape by\nshooting that gun than I had with the Indians. When we returned I had\ntaken nine different scalps. The Crees who had not been scalped had taken\nrefuge in the scant forest, and my father said to quit and go home. So we\ntook pity on the tribe, and let them go, so they could tell the story. I\nremember that we killed over three hundred, and many more that I cannot\nremember. When we returned we began to count how many we had killed. We\ncrossed the creek and went to the pit, and they were all in a pile. Then\nwe were all singing around the pit, and I put in the words, \u2018The guns,\nthey hear me.\u2019 And everybody turned and looked at me, and I was a great\nman after that battle. Then we went home and began to talk about the\nbattle, and the Indians who were dead. There never was any peace between\nthe Crees and the Black-feet; they were always bitter enemies. When the\nbattle began, the leader of the Crees came right up to our tepee and slit\nit, and said: \u2018You people are sleeping yet, and I came,\u2019 I fired a gun\nand killed him. The Crees took their knives and slit the tepees of our\nvillage down the sides and then rushed in. When the Crees rushed into the\ntepees they took everything they could lay their hands on, killing the\nwomen and children, and that made me mad. That was why I fought so hard\nthat day.\u201d\n\n [War Memories]\n\n War Memories\n\n\n\n\nMountain Chief\u2019s Boyhood Sports\n\n\n\u201cI remember when I was a boy how we used to trap foxes. We all got\ntogether and took our sisters along, took the axe, went into the woods and\ncut willows, tied them up in bundles, and put them on our backs, our\nsisters doing the same thing. We would go to the east of the camp, where\nthe smoke and all of the scent would go, find a snowdrift in the coulee\nand unload our packs. The first thing we did was to stamp on the snow\u2014to\nsee if it was solid. We would drive four sticks into the snow, and while\ndriving in the sticks we would sing: \u2018I want to catch the leader.\u2019 The\nsong is a fox song to bring good luck. As far as I can remember I got\nthis story from my grandfather. There was an old man in the camp who went\nto the mountains, and stayed there for four days without anything to eat\nin order that he might get his dream. A fox came to him and told him:\n\u2018This is one way you can kill us,\u2019 and this is why we put in this song\nwhile we were making the deadfall. After we got through fixing up our\ndeadfall we returned home, a boy in the lead, then a girl, then a boy,\nthen a girl, and while we were returning to the camp we sang the fox song,\nputting in these words: \u2018I want to kill the leader.\u2019 Then we fell down,\nimitating the fox in the trap. When we got back to camp we took buffalo\nmeat, covering it with fat and roasted it a while so that the fox would\nget the scent. Then we took the bait and put it on a stick and put it\nover our left arm, and then the boys and girls all went back again,\nsinging as we went; \u2018We hope to have good luck.\u2019 This song was a\ngood-luck song. After we put the bait in the trap we all went home\nsilently, not saying a word. But before we went to bed my mother said to\nme: \u2018I am going to get a piece of dried beef without any fat, and you take\nit over to the old man who always has good luck in trapping foxes, and he\nwill pray for you that you may have good luck.\u2019 When the dried meat was\ndone, I took it over to the old man, gave it to him, and asked him to pray\nfor me that I might have good luck. The old fellow would then start to\nsay his prayers for me. The old man to whom he prayed was the old man\nthat dreamed how to kill the fox. The old man told me to pick up four\nstones about five inches long, and tie them with a string. He tied a\nstone on each wrist, one behind my neck, and one at the back of my belt.\nThen he took charcoal and blackened my nose on each side to represent the\nfox, then he made me take off my clothes; he took a stick about five feet\nlong and held it in an inclined position. The old man then took two\nsticks and hit them together, and stood right by the door singing. He\ntold me to whistle; then he walked toward the point where he had held the\nsticks. He then lay down by the stick and began to scratch on the ground\nas though he were caught in a trap. Then he said: \u2018You are going to catch\none now.\u2019 By this time it was pretty late in the night. We gave a signal\nto the other boys and girls to come out and we all went to see our traps.\nI had a robe made out of a yearling calfskin that I threw over me, and I\nalso had a rope my mother gave me with which to drag the foxes home if I\ncaught any. Then we went to our traps, following the same path as we did\nwhen we went to set the trap with bait. As we went along we filled the\nnight with song, singing: \u2018The fox is in a trap, and his tail is sticking\nout.\u2019 When we got near the traps we stopped singing, and one of us went\non ahead. The leader who went ahead walked straight to our trap, when he\nreturned he whistled; then we knew that some of us had caught something.\nWhen he came back he pointed out certain ones who had caught foxes. Then\nwe lifted our deadfalls, slipped the ropes over them, and dragged them\nhome. As we approached the camp we formed in line abreast, and began to\nsing. When we reached the camp every one was in bed. We sang the song\nwhich indicated that we had caught something; then we imitated the cry of\nthe crow and the magpie, which indicated that we had had extra good luck.\nIf we imitated the hooting of an owl, it showed that we had had bad luck,\nand none of us had caught anything. We were always anxious to catch some\nwild game, because we sold the skins to the traders, and with the money we\nbought knives and brass earrings and beads and paint.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n [Chief Red Cloud]\n\n Chief Red Cloud\n\n\nChief Red Cloud\n\n\nChief Red Cloud, head chief of the Ogallallas, was without doubt the most\nnoted and famous chief at the time of his death, December, 1909, in the\nUnited States. He became famous through his untiring efforts in\nopposition to everything the Government attempted to do in the matter of\nthe pacification of the Sioux. One of the most lurid pages in the history\nof Indian warfare records the massacre at Fort Phil Kearny, in December,\n1866. Chief Red Cloud planned and executed this terrific onslaught. He\nalways remained a chief. He was always the head of the restless element,\nalways the fearless and undaunted leader. He was the Marshal Ney of the\nIndian nations, until sickness and old age sapped his vitality and\nambition.\n\nThe holding of the last Great Indian Council occurred a little less than\ntwo months before his death. Blind and bedridden he could not attend the\ncouncil. During the last few shattered years of his warrior life, he\nrelegated all the powers of chieftainship to his son, now fifty-four years\nof age. The younger Chief Red Cloud attended the council. He is tall and\nstraight and lithe, and possesses a splendid military bearing. He is a\nwinsome speaker, and his words are weighted with the gold of Nature\u2019s\neloquence. Every attitude of his body carries the charm of consummate\ngrace, and when he talks to you there is a byplay of changing lights in\nhis face that becomes fascinating. Like his father he was a born leader\nand warrior. His story of the Custer fight and his participation in it\nmay be found in the chapter on that subject. Regarding his own life he\ntells us:\n\n\u201cIt has been a part of my life to go out on the warpath, ever since I was\nfourteen years old. As you know it is a part of our history that the man\nwho goes on the warpath and kills the most enemies gets a coup stick, and\nthe coup stick is the stepping-stone to become a chief. I remember my\nfirst war party was forty-one years ago. This battle was at Pryor Creek\nagainst the Crows. I was in four great battles, with my father, Chief Red\nCloud. At the battle of Pryor Creek I captured many horses, and took\nthree scalps. Thirty-four years ago I killed four Crows and earned my\ncoup stick. I kept these scalps until my visit to Washington when some\nwhite man wanted them.\u201d\n\n\u201cI want to speak about the buffalo. There were plenty of buffalo and deer\nwhen I was a young man, but the white man came and frightened all the game\naway, and I blame the white man for it. By order of our Great Father in\nWashington the buffalo were all killed. By this means they sought to get\nthe Sioux Indians back to their reservation.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe greatest event in my life I may explain in this way: Years ago I had\nbeen trained to go on the warpath. I loved to fight; I was fighting the\nIndians and fighting the soldiers. Then there came a time when the Great\nFather said we must stop fighting and go to school, we must live in peace,\nthat we were Indian brothers, and must live in peace with the white man.\nI believe that the greatest event in my life was when I stopped the old\nIndian custom of fighting and adopted what the white man told me to\ndo\u2014live in peace.\u201d\n\nThe hoar frosts of autumn had touched into opal and orange the leaves of\nthe forest until great banners of colour lined the banks of the swiftly\nflowing Little Big Horn; the camp of the last Great Indian Council lifted\ncones of white on the edge of these radiant trees. Sombre winds uttered a\nmelancholy note through the dying reeds on the river bank, and all of it\nseemed a prelude to an opening grave, and significant of the closing words\nuttered to me by Chief Red Cloud:\n\n\u201cMy father, old Chief Red Cloud, has been a great fighter against the\nIndians, and against the white man, but he learned years ago to give up\nhis fighting. He is now an old man, ready to die, and I am sorry that he\ncould not come here. It is now over five years since he gave me his power\nand I became chief, and he and I both are glad that we are friends to the\nwhite man and want to live in peace.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n [Chief Two Moons]\n\n Chief Two Moons\n\n\nChief Two Moons\n\n\nChief Two Moons wears about his neck an immense cluster of bear claws.\nHis arms are also encircled with this same insignia of distinction.\nAlthough he has reached the age of nearly threescore years and ten, his\nframe is massive and his posture, when standing, typifies the forest oak.\nIt takes no conjuring of the imagination to picture this stalwart leader\nof the Cheyennes against Custer on that fateful June day, as suffering no\nloss in comparison with the great generals who led the Roman eagles to\nvictory. Two Moons is now nearly blind; he carries his coup stick,\ncovered with a wolfskin, both as a guide for his footsteps and a badge of\nhonour. There is not a tinge of gray in the ample folds of his hair, and\nhis voice is resonant and strong. His story of the Custer fight, told for\nme at the cross marking the spot where Custer fell, to be found in the\nIndians\u2019 story of that battle, is both thrilling and informing.\n\n [Here Custer Fell]\n\n Here Custer Fell\n\n\nSeated around the campfire in my tepee while a cold rain sifted through\nthe canvas, Two Moons became reminiscent. His mother and brother were\ncalled Two Moons, meaning two months\u2014in the Indian tongue, Ish-hay-nishus.\nHis mind seemed to travel back to his boyhood days, for he started right\nin by saying: \u201cWhen a Cheyenne boy wants to marry a young woman it takes a\nlong time for them to get acquainted with each other. When he wants to\nmarry a girl or have her for a sweetheart he tells another fellow with\nwhom he is acquainted, and who is also acquainted with the girl, and this\nyoung man goes and tells her, the same as a white man writes to the young\nlady on paper. And this Indian friend brings them together; this Indian\ngoes and tells the girl that the boy wants to be a sweetheart to her, and\nthe girl will say, \u2018Well, I will think it over.\u2019 And then she thinks it\nover, and finally says if he comes to see her some time in the day or\nnight then she will believe that he is a sweetheart of hers. So then the\nyoung man goes to the young girl, and talks to her, and they make up their\nminds to get married. They get married after this fashion: the young man\nmay go to the tent of the girl at night and the girl may come out, then\nthe boy will take the girl away to his home. So then the next morning the\nyoung man\u2019s folks and family bring their presents. They take two or three\nhorses, good horses, and load these horses up with good stuff, clothes,\nshawls, necklaces, bracelets, and moccasins. Then they take the girl back\nto her home. The girl\u2019s family divides up the presents after they get\nhome.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is another way: When an old man and woman decide they want a\ngrandchild, they tell their son they are going to buy a certain girl and\nhe must marry her. Then another Indian goes and tells the girl\u2019s family\nthat they would like to trade for the girl, and if it is all right he goes\nback and the boy\u2019s people load up some horses with goods, and take them\nover to the girl\u2019s folks. And then they take her back and give her to the\nboy\u2019s family. The bride was bedecked with brass rings which were taken\nfrom the tepee, but they used other rings for engagement rings after the\nwhite man came.\u201d\n\nIn speaking of death, Two Moons said: \u201cIf the person who dies has a mother\nor father or friend, they all cry, and all the things that belonged to the\nboy they give away to other people. They dig a grave in between the rocks\nand put the body in the ground and cover it up with dirt and rocks. They\nalways dig a grave for a person who dies whether they have friends or\nfolks. The old people believed there was a man came on earth here and\nsome of his children had done a lot of crime and fooling with him, and\nthey talked of his going up to heaven, and living there and looking down,\nand that is where we will all go when we die. Also the old people\nbelieved that that man said: \u2018There will be a kind of cross light up in\nthe sky, which will mark the path for souls on the road.\u2019 \u2018High White Man\u2019\nis our name for God. And it was the son of High White Man who told this,\nand who created us and made everything.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe first time the Indian saw a locomotive, he called it the Iron Horse,\nand the railroad was called the Iron Road. The old people first saw what\nthey called white men, and they called the white man a Ground Man. I was\nso young then that I did not know anything at that time. I saw some men\ndriving an ox team, or carrying packs on their backs and walking. When I\ngot older most of the people knew that these white men were good. The\nfirst time they saw a white man they called him Drive-a-Wagon. They did\nnot know what they were hauling, but found out afterward that it was sugar\nand coffee. I remember how pleased I was when I first saw sugar and\ncoffee. When I was a boy the Indians used to get the grains of coffee and\nput it in a bucket and boil it, and it would never cook at all. Finally a\nwhite man came along and took the coffee and put it in a bucket and put it\non the coals without any water, and stirred it until it turned brown, and\nthen he took it off and mashed it up between two stones, and that was how\nwe learned to make coffee. I like it, and have always liked it.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe white man is to blame for the driving away of the buffalo.\u201d (It will\nhere be observed that the Indian cannot talk very long at a time without\nthis ever recurring subject being forced to the front.) \u201cAfter the white\nman had driven the buffalo away, a great council among the Indians was\nheld; all the tribes possible were called to this big council on the\nPlatte River. All the different tribes were there. A white man came\nthere and brought a lot of stuff, such as clothes, plates, guns, coffee\ngrinders, knives, blankets, and food, and gave them to the Indians. They\nalso brought shoes. This man said that he wanted some Indians to go to\nWashington. They went down the Missouri River. They went by ox team from\nthe Platte River to the Missouri, and then by ship down the Missouri\nRiver. These men were gone to Washington for a year; they came back about\nthe middle of the summer. The President told the Indians they were his\ngrandchildren, and thus the Indians called the President their\ngrandfather. Grandfather told them that a white man would come and live\nwith them, and that for fifty-five years they would get clothes and food.\nI was nine years old when they held the council and ten years old when\nthey came back. From the time of the council the old people settled down\nin the Black Hills and in the south and quit running around. From that\ntime all the Indians became friends of the white man, and the white man\nbought the buffalo hides and other skins. After they settled down\neverything went along all right until I was fifteen years old, and then\nthe whites came in and there was a fight between the whites and Cheyennes\nand some other tribes of Indians. I do not know what happened, but some\nCheyennes went over to the white man\u2019s camp on Shell River, and the white\nmen started to fire at the Indians. That was the cause of the trouble\nthat year. Later the Comanches and Apaches and Kiowas fought among\nthemselves, and came north to fight the Cheyennes. We called them the\nTexas Indians. Then the wars between the tribes and the hostilities\nbetween the Red and White grew less and less. There was a man named\nHoney;\u2014the Indians called him Bee\u2014he told the Cheyennes they must not\nfight. In the numerous battles in which I was engaged I received many\nwounds. I was wounded by the Pawnee Indians in a fight with them, by an\narrow; wounded again at Elk River in the Yellowstone, when I was shot\nthrough the arm by a Crow of the Big Horn. I was wounded again on the\nCrow River in Utah in a fight with the United States soldiers, when I was\nshot through the thigh. I had my horse shot through the jaw in a fight\nwith the Crows, but to-day I am a friend of all the tribes; once I was\ntheir enemy. I was told by General Miles at Fort Kearny that we must not\nfight any more, that it was the orders from Washington. I remember\nGeneral Miles well. I know him and I am a friend of his. When General\nMiles told me what I ought to do, it was just as though he put me in his\nhand and showed me the white man and the Indian, and told us we were all\nto be good friends, so that is the reason General Miles\u2019 name is a great\nname among the Cheyennes as well as the whites. And your coming among us\nis just like General Miles; you are helping the Indians and can help them.\nThey need help for they are all poor. After the Indians settled down and\nGeneral Miles had told us what the Great Father at Washington wanted, and\nafter I had succeeded in settling the Indians, the order came from\nWashington that we should take up land and call it a claim. So I looked\nall around for land on which to settle; then I went over to Tongue River\non the Rosebud so that my family and children could be reared and have a\nhome. All that I have told you is true. General Miles told me that when\nI settled down and took this land, there might be some people who would\ncome along and try to cheat us out of our land, but not to pay any\nattention to them, that it was our land. There are a great many people\nsettled in Montana in the land that belonged to the Indians. These people\nare raising lots of cattle and ought to be good to the Indian. I have\nbeen on this land for over twenty years, but we are not yet accustomed to\nthe white man\u2019s food: we love the meat yet, and we long for the buffalo.\nThere is a great deal of land leased by cattle men in Montana, and the\nmoney ought to go to buy more cattle for the Indian, and clothes for our\nchildren. I like to tell the truth just as I have seen it with my own\neyes, and I will have another good story for you to-morrow night. I am\ngetting old, but when I begin to talk about the old times I think I am\nyoung again, and that I am the biggest of them all.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n\n [Custer Scouts]\n\n Custer Scouts\n\n\nTHE STORY OF THE SURVIVING CUSTER SCOUTS\n\n\nToo little stress has been laid upon the values accruing to the safety and\nsuccess of the United States troops, in their warfare on the western\nfrontier, from the services of Indian scouts.\n\nA wild and often inaccessible country to traverse, with none of the aids\nof electricity or modern travel; with difficult mountain ranges to climb,\nblinding blizzards and insufferable cold, blistering heat, and the hazards\nof unknown rivers to cross through banks of perilous quicksands;\nstupendous distances to travel, and all the time an alert, wily, and\nmasterful foe lurking in any one of ten thousand impregnable coverts\u2014this\nis a hint of the scout\u2019s life. These brave and tireless scouts led not to\nambush but to the advantage of our men at arms. Estimate the bravery, the\nsagacity, the perseverance, the power of endurance displayed by these\nIndian scouts, and their superlative service will call for our patriotic\ngratitude. No trial of strength and endurance, no test of bravery, no\naudacity of peril, hindered or made them afraid. They were more important\nthan guns and munitions of war. The Crows made the best scouts, for two\nreasons: They had never taken up arms against the whites; all the\nneighbouring tribes battled against the Crows for the conquest of their\nland. The Crow scouts, therefore, aided the United States soldiers to\nconquer and drive out their hereditary foes that they might preserve their\nland and their homes. It was therefore not only a fight of fidelity and\nfealty but of preservation\u2014Nature\u2019s strongest law.\n\nOur story is now concerned with the four surviving scouts who led the\nUnited States soldiers in many campaigns under Crook, Terry, Miles,\nHoward, and finally Custer. The Indians who piloted Long Hair to the\ngreat Sioux camp in the valley of the Little Big Horn\u2014the last day of life\nfor Custer, the last contest at arms for the Indians\u2014are now old men, and\ntheir own life record is full of thrilling interest.\n\n\n\n\n [White Man Runs Him\u2014Custer Scout]\n\n White Man Runs Him\u2014Custer Scout\n\n\nWhite-Man-Runs-Him\n\n\nThis red man of the plains is a veritable Apollo Belvedere. He is\npronounced by all ethnologists as possessing a physique hardly paralleled\nby any of the northern tribes. He fulfills in his life the nobility of\nhis stature. At the age of sixty-five, his figure, seventy-four inches in\nheight, stands unbent\u2014supple and graceful. His whole aspect is that of\nquiet dignity, his voice is soft and musical, his eye is keen and\npenetrating; modestly and earnestly he describes his share in the Custer\nfight. He was trustworthy to the point of death. Very many times the\nsafety of an entire command depended upon his caution and sagacity. He\nserved as scout under Terry, Crook, and Custer.\n\nWhile telling his story he stood upright, lifted his hands full length,\nwhich among the Crows signified an oath, meaning that he would tell the\ntruth. His Indian boyhood name was Be-Shay-es-chay-e-coo-sis, \u201cWhite\nBuffalo That Turns Around.\u201d When he was about ten years of age his\ngrandfather named him after an event in his own father\u2019s life. A white\nman pursued his father, firing his gun above his father\u2019s head in order to\nmake him run. And he was afterward called \u201cWhite-Man-Runs-Him.\u201d\n\nRegarding his boyhood days he tells us: \u201cUntil I was fifteen years of age,\ntogether with my boy playmates, we trained with bows and arrows. We\nlearned to shoot buffalo calves, and this practice gave us training for\nthe warpath. It answered two purposes: protection and support. We were\nalso taught the management of horses. We early learned how to ride well.\nWhen the camp moved we boys waited and walked to the new camp for\nexercise, or we hunted on the way. We felt brave enough to meet anything.\nThus it was that we roamed over the hills, and climbed the rocks in search\nof game, but we were sure to arrive at the camp just in time for the meal\nwhich had been prepared by the squaws. If on our way to the camp we came\nacross game, such as a rabbit, we shot it with our arrows, broiled it and\nate it for fun. When we got to the new camp we would all praise one boy\nfor some deed that he had performed on the way, and then we would sing and\ndance. That boy\u2019s folks would give all us boys a dish of pemmican for the\ngood deed he had performed. The little girls had small tepees. They\npractised cooking, learning from the older women. These girls would serve\ndelicacies to us, and we would sing and dance around their tepee.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhen we were quite small boys we would go out hunting horses, and bring\nback a dog and call it a horse. When we made a new camp we seldom stayed\nmore than ten days. In that way our health was sustained by travel.\nWhile we were on the move from one camp to another, we had to cross wide\nstreams. We boys would measure the width of the river, and compete with\neach other to see who could swim across without stopping. I am telling\nyou now what I did to build myself up to be the man I am now. The boys\nwho were the same age and size as myself would wrestle, and if a boy\ndowned me three or four times, I kept up the practice of wrestling until I\nhad more strength. Then I could throw this boy and I was satisfied. I\nselected a boy to run a race; if the boy passed me, then I made the\ndistance longer, and if he passed me again, I made the distance still\nlonger, for I knew that I was long-winded. Then I won the race.\u201d\n\n\u201cFifteen or twenty of us boys would go out to the river, and daub\nourselves up with mud and so disguise ourselves that no one in the camp\nwould know us. Then we would take jerked buffalo beef that the women had\nhung up around the camp to dry and go off out of sight and have a feast.\nNone of us was caught at it, because they could not tell one boy from\nanother. During this time I watched what old people did. When I came to\ngrow up, I went forth equipped. I always had an amibition to do more than\nthe best man in the camp could do. When I went on the chase, I made up my\nmind that I would bring home a buffalo or I would not go home. And my\nfolks rejoiced, believing that they had a good boy to help support the\nfamily.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe were surrounded by many different tribes, Shoshones, Sioux, Piegans,\nand Gros Ventres. They were all our enemies. We often went on the\nwarpath against these people, because they were always trying to take our\nhorses and conquer our land. When we went on the warpath sometimes we\nwould stop and kill a buffalo and have a feast. If we could, we crawled\nup on the enemy\u2019s camp and stole his horses. If we met a foe we tried to\nkill him and bring his scalp home.\u201d\n\n\u201cOur custom of painting was a sign. If in a dream we saw any one painted,\nthat was our medicine. In our dreams we would see various kinds of paints\nand how to use them; we would see certain birds and feathers, and we\nadopted this as our style of paint. Others would try to buy from us our\nstyle of paint. The kind of paint and feathers we wore made us brave to\ndo great deeds\u2014to kill the enemy or take his horses. We did not buy\nhorses, but stole them. We gave the horses to our relations. If I got\none or more horses, it represented so much value to me, and brought honour\nto me. And, besides, the girls admired the man who could go out and get\nhorses, and in this way we won a wife. After marriage I would sell a\nhorse, buy elk teeth, beaded leggings, and put them on my wife as a\nwedding present. Elk teeth and horses were a sign of wealth. Then my\nwife would make a tepee, and put it up; then I would settle down and have\na home.\u201d\n\n\u201cIn early days we had nothing for clothing except the skins of animals.\nWe used the buffalo hide or the deer hide for a breechclout. For a bucket\nwe used the tripe of the buffalo, after thoroughly cleaning it. We would\nhang it up on the branch of a tree, full of water, and drink out of it.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe white people came long before I was born, but when I first remember\nthe white man I thought he was very funny. I never knew of any one person\nparticularly, but I know there are good white people and bad white people,\nhonest white people and dishonest white people, true white people and mean\nwhite people. We always take it for granted that what the white people\nsay is true, but we have found out by experience that they have been\ndishonest with us and that they have mistreated us. Now when they say\nanything we think about it, and sometimes they are true. I am saying this\nabout the white people in general.\u201d\n\n\u201cGoing back to the days when we had no horses, we would see the buffalo on\nthe plains; we then surrounded them, driving them as we did so, near to\nthe edge of some steep precipice. When we got the buffalo up near the\nedge of the precipice we would all wave our blankets and buffalo robes and\nfrighten the buffalo and they would run off the steep place, falling into\nthe valley below, one on top of another. Of course the undermost animals\nwere killed. Then we would go down and get them and take away the meat.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe Indians found some dogs on the prairie. After they got the dogs they\nwould fasten a pole on either side of the dogs with a tanned hide fastened\nbetween the poles, and the Indians would put their trappings, their meat,\nand their pappooses on this hide stretched between the poles. In that way\nthey moved from place to place, the dog carrying the utensils of the camp.\nWe called it a travois. One day when we were moving, the dog who was\ncarrying a baby in the travois saw a deer and ran after it. He went over\na bank and carried the baby with him, and finally came back without the\nbaby.\u201d\n\n\u201cIn counting the dead on the battlefield we placed sticks by the dead\nsoldiers or Indians, then gathered the sticks up, took them to one place\nin a pile and there counted the sticks. We count by fixing events in our\nmind. We have a brain and a heart, and we commit to memory an event, and\nthen we say Chief So-and-So died when we broke camp on the Big Horn, and\nSo-and-So were married when we had the big buffalo hunt in the snow. Or\nwe had a big fight with the Sioux when our tepees were placed in a ring in\nthe bend of the Yellowstone River. We dated our time from these events.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nFolklore Tale\u2014Crow\n\n\n\u201cWhen I was a little boy this is a story that was told around every\ncampfire: It was called \u2018Old Man Coyote!\u2019 Before the white man came the\ncoyote used to roam over all the land. The Old Man Coyote took the little\ncoyotes he picked up on the prairies and called them his little brothers.\nThe little coyote was such a sly animal that the old coyote always sent\nhim on errands, because he knew he would always be up to something. The\nOld Man Coyote says: \u2018We are alone: let us make man.\u2019 He said: \u2018Go and\nbring me some mud so that I can make a man, so that we can be together.\u2019\nThe Old Man Coyote took the mud and put it together, and put hair on it,\nand set it up on the ground, and said: \u2018There is a man!\u2019 The little\ncoyote said: \u2018Make some more.\u2019 And the Old Man Coyote made four\u2014two were\nwomen and two were men. The Old Man sized them up and said they were\ngood, and so he made a whole lot more. Old Man Coyote said: \u2018It is good\nthat we live together, and I want you to open each other\u2019s eyelids.\u2019 Old\nMan Coyote said to these people whom he had made: \u2018Now, if you stay\ntogether and are good to each other, you will be happy, and you will\nincrease in numbers.\u2019 Old Man Coyote was our creator. Old Man Coyote\nsaid to these people whom he had made: \u2018This is your land; live here, eat\nof the fruit of the trees, drink of the rivers, hunt the game, and have a\ngood time.\u2019 From that we believe that the white people had nothing to do\nwith the land\u2014it belonged to the Indian. This story, told to our people\nso many times, and told to me since I can remember, led me to believe when\nI came to know and understand that this land was wholly ours, and belonged\nentirely to the Indians. Old Man Coyote, after he had created man and\nwoman, did not have anything to do, so he made a bow and arrow. He took\nthe flint for the arrowhead, and with it he killed the buffalo. Then he\ngave the bow and arrow to the Indian and said to him: \u2018This is your\nweapon.\u2019 The people whom Old Man Coyote created had no knife, so he took\nthe shoulder blade of the buffalo and sharpened it and made it into a\nknife. These people whom Old Man Coyote had created roamed round over the\nland and they found a mule. It was a great big mule with great big ears,\nand when they brought it home the people were all afraid of it. They all\ngathered around the mule, staring in amazement at him, and said: \u2018What\nkind of an animal is this? It is a dangerous animal.\u2019 Just then the mule\nstuck up his ears, and let out an awful cry, just such a cry as only the\nmule can make. Then the people all ran away as hard as they could go,\nscared almost to death, except one Indian, who fell flat on the earth\u2014too\nscared to run. And finally the people called this man,\n\u2018Not-Afraid-of-the-Mule.\u2019 And in this way we learned how to name our\nIndians.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n [Hairy Moccasin\u2014Custer Scout]\n\n Hairy Moccasin\u2014Custer Scout\n\n\nHairy Moccasin\n\n\nIsapi-Wishish is the name the Indians called Hairy Moccasin, a scout under\nGibbon, Miles, Howard, and Custer. His frame is small and wiry, and like\nhis brother scout, Goes-Ahead, he too will soon be numbered with the great\narmy of the dead. Silent, unobtrusive, carrying no mark of distinction,\nhis moccasined feet move slowly along the path made by others. It must be\nnoted that however unprepossessing his personality he wears an untarnished\nbadge for bravery and faithful service as a scout. White-Man-Runs-Him\nsaid: \u201cI cannot say anything better about Hairy Moccasin than to say that\nhe executed faithfully the orders of General Custer.\u201d He was the boyhood\nplaymate of White-Man-Runs-Him. They were companions in all the sports\nand games and tricks of the camp. When the Custer scouts traversed the\ndifficult and dangerous route from the Little Rosebud to the valley where\nthey located the mighty camp of the Sioux, it was Hairy Moccasin who under\nthe stars of that June night reached the apex of the hills at dawn. The\nother scouts lay down to rest. Hairy Moccasin, leaving the others asleep,\nwent to the summit\u2014which is called the Crow\u2019s Nest\u2014and as the gray streaks\nof the dawn began to silver the east, it was Moccasin\u2019s eye which caught\nthe vision of the myriads of white tents, of the brown hills in the\ndistance covered with brown horses, the curling smoke from hundreds of\nwigwams. Word was sent back to Custer. In excited tones, he asked: \u201cHave\nyou seen the cut-throat Sioux?\u201d From the vantage point of the hills where\nthey had seen the camp Hairy Moccasin was sent still farther in advance to\nreconnoitre. He climbed a pine-clad hill, found the Sioux everywhere, and\nthen he rode back and reported to General Custer the size and position of\nthe camp. On hearing the report Custer hurried up his command. As the\nbrave general moved out of the valley up the ridge it is the testimony of\nWhite-Man-Runs-Him that Hairy Moccasin rode immediately in advance of\nCuster, and when the Chey-ennes came up, \u201cHe fired at them, banged and\nbanged at them, and the Cheyennes were afraid of Moccasin. They were\nafraid of all three of us. Custer would have been killed before the time\nhe was shot if it had not been for Hairy Moccasin and myself, who were\naround him shooting at the Indians.\u201d When the United States soldiers were\nfighting the Nez Perces Hairy Moccasin got a horse away from the enemy,\nand brought it into the camp of the soldiers. Hairy Moccasin was always\non the warpath performing brave deeds. The name and fame of Custer will\nlive in the archives of his country, and a fadeless lustre will forever\ncrown the heroic deeds of this Indian Scout.\n\n\n\n\n [Curly\u2014Custer Scout]\n\n Curly\u2014Custer Scout\n\n\nCurly\n\n\nCurly, a Reno Crow, was born on the Little Rosebud, Montana, and is\nfifty-seven years of age. He has the bearing, grace and dignity of an\norator. His name will also go down in history as one of the leading\nscouts who trailed for General Custer the Indian camp, and as the last of\nhis scouts on the fated field where Custer and his command were slain. At\ntimes he is taciturn and solemn, and then bubbles over with mirthfulness.\nAt the council held on the Crow Reservation, in October, 1907, with\nreference to the opening of unoccupied lands, Curly uttered this eloquent\nspeech:\n\n\u201cI was a friend of General Custer. I was one of his scouts, and will say\na few words. The Great Father in Washington sent you here about this\nland. The soil you see is not ordinary soil\u2014it is the dust of the blood,\nthe flesh, and bones of our ancestors. We fought and bled and died to\nkeep other Indians from taking it, and we fought and bled and died helping\nthe whites. You will have to dig down through the surface before you can\nfind nature\u2019s earth, as the upper portion is Crow. The land, as it is, is\nmy blood and my dead; it is consecrated, and I do not want to give up any\nportion of it.\u201d\n\nAccompanied by a group of Indians, Curly came to my tepee when we were\ncamped on the Little Big Horn. The whole company were greatly agitated\nbecause an Indian possessed with the spirit of self-importance had gone to\nWashington to make war against other Indians in the tribe who were\nindustrious and loyal home builders. They all made speeches around the\ncampfire, asking my interposition at Washington. In his argument Curly\nsaid: \u201cWhich man would you believe, the man who is trying to raise wheat\nfor the people to get flour and bread from, oats to feed his horses, who\nbuilds a house for the shelter and preservation of his family, builds a\nstable in which to shelter his horses, tills the soil to get the product,\ntrying to raise vegetables so that his people may have something to eat in\nsummer and winter, or the man who would come along and run over this man\nwho was working and trying to do something for his family, and would not\nwork himself, but just run around and make a renegade of himself,\nquarrelling with his mother and brothers\u2014which man would you believe? A\nman who quarrels with his mother is not fit for any duty.\u201d Gems like\nthese would grace any brightest page of literature, but they are the\neveryday eloquence of the Indian.\n\nCurly said regarding his early life: \u201cWhen I was a boy I did not do much.\nI was not crazy, but I did not run into mischief. My father and mother\nalways advised me not to get into mischief. My first remembrance of the\nwhite man was when I took the skins of buffalo calves into the trading\nstores and traded with the white man. I thought that was a great thing to\ndo. I had been many times on the trail of the buffalo and had sought\nopportunity to go on the warpath. When I was about eighteen years old the\nCrow chiefs made the announcement that there were some United States\nofficers in camp who wanted some Crow scouts. I quickly volunteered. My\nbrother approached us after we started and took myself and Hairy Moccasin\nand White Swan and told us that we had a secret mission in another\ndistrict. My brother was then on the warpath. We went as far with my\nbrother as Tongue River and did not see what we were searching for and we\ncame back home. Then the Crow scouts left the agency and camped at\nClark\u2019s Ford, and Bonnie Bravo and Little Face, Indian scouts and\ninterpreters, met us there. These scouts took us over to General Terry\u2019s\ncamp again. The scouts who were with Terry had no horses, for the Sioux\nhad captured them. We had with us eight horses. Then we marched down as\nfar as the Little Rosebud. There one of Terry\u2019s officers told us we were\nto go out and scout for the Sioux camp. We went as far as Tongue River,\nand Bonnie Bravo was the first one to discover the Sioux camp. Then we\ncame back to the command and reported. General Terry moved his cavalry\nforward and attempted to ford the Yellowstone River. The water was so\nhigh that many of the men and horses were drowned, and the rest came back.\nThen Terry asked the scouts to go forward again, and see if the camp was\nstill there. We found that the camp had moved from Tongue River up on the\nLittle Rosebud. After that we reported, and General Terry did not say\nvery much. General Terry then sent Bonnie Bravo and the two scouts back\nto the camp to procure horses. They sent two other scouts and the army\nwagons to Crow Agency for provisions. The soldiers did not leave the camp\nvery far for fear of attack by the Sioux, for they kept close watch on\nthem constantly, firing at any soldiers they saw. Then General Terry sent\nme toward Crow Agency to meet the wagons and the men who were with the\nhorses. After we had met the wagons we stayed there all night and then\nwent on to camp. General Terry then moved his camp, following the\nYellowstone down. We were taken clear down to the mouth of the Powder\nRiver. White-Man-Runs-Him and another scout did not have any horses, so\nthey got into the boat and went down the river, bringing a dispatch to\nTerry. The dispatch told us to go back and follow the Yellowstone up\nagain. We went back and camped within ten or twelve miles of the mouth of\nthe Big Horn, near where we had camped before. We stayed there three or\nfour days, and then a steamboat arrived bringing Bouyer, the scout. He\ntold us all to break camp. There were six of us who did the most of the\nscouting, and out of the six Terry told three of us to go and find the\nenemy\u2019s camp. General Terry and the commander of the infantry were in the\nambulance, and Bouyer was there talking with them. Terry sent for Yellow\nShield, then Yellow Shield sent for me. Bouyer then asked me who among\nthe Crow scouts did the most scouting. I said White Swan, Hairy Moccasin,\nand myself. These scouts then camp up and joined me. Yellow Shield then\ntold us that he wanted six men in all. Then we had a conference. We\nthought of White-Man-Runs-Him, but he had no horse. Then Yellow Shield\nsaid he would call White-Man-Runs-Him and Goes-Ahead to join us. After\nthey had called these men they put us on the steamboat and sent us down\nthe river, sending the other Crows home. We were taken down to the mouth\nof the Little Rosebud by the Yellowstone. We were told after we had had\nour dinner that we must dress ourselves up and paint up and get ready to\nscout.\u201d\n\nCurly at this point reaches the camp of General Custer, and the remainder\nof the fascinating story of this warrior, orator, and scout, who followed\nwith unfailing fidelity the fortunes of the United States soldiers, will\nbe told in the chapter on \u201cThe Indians\u2019 Story of the Custer Fight.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n [Goes Ahead\u2014Custer Scout]\n\n Goes Ahead\u2014Custer Scout\n\n\nGoes-Ahead-Basuk-Ore\n\n\nGoes-Ahead carries about a tall, attenuated, and weakened frame. He is\nstanding on the verge of yonder land. He is stricken with a fatal\ndisease. In manner he is as quiet and unobtrusive as a brooding bird.\nWhen reminiscent his wonted smile disappears, his eye lights up with a\nstrange mysterious fire. He talks straight on like a man who has\nsomething to tell and is eager to tell it. We may gain better glimpses of\nhis life if we let him tell his own tale:\n\n\u201cWhen I was quite a lad I went to war. I was the first in the battle and\nthe others all said: \u2018There he goes ahead of us.\u2019 I have been first in\nbattle ever since and thus I got my name, Goes-Ahead. The greatest\npleasure I had when I was a boy, I remember, was in killing wolves. After\nwe had shot the wolf we would run up and put our coup stick on him and\nplay that he was our enemy. Another sport we had was playing buffalo. We\ndivided up and part of the boys would be buffalo and part would be\nhunters. The boys who were playing buffalo would paw up the dust and we\nwould run after them and shoot arrows at them, and then the buffalo bull\nwould chase us back until he caught one of the boys, then we went on until\nwe conquered the buffalo. When I was a young man we had buffalo skulls\nwith the meat and skin all taken off and we would tie ropes to them and\nput them on the ice. The girls would sit on the buffalo head and we would\ndraw them along the ice. That was one of our greatest pleasures. I was\nabout fifteen years old when I first went on the war trail. It was in the\nwinter time and I was on foot. I used a bow and arrows and my arrows were\nnot very good. The young fellows who went with me had old Springfields,\nusing powder and bullets. We used to make a shack by the edge of the\nwoods, the others would kill the buffalo and then we would roast the meat\nby the fire. I used to cut the buffalo meat in strips, and dried it, and\nthen put it in sacks and carried it along for the war party. When we made\na little log shelter at night they made me stay by the door where it was\ncold and I had to do all the cooking for the party. We had no bucket with\nwhich to carry water, so when we killed a buffalo we took the tripe and\nused that for a pail in which to carry water. The scouts of the war party\nof course were away ahead of us and when we made our shack in the woods\nthey would return at night. If they returned singing we knew that they\nhad buffalo and we would run to get their packs. These scouts got up\nbefore daybreak and left the camp on another scouting expedition\u2014they were\nlooking for the enemy to see which way they were moving or what they had\nbeen killing. We found the trail by the marks of their old camps. The\nscouts trailed the enemy until they found the camp, then they returned\nhowling like a wolf as they came near us, and then we knew they had found\nthe enemy. When they approached the camp we made piles of different\nmaterial and then they shook their guns at the piles and we knew that they\nwere telling the truth, that they had seen the enemy. Then they run over\nthe piles. Then we got ready for the night and stretched our ropes; we\ntook our medicine and tied it on our heads. Then we all stood up in a row\nand they selected the bravest to take the lead to the camp of the enemy.\nThen these braves started on a run, first on a dog trot and then faster\nand faster until they got their speed, and then we endeavoured to keep up\nuntil we reached the enemy\u2019s camp. When we got within sight of the camp\nwe would all sit in a row and take off our moccasins and put on new ones.\nThen we selected two men to go around to the camp and get all the horses\nthey could capture and bring them back to our party. When these horses\nwere caught and brought back to us we roped and mounted them bareback and\nrode away as fast as we could, driving the remainder of the horses they\nhad captured. We kept on for days and nights without anything to eat or\nany rest. After we had reached our camp and had spent the night we\npainted ourselves and the best horses, mounted them, and started shooting\nguns in the air; then everybody knew that the war party was back. We rode\nthrough the camp on our horses. We did not expect the enemy to pursue us,\nbecause we had gone so far and so long that we knew we were out of their\nreach.\u201d\n\n [On the War Trail]\n\n On the War Trail\n\n\n\u201cMy first battle was on the Yellowstone River. I rode a roan horse. I\nwas scouting under General Miles. We found the trail of the Nez Perce\nIndians. We fought a battle twenty miles north of where Billings is now\nlocated. The Nez Perce chased the scouts back. Just at this time our\ninterpreter, Bethune, had quit riding, for his horse had played out and he\nwent on foot. Then many of the Nez Perce dismounted and began to surround\nBethune and open fire on him. I thought then his life would be lost and I\nrode back as fast as I could ride into the midst of the fire, pulled him\non the back of my horse and rode away, saving his life.\u201d\n\nIn his own words Goes-Ahead tells us how he became a scout in the United\nStates Army: \u201cI was a single man and I loved to go on the warpath. The\nchiefs announced to all the camp asking young men to go to the army\nofficers and enlist as scouts. As I wanted to scout I obeyed the command\nof my chiefs. The army officers took the names of these young men. The\nyoung men whose names were not taken were turned back, but they always\ntook my name, and that is how I came to be a scout.\u201d Goes-Ahead tells for\nus a most graphic story of his share in the Custer fight and his\nimpressions of General Custer in the chapter on \u201cThe Indians\u2019 Story of the\nCuster Fight.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n\n [In Battle Line]\n\n In Battle Line\n\n\nTHE INDIANS\u2019 STORY OF THE CUSTER FIGHT\n\n\nWe are thinking now of the reddest chapter in the Indian wars of the\nWestern plains. Out amid the dirge of landscape, framed within the valley\nof the Little Big Horn, where that historic river winds its tortuous way\nthrough the sagebrush and cactus of Montana, a weather-beaten cross stands\non a lonely hillside, surrounded by a cluster of white marble slabs, and\nall marking the final resting-place of the heroes of the Seventh United\nStates Cavalry, who perished to a man, \u201cin battle formation,\u201d with their\nintrepid leader, Gen. George A. Custer. \u201cCuster\u2019s Last Battle,\u201d as\nchroniclers of Indian wars have designated that grim tragedy, has been\nwritten about, speculated upon, and discussed more than any other single\nengagement between white troops and Indians. Volumes have already been\nwritten and spoken on all sides\u2014the controversy still goes on. The brave\ndead sleep on; they are bivouacked on Fame\u2019s eternal camping ground.\nCivilization has irrigated the valley and swept on to Western frontiers,\nbut as though to forever write laurels for the brow of Custer\u2014called the\nMurat of the American army\u2014the white stones and the decaying crucifix of\nwood are surrounded by barren bluffs and a landscape so forbidding that it\nis a midnight of desolation. It seems to be preserved by the God of\nBattles as an inditement on the landscape never to be erased by any human\ncourt\u2014lonely, solemn, desolate, bereaved of any summer flower, written all\nover with the purple shadows of an endless Miserere. Thirty-six years\nhave run through the hourglass since these dreary hills and the flowing\nriver listened to the furious speech of rifles and the warwhoop of\ndesperate redmen. The snows have piled high the parchment of winter\u2014a\nshroud for the deathless dead\u2014whiter than the white slabs. Summer has\nsucceeded summer, and all the June days since that day of terrific\nannihilation have poured their white suns upon these white milestones of\nthe nation\u2019s destiny\u2014the only requiem, the winds of winter, and in summer\nthe liquid notes of the meadow lark. In all the argument and controversy\nthat has shifted the various factors of the fight over the checkerboard of\ncontention, the voice of the Indian has hitherto been hopelessly silent.\nIt is historically significant, therefore, that the Indian now speaks, and\nthe story of Custer\u2019s Last Battle, now told for the first time by all four\nof his scouts, and leaders of the Sioux and Cheyennes, should mark an\nepoch in the history of this grim battle. The Indians who tell this story\nwere all of them members of the last Great Indian Council, and they\nvisited the Custer Field a little over two miles from the camp of the\nchiefs, traversed every step of the ensanguined ground and verified their\npositions, recalling the tragic scenes of June 26, 1876. It matters much\nin reading their story to remember that all of Ouster\u2019s command were\nkilled\u2014every lip was sealed in death and the silence is forever unbroken.\nThe Indian survivors are all old men: Goes-Ahead and Hairy Moccasin are\neach on the verge of the grave, fatally stricken by disease; Chief Two\nMoons, leader of the hostile Cheyennes, is a blind old man;\nRuns-the-Enemy, a Sioux chief, totters with age. In a near tomorrow they\ntoo will sink into silence.\n\n [The Custer Battlefield]\n\n The Custer Battlefield\n\n\nThese four scouts, faithful to the memory of Custer, together with the\nSioux and Cheyenne chiefs, trudged with the writer to stand on the spot\nwhere Custer fell, and with bowed heads pay their silent tribute to the\ndead. The camera has recorded the scene, a last vision of the red man\nstanding above the grave of his conquerors, a pathetic page in the last\nchapter of Indian warfare.\n\n\n\n\n [Scouts on the March]\n\n Scouts on the March\n\n\n THE STORY OF WHITE-MAN-RUNS-HIM\u2014CUSTER SCOUT\n\n\nThe Great Father at Washington sent representatives out to our country.\nThe Indians met them and held a council. The Sioux were the hereditary\nenemies of the Crows. The head man sent by the Great Father said to the\nCrows: \u201cWe must get together and fight, and get this land from the Sioux.\nWe must win it by conquest.\u201d We called the officer, who was lame,\nNo-Hip-Bone\u2014the officer was General Terry. We loved our land so we\nconsented to go in with the soldiers and put these other tribes off the\nland. No-Hip-Bone took me in the winter time, and I went with him\nwherever he wanted me to go until the next summer. During this journey I\nhad a good horse. The Sioux took it away from me, and I was left to go on\nfoot, so I put my gun on my shoulder and marched with the soldiers. I\nthought that I was a man, and had confidence in myself that I was right.\nAnd so I kept up with the soldiers. I endured all the hardships the\nsoldiers endured in order to hold my land. We had hardships climbing\nmountains, fording rivers, frost and cold of winter, the burning heat of\nsummer\u2014my bones ache to-day from the exposure, but it was all for love of\nmy home. I stood faithfully by the soldiers. They did not know the\ncountry. I did. They wanted me for their eye, they could not see. The\nsoldiers were the same as though they were blind, and I used both of my\nown eyes for them. The soldiers and I were fighting in friendship, what\nthey said, I did; what I said, they did. So I helped my tribe. Land is a\nvery valuable thing, and especially our land. I knew the Cheyennes and\nSioux wanted to take it by conquest, so I stayed with the soldiers to help\nhold it. No-Hip-Bone moved to Tongue River at the time the leaves were\ngetting full. We heard that General Custer was coming and I and thirty\nsoldiers went down the river in boats. Two scouts, Elk and Two-Whistles,\nwere with me. At the junction of the Yellowstone with the Missouri River\nwe met Custer. I was the first one of the Crows to shake hands with\nGeneral Custer. He gripped me by the hand tight and said: \u201cYou are the\none I want to see, and I am glad that you are first.\u201d We went into the\nsteamboat with General Custer, and he pointed out different places to me\nas objects of interest. I directed Custer up to No-Hip-Bone, who had\nmoved to the mouth of the Little Rosebud. They had a council, Bonnie\nBravo was their interpreter. General Custer said to the interpreter,\npointing to me: \u201cThis is the kind of man we want for this campaign, and I\nwant some others also.\u201d Goes-Ahead, Hairy Moccasin, White Swan,\nPaints-His-Face-Yellow, and Curly were chosen. There were six of us\naltogether. The others were sent back. We always moved ahead of\nCuster\u2014we were his pilots. We always travelled at night, climbing the\nmountains and wading the rivers. During the day we made a concealed camp.\nWe travelled in this way several days before we reached the Sioux camp.\nWhen we reached the top of the Wolf Mountains we saw the enemy\u2019s camp near\nwhere the Custer Field is at the present time. Hairy Moccasin,\nGoes-Ahead, Curly, and myself saw the camp. Custer had halted at the foot\nof a mountain, and we all went back and told Custer that we had seen a big\ncamp, and it was close. Custer was rejoiced and anxious to go ahead and\nmake the battle. The sun was just peeping when we saw the camp. It was\neight or nine o\u2019clock when we scouts all went ahead again. We got close\nto the place of the enemy\u2019s camp, and Custer divided the scouts, sent some\nacross the river, and the others remained on the hill. In the meantime\nCuster had divided his command. Yellow Face and White Swan went with Reno\nacross the river; Goes-Ahead, Hairy Moccasin, Curly, and myself remained\nwith Custer. Custer sent me to a high knoll. He said: \u201cGo and look for\nme and see where I can make a success.\u201d He left it to me. When I was up\nthere I looked around and the troops were very close upon me, and I\nmotioned to them to come on, and we passed up on to the ridge. The Indian\nscouts stood in front of Custer and led his men. We went down to the\nLittle Horn until we came to a little coulee, and were moving towards the\nenemy\u2019s camp. We wanted to cross the river at that place. The Sioux\nfired at us. We then went up the hill to the ridge. I was all along the\nridge where the fight was raging. We looked over the river, and saw Reno\nin his engagement with the Sioux. Finally they wiped out Reno, and he\nretreated to the hills. Custer and all of us got off our horses here. At\nthat time the enemy was surrounding us. They were banging away at us. We\nhad a heavy skirmish. Custer then came up and said: \u201cYou have done your\nduty. You have led me to the enemy\u2019s camp. And now the thing for you to\ndo is to obey my orders and get away.\u201d Farther on up the river was a\npacktrain, escorted by three hundred soldiers, and I made my way to the\npack-train, and I found the Indians there fighting. Custer when he told\nme to go said: \u201cYou go; I am now going with my boys.\u201d Had Custer not\nordered me to go, the people who visit the Custer Field to-day would see\nmy name on the monument. When I got back to the packtrain, I directed them\nback to where the old trenches are to-day, and where you may still see a\npile of bones. The Indians had killed all the mules when I got there.\nThe fight lasted through the whole of a long, hot summer day. My friends,\nthe soldiers who were with Custer, were all wiped out. When the sun went\ndown I was about exhausted and I had no clothes on save a breechclout. All\nthe scouts were dressed like myself. When night came on, exhausted as we\nwere, we scouts went down the river to meet No-Hip-Bone. We reached him\nearly the next morning. There was a terrific rainstorm all night long. I\nhad no clothes on and I stuck to my wet horse. My horse was so exhausted\nthat he stumbled on through the night, and to-day I feel the effects of\nit. It was my nature to endure; from a boy I had been trained to endure,\nbut as strong as I was it wounded me for life. We met No-Hip-Bone and\ntold him that up the river yesterday, when the sun was midway between\nmorning and noon, until the sun was midway between noon and night, the\nIndians had killed Custer and all of his command. And he was mad. We\ntold him that our horses\u2019 hoofs were worn out and asked permission to go\nback home and get fresh horses. He said: \u201cYes, you can go, but come back.\nMeanwhile I will travel up the river and see the dead soldiers.\u201d I went\nto Pryor, our Crow camp.\n\n [Sunset on the Custer Field]\n\n Sunset on the Custer Field\n\n\nCuster and the soldiers were my friends and companions, and I cried all\nnight long as I rode through the rain to tell No-Hip-Bone the news.\n\nWhen we were at the Rosebud, General Custer and his staff held a council\nas to what we should do when we found the enemy\u2019s camp, as to whether we\nshould attack by day or night. I said we had better fight by night.\nPaints-His-Face-Yellow said: \u201cLet us attack by day, so that we can see\nwhat we are doing.\u201d I thought I was laying a good plan for them but they\nlistened to Yellow-Face. General Custer was a brave and good man, a\nstraightforward and honest man. When General Custer took me by the hand,\npatted me on the shoulder, and I looked him in the face, I said: \u201cThere is\na good general.\u201d If General Custer was living to-day, I would get better\ntreatment than I now receive. General Custer said: \u201cWhere does your tribe\nstay?\u201d and I told him in the valley through which Pryor Creek runs, along\nthe Big Horn River at Lodge Grass, and in the valley of the Little\nHorn\u2014there is my home. Custer said: \u201cIf I die, you will get this land\nback and stay there, happy and contented, and if you die, you will be\nburied on your own land.\u201d\n\nWhen I joined General Custer, I had full confidence in myself and my\nability to help him, and for this reason I joined Custer so that I might\nhelp hold my land against our enemies, the Sioux and the Cheyennes. After\nthe Custer battle, when we had obtained fresh horses, I took the other\nscouts with me, and we went over the field and looked at the remains of\nthe dead soldiers who were my friends and companions. Knowing the country\nI always directed General Custer to the best places to ford the river, and\nthe easiest way to climb the hills, that he might reach the path of\nsuccess. After the loss of my horse, I traveled on foot with the\nsoldiers, and was willing even to go down to death with Custer in order\nthat I might help him.\n\n\n\n\n THE STORY OF CURLY\u2014CUSTER SCOUT\n\n\nWe had been brought to the Little Rosebud down the Yellowstone by steamer.\nAfter we had landed we were told to get dinner, dress ourselves, paint up,\nand get ready to scout. Then we heard that General Custer wanted to use\nus. We mounted and rode over to General Custer\u2019s camp. He had a big\ntent. We got off at the door. I was the first to shake his hand. I had\na dollar in my hand, and I pressed that into his hand. Each scout shook\nhands with him. When I saw Custer sitting there, tall and slim, with\nbroad shoulders and kind eyes, I said to myself: \u201cThere is a kind, brave,\nand thinking man.\u201d The first words that Custer uttered were: \u201cI have seen\nall the tribes but the Crows, and now I see them for the first time, and I\nthink they are good and brave scouts. I have some scouts here, but they\nare worthless. I have heard that the Crows are good scouts, and I have\nsent for you to come to my command. I have given General Terry six\nhundred dollars for the use of you Crow Indians as scouts. I have called\nyou Indians here not to fight but to trace the enemy and tell me where\nthey are; I do not want you to fight. You find the Indians and I will do\nthe fighting. With all these dollars I have given you I want you to go\ninto the steamboat and buy some shirts and paint. We will leave here in\ntwo days. We will follow the Little Rosebud up.\u201d That evening the Mandans\ndanced with us, and they gave us some money. Then Custer said: \u201cI think\nyou are good Indians. I will have the cook prepare our dinner, and you\ncan eat alongside of me. I will have a tent put up here and you can camp\nnear me.\u201d Within two days we started on our journey. We got on our\nhorses and started with Custer up the Little Rosebud. The whole command\nwere with us. He asked us where we saw the last Sioux camp while we were\nscouting for Terry. We told him we would not be near there until\nto-morrow. The next morning we were at the place where we saw the last\ncamp of the Sioux. Then we followed the Sioux trail. We found the trail,\nand saw that it forked on the Little Rosebud River. Custer gave orders\nfor Goes-Ahead to follow one trail, and for me to follow the other to see\nwhich was the largest camp. We found that the trails came together after\na while and that the Sioux were all in one camp. When we got to the camp,\nwe saw that a battle had been fought, for we found the scalps and the\nbeards of white men. We went back that night and reported to Custer. It\nwas pretty late, but Custer\u2019s cook was up and had a light in his tent.\nThen Custer told the cook to give the boys their meal. After we got\nthrough our supper we went to his tent as Custer wanted to see us. We\ntook with us some of the scalps and white men\u2019s beards, and showed them to\nCuster. Then Custer asked us if the camp separated or came together, and\nwe told him it came together. Then Custer said: \u201cThis is the main\npoint\u2014these Sioux have been killing white people, and I have been sent\nhere by the Great Father to conquer them and bring them back to their\nreservation. I am a great chief, but I do not know whether I will get\nthrough this summer alive or dead. There will be nothing more good for\nthe Sioux\u2014if they massacre me, they will still suffer, and if they do not\nkill me, they will still suffer for they have disobeyed orders. I do not\nknow whether I will pass through this battle or not, but if I live, I will\nrecommend you boys and you will be leaders of the Crows. Tomorrow I want\nfive of my Crow boys to go on the trail.\u201d We started just before\ndaybreak. When we started we saw some of the Mandans running round on the\ntop of the hill, and Goes-Ahead told me to go back and tell the command\nthat they must not have these Mandans running round over the hills, but to\nkeep them down in the valley, as we might be near the Sioux camp and would\nbe discovered before we knew it. Then they ordered these Mandans to come\ndown from the hills and stay down. When I started back I heard a howl\nlike a coyote. White Swan, Hairy Moccasin, Goes-Ahead, and\nWhite-Man-Runs-Him were coming in to report. The Sioux had broken camp\nthe day before and had camped above where their old camp was on the Little\nRosebud. Custer told us to go on ahead and see which way they went, and\nwe came to where they had broken camp. We followed the trail until we saw\nthat they had camped on the Little Horn, and then we noticed that the\nSioux had gone toward the Little Horn and we waited at the head of Tallec\nCreek for the command to come up. The command did not come up, for they\nhad camped on the Little Rosebud; and we went back to the camp. Then the\nscouts had an argument, and I went by myself and asked Custer what we\nshould do. Custer asked me what I came back for. I told him that the\ntrail of the Sioux had gone to the west, toward the Little Horn, and that\nI had come back for further orders. Then Custer told me to get my supper,\nand take a lunch for the other scouts, and take with me two soldiers and\ngo on and camp on the hill in sight of the enemy. I was lying down at\ndaybreak, half asleep\u2014the boys said they saw the camp where the Sioux were\nlocated. I got up and saw them through the smoke. The command came\nhalfway toward us and then stopped and this officer who was with us wrote\na message for General Custer, and sent a Mandan scout back with it.\nCuster did not wait. As soon as he got the message his men moved on\nrapidly toward the Custer Field. Then Custer said: \u201cWe will charge upon\nthem now\u2014that settles their journey.\u201d Custer then gave the order to\ninspect their guns. Soon they started on down the ridge. Custer told us\nto go on ahead. We followed the creek all the way down. There was half a\nbattalion behind us. We found a tepee like the one in which we are now\nsitting, as we went along, and found two dead Sioux inside. Then the main\ncommand came up to us. We all stopped at the fork of the Little Reno\nCreek. Custer split up his command at this point, and told Reno to follow\nthe creek down, which is now called Reno Creek. Then we crossed over the\nridge. I came down with Custer as far as the creek; then he gave me a\nmessage to take to Reno. I did not know the import of the messsage. I\nbrought the answer back from Reno to Custer. While I was delivering the\nlast message, Reno was fighting his battle, but it was not very fierce,\nand when I got to Custer with the message he was fighting at the mouth of\nthe creek. Then Custer told me to go and save my life. I made a circle\naround, and I found that my ammunition was getting low. I found a dead\nSioux. I took his ammunition and gun and horse, and got out. I stayed\nnear where the dead Sioux was until the fight was pretty fierce. I went\nup on a high butte to the east of the battlefield where I could see the\nfight. When I got on the high hill I looked back, and saw that Custer was\nthe last man to stand. After that I rushed over the hill and hid in the\nbrush. The next morning about five or six o\u2019clock I was at General\nTerry\u2019s camp and reported. General Terry called his officers about him.\nI could not speak English and there were no interpreters there, so I took\nthe grass and piled it all up in a heap, then I took my fingers and\nscattered it wide apart, and attempted in this way to show General Terry\nthat the soldiers were all killed. Then General Terry gave me a dispatch.\nI was very tired and did not want to go, but I had to take this dispatch\nfrom General Terry, to Reno at the packtrain. Reno gave me a dispatch to\ntake back to Terry, while they were burying the dead soldiers. Then\nanother dispatch was given me to take to the head command at the\nsteamboat. I felt sorry and depressed that I should never again see\nCuster.\n\n [The Reno Battlefield]\n\n The Reno Battlefield\n\n\n\n\n THE STORY OF GOES-AHEAD\u2014CUSTER SCOUT\n\n\nI was under General Terry at the Yellowstone at the mouth of the Big Horn.\nThere was a boat at the mouth of the Big Horn. The steamboat had a\npontoon bridge reaching to the shore. The soldiers came off the boat and\njoined General Terry\u2019s command. Then General Terry gave the command for\nus all to mount and go ahead of the line. Then he selected men from this\nline of scouts to send to General Custer as scouts. He mentioned my name\nand also called Yellow-Shield, White-Man-Runs-Him, White Swan, Hairy\nMoccasin, and Curly out of this line. There were six of us. Then they\ngave us orders to go on the steamboat. We sailed down to the mouth of the\nLittle Rosebud, there we got off the boat. Then our interpreter told us\nthere was a man in the camp of the army who wanted to see us, and we went\nover there. Then we went into General Custer\u2019s tent; we sat on one side\nof the tent, and that was a day of great pleasure to me. I saw that\nGeneral Custer was a man of about six feet two inches, slim and\nwell-built, and kind-hearted. He wore long hair. General Custer told us\nthat he had heard that the Crow Indians were the bravest scouts and the\nbest horsemen among all the Indians, and that was the reason he asked\nGeneral Terry to send us to him. He said he had some Mandan scouts but\nthey were not going to do any Indian scouting for him, but would remain in\nthe line and do the cooking for the scouts. Then General Custer told us\nhe wanted us to find the Sioux trail and follow it until we reached the\nSioux camp and to report to him where they were. He did not want us to\nenter into battle with the Sioux, but to come back and tell him the\nlocation of their camp. Then after he had won the battle he would give us\nall the Sioux horses we could drive home. Then we scouted in search of\nthe Sioux. We followed the trail of the Sioux where they had been moving,\nand we got to where they had camped on the Little Rosebud. I got to the\nplace where they had been camping just after their fight with General\nCrook at the battle of the Little Rosebud, and they had moved to the\nLittle Horn. General Custer gave us strict orders when we were scouting\nnot to mistake the scouts of General Terry and General Crook for the other\nIndians, because we might run across them and to be sure we had seen the\nSioux. We were two nights on our way before we came upon the village. It\nwas located on the plain above where the Custer fight took place, on the\nbanks of the Little Horn. I was by myself and after I saw the village I\nwent back and reported to General Custer and he was greatly pleased. I\nalways tried to obey orders and follow closely my instructions. I\nreported to General Custer that it was a pretty big village. Custer said\n\u201cThat is just what I am looking for; we might just as well enter the\nbattle.\u201d General Custer told me to go ahead of his column, and keep\nahead, but not to go too far for fear the enemy would capture me, and I\ndid what he ordered me to do. General Custer marched his troops all night\nup to a point about five miles from where I reported to him, and then he\ndivided his command. Reno followed down the Reno Creek, Custer crossed\nthe ridge, going over to the Medicine Tail Creek which runs into the\nLittle Horn. There on the creek General Custer dismounted, and said\nprayers to the Heavenly Father. Then he rose and shook hands with me, and\nsaid: \u201cMy scout, if we win the battle, you will be one of the noted men of\nthe Crow Nation.\u201d In a moment or two he turned around again and said to\nme: \u201cI have forgotten to tell you, you are not to fight in this battle,\nbut to go back and save your life.\u201d White-Man-Runs-Him and Hairy Moccasin\nand Curly heard what Custer said. The other two were with Reno. We were\nin sight of the camp when Custer told us this. Reno had then crossed the\nLittle Horn with his two Crow scouts and the rest of the Mandans. If we\nhad been smart enough we would have asked General Custer to give us a\npaper as a recommendation, but we did not know anything much in those\ndays. As we stood looking, we saw Reno take his battle position between\neight and nine o\u2019clock. Custer stood there a little for we expected all\nthe Crow Creeks, and Terry\u2019s command, to meet us there that day, and make\na battle that day. After he said this Custer started into the battle and\nopened fire on the camp. We scouts were up on top of the bluff, and we\nfired at the camp. Hairy Moccasin and White-Man-Runs-Him were with him.\nCurly I did not see because he carried the last dispatch to Reno.\nAlthough Custer had given us command to do no fighting, it was impossible\nfor us to stand there on the bluff and see the soldiers fighting and not\ndo something, so we had to fire. I do not want to make any mistake in\nthis story, and I have told you the truth. Reno took the battle. There\nwas so much smoke and dust that I could hardly tell, but Reno was driven\nback by the Indians toward the bluff. In all the valley and woods there\nwas nothing but Indians. Then I did not know which way he went, for I was\nfighting my own way. Custer also opened fire just beyond the Medicine\nCreek where he had crossed. Soon after Reno opened fire Custer began his\nfire. From there I cannot tell you. About four or five o\u2019clock the\npacktrain came up and the hard fighting was down there. I went back to\nthe packtrain and helped fight a while and then I took to the pine hills\naway over to the east. When I heard that Custer had been killed I said:\n\u201cHe is a man to fight the enemy. He loved to fight, but if he fights and\nis killed, he will have to be killed.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n THE STORY OF CHIEF RED CLOUD\u2014\u2014OGOLLALA SIOUX\n\n\nI remember that our camp was located in the valley of the Little Big Horn.\nAs I remember there were about four thousand Indians in our camp, and\nabout a hundred Sioux warriors in my own band. There were four or five\ndifferent sections of the Sioux tribe in this fight. I remember that\nRain-in-the-Face and Sitting-Bull, Crazy Horse, and Big Man were with us\nin the battle. We were in our camp; there was plenty of buffalo meat in\nthose days, and we killed a good many. The women were drying the meat,\nand the warriors were resting. Suddenly we heard firing, and we found out\nthat the soldiers were on us. The women and children were all frightened,\nand started to run across the hills, and we men mounted our horses and\nstarted toward the enemy. I remember that we pushed Reno back until he\nhad to cross the river, and go up against the bluffs, and then some of our\nSioux rode around the hill to head him off, and we had him in a pocket.\nAfter we had killed many of Reno\u2019s men, Custer came along the ridge, and\nwe were called off to fight Custer. We kept circling around Custer, and\nas his men came down the ridge we shot them down. And then the rest\ndismounted and gathered in a bunch, kneeling down and shooting from behind\ntheir horses. We circled round and round, firing into Custer\u2019s men until\nthe last man was killed. I did not see Custer fall, for all the Indians\ndid not know which was Custer. One reason why we did not scalp Custer was\nbecause the Indians and the white soldiers were so mixed up that it was\nhard to distinguish one man from another; and another reason was because\nCuster was the bravest man of all and we did not want to touch him as he\nmade the last stand. This is also the opinion of Rain-in-the-Face.\nRegarding the cause of the Custer fight I must say, we were pursued by the\nsoldiers, we were on the warpath, and we were on the warpath with the\nCrows and other tribes. We were trying to drive them back from the\nhunting grounds, and the soldiers came upon us and we had to defend\nourselves. We were driven out of the Black Hills by the men seeking gold,\nand our game was driven off, and we started on our journey in search of\ngame. Our children were starving, and we had to have something to eat.\nThere was buffalo in that region and we were moving, simply camping here\nand there and fighting our Indian enemies as we advanced, in order to get\nthe game that was in this country. We fought this battle from daylight up\nuntil three o\u2019clock in the afternoon, and all of the white men were\nkilled. I think that Custer was a very brave man to fight all these\nIndians with his few men from daylight until the sun was almost going\ndown.\n\n\n\n\n THE STORY OF CHIEF RUNS-THE-ENEMY\u2014SIOUX LEADER\n\n\nI fought at the Custer fight with a band of one hundred and thirty\nTwo-Cattle Sioux under me. With the bravery and success I had had in\nformer battles, I was able to command the force at this fight. We were\nencamped for two days in the valley of the Little Big Horn. The third day\nwe were going to break camp and move farther along, but the old men went\nthrough the camp saying they were going to stay there still another day.\nAfter the cry had gone through the camp that we were to remain, the horses\nwere all turned loose and were feeding on the hills north and west and\nsouth, and we were resting in the camp. Everything was quiet. I went\nover to the big tepee where there were several leading men, and we were\nsitting there talking and smoking. About ten o\u2019clock a band of Sioux, who\nhad been visiting the camp and had gone home, came rushing back with the\ntidings that the soldiers were coming. We could hardly believe that the\nsoldiers were so near, and we were not very much depressed because of the\nreport for two reasons: the soldiers had gone back to Wyoming, and we did\nnot think they were near enough to attack us; and from the history of all\nour tribe, away back for generations, it had never been known that\nsoldiers or Indians had attacked a Sioux camp in the daytime; they had\nalways waited for night to come. And still we sat there smoking. In a\nshort time we heard the report of rifles, and bullets whizzed through the\ncamp from the other side of the river. I left my pipe and ran as hard as\nI could, as did all the others, to our tents. As I ran to my tent there\nwas a scream ran through the camp: \u201cThe soldiers are here! The soldiers\nare here!\u201d The Indians who were herding the horses on the hill rushed to\nthe camp with the horses, and the dust raised just like smoke. When I got\nto my tent the men who were herding the horses had got the horses there,\nand they were screaming. I grabbed my gun and cartridge belt, and the\nnoise and confusion was so great that we did not know what we were doing.\nThe women were running to the hills, and my heart was mad. The guns were\nstill firing in the upper part of the camp. I did not have time to put on\nmy war-bonnet; I jumped on the horse I had and made a pull for where the\nfiring was. The first thing I saw when I got to\u2019the battle line was a\nhorse with a bridle on with the lines hanging down, and a dead Sioux.\nWhen I got to this line of battle\u2014I thought I was quick, but I found a lot\nof Sioux already there\u2014they were rushing on up the hill. We were all\nnaked, and the soldiers with their pack saddles and their uniforms on and\ntheir black horses looked like great big buffalo. The Sioux were all\nriding up the hill. We saw one lone Indian on the hill going down toward\nthe soldiers, and the river. We could not see him as he came down the\nhill, but we could see the smoke coming from under his horse\u2019s head, and\nwe all thought that he was going to make a charge on the soldiers, and we\nall charged. It seemed as though that one Indian had the attention of all\nthe soldiers, and they were all firing at him. When we saw that the smoke\nwas all going toward the soldiers that gave us a chance to charge from\nthis side, and we all made a rush. When we made the charge we got them\nall stampeded. For smoke and dust we could not see the soldiers as they\nretreated toward the river. The Sioux were fresh, and we soon caught up\nwith them. We passed a black man in a soldier\u2019s uniform and we had him.\nHe turned on his horse and shot an Indian right through the heart. Then\nthe Indians fired at this one man, and riddled his horse with bullets.\nHis horse fell over on his back, and the black man could not get up. I\nsaw him as I rode by. I afterward saw him lying there dead. We fought\nthem until they rolled and tumbled and finally had to go into the river,\nwhich was very deep. We made them cross the river. The country around\nthe river in those days was very heavily wooded. We chased some of the\nsoldiers into the woods, and others across the river and up the hill. I\ndid not know the name of the commander of the soldiers at that time, but I\nafterward heard that it was Reno. I also heard afterward that they had a\nbig trial and charged him with being a coward, but I praised him for\nrushing into the camp. The reason I praised him was that he only had a\nfew soldiers and our camp was a great camp, and he came rushing into the\ncamp with his few soldiers. In all the history of my great-grandfather I\nhave never known of such an attack in daylight. After they retreated over\nthe hills and we had killed a large number of them that battle was ended.\nI was at the Custer Battlefield this morning, and I noticed there were no\nmonuments up for the soldiers who fell on the Reno Field. As we had\nfinished with the Reno battle and were returning to camp we saw two men on\nthe Reno Hills waving two blankets as hard as they could. Two of us rode\nover to where they were, and they yelled to us that the genuine stuff was\ncoming, and they were going to get our women and children. I went over\nwith the others and peeped over the hills and saw the soldiers advancing.\nAs I looked along the line of the ridge they seemed to fill the whole\nhill. It looked as if there were thousands of them, and I thought we\nwould surely be beaten. As I returned I saw hundreds of Sioux. I looked\ninto their eyes and they looked different\u2014they were filled with fear. I\nthen called my own band together, and I took off the ribbons from my hair,\nalso my shirt and pants, and threw them away, saving nothing but my belt\nof cartridges and gun. I thought most of the Sioux will fall to-day: I\nwill fall with them. Just at that time Sitting-Bull made his appearance.\nHe said, just as though I could hear him at this moment: \u201cA bird, when it\nis on its nest, spreads its wings to cover the nest and eggs and protect\nthem. It cannot use its wings for defense, but it can cackle and try to\ndrive away the enemy. We are here to protect our wives and children, and\nwe must not let the soldiers get them.\u201d He was on a buckskin horse, and\nhe rode from one end of the line to the other, calling out: \u201cMake a brave\nfight!\u201d We were all hidden along the ridge of hills. While Sitting-Bull\nwas telling this I looked up and saw that the Cheyennes had made a circle\naround Custer on the west, north, and east sides, and that left a gap on\nthe south side for us to fill. We then filled up the gap, and as we did\nso we looked over to the Cheyenne side, and there was a woman among the\nCheyennes who was nearest the soldiers trying to fight them. While Custer\nwas all surrounded, there had been no firing from either side. The Sioux\nthen made a charge from the rear side, shooting into the men, and the\nshooting frightened the horses so that they rushed upon the ridge and many\nhorses were shot. The return fire was so strong that the Sioux had to\nretreat back over the hill again. I left my men there and told them to\nhold that position and then I rushed around the hills and came up to the\nnorth end of the field near where the monument now stands. And I saw\nhundreds and hundreds of Indians in the coulees all around. The Indians\ndismounted and tied their horses in a bunch and got down into the coulees,\nshooting at the soldiers from all sides. From the point that juts out\njust below where the monument stands about thirty of us got through the\nline, firing as we went, and captured a lot of Custer\u2019s horses and drove\nthem down to the river. The horses were so thirsty that the moment we\nreached the river they just stood and drank and drank, and that gave us a\nchance to get off our horses and catch hold of the bridles. They were all\nloaded with shells and blankets and everything that the soldiers carried\nwith them. Just then I returned to my men, and the soldiers were still on\nthe hill fighting, with some of their horses near them. Just as I got\nback some of the soldiers made a rush down the ravine toward the river,\nand a great roll of smoke seemed to go down the ravine. This retreat of\nthe soldiers down the ravine was met by the advance of the Indians from\nthe river, and all who were not killed came back again to the hill. After\nthe soldiers got back from the hills they made a stand all in a bunch.\nAnother charge was made and they retreated along the line of the ridge; it\nlooked like a stampede of buffalo. On this retreat along the ridge, the\nsoldiers were met by my band of Indians as well as other Sioux. The\nsoldiers now broke the line and divided, some of them going down the\neastern slope of the hill, and some of them going down to the river. The\nothers came back to where the final stand was made on the hill, but they\nwere few in number then. The soldiers then gathered in a group, where the\nmonument now stands\u2014I visited the monument to-day and confirmed my memory\nof it\u2014and then the soldiers and Indians were all mixed up. You could not\ntell one from the other. In this final charge I took part and when the\nlast soldier was killed the smoke rolled up like a mountain above our\nheads, and the soldiers were piled one on top of another, dead, and here\nand there an Indian among the soldiers. We were so excited during the\nbattle that we killed our own Indians. I saw one that had been hit across\nthe head with a war axe, and others had been hit with arrows. After we\nwere done, we went back to the camp. After the onslaught I did not see\nany soldiers scalped, but I saw the Indians piling up their clothes, and\nthere was shooting all over the hill, for the Indians were looking for the\nwounded soldiers and were shooting them dead. Just as I got back to the\ncamp I heard that a packtrain was coming from over the hills. I looked\nover the hills and saw the Sioux and Cheyennes moving that way. I\nremained a little while to look after my wife and children. After I had\nlocated my family I fired off my shells and got a new supply of ammunition\nand went toward the packtrain. When I got over there the fighting had\nbegun. The packtrain had already fortified itself by making\nentrenchments. The Indians were on the outside firing into it, and the\nsoldiers inside were firing at the Indians. During this last fight the\nsun was getting low. After it grew dark the firing continued; you would\nsee the flash of the guns in the entrenchments. The Indians would crawl\nup and fire a flock of arrows into the entrenchments and then scatter\naway. This kept up all night. I did not stay, but went home. The next\nmorning I went over there and found that the Indians still had the\npacktrain surrounded and the fight was still going on. We kept at long\nrange and continued our firing. The soldiers were all sharpshooters, and\nthe moment we put our heads up they fired at us and nearly hit us. The\nnews went around among all the Indians that they were to stay there, and\nthat all the soldiers in the entrenchment would be so dry soon that they\nwould have to get out and we would get them. I cannot quite remember, but\nI think it was about noon\u2014we held them until then\u2014when news came from our\ncamp down on the plain that there was a big bunch of soldiers coming up\nthe river\u2014General Terry with his men. As soon as we heard this we let the\npacktrain go and fled back to our camp. We at once broke camp and fled up\nthe Little Big Horn, or Greasy Creek, as it is called by the Indians. If\nit had not been for General Terry coming up as he did we would have had\nthat packtrain, for they were all dry\u2014they had had no water for two days.\nAfter we had killed Custer and all his men I did not think very much about\nit. The soldiers fired into us first and we returned the fire.\nSitting-Bull had talked to us and all the tribes to make a brave fight and\nwe made it. When we had killed all the soldiers we felt that we had done\nour duty, and felt that it was a great battle and not a massacre. With\nreference to the real reason for this fight I may say that the talk among\nthe Indians was that they were going to compel us to stay on the\nreservation and take away from us our country. Our purpose was to move\nnorth and go as far north as possible away from the tribes. Our object\nwas not to fight the Crows or any other tribe, but we learned that the\nsoldiers were getting after us to try to compel us to go back on the\nreservation, and we were trying to get away from them. During the Custer\nfight our tents were not attacked, but after the battle the women gathered\nup their dead husbands and brothers, and laid them out nicely in the\ntepee, and left them. I understand that after we had left the tepees\nstanding, holding our dead, the soldiers came and burned the tepees.\nAccording to my estimate there were about two thousand able-bodied\nwarriors engaged in this fight; they were all in good fighting order. The\nguns and ammunition that we gathered from the dead soldiers of Custer\u2019s\ncommand put us in better fighting condition than ever before, but the\nsentiment ran around among the Indians that we had killed enough, and we\ndid not want to fight any more. There has been a good deal of dispute\nabout the number of Indians killed. About the closest estimate that we\ncan make is that fifty Sioux were killed in the fight, and others died a\nshort time afterward from their wounds.\n\n\n\n\n [Two Moons as he fought Custer]\n\n Two Moons as he fought Custer\n\n\n THE STORY OF CHIEF TWO MOONS\u2014CHEYENNE LEADER, AS TOLD WHERE CUSTER FELL\n\n\nIt was a September day. The hoarfrost had written the alphabet of the\ncoming winter\u2014there was promise of snow. With Chief Two Moons and his\ninterpreter we climbed the dreary slopes leading to the monument and\ngraves of the Custer dead. Chief Two Moons took his position by the stone\nwhich reads: \u201cBrevet Major General George A. Custer, 7th U. S. Cavalry,\nfell here June 26th, 1876.\u201d A tiny flag waved by this stone, marking the\nspot where the hero made his last stand. The hills all about us wore a\nsombre hue; the sky kept marriage bonds with the scene. Cold, gray clouds\nhung over the ridges along which Custer rode with the daring Seventh.\nThey draped the summits of the Big Horn Range on the far horizon in gray\nand purple. The prairie grass had come to the death of the autumn and it\ntoo creaked amid the stones. The heart beat quick at the sight of Chief\nTwo Moons, a tall and stalwart Roman-faced Indian, standing amid the white\nslabs where thirty-three years before, clad in a white shirt, red\nleggings, without war-bonnet, he had ridden a white horse, dealing\ndeathblows to the boys in blue, and with these deathblows the last great\nstand of the Red Man against the White Man. The battle echoes are heard\nagain as Two Moons tells his story:\n\n\u201cCuster came up along the ridge and across the mountains from the right of\nthe monument. The Cheyennes and the Sioux came up the coulee from the\nfoot of Reno Hill, and circled about. I led the Cheyennes as we came up.\nCuster marched up from behind the ridge on which his monument now stands,\nand deployed his soldiers along the entire line of the ridge. They rode\nover beyond where the monument stands down into the valley until we could\nnot see them. The Cheyennes and the Sioux came up to the right over in\nthe valley of the Little Big Horn. Custer placed his men in groups along\nthis ridge. They dismounted. The men who had dismounted along the ridge\nseemed to have let their horses go down the other side of the ridge.\nThose who were on the hill where the monument now stands, and where I am\nnow standing, had gray horses and they were all in the open. The Sioux\nand the Cheyennes came up the valley swarming like ants toward the bunch\nof gray horses where Long Hair stood. I led the Cheyennes up the long\nline of ridge from the valley blocking the soldiers, and I called to my\nCheyenne brothers: \u2018Come on, children; do not be scared!\u2019 And they came\nafter me, yelling and firing. We broke the line of soldiers and went over\nthe ridge. Another band of Indians and Sioux came from over beyond the\nridge, and when I got over there, I got off my white horse and told my men\nto wait, and we loaded our guns and fired into the first troop which was\nvery near us. At the first volley the troop at which we fired were all\nkilled. We kept firing along the ridge on which the troops were stationed\nand kept advancing. I rode my horse back along the ridge again and called\nupon my children to come on after me. Many of my Cheyenne brothers were\nkilled, and I whipped up my horse and told them to come on, that this was\nthe last day they would ever see their chief, and I again started for the\nbunch of gray horses on the hilltop. The Indians followed me, yelling and\nfiring. I could not break the line at the bunch of gray horses and I\nwheeled and went to the left down the valley with the line of soldiers\nfacing me as I went, firing at me, and all my men firing at the soldiers.\nThen I rode on up the ridge to the left. I met an Indian with a big\nwar-bonnet on, and right there I saw a soldier wounded. I killed him and\njumped off my horse and scalped him. The Indian I met was Black Bear, a\nCheyenne. I then rode down the ridge and came to a group of four dead\nsoldiers; one of them had on a red flannel shirt, the other three had red\nstripes on the arm, one had three stripes, the other had three stripes and\na sword. They all had on good clothes, and I jumped off my horse and took\ntheir clothes and their guns. When I turned back I could not see anything\nbut soldiers and Indians all mixed up together. You could hardly tell one\nfrom the other. As I rode along the ridge I found nearly all the soldiers\nkilled. I again rode up to the ridge along which Custer\u2019s troops had been\nstationed. I found two or three killed and saw one running away to get on\ntop of the high hills beyond, and we took after him, and killed him.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe whole valley was filled with smoke and the bullets flew all about us,\nmaking a noise like bees. We could hardly hear anything for the noise of\nguns. When the guns were firing, the Sioux and Cheyennes and soldiers,\none falling one way and one falling another, together with the noise of\nthe guns, I shall never forget. At last we saw that Custer and his men\nwere grouped on the side of the hill, and we commenced to circle round and\nround, the Sioux and the Cheyennes, and we all poured in on Custer and his\nmen, firing into them until the last man was shot. We then jumped off our\nhorses, took their guns, and scalped them.\u201d\n\n\u201cAfter the fight was over we gathered in the river bottom and cut willow\nsticks, then some Indians were delegated to go and throw down a stick\nwherever they found a dead soldier, and then they were ordered to pick up\nthe sticks again, and in this way we counted the number of dead. It was\nabout six times we had to cut willow sticks, because we kept finding men\nall along the ridge. We counted four hundred and eighty-eight with our\nsticks along the ridge. We were trying to count the dead there in the\nvalley when General Terry came up from the other side, and we fled away.\nAfter the battle was over the Indians made a circle all over the ridges\nand around through the valley to see if they could find any more soldiers,\nas they were determined to kill every one. The next morning after the\nfight we went up behind the Reno Field and camped at Black Lodge River.\nWe then followed the Black Lodge River until we came back to the Little\nBig Horn again. Then we camped at the Little Big Horn, moving our camp\nconstantly, fearing pursuit by the soldiers.\u201d\n\n\u201cBefore the Custer fight we went over on the Tongue River and found a camp\nof soldiers. We rushed upon them and took all their horses away, and the\nsoldiers ran into the brush. We knew there would be other soldiers after\nus; we knew about where they were, and we felt they would pursue us. At\nPowder River the soldiers attacked our camp and destroyed everything, and\nthat made us mad. When the soldiers came after us, on the day of the\nCuster fight, we were ready to kill them all. The soldiers were after us\nall the time, and we had to fight.\u201d\n\nThe lonely stretches of prairie, the lonelier graves, the pathetic remnant\nof Red Men\u2014victors on this field\u2014the hollow silence of these dreary hill\nslopes, the imperishable valour of two hundred and seventy-seven men who\nlaid their lives on a blood-red altar, until the one lone figure of the\ngreat captain lifted his unavailing sword against a howling horde of\nsavage warriors\u2014glittering for a moment in the June sunlight, then falling\nto the earth baptized with blood\u2014is the solemn picture to forever hang in\nthe nation\u2019s gallery of battles.\n\n\n\n\n CONCLUSIONS\n\n\nFair play is an all compelling creed. Justice to the dead is one of the\ncommandments in that creed. Let the controversy rage. Let the sword be\nunsheathed in the face of misrepresentation and wrong. General Custer was\na daring and chivalrous officer. He had won laurels on many a hard fought\nfield under Southern skies\u2014he was a strategist, brave and unfaltering. He\nhad served in Western campaigns with distinction and success. He knew how\nto deal with the masterful generalship of his wily Indian foes. Hitherto\nhis tactics had been victorious. The orders under which he now marched to\nbattle were definite up to a certain point\u2014then, so the record in the War\nDepartment reads\u2014he was to use his own discretion and initiative. He was\ncompelled to follow this course\u2014for he marched over a wild and trackless\nwaste, far distant from his base of supplies and absolutely without means\nof communication with headquarters, and without ability to ascertain the\nmovements of any military force in the field. It is fair to state that\nthe ranking General in charge of this campaign against the Indians reposed\nthis confidence in General Custer, otherwise, knowing the Indian as a\nfighter, knowing the character of the desolated wastes of country to\ntraverse\u2014the difficulties to be encountered in the simple movement of\ntroops\u2014the annihilation of any body of troops, when once they reached the\nunmapped plains cut in twain by gorges and piled high with impassable\nbuttes, he would have stultified himself had not orders been given\nallowing discretion at the moment of emergency. Custer was strong enough,\nbrave enough, and sufficiently masterful to see and seize the situation.\nHis tactics were the tactics he had previously and many times employed,\nand always with brilliant success. On this June day he would have led the\ndaring \u201cSeventh\u201d to victory and routed, if not conquered, the great Indian\ncamp. He was defeated and slain with his entire command. They fell at\ntheir posts in battle formation. Why? The entire group of Indian\nwarriors participating in this grim battle all testify that had Reno\npushed his charge when first he attacked the Indian camp that they would\nhave fled in confusion, for the attack was unexpected. The Indian always\nexpected a night attack. They further testify that after Reno made his\nattack with a portion of his men, thus depleting his effective fighting\nforce by one half and in desperation made his bungling retreat, had he\nlater come to the aid of Custer with the added reinforcements of Benteen,\nFrench, and Weir, who begged him to hear the appeal of Custer\u2019s rapid\nvolleys, Custer would have broken the Indian camp. Reno remained on the\nhill until every gun was silent. Reno failed. Custer was slain. This\nconclusion is the voice of the Indian.\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE LAST GREAT INDIAN COUNCIL\n\n\nKabibonok Ka, the North Wind, came marching out of the caverns and snows\nof the north, whipping and driving blinding gusts of rain and sleet.\nNee-ba-naw baigs, the Water Spirits, unsealed their fountains, and the\nturbulent waters of the Little Big Horn River rushed on, tearing out the\nbanks along which on the plain were huddled the myriad tepees of the\nIndian camp. The wind in the trees roared like distant thunder. The dogs\nwere crouching in any shelter. Horses were standing with their backs to\nthe storm, their tails drenched and driven between their legs. The flaps\nof the tepees were closed, and the rawhide streamers from the poles\ncracked like the sharp report of a rifle. The women and children were\nclosely huddled around the lodge fire. It was the great spring storm, the\nlast triumphant blast of winter. Yonder in the centre of all this\ndripping circle of tepees stood the council lodge. Inside were gathered\nthe great chief and his medicine men and warriors. They encircled the\nblazing logs, heeding little the melancholy night that kept tune with the\nsorrowful thoughts of their own hearts. The ashes had cooled in the bowl\nof the council pipe, when, at the head of the circle, Chief Plenty Coups,\nchief of all the Crow Nation, arose from his blankets, laid down his coup\nstick, and addressed his brothers:\n\n\u201cThe ground on which we stand is sacred ground. It is the dust and blood\nof our ancestors. On these plains the Great White Father at Washington\nsent his soldiers armed with long knives and rifles to slay the Indian.\nMany of them sleep on yonder hill where Pahaska\u2014White Chief of the Long\nHair\u2014so bravely fought and fell. A few more passing suns will see us here\nno more, and our dust and bones will mingle with these same prairies. I\nsee as in a vision the dying spark of our council fires, the ashes cold\nand white. I see no longer the curling smoke rising from our lodge poles.\nI hear no longer the songs of the women as they prepare the meal. The\nantelope have gone; the buffalo wallows are empty. Only the wail of the\ncoyote is heard. The white man\u2019s medicine is stronger than ours; his iron\nhorse rushes over the buffalo trail. He talks to us through his\n\u2018whispering spirit.\u2019 \u201d (The Indian\u2019s name for the telegraph and\ntelephone.) \u201cWe are like birds with a broken wing. My heart is cold\nwithin me. My eyes are growing dim\u2014I am old. Before our red brothers\npass on to the happy hunting ground let us bury the tomahawk. Let us\nbreak our arrows. Let us wash off our war paint in the river. And I will\ninstruct our medicine men to tell the women to prepare a great council\nlodge. I will send our hunters into the hills and pines for deer. I will\nsend my runners to the lodges of the Blackfeet, where in that far north\nflowers border the snow on the hills. I will send them across the fiery\ndesert to the lodges of the Apaches in the south. I will send them east\nto the lodges of the Sioux, warriors who have met us in many a hard\nbattle. I will send them to the west, where among the mountains dwell the\nCayuse and the Umatillas. I will have the outliers build smoke signals on\nall the high hills, calling the chiefs of all the tribes together, that we\nmay meet here as brothers and friends in one great last council, that we\nmay eat our bread and meat together, and smoke the council pipe, and say\nfarewell as brothers, never to meet again.\u201d The storm abated. The urn of\nthe morning seemed overturned, and the spices of a new spring day,\nredolent with the perfume of growing things, bright with sunshine and song\nof birds, flowed over the busy Indian camp. Weeks passed on. Runners\ncame into camp, rushing into the lodge of the great chief, announcing the\napproach of a procession of chiefs from the north; other heralds told of a\ngreat company on the hills coming from the east, and from the west, and\nwarrior chiefs from the south halted outside the camp. Chiefs from all\nthe great tribes had heard the call, had seen the smoke signal, and now\nthe plain is full of horses and gayly coloured riders as they dismount\nbefore the council lodge.\n\nA wonderful blaze of colour meets the eye. Excitement and interest fill\nthe air as these veterans of the plains enter the council lodge. Chief\nPlenty Coups then receives the chiefs; they are greeted one by one with a\ncourtly and graceful dignity. When the council had assembled Chief Plenty\nCoups laid his coup stick and pipe sack on the ground, and in the sign\nlanguage gave welcome to the chiefs from many lands.\n\n\u201cI am glad at heart to stand here to-day on this Indian ground and give a\nhearty welcome to all the chiefs assembled from the various tribes from\nall over the United States. It is a day of beauty, and bright sunshine;\nit is a glad day for me. I rejoice that on this happy day we can all meet\nhere as friends, eat our bread and meat in communion, smoke the council\npipe, and the pipe of peace. I am rejoiced to give you all a great heart\nof welcome. And then we must say farewell, but we go away as friends,\nnever to meet again. I am glad to have you here.\u201d\n\nThen Chief Two Moons, the leader of the Cheyennes in the Custer fight,\narose and shook hands with Chief Plenty Coups, and said:\n\n\u201cThis is a glad day for me, and I am glad at heart that we can all meet as\nchiefs from the various tribes from all over the land. It is a great day\nfor all of us, because there are no more wars between us, and we meet in\npeace to hold this last great council of the chiefs, and smoke the pipe of\npeace. I am glad at heart that this great picture is to be made of us, as\nwe are assembled here, because our old chiefs are fast dying away, and our\nold Indian customs soon will pass out of sight, and the coming generations\nwill not know anything about us, but this picture will cause us to live\nall through the years. And our children and their children will reap the\nbenefit. I am glad we are here.\u201d\n\nTottering with age, and nearly blind, Tin-Tin-Meet-Sa, head chief of the\nUmatilla Indians, pulled himself up on his walking-stick, took Chief\nPlenty Coups by the hand, and said:\n\n\u201cI have come here to-day and am glad to meet all the chiefs and especially\nChief Plenty Coups, chief of the Crow tribe. And I am greatly satisfied\nto meet you all and be at peace. On this day we meet as Indians and as\nbrothers, and now we sit here on this ground and smoke the peace pipe. We\nmeet as brothers that have been away from one another for many years.\nSome of us have never seen each other before, and to-day we meet and shake\nhands with these chiefs whom we shall never see again. Although these\npeople were our enemies at one time, to-day we are in peace, and I think\nvery much of this chief, and I think very much of all the chiefs. I think\nit is a great day for all of us. I cannot give you any more words, as I\nam of old age.\u201d\n\nUmapine, head chief of the Cayuse tribe, wearing perhaps the finest\nregalia of any chief in the council, with great dignity and grace\naddressed Chief Plenty Coups:\n\n\u201cWe all chiefs of different tribes meet here in this country, the country\nthat some of us perhaps will never see any more. I appreciate your\nkindness in greeting us. We all Indians are in peace toward each other as\nwell as toward our white brothers. I am very glad to meet you all. I\nhope that we will in the future days respect one another, also respect our\nwhite brothers, because we all, each one of us, belong to the animal\nkingdom. This is all to you, my dear friends; wishing you a good health.\u201d\n\nRed Cloud, head chief of the Ogallalla Sioux Nation, with his captivating\nway, addressed Chief Plenty Coups:\n\n\u201cI stand here to-day to shake hands with the chief of the Crow Nation, and\nall the chiefs of the tribes assembled from the various quarters of our\ncountry. I stand here on this great plain, with the broad sunlight\npouring down upon it. I want you to look me in the face, and I hope the\nGreat Heavenly Father, who will look down upon us, will give all the\ntribes His blessing, that we may go forth in peace, and live in peace all\nour days, and that He will look down upon our children and finally lift us\nfar above this earth; and that our Heavenly Father will look upon our\nchildren as His children, that all the tribes may be His children, and as\nwe shake hands to-day upon this broad plain, we may forever live in peace.\nWe have assembled here to-day as chiefs from all over the land; we eat the\nbread and meat together, we smoke the pipe of peace, and we shake the hand\nof peace. And now we go out as one chief, and I hope we shall be as\nbrothers and friends for all our lives, and separate with kind hearts. I\nam glad to-day as I shake hands with my brothers and friends, although I\nshall never see them again. When the white man first came across the\nocean, the Indian took him by the hand and gave him welcome. This day\nmakes me think of that time, and now I say farewell.\u201d\n\nMountain Chief, head chief of the Blackfoot Indians, perhaps the most\nvigorous talker in the sign language in the council, greeted Chief Plenty\nCoups with these words:\n\n\u201cI have come clear across the plains and from behind the distant mountains\nto meet these chiefs assembled in council, and I am very glad that I am\nhere to see these Indian chiefs from all the various tribes, and my heart\nis open to you all as to my own brother. We smoke the pipe of peace and\ntake the hand of all the different chiefs, and I shall be glad forever,\nand shall look upon this as one of the greatest days of my life. We\nseparate from each other in peace, and with a kind heart, but never to\nmeet again.\u201d\n\nBear Ghost, Chief of the Yankton Sioux, with great calmness and\ndeliberation said:\n\n\u201cI am glad that I am here to shake the hand in peace with all the chiefs\nof the various tribes assembled. It is a great day for me, and a great\nday for us all. I rejoice that a record is to be made of this council\nthat it may live for future generations. I am glad that I can smoke the\npipe of peace, and that with a sad but satisfied heart I can say farewell\nto all the chiefs.\u201d\n\nThe commanding figure of Koon-Kah-Za-Chy, an eminent Apache chief, stood\nbefore Chief Plenty Coups compelling the attention of the entire council:\n\u201cAs I stand before you to-day my mind runs over the many fierce battles\nthat my own tribe, the Apaches, have had with the Kiowas, Cheyennes,\nSioux, and other tribes. Many of the chiefs present to-day I have met\nbefore on the battlefield, but my heart is glad as I shake hands with all\nthe chiefs to know that now we are all at peace. We smoke the pipe of\npeace. We meet as friends and brothers. I am glad to meet all these\nchiefs before I die, in peace, as I have before met them in war. It is a\ngreat day for me, for I have come far across the plains of the south, and\nI shall go back home carrying with me the memory of this council, and of\nthese chiefs whom I shall never see again. I say farewell!\u201d\n\nCurly, Custer scout, advanced with great readiness and ease, and took the\nhand of Chief Plenty Coups. According to the custom of the Crows he did\nnot lay down his coup stick, but gestured with one hand. He said:\n\n\u201cDear Brother Plenty Coups, I am here to-day to greet you, and to greet\nall these other chiefs, chiefs who were once my enemies. My heart goes\nout to that great battlefield and that great monument erected to my dear\nCuster, with whom, and for whom, I fought. He fell on yonder hilltop\nalmost within reach of our arms from this council lodge. And my heart is\nglad that I can shake hands with these chiefs, some of whom I fought\nagainst with Custer on that great battlefield. I have pledged myself\nnever to lay aside this coup stick so long as the blood runs through my\nfingers, but I have resolved this day, as I look into the faces of these\ngreat chiefs who were once my enemies, that I will never lift the coup\nstick again, that I will live as a brother to all the tribes, and at peace\nwith all men. I say farewell to the chiefs, a last, sad farewell.\u201d\n\nAfter these and other eminent chiefs had made reply to the address of\nwelcome given by Chief Plenty Coups, according to Indian custom they were\nall seated in rows on the ground in semicircles, the more eminent chiefs\nin the first row, the lines falling back until they reached the wall line\nof the lodge. Every chief wore his full war regalia and carried with him\nall of his ceremonial and sacred insignia. The small army of coup sticks,\nalways held aloft, presented a suggestive picture, for these coup sticks\nof the many chiefs from many lands each told a story of struggle and\nachievement, but in the speeches made by the chiefs each coup stick was to\nbecome a pledge of peace.\n\nNow, following the ancient custom, while still seated, an Indian woman\nbelonging to the Blackfoot tribe and wearing the full costume of her\npeople, together with two Cheyenne maidens, dressed in the costume of\ntheir particular tribe, entered the council lodge carrying wooden bowls\nfilled with meat and bread. This they served to the chiefs with a wooden\nfork. This to them answered as a ceremony of communion. When all had\npartaken, Chief Plenty Coups took the two long-stemmed pipes with red\nsandstone bowls containing emblematic decorations the whole length of the\nstems\u2014pipes that had been filled by the medicine men and placed on the\nground before the standing place of the great chiefs in the centre of the\nlodge. Chief Plenty Coups then lighted one pipe and passed it to the\nchiefs at his left, and lighting the other he smoked it himself for the\nfirst, and then passed it on to the right, each chief in turn smoking the\npipe, then passing it on to his brother chief, until all had smoked the\ncouncil pipe. When the pipes were returned to Chief Plenty Coups they\nwere again filled and lighted, smoked by the Great Chief, and passed on to\nthe others. And this became the Pipe of Peace.\n\nThese Indian councils were the legislative halls of the tribes; thither\nall matters of importance were brought by the chiefs and the warriors.\nHere all tribal problems were discussed. Here the destiny of any\nparticular tribe was settled. Here the decision to make war was reached.\nIn these council lodges, around the blazing fire, the Indians have uttered\nspeech more eloquent than a Pitt or a Chatham in St. Stephens or a Webster\nin a Senate hall, an oratory that aroused the disintegrated Indian tribes\nand far separated clans into such a masterful and resistful force that the\nIndian against odds many times mightier than himself has been able to\nwithstand the aggressions of civilization.\n\nWhen questions of such moment made the necessity, chiefs of all the tribes\nattended and entered into solemn council. Then the council meant war.\nThe day finally dawned when the Indian as a race was conquered by the\nwhite man. The ranks of the chiefs became thinner and thinner until in\nthis day only a few of the great warriors remain. These representatives\nof former greatness and prowess gathered from their peaceful wigwams from\nmany and faraway lands to hold once again and for the last time a council\nof the old days. On this day the council was for peace, and the dominant,\nresonant note ringing through every sentiment uttered; if we did not know\nthey were Indians and did not know that this was an Indian council, we\nwould have said this was a Peace Conference at The Hague.\n\nTo stand in the presence of these mighty men of the plains, to witness\ntheir nobility, to listen to their eloquence, to think with them the\nmighty thoughts of their dead past, to watch their solemn faces, to\ntremble before the dignity of their masterful bearing, to cherish the\nthought of all that they have been and all that they might have been, to\nrealize that as their footfalls leave this council lodge they have turned\ntheir backs on each other forever, and that as they mount their horses and\nride away to their distant lodges they are riding into the sunset and are\nfinally lost in the purple mists of evening, is to make the coldest page\nof history burn with an altar fire that shall never go out.\n\n\n\n\n\n [The Council Pipe]\n\n The Council Pipe\n\n\nINDIAN IMPRESSIONS OF THE LAST GREAT COUNCIL\n\n\nTo the student of Indian affairs it might at first seem that the gathering\nof the great chiefs from all the Indian tribes, wearing war-shirt and\nwar-bonnet, carrying their coup sticks, tomahawks, spears, bows and\narrows, guns and tom-toms, would necessarily reemphasize to the Indian the\nglory of his former prestige, and this impression would gather such\nmomentum that deleterious results would follow; but an alert and studious\neffort was always manifest to inculcate in the Indian mind that this last\ngreat council of the chiefs had for its dominant idea the welfare of the\nIndian, that he should live at peace with his fellows and all men, and the\nmaking of a lasting historic record of the fast-fading manners and customs\nof the North American Indian. This paramount idea gained such fast hold\nof the Indian mind that the council became not only a place of historic\nrecord but a school for the inculcation of the highest ideals of peace.\nThat the lesson was well taught and well learned becomes strikingly\nevident in the peace sentiments of the chiefs expressed in their speeches\nat the council, and their impressions of the council now to follow:\n\n [Chief Plenty Coups Addressing the Council]\n\n Chief Plenty Coups Addressing the Council\n\n\nCHIEF PLENTY COUPS: I have a very glad heart to-day because it has been\nmy privilege to welcome the chiefs from all the great tribes, all over the\nUnited States, here on these beautiful plains of Montana. I am rejoiced\nthat on this day of beauty and bright sunshine we could meet together. I\nam glad to welcome as my guests Indian chiefs whom I have never seen, and\nthat I could give them a welcome with my heart open, eat with them bread\nand meat, and smoke the pipe of peace, and greet all the chiefs as\nbrothers. As the bright sun has opened upon us, Doctor Dixon has met us\nall in peace and friendliness and we all feel toward him with a kind\nheart. His coming has brought about the coming of the chiefs whom I have\nnever seen before and will never see again, and as the chief of the Crow\nNation I am rejoiced to give him and all these chiefs a great heart of\nwelcome, and send them away in peace, and I feel that they are all like my\nown brothers. During my life from my early days I have fought the other\nnations before the white man ever stepped into this country, then the\nGreat Father ordered that we should stop fighting and live in peace.\nBefore this we conquered each other\u2019s horses and killed on all sides. And\nnow to-day we have met in this great council as chiefs and friends. The\nGreat Father is good to us again in permitting us to have this meeting,\nand I look upon all these chiefs and all the tribes as my friends. And as\nthe bright sunshine falls, I pray that our Heavenly Father may let His\nblessing come down upon all the chiefs and all the tribes, and that we may\ngo forth from this great day happy and in peace. In former days we were\nin ceaseless conflict; then Uncle Sam came to us and said we must live in\npeace. And since that time we have had allotments of land, schools have\nbeen built for the education of our children, and as an illustration of\nthe feelings of my heart to-day\u2014the tribes have all met here and we have\nmet in peace, and have met as one man. We are all as brothers\u2014the tobacco\nof all the tribes is as the tobacco of one man, and we have all smoked the\npipe of peace together. Out of the struggle of these old days we have\ncome into the calm and serene light of such a day as this. This I\nconsider to be the greatest event of my life, and my country I shall live\nfor, and my country shall remain in peace, as I feel peaceful toward my\ncountry.\n\nCURLY: Since my boyhood days I have never seen anything so great. We\nhave seen here the chiefs from all over the United States. It was\nwonderful. You are the first man that ever brought such a thing to pass.\nI enjoyed it very much more than I can tell. The thought of this thing\nwas a great thought, one of the greatest thoughts of our time. Many of\nour Indians have gone to Washington, and have seen the Great White Father,\nand have seen great things. These Indian chiefs have all been brought\nhere so that we could see them and talk with them by the sign language,\nand I think it is most wonderful.\n\nCHIEF RED WHIP: I think this is a great idea. I am glad to meet the\nchiefs of all the tribes. I have never seen them before. It will not be\nlong until all these big chiefs are dead, and the younger generation will\nread the history of these chiefs and see these pictures, and I am glad the\nrecord is being made.\n\n [Chief Koon-Ka-Za-Chy Addressing the Council]\n\n Chief Koon-Ka-Za-Chy Addressing the Council\n\n\nCHIEF KOON-KAH-ZA-CHY: I never before have seen so many chiefs meet\ntogether. I have met a great many chiefs here whom I have never seen\nbefore. When I was asked to come here I heard it was for the purpose of\nmaking a record, and to me the thought was good. I am sorry in my heart\nthat I must say farewell to all these chiefs.\n\nCHIEF RUNNING BIRD: I am sixty years old, and when I came to this ground\nit was ground I had never seen before in my life. I met the chiefs whom I\nhad never seen before. I had heard of them but had not seen them. I was\nvery glad to come here and see the old-time tepees, the kind of tepees our\nfathers used to live in. I grew up to manhood myself in this kind of a\ntepee, and I had good health. Now When they give us a house to live in I\nam not healthy at all. I am getting old now, and am getting up in years,\nand all I wish now at the present time is that my children shall grow up\nindustrious and work, because they cannot get honour in the war as I used\nto get it\u2014they can only get honour now by working hard. I can only teach\nmy children that the way to get honour is to go to work, and be good men\nand women. These impressions have been strengthened by this council. I\nshall go home and tell the other Indians and our agent about the council,\nfor the meeting of the chiefs will always live in my memory.\n\nCHIEF BRAVE BEAR: The meeting of all the chiefs, my friends and those who\nare strangers to me, makes my heart feel high. I think of this and when I\nget back I shall still think of it, and it will be just as though I was\nhere. I will never forget these men sitting here as my friends, as long\nas I live. We have been treated kindly and this I shall never forget. I\nwould like a nice little story of this meeting so that I can show it to my\nfriends.\n\nCHIEF UMAPINE: I have come from the far distant mountains of Oregon to\nmeet the chiefs in council. I cannot understand their language; I can\nonly talk to them in signs, but I have great respect for them. We each\nhave two hands, two feet, two eyes, two ears, but one nose, one mouth, one\nhead, and one heart. We all breathe the same air; we are all, therefore,\nbrothers. On my journey to this land, where in former years I have chased\nthe buffalo and fought the hostile Sioux who came to steal our horses and\nwomen, I saw the old buffalo trails where these great beasts used to march\nin single file, each walking in the footsteps of the other until they had\nworn deep their trail. The snows of many winters have cut the trail deep\nlike an irrigating ditch, and when I thought of the buffalo I cried in my\nheart. I have taken these great chiefs by the hand, I have been glad to\nmeet them; I must now say farewell forever, and my heart is more lonely\nthan when I think of the buffalo.\n\nCHIEF TIN-TIN-MEET-SA: My idea of this meeting is that we are doing a\ngreat thing. I am of old age and I feel strange to these people whom I\nhave met here at this place for the first time. I know that after this\nmeeting is over we will all of us go back to our own country, probably\nnever to see one another again, or talk any more to each other. The man\nwho was sent here to do this work has been very kind to the Indians and is\na fit man to do this kind of work. The work he is doing is one of the\ngreatest works that has ever been done. The record here made will not\nperish. We will soon all be gone, but the record will last. I have no\nhard feelings toward any one in this camp, and I am only worrying about my\nhay at home.\n\nCHIEF PRETTY VOICE EAGLE: The meeting of the chiefs is to me a great\nthing in many ways. First: I was glad to come here and meet the chiefs\nfrom all over the country, and see many whom I had never seen before, and\ntalk to them by sign language. It is a great sign to me that we have all\nmet here, met in peace. We had this feeling before we came, but now that\nwe are here and can see each other face to face, the feeling has grown.\nSecond: it is a great idea that has been thought of to send a man here to\ntake our speeches and make our pictures, and think over and talk over the\nold times, and make a record of them. To me this is a great\naccomplishment. It is a great accomplishment in this way: we cannot go to\nWashington; we cannot present ourselves there, but the pictures and the\nrecord will be preserved there and in great cities, to speak for us. I\nwant to draw a little illustration. You speak a language that we know\nnothing about. With the help of your people you have educated the younger\nelement and through them we can speak to you, and the different\ninterpreters can speak for the different tribes to you, and thus we can\nall talk with you and tell our story. I want to point out in this way the\ndifference between the old people and the young people. The illustration\nI have given seems to me like a dream. I can see the advancement our race\nhas made thus far. Our race is constantly changing, and this meeting will\nbe a great memory to all the Indians represented here. This meeting means\na great deal to my tribe. One great feeling of gratefulness I have about\nthis meeting is that I hope that my grandchildren and their grandchildren\nwill read the speeches I have made here, and will see my pictures.\n\nCHIEF RUNNING FISHER: I think there is a great idea back of calling the\nchiefs together, because there will be something left of us when we are\nall gone. This record and pictures will live when we are all dead. I am\nglad to have had this privilege of meeting all these chiefs from all the\ntribes. I feel sad at the thought of not meeting these chiefs again, for\nI would like to meet them all once more, but I feel pretty sure we will\nnever meet again.\n\nChief Running Fisher died within two weeks after reaching home from the\ncouncil.\n\nCHIEF BULL-DON\u2019T-FALL-DOWN: This meeting of the great chiefs in council I\nconsider one of the great events of my life. Chiefs from all over the\nUnited States have come here, chiefs whom I have never seen before and\nwhom I will never see again. We have had an opportunity to see their\nfaces, shake hands with them, and talk with them in the sign language.\nSince the great council of the chiefs on the Platte River in 1867, we have\nnot seen any of their faces until this day. Then we were on the\nwarpath\u2014at this council we meet in peace. I was one of the first Crow\nIndians to make peace with the Sioux after we had been on the warpath, and\nnow I can say farewell to all the chiefs with peace in my heart for all\nmen.\n\n [Chief Two Moons Addressing the Council]\n\n Chief Two Moons Addressing the Council\n\n\nCHIEF TWO MOONS: I feel that I am engaging in a great work in helping to\nmake this historic picture of a great Indian council. I have led the\nCheyennes in so many battles, and my life has been so full, that I felt\nwhen I came here that I was an old man, but since meeting the chiefs and\nhaving a share in the great council and recalling my old life for this\nrecord, I feel like a young man again. It is a great day for all of us,\nbecause there are no more wars between us, and we meet in peace and hold\nthis great council of the chiefs and smoke the pipe of peace. I am glad\nat heart that this great picture is to be made of us, as we are assembled\nhere, because our old chiefs are fast dying away, and our old Indian\ncustoms soon will pass out of sight. This record will survive for our\nchildren, and their children will reap the benefit. I am glad we are\nhere, but my heart is sorry to say farewell.\n\nCHIEF RED CLOUD: I think this a great and good thing. Good things have\ncome to us from the white man. When the white man came across the ocean\nwe heard he was coming because there was land over here, and he brought us\nfood to eat. The coming of this man to make these pictures, to be\npreserved in Washington and to be shown in great cities, means good to us,\nbecause the generations to come will know of our manners and customs. It\nis good, besides, to meet all these chiefs who are as brothers to one\nanother. We have never met them before; we shall never see their faces\nagain, and it is, therefore, I think, a great and good thing to have this\nlast council of the chiefs.\n\nMOUNTAIN CHIEF: I think it was one of the greatest things that ever\nhappened when we had this great council. It will be remembered forever.\nAs for myself, it will not be very long until I go to the happy hunting\ngrounds, but I have left this record for the coming generations. While I\nwas sitting in the council I was thinking of the past when we used not to\nsee each other\u2019s faces, except with the firing of guns, and now we have\nmet the different tribes in council to talk with one another in the sign\nlanguage. It shows that the Government is greater than the Indian. I\nthink it was a great thing to bring these chiefs together, and so long as\nI live I am going to tell this story to my children and my grandchildren.\nI think that Chief Two Moons and Chief Plenty Coups were the two greatest\nmen in the council. They impressed me more than any others by their\nappearance. Two Moons was not dressed up, but he showed that he was a\nman. I feel as I sit talking here with you that we are brothers together.\nAnd I say farewell to all the chiefs with a sad heart.\n\nCHIEF WHITE HORSE: This council of all the chiefs seems to me to be a\nwonderful idea. I have met a good many whom I have never seen before, and\nit was a great surprise to me, and my heart felt glad. These different\ntribes of Indians have been enemies to each other for generations back,\nbut we have now been at peace with each other for many years. But now we\nall meet here and see each other. I think your idea of taking notes and\nmaking a record of our lives and taking pictures of us, of our Indian\ncostumes and our manners, is a great thing. I am old enough now and do\nnot expect to live very long, but I am very glad that this record is to be\nmade, and put on file in the Great Father\u2019s house at Washington. Another\nthing I would like to say: we all speak different languages, and we are\nall as helpless as a child, and we want you to help us in our needs during\nour last days. My trip here was the first time I have ever been on an\niron horse, and there are a great many lessons that I learned from my ride\nhere. When I came here and saw all the Indians speaking different\nlanguages and looking different, and I saw all that was going on and heard\ntheir speeches by sign language, I thought it was one of the most\nimportant events in my life. The first lesson I got while riding on the\niron horse was to see the coaches filled with white people, and when I\nwent in they all looked at me and looked as though I was a great curiosity\nto them. When I first saw the white people I felt backward\u2014they looked at\nme so hard. I felt backward, but I finally felt more at ease, for I\nthought, I am going to die anyway. I looked over the white people and\ntheir dress, and I looked over the ceiling of the coach, and I thought\nthese are all wonderful things. I looked out of the window and the train\nwas going so fast that it seemed to me I was on the wings of a great bird.\nWe travelled so fast I could not see the things very near the coach. When\nwe used to travel on our ponies it took us many days to come over to this\nplace. But on the train it took us one half day to come to Miles City,\nand that was one of the things that made me fear. It seems impossible how\nthe trains go so fast, and this thought came to my mind: This is of the\nwhite people, who are so educated they can make the iron horse draw things\nacross the country so fast. My wish is that the Indians will come to be\nlike the white people, and be able to invent things, but the thought comes\nto me that this will be impossible. As we came along, flying as a bird, I\nlooked out of the window, saw a country over which I had once hunted, and\nthe thought of the buffalo came back to me, and I cried in my heart. When\nI get home I expect to stay there, and never leave my country again. I\nshall never see this land any more. I expect to die at home. When I get\nhome I shall tell my people of the journey I had on the train, and what I\nsaw, and of my visit to this great country, of the speeches that we made,\nof the pictures that were taken, and I know when I tell them they will be\nglad.\n\n [An Indian Communion]\n\n An Indian Communion\n\n\n\n\n\n [The Final Trail]\n\n The Final Trail\n\n\nTHE FAREWELL OF THE CHIEFS\n\n\nWe are standing at the centre of a mighty circumference. An Indian world\nrevolves for the last time upon its axis. All the constellations which\ngave it light have burned out. The Indian cosmos sweeps a dead thing amid\nthe growing lustre of the unfading stars of civilization and history. The\nsolemn hour passes, unmarked by any cataclysm of nature\u2014volcano and\nearthquake utter no speech\u2014darkness and tempest rend no veil of this\ncrumbling life temple. In the deepening twilight all is silent\u2014all speech\nis vulgar. To utter a word here would be profanation. The remnant of a\nrace have gathered for shelter within the sacred walls of their council\nlodge. The ashes of the council pipe have been scattered upon the ground.\nIn silence, deep, profound, awe-inspiring, the old Indian guard\u2014the Last\nof the Great Chiefs\u2014break not the silence. Who can ask death to retreat?\nAnd who put in shackles the decrees of destiny? The world annals contain\nno heroism and no bravery more lofty and enduring than that furnished by\nthe record of the red man. But the summital requirement is at hand.\nThese old heroes, few in number, must with their own moccasined feet\nmeasure the distance in yards and inches from that council lodge to the\ngrave\u2014the grave of their race. It were almost sacrilege to invade their\nthoughts. The old question of the carven Sphinx sat on each bronze face.\nThe far cry of the hills and plains\u2014the memories of other days\u2014forged new\nlines until the brow of each solemn warrior seemed like a page in the book\nof fate. They saw again the slowly rising smoke column, as in the sunrise\nand from the far off hilltop it lifted its call for the chiefs to\nassemble. The memory of the old days stirred their hearts. Again they\nsaw the flaming council fires, and heard once more the burning speech of\ntheir brothers as they counselled for war or the welfare of the tribe.\nThe blood of youth again chased in their veins as they felt once more that\nthey might sit in council as in the old time and then die in peace. The\nold war-bonnets and war-shirts were brought out; the coup stick with its\ntrembling eagle feathers, the ancient bows and arrows. The favourite\nhorse was blanketed, and the journey begun. Old scenes and landmarks were\nmade new. Here they crossed a river through whose rushing waters they\nhad, in other days, pursued a foe. Over there was a coulee where in\nexciting patience they had sought to ambush the enemy. Yonder was a plain\nthat had been a battlefield. Winding over the pine-girt hilltop they\ntraced an old buffalo trail. And now they had reached the council lodge.\nThey had partaken of the bread and meat. They had exchanged greetings,\nand pledged themselves to brotherhood and peace. How familiar it all\nseemed! For one splendid moment they were once again really Indians. The\nsame historic river wound its way among the purple hills and through the\nlacework of alder and aspen trees that like a green ribbon festooned the\nvalley. How peaceful seemed even this place\u2014once also a place of battle.\nAnd now the far stretch of the years loomed up: boys again, trapping\nfoxes, learning to shoot the arrow which finally found its mark in the\nbuffalo calf; capturing and taming the wild horse; the first war party;\nthe first scalp, and its consequent honour among the tribe; the first coup\ncounted; the eagle that was shot to get the coveted feather that to all\nmen should be a pledge of victory; then the love for an Indian maiden, the\nponies and furs and beadwork willingly given in exchange for this new\nlove; the making of a new home. Thoughts of war parties, and war\u2019s bitter\nstruggles; other coups counted, other scalps taken, were thoughts that\nlighted new altar fires. In imagination vast herds of ponderous buffalo\nonce again thundered across the plains, and the exhilaration of the chase\nquickened the pulse beat, only to give place to the tireless lament that\nthe buffalo were all gone. Memories of tribal tragedies, of old camping\nplaces, of the coming of the white man, of broken treaties, of the advent\nof the soldiers\u2014all thronged for recognition; the wigwam around which\nhappy children and the merry round of life sped on, the old men, their\ncounsellors and friends, who had gone into the spirit land, and now this\nwas to be the last, the very last council. The heart grows tense with\nemotion as they break the silence, and in Indian fashion chief looks into\nthe face of chief, and, without an uttered word, they pass one by one\nthrough the doorway that leads to a land without a horizon.\n\n [The Fading Sunset]\n\n The Fading Sunset\n\n\nThe prairie grass turned to brown, the trees on the banks of the nearby\nriver turning to crimson and orange, the Syrian blue of the skies, holding\nhere and there a mountainous cloud, the brilliant sunshine of the early\nautumn day, all served to emphasize and revivify the splendid mosaic of\ncolouring worn by the chieftains, as, without the mockery of speech, they\nmounted their horses, and faced their final destiny.\n\nThe Indian is a superb horseman. Both horse and rider seem to have grown\ntogether. It is poetry in motion. The brilliant cavalcade are fast\nleaving the old council lodge in the distance. The word farewell was\nbaptized with the spirit of peace, and now as they ride forth the banner\nof peace floats over them. Peace is in the air. Not far hence there is a\nriver to cross, whose waters were born amid the snows of the distant\nmountains, and the river bathed in sunlight utters its jubilations of\npeace. Like \u201can army with banners\u201d they enter the shaded defile of the\nvalley\u2014cross the swiftly flowing stream, and pass out upon the plain.\nWeird and picturesque is the procession as the long line of horsemen face\nthe loneliness of the far-flung line of desert waste\u2014the flat and sombre\nserenity of sand and sage and cactus. Clouds of dust are lifted from the\nimmensity of the arid stretches, like smoke signals to the matchless\nimmensity of the sky. The burning haze, the molten heavens, the weird and\nspearlike cactus, the valiant horsemen, hold the eye. We follow their\ntrail until they are almost lost to view in the drapery that enshrouds\nsand and sage and riders. There seems now to be a tragic soul roaming\nthese infinite wilds, restless and burning with passion, the companion of\nstorms and the herald of violent deeds.\n\n [Vanishing into the Mists]\n\n Vanishing into the Mists\n\n\nThe chiefs bravely emerge from these echoless silences, dust-covered but\nintrepid. They must now make the ascent of abrupt and massive bluffs.\nThe summit attained, they pause for rest and retrospect. The trail has\nbeen obliterated. Every hoof-print in the sands has been erased. The\ntrackless, yellow expanse now assumes alluring miles of colour; the royal\npurple of the shadows seems like tinted bands binding all the intervale\nback yonder to the far distant council lodge. They are familiar with the\nspeech of the granite hills, from whose heights they now view the\nprospect. In these rocks, so red that it would seem as though the molten\nfires had not yet cooled, the Indian listens to the tongues of ten million\nyears. Earth\u2019s heart fires had here and over there split the land and\nleft jagged monuments of stone and red ash bearing still the tint of flame\nwhich had been cooled by the breath of countless winters. Still subject\nto the inner and absorbing passion of his life, the Indian made an altar\nin this weird sanctuary, and waited to worship.\n\nBut for the Indian the path is forever down\u2014down into the shadowed vale,\ndown into the abysmal canon, balustraded with sombre, cold gray rocks\nholding in the far recesses secret streams that make their way beneath the\nmountain to the cloven rock on the sunlit slope. Thither then they rode,\nsolemn but steadfast. Once and again they turned upon their tired steeds\nto look back upon the far-reaching line of cliffs which to them seemed to\nfloat in the rising tide of a crimson sea. Forward and ever on until they\nhad reached the hush of the spacious prairies, rolling like the billows of\nthe ocean. Melancholy broods in the mind when these limitless and\nunexplored stretches sweep before the eye bounded only by the horizon.\nThe spirit of a great awe stilled the souls of these men, every one,\nbecause added to the monotone of the landscape they must heed the demands\nfor endurance, for it was again \u201ca land where no water is.\u201d Memory is at\ntimes the birth-hour of prophecy, but here memory clothes the present with\npain and loss, and for them prophecy died yesterday and the despair of a\nto-morrow writes its gloomy headlines upon every advance step of their\njourney. But the Indian will face it. He always faces death as though it\nwere a plaything of the hour. The winds on these prairies always travel\non swift wing\u2014they are never still\u2014they are full of spectral voices. The\nchiefs have left the council lodge, they have said farewell, their days of\ntriumph are behind them. Thoughts that burn the brain held the weary\npilgrims.\n\n [Facing the Sunset]\n\n Facing the Sunset\n\n\nOne refreshing thought is now flung at them: their days of journeying have\nbrought them within sight of water\u2014water without which there is no life.\nThat long green fringe winding under the brow of the distant hills means\ntree growth. The Indian loves the brotherhood of trees. Trees grow in\nthat desolate landscape only on the borders of streams. Toward the water\nand welcome shade they hasten. Tired beast and tired man lave in the\nlifegiving flood. The horses wade in it as though the snows had melted\nand run thither to caress and refresh them. Oh, the exhilaration of\nwater! On the margin of the far banks the camp is made for the night.\nThere is witchery in a Western night. Myriads upon myriads of low-hung\nstars, brilliant, large and lustrous, bend to warm the soul and light the\ntrail. Under these night lamps, amid the speech of leaves and the rush of\nthe river, they bivouac for their last night, bending under the weight of\nthoughts too deep for tears. In the haze of a broken sleep they wrought\nout again the sorrows of their troubled record. When the morning broke\nthrough the dull gray of the eastern sky rim, he would be a heartless\nsurgeon of emotions who attempted to probe the pathos of their thoughts,\nand a dull and vulgar rhetorician who should attempt to parse the\nfathomless sorrow of their speech.\n\nIn the hush of the new morning they mounted, and set forth upon their\njourney over the Great Divide. All Nature seemed conscious of the burden\nweighing to the earth every Indian thought, and trailing in the dust every\nhope of the race. The birds remembered not to sing\u2014the prairie dogs\nceased their almost continual and rasping chatter. The very horses seemed\nto loiter and fear the weary miles of their final day of travel. The\nhills, the sky, the very light of the noonday sun gathered to themselves a\nnew atmosphere and spread it like a mantle over this travelling host.\nTired feet now press the highest dome of the hills. It had been a\nwestward climb. Full in their faces, as though to canonize the moment,\nthe god of day had wrought cloud and sky into a miracle of sunset,\ntransmuting by living fire the brown grasses into burnished gold\u2014the\nfading sage into a silver glow, and the gleam of the distant river into\nthe red of wine. The scene transfixed them. Gladiators of other days\nbecame helpless children. During the solemn suspense of this tragic\nmoment, waiting in confused and wondering silence, their faces lighted\nwith the ominous sunset sheen, one great chief uttered speech for all:\n\u201cBrothers, the West, the West! We alone have the key to the West, and we\nmust bravely unlock the portals; we can buy no lamp that will banish the\nnight. We have always kept our time by the sun. When we pass through the\ngates of this dying day, we shall pass into a sunless land, and for us\nthere shall be no more time, a forever-land of annihilating darkness.\u201d\n\nFor one wistful moment they looked and waited, then the hill upbore them\nno longer. They filed down the narrow, barren ridge, lined on either hand\nby sullen and impassable gulfs. Their eagle feathers fluttered from\nwar-bonnet and coup stick, encarnadined by the sun\u2019s red rays. Steeper\nand more rugged became the path until they were confronted by the sharp\nedge of the bluff. There was danger in the untrodden descent. It was a\npathway of struggle.\n\nOnce in the valley\n\n\n They said farewell forever.\n Thus departed the Great Chieftains,\n In the purple mists of evening.\n\n\n [The Sunset of a Dying Race]\n\n The Sunset of a Dying Race\n\n\nThe Indian composes music for every emotion of his soul. He has a song\nfor the Great Mystery; for the animals of the chase; for the maiden he\nwoos; for the rippling river. His prayers are breathed in song. His\nwhole life is an expression in music. These songs are treasured down\nthrough the ages, and old age teaches youth the import of the melody so\nthat nothing is lost, nothing forgotten. Haydn wrote his \u201cCreation,\u201d\nBeethoven his \u201cSymphonies,\u201d Mendelssohn his \u201cSongs Without Words,\u201d Handel\ngave the world his \u201cDead March in Saul,\u201d Mozart was commissioned by Count\nWalsegg to pour his great soul into a requiem; during its composition he\nfelt that he was writing the dead march of his soul. For generations it\nhas been sung in the little church at St. Mark\u2019s, where the great composer\nlies in an unknown grave. Had the Indian the combined soul of these\nmasters in music, could he cull from symphony and oratorio and requiem and\ndirge the master notes that have thrilled and inspired the ages, he then\nwould falter at the edge of his task in an attempt to register the burden\nof his lament, and utter for the generations of men the requiem wrought\nout during these moments of passion\u2014a passion of sorrow so sad that the\nvoice of it must ride through the width of the sky, and conquer the\nthunder of the fiercest tempest. The orchestral grandeur of the world\u2019s\ngreat composers is the child of genius. They reached the far heights of\ninspiration in a few isolated instances and for the delight of men. The\nIndian composing his own requiem must encompass the eternal pathos of a\nwhole race of mankind riding forth beyond the challenge of death. It is\nwell that the Indian does not compose this death march, for the sorrow of\nit would hush all lullabies, and banish the laughter of children.\n\nNapoleon said to his soldiers, drawn up in battle line on the plains of\nEgypt, in sight of the solemn Sphinx and the eternal pyramids: \u201cForty\ncenturies look down upon your actions to-day!\u201d Four hundred and a score\nyears ago Columbus looked first upon the red man. These solemn centuries\nlook down upon this day; look down upon the sheathed sword, the broken\ncoup stick, the shattered battle-axe, the deserted wigwams, the last red\nmen mobilized on the plains of death. Ninety millions, with suffused\neyes, watch this vanishing remnant of a race, whose regnant majesty\ninspires at the very moment it succumbs to the iconoclasm of civilization.\nIt is the imposing triumph of solitary grandeur sweeping beyond the reach\nof militant crimes, their muffled footfalls reaching beyond the margin of\nan echo.\n\n [The Empty Saddle]\n\n The Empty Saddle","title":"The Vanishing Race: The Last Great Indian Council","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":58593}