[Down the Western Slope]

Down the Western Slope

We may pass on now to some events in the life of Umapine. Again he must speak for himself: "When I grew old enough to know something, I saw my folks digging potatoes and onions, and gathering corn; these they got from the white people the summer before. The Indians used to plant these every year, and when the emigrants went through and asked for a little my folks used to give them all they could spare. There came a time when the Indians and the white people had a war. I did not feel like interfering or trying to make any trouble, so I did not go to the war at that time. Some years after that the Indians had a fight among themselves, and I participated in that war. The Sioux Indians used to ride all over this country, and they stole horses from my tribe. When my people learned that their horses were stolen, they started on the warpath. We overtook the Sioux with the horses along about 3 P.M. as near as I can remember; we did not have watches in those days, and I think it was about that time. We killed four of the Sioux Indians and recovered our horses, the Sioux only killing one Nez Perce who was with us. I remember another war that happened not very long ago. These were Indians from the southern part of Oregon. They were on the warpath and had started up north and killed many sheep herders and farmers, and killed their children and destroyed their houses—burned them up. They came to our country and began to burn up the houses of the white farmers. These Indians came into our agency. Major Conyer, Uncle Sam's man, was agent at that time. I think he died last April. The Indians then met Uncle Sam's men about a mile and a half south of the agency, and we Indians were watching to see if the soldiers would be driven back by these Indians; we were ready to help Uncle Sam's men. The hostile Indians headed down to our camp, and when we saw them coming toward our camp we at once knew that they wanted us to get into the mixup so that we would be on the warpath as well as themselves, but all of our men got their weapons and we met these Bannock Indians and chased them back to the hills. At that time there were a few cavalrymen and the rest was infantry. All the Indians were on horseback, and the infantry could not very well keep up. We took after these Indians, but did not kill many of them, as most of them had a good start. The same evening we were requested to go with Uncle Sam's men that we might overtake these Indians and capture them if possible. The next morning we found that we were in advance of the enemy, and just as the sun rose two Indians on horseback came direct to where we were. We immediately got our arms ready and met these two Indians; one of them got so excited that he jumped off his horse and started to run for the timber, leaving his horse behind him. As he took to the thick brush we fired at him. I had a fast horse and was close behind him. I jumped off my horse and ran after him on foot. I found him lying wounded, and watched him a little while and he died. He had a very nice belt which I took and put around my waist. Meanwhile the rest of the people had the other Indian captured; he had been also wounded. Later on we saw a band of these Indians coming up direct to where we were. They had their pack animals with them. We took after them and tried to capture every one of them, but they had already seen us, and rode away for a canyon, where there was some thick brush. I saw one old woman—I thought she was an old woman—but I was mistaken, for when I overtook the Indian a man jumped off his horse and got behind a tree. When I saw my mistake, it was too late to stop my horse. I was but a few feet away from him at that time. He shot at me once and missed me. I was lucky that time or I would not be telling this story now, if he had been a better shot than that. My horse gave a big jump just as he fired at me and I kept on going, as I knew there were some more Indians close behind me who would capture the old man, and I went on after the rest of the Indians. Just as I came to a little opening I saw two Indians on horseback, and one Indian lying down on the ground; he was wounded. When I got there I learned that this Indian was a good friend of ours. I just left him there wounded. After we left I told the other two Indians: 'This man has been on the warpath, and if he had a chance to kill us he would.' So I turned back and finished his life and scalped him. My tribe captured many of those people, and I was presented with a fine animal that one of the hostile Indians had been riding. That was the only time I ever scouted for Uncle Sam".

With sublime pathos, Umapine referred to the old days of the buffalo. He said: "I have hunted buffalo in this country many times. I feel lonesome since the buffalo have been driven away. In the old days the Indians killed the buffalo with bows and arrows; they did not have any guns as they have now, and needed a fast horse to overtake these animals. A man might think they could not run fast, but he would find out he could not overtake them with an ordinary horse. My people used to hunt buffalo in this part of the country, and while on the way over here I could see trails of these large animals now worn deep by the storms of many years, and I cried in my heart."

[The Last Arrow]

The Last Arrow



[Chief Tin-Tin-Meet-Sa]

Chief Tin-Tin-Meet-Sa

Chief Tin-Tin-Meet-Sa

It was midnight. A dim campfire accentuated the loneliness. Flickering shadows wrote weird lines on the cone-shaped walls of the tepee. The rain ceased not the beating of its soft tattoo on the frail roof above our heads. Old Tin-Tin-Meet-Sa, bent and tottering with his more than eighty years of life, his noble old face still wearing great dignity, his almost sightless eyes looking for the last flicker of life's sunset, presented a pathetic picture as he faced the firelight and told of his loneliness as he passed the deserted buffalo trails.

Tin-Tin-Meet-Sa, or Willouskin, is one of the notable chiefs of the Umatillas. He rendered valuable services to the Government as a scout during the Indian wars of 1855 and 1856. The heroic deeds of those faraway days have not been written down in history, and no doubt will be forgotten by future generations, but they have been written large on the character lines of this gigantic frame and Savonarola-like face—a poet, a dreamer, a warrior, and chieftain.

It is better to let Tin-Tin-Meet-Sa open the door himself upon that mighty past: "My days have been spent for many suns along the great rivers and high mountains of Oregon. It has been many years ago that I was selected by our agent as the head man of my tribe. In those days I was a very active man, but since I have become so old, although they look upon me as the head man of the tribe, I must leave the work for others to do. During my younger days I had a big herd of cattle and horses, but as the years have come over me, I am not able to look after my stock any more. I consider the greatest event in my life the assistance I rendered in the capture and killing of Chief Eagan, war chief of the Piutes, during the Bannock or Sheep-Eater war. These Bannock Indians created great destruction wherever they went; they burned my tepee and killed over seventy head of my cattle. I did not know at that time how many cattle I had, because there was not any one around to steal them. This led me to go on the warpath against the Bannocks."

"This country all looks familiar to me because, in my younger days, I travelled all over these prairies fighting the Sioux Indians who had stolen horses from my tribe. Again I have travelled all over this country many times, long years ago, as we came here to hunt the buffalo. I had a number of fast horses, with which I could easily kill as many buffalo as I wanted, but I only killed as many as I needed to last for a few days. When I came here the other day to meet all these chiefs, and I looked at this country for the last time, I felt lonesome when I saw how it was all changed, and all of the buffalo gone out of the country, for I could still see traces of these large animals. It is easy for an old hunter to discover these buffalo trails, for they all walked in the same place, and now the rains of many moons have cut those trails deep, just as if a man had been irrigating some field. I can scarcely see, but my eyes could find the old trail. The buffalo has gone, and I am soon going."



[Chief Runs the Enemy]

Chief Runs the Enemy

Chief Runs-the-Enemy

Imagine a Roman warrior with clear-cut visage and flashing eye, his face written all over with battle lines, his voice running the entire gamut from rage to mirth, and you have a mental picture of Chief Runs-the-Enemy, a tall, wiry Teton Sioux whose more than sixty-four years of life have crossed many a battlefield and won many a triumph. From boyhood days a ringing challenge to battle seemed ever vibrant in the air he breathed. When I asked him to let me drink at some of the secret springs of his life his very first sentence contained the ring of battle!

"The first thing that I remember is that my father made me a bow and arrow; it was a small bow and arrow, and made in proportion to my size, compared with the bows and arrows used in killing buffalo. I had seen the buffalo meat that they brought in and the wild game. My father taught me how to use the bow and arrow, and also how to ride a horse, and soon it became natural for me to ride. I soon grew to be able to use the bow and arrow that my father used; with it I killed buffalo. My father also taught me how to skin the buffalo, so that when I killed the buffalo I knew how to skin it and bring the buffalo meat home. My father taught me to pity the old men and women, and when I went on the warpath to be brave, and even try to die on the field. My father also taught me that it was better to go on the field of battle and have my body filled with arrows from the enemy and die on the field, and let the wolves come and eat up my flesh and bones, rather than be wrapped up and buried in some high tree, and in this spirit I went forth into all my fights. I remember when I was very young I went on the warpath and carried the bundles of moccasins and provisions for the war party. When I was fifteen years old I went with my first war party. The snow was very deep and hard, so that the horses slipped round. We charged upon the Assinaboines. I remember when we charged the camp we found one Indian down in the creek trapping foxes. We did not know he was there. As soon as he saw us he ran toward his own camp, and I whipped up my horse and ran after him. The enemy came out with guns and bows and arrows. I ran the man clear into the midst of the smoke; I came back without even myself or my horse getting hurt. That is how I got my name, Runs-the-Enemy. I was then at the age of fifteen. When we got back to camp the Sioux people said I did not know what I was doing, and I replied that I knew that was what my father had taught me. I performed this deed in the face of a lot of brave warriors, and this is how my name is great among the Sioux. There was a lifelong enmity between the Sioux and the Assinaboines. My father was wounded by the Assinaboines, and I made up my mind I was going to do something to that tribe. I have been in about forty battles altogether, rather insignificant some of them, but about ten great battles. When I was about eighteen, a band of Sioux, including myself, went down to the Black Rees. They greatly outnumbered us. We attacked them, but did not kill any of them. They pursued us a long way, killing five of our number. My horse was hit with an arrow, and I jumped off, and while I was running I was shot through the ankle with an arrow. The enemy surrounded me; my own friends had gone on. I crossed my wounded ankle over the other foot and defended myself as best I could. I looked at the ground and the sky, and made up my mind that this was my last day. Just at this moment, while I was surrounded by my enemies, one of my friends was brave enough to come back; he rode into the midst of our foes and put me on the back of his horse, and we rode away in safety. Let me tell you about the other wound that I received. In one of the late battles that we had with the tribe of Black Rees, in 1874, I was shot through the thigh, a ball also going through the forearm, and breaking the bone."

[Scouting Party on the Plains]

Scouting Party on the Plains

"Let me tell you about my connection with the battle of the Little Rosebud. With my war party I joined the Sioux camp on the Rosebud River. We camped first at Lame Deer. When I arrived at the Sioux camp at Lame Deer we were near the Cheyenne camp, and the Cheyennes had built a big bonfire. They were singing and dancing around the fire. I was told that there were some Cheyennes that had reached camp that day or the day before from the Black Hills, and they brought the news that the soldiers were coming. The reason for the campfire and the dancing was to pick out the bravest of the Cheyennes and send them back to find out the location of the troops and bring back word. The campfire was so big and so bright and the dancing and shooting so boisterous that I went over to the Cheyenne camp to see for myself. And I saw them choosing the braves for this scouting duty. The scouts must have numbered ten. They started right off on their mission. The next morning we broke camp and came over the hills. We camped about half a day's journey from the Custer battlefield. That night, after we camped, there was no news, and I went to bed and went to sleep. The next morning I was awakened by firing, and the report came to me that there was going to be trouble, for the troops were coming. Almost at once everybody who could ride a horse or hold a gun mounted his horse and rode away to meet the troops. The Cheyenne scouts led the way. It was not very long until I heard the report of rifles, over in the gully. After the report of the guns we heard a cry from the hilltop; an Indian was on the hill crying as hard as he could, telling us to make the charge at once. Then one of their number was killed outright. The occasion of the shots was that four or five of our Sioux had gone around us and had gone into the soldiers' camp and stolen some horses, and the soldiers were firing at the horse-thieves; four of them escaped, one being killed. This was the screaming we heard. We no sooner heard it than we made a dash. I cannot tell you the number of our Indians. There were the different bands of the Sioux, and the entire tribe of the Cheyennes. The charge we made was enough to scare anybody. As we got on top of the hill the soldiers, who were already after the horse-thieves, knowing that we outnumbered them, all fled back. The cavalry supported by a file of infantry stopped, and we also stopped and had a great battle there. We simply circled them, and did not give them a chance to charge, as we greatly outnumbered them. We killed a great many soldiers, shot down a good many of their horses, for there were lots of them lying on the ground, wounded and dead. This battle the Indians called the Battle of the Wolf Mountains, known to the soldiers and the Crows by this name, and to the Sioux as the Battle of the Head of the Rosebud. The general sentiment was that we were victorious in that battle, for the soldiers did not come upon us, but retreated back into Wyoming. We understood that General Crook was in command of the United States troops, led by Crow scouts. They called General Crook, 'Three Stars.' When our Indians made the charge upon the United States troops we found the Crow scouts standing between us and the troops. If it had not been for the Crow scouts we would have charged right through to the soldiers. The Crow scouts were in between us, and received the fire from both sides. After the battle ended and the soldiers returned, we got home to our camp without any fear. We spent the whole of the next day in camp at the Little Rosebud, and the day after we came over on to the plains by the Custer Battlefield."

[Scouts passing under cover of the Night]

Scouts passing under cover of the Night

The most graphic Indian story of the Custer fight is told by Runs-the-Enemy in the chapter on "The Indians' Story of the Custer Fight." Chief Runs-the-Enemy continued:

"A great event in changing my life was marked when I returned to the reservation and the Government took from us our horses and guns and told us that we were to live in that place at peace with everybody. The Government took the best warriors from among the tribe, made them lift their hands to God and swear that they would be true to the Government; and they made out of these men policemen who were to guard the Government and keep the Indians good. When the Government made a policeman of me they bound my hands with chains and I had to obey them. They gave me implements with which to till the soil, and raise stock and build a home, and it seemed to me I must obey every word they said. They told me that the wild game, now roaming the hills, would soon die off, and that if I tilled the soil and raised stock and grain, I could get money for it, and money is what makes everything move along. As I told you, whatever they told me, I did. They told me to send my children to school, which I did. I sent all of my children to school, and they came home and all of them died. They told me if I sent the children to school and educated them, they would be all right. Instead of that I sent them to school and they all came home with consumption and died, seven in number. If I had kept them home, some of them might have been living to-day. Now as to myself: I am getting old every day; I cannot take care of my stock. My limbs are weak, and my knees are getting weak; it will not be long until I will go under the ground. As you look at me now I am old. As I said, I will die in a little while, but I am not afraid of dying. I have two children living and I look ahead for them. Although I have done all I could for my people, I have also helped the Government and done whatever they told me to do."

[Map of the Custer Battlefield]

Map of the Custer Battlefield

We have been listening to the minor in the carol, that is always the major strain in Indian life, but we mistake much if we do not hear more jubilant notes in the scale. When Runs-the-Enemy was asked to tell the story of his boyhood days all the fierce combativeness expressed in gesture, voice, and piercing eye gave way to a tender and gentle calm. The warrior became a child, living again the life of a child with all the spontaneous gleefulness of a child. We may now have one of his folklore tales.



FOLKLORE TALE

There goes a spider. As he was journeying along he came upon a man—in our legends these men do anything; they take a whole community of men right down—and he met him face to face. The man-eater stood in the path, the spider in front of him. The big man kept letting out his breath and taking it in in great gusts, and when he drew in his breath he drew the spider toward him, and when he blew out his breath he blew him away from him. And the spider was so scared he did not know what to do. But he finally said: "Now, my young brother, you take in your breath, and let out your breath, and you pull me around; and if I did the same thing you would soon be gone, for I am older than you are." The big man said to the spider: "Now, my older brother, you hold on." The spider said to the big man: "I am going over here where there is a great big camp of people, and I am going to swallow all of these people. However, as you are hungry, I will give you half of them. Now you stay right here. I am going over to look at the big camp. I am going to find out whether I will give you any of them or not, and then I will tell you." With these words the spider went ahead of the man a little, and then came right back to the big man again and said: "My young brother, I am afraid of some certain things, and I am going to tell you about it. Are you the same way?" The big man said: "Yes, my little brother, I am very much afraid of some things." The spider then asked him: "What are the things you are afraid of?" The big man then told the spider that he was afraid of drums beating, that he was afraid of old tambourines that the Indians used to have, and he was also afraid of shouting and yelling. The spider then said to him: "You are my brother for sure; these are just the things that I am afraid of." Just as he said these things to the big man, the spider was very much afraid of him, fearing that he could not hold himself steady as he stood in front of the big man. The spider said to the big man: "You just sit right still here. I am going over to see this big camp, and will be right back." The spider went over the hill as fast as he could, looking back every once in a while to the big man. He went right ahead into the big camp. He told everybody around there to get all their drums and their tambourines, that he had a great big man over there, and these were the things that he was afraid of. "I am going back to him and I want you to take all your drums and tambourines, and yell and scream, for he is afraid of these things." The spider then went back to the big man and told him the camp was big enough for them both. Then he marked a place which divided them half and half, and said: "You are to have the one half and I am to have the other half; but if you go ahead and eat your half and eat half of my half, I will swallow you too." As they went along to the camp the spider said to the big man: "I am the older, and will go ahead of you a little." In the meantime he had told those in camp that they must all gather in one place where he would lead this big man. As the big man walked along, he grew tired, and would let out his breath and take in a great big breath, and every time the spider would be drawn up against him. The spider told him if he did it again he would draw in his breath and the big man would soon be inside his stomach. As the spider went on into the place where all the people were gathered, they began to beat their drums and yell and scream and howl. The spider fell down as though he were dead, and kicked and squirmed. The big man was really scared, and he fell down dead. When they got up to the big man and found him dead, the spider told them how he had worked the big man, and saved their lives. And thus the story ends.



[Chief Pretty Voice Eagle]

Chief Pretty Voice Eagle

Chief Pretty Voice Eagle

Sixty-eight years is a long time to be an Indian. Within this span of life Pretty Voice Eagle has run with swift feet the warpath, and held with strong hand the battle spear. Bearing well his weight of years and his heavier burden of struggle, he moves erect and with lithe footstep. He became stormy and vociferous as he told his story of broken treaties, how the Indian had been wronged by the white man, and how his life had been scarred by the storms of life. Then the calm of old age came over him and the placid joy of childhood memories when asked to tell a folklore tale. While relating his battle experiences we had the equinoctial gale of Indian life and then the mellow haze of Indian summer. Recalling his boyhood days, Pretty Voice Eagle told me that his tribe roamed along the river, chiefly the Missouri River. There were then no white people in that country. "I was about ten years old when I saw large boats bringing white people over the Missouri River. I saw a great many of the white people killed by the Sioux when they came up the river in small boats. It was not until I was about twenty years old that they began to build the railroad along the Platte River going west, and there were also emigrant wagons going west driving large herds of cattle. The Indians killed the white people as they came up the river because we felt they were driving away our game; they had guns and powder and knives, which we did not have. We also wanted what they had in the boats, and we did not like to see them go through our country. When I first saw the people emigrating through our country and then bringing iron horses there I began to be afraid. I was about twenty-five or thirty years old when they began to run the iron horse along through the country, and I also heard that they were going to move the Indians to some hot country, and that the white people would fill up all the land north and west and south of us; we felt that we ought to fight the white people, and we began to kill the men who were building the railroad. The white people began to kill the game when they came into the country. There was then plenty of buffalo on the east side of the Missouri River; soon they swam over to the west side, and we then understood that the President had given them the privilege of killing all the game, and soon the buffalo were all gone. The white man then went into the Black Hills, and killed the game. The killing of the game caused a change in our food. We were accustomed to eating buffalo meat and other wild game; we loved that and we were all full of health as long as we had it. The change of food has compelled us to eat bread instead of wild meat, and that is the reason why the Indians are all dying off. When I think of those old days my heart is full of sorrow. My father, who was then the chief, was sent for by the President of the United States, and when he came back he said that the Indians must adopt the white man's mode of living, and that we must send our children to school. The news that my father brought was received by some with favour, others entirely refused to send their children to school, and said that they would rather fight than let their children go to school. And it looked as though there would be a general uprising. I remember the first group who went off to school, and it caused great trouble. From that time on we had trouble with the United States soldiers. While we were carrying this trouble about the schools in our minds, there was an emigrant train going through the Black Hills. They had with them a cow which was lame, and and they left it. The Indians thought they had thrown it away, and killed it. We killed this cow not for subsistence but because it was lame and we felt sorry for it. It was not until a year later that the people who owned this cow made application to the Government for reimbursement for the loss, and the Government sent United States soldiers there to find out who had killed the cow. The two men who had killed the cow were Face Powder and Pointed Forehead. They asked us to give up these men that they might take them to Fort Laramie, and we refused to give them up. They then asked our head chief, Axe-the-Bear, to give them up, and when he would not do so he was taken to Fort Laramie. Part of the Sioux Nation was at Fort Laramie, and they wanted to know why the soldiers had taken this head chief there. It was a mistake of the interpreter, for he told the officers in command that the Sioux Indians were there to kill the soldiers if they did not give up this head chief. One of the soldiers rather than let the chief go ran him through with a bayonet and killed him in cold blood. As soon as they killed this chief, the Indians began to fight right there. There was a running fight after that until they finally captured Spotted-Tail with his band and squaws and children. A lot of Spotted-Tail's men were killed. They afterward gave up the women and children. That did not satisfy the Indians; they wanted revenge on the soldiers and had a battle west of the Black Hills. After that big battle the Indians were chased right into the territory where the present camp of the great chiefs is located. Following that there was another big battle on the east side of the Missouri River. The women and children were all captured. Following this there was a treaty with the United States not to fight. The treaty was signed up near Fort Laramie. The trouble still kept up, the treaty was broken, and we had another big battle near the Rocky Mountains, where a hundred soldiers were killed. After that there were several battles, including the Custer fight, and then the bands all split up, some of them going to Canada and some of them back to the reservations where they are now located. Then there was a delegation sent to Washington, and when they came back to the people from the Indian Department, we sent our children to school. The Indians who went to Canada afterward returned. A great many Sioux remained on the reservation at the time of the Custer fight; I was not in the battle myself. I saw General Custer when he left Fort Lincoln previous to the Custer fight. Custer impressed me as a very pleasant and good man; he wore his hair long. As he was about to leave Fort Lincoln a delegation of Sioux Indians, including myself, went to see him and asked him not to fight the Sioux Indians, but to go to them in a friendly way. I was the leader of the delegation. We begged him to promise us that he would not fight the Sioux. He promised us, and we asked him to raise his hand to God that he would not fight the Sioux, and he raised his hand. After he raised his hand to God that he would not fight the Sioux he asked me to go west with my delegation to see those roaming Sioux, and tell them to come back to the reservation, that he would give them food, horses, and clothing. After we got through talking, he soon left the agency, and we soon heard that he was fighting the Indians and that he and all his men were killed. If Custer had given us time we would have gone out ahead of him, but he did not give us time. If we had gone out ahead of Custer he would not have lost himself nor would his men have been killed. I did all I could to persuade the Ree scouts not to go with Custer. I gave them horses and saddles not to go, but for some reason they went."

[A War Council]

A War Council

"In the treaty the Government made with me at Fort Laramie, they were to feed me fifty-five years, and they have not fulfilled it. You must be a man of influence, as you sent for us from all parts of the country, and I wish you would help us as much as you can. In the Fort Rice treaty the Government promised to give us good horses and good wagons."

"After the 1868 treaty that we had at Fort Rice we sold all the country east of the Missouri River and soon sold the Black Hills to the Government, and in that treaty the Government promised us that the Sioux Indians would be taken care of as long as there was a child living of the Sioux tribe; and that has not been fulfilled. It was not long after that when we had a treaty with General Crook. In that treaty we were promised a great many things the Government did not seem to care to do. Now our funds are almost exhausted, and a lot of us are poor and not able to take care of ourselves, and I wish that when you go back you would say what you can. These are Government promises, and they have never fulfilled them."

"The story I am going to tell you I am not afraid to have published anywhere, or to have it come right back to my own agency, or let other warriors see and hear it. In my lifetime I have made about seventy raids against the different tribes. Out of these raids there must have been forty-five or fifty battles. Let me tell you a story concerning one of these battles in which I was engaged: I was a young man, I cannot remember just what age. The Sioux camped at the mouth of the Rosebud River. We got up a war party which numbered about two hundred. The two bands who were in this party were the Two-Cattle and the Mnik-Ok-Ju tribes. It was in the middle of the winter when the snow was deep. We started across the country not very far from this camp, and followed the Yellowstone River down, and then we turned off toward the north, and went toward the Upper Rockies. We were then in the enemy's country. There were four of us chosen out of the two bands to go ahead and scout for the enemy; we did not see any one, and returned. There was one man from our party out shooting deer, and he was right behind us. We got home without seeing anything, but he brought word there were enemies in sight. The enemies he saw were two in number, and we got on our horses and went to where he saw these two men. They were well armed and did all they could to defend themselves, and our party did not come very close to them. I spurred up my horse and made a straight charge at the two men. They were on foot, and lined up and pointed their guns at me as I went at them. I struck one of them with the spear that I had. I knocked him down; he fired at me, but missed me. The other man also fired at me, but missed. I could not strike him, as I dodged after I struck the first man. As I passed on by them they fired at me again. This gave my warriors a chance to come up on them before they could reload their guns, and they killed them. I was the first one who struck one and very nearly hit the other. My warriors were slow to come up, and I was the first one to charge them. After we killed these two men we went home with their scalps. We were on our way home across the Powder River and following the river up until we got to the junction of the Powder and Rosebud rivers. When we got there one of our party went on home ahead of us. He came rushing toward us with his horse almost played out, with the report that the camp had been attacked by the enemy while we were away, and they had stolen our horses, and were now coming down the road on which we were travelling. We hid waiting for them, but somehow they became aware of our presence, and went around, and before we knew it they had escaped. Although they were a great ways off our band made a charge on these horsemen. Most of our horses gave out before we overtook the enemy, but thirteen of us rode on, overtaking them, three in number we found, who had charge of the stolen horses. Our thirteen horses that we were riding were nearly exhausted, but we found that the enemy whom we were pursuing were also riding exhausted horses. I rushed on ahead as fast as my horse could go. One of the enemy was riding a horse that was so thoroughly given out that he stood still. The enemy got off his horse, turned round, pulled his bow and arrow, and shot at me; I was going to strike him, but I did not have time. The arrow was so near my face that it made me dizzy. He fired at me and the arrow went right through my hair, which was tied in a knot on top of my head. I jumped off my horse and pulled my bow and arrow, and we were firing at each other as we came closer. We jumped round like jack-rabbits trying to dodge the arrows. One of the arrows struck me right across the ribs, but the wound was not very deep. Just as we came together he fired his last arrow at me; it passed through my arm, but it was only a skin wound. At that time I struck him with my arrow through the wrist and that made him lame. As I struck him he moved backward and I shot him twice through the breast, with two arrows; then I threw away the arrows and struck him on the head with my bow, knocking him senseless. After I knocked him down I took his bow and threw it a long ways off so he could not get it. He was crawling on his hands and knees and I took my war club and struck him until I killed him. After I had killed this man, I gathered up my bow and arrows, and went on after the other two. At this time they had got off their horses and were defending themselves as best they could. I shot one of them through the wrist with my arrow; he made a scream as I hit him and dodged and went down the coulee, running as hard as he could go. He had a revolver in one hand, and I followed him, shooting with my arrows, he shooting back at me with his revolver. This kept up until he got to the end of the coulee, where there was a deep precipice. I looked over the precipice and saw this man, who had jumped over, rolling down the side like a rock. When he got down there he was knocked senseless. I looked at him from over the hill, but could not get down to him. I walked back and forth; as I looked down I saw a Sioux Indian trying to crawl up and get the scalp of the Indian who had fallen down the precipice. I had a war club in my teeth, and grabbed my bow and arrows, and tried to climb down the hill slope in order that I might get near him. As I went down I slid, and as I was going down the Crow regained consciousness and I saw him pointing his gun at me as I was looking down. I then thought that would be my last day. As I got there the Sioux got there just in time to grab the revolver away from him, and as he pulled the revolver away I fell right under the enemy. He pulled a knife out of my belt, for I was under him, pushed up against a rock, and I could not move either way. He made a strike at me and cut my clothing right across the abdomen, but did not cut my stomach. The second strike he made, I got hold of the knife, and wrested it from him. When I had taken the knife, the other Sioux pulled him off, and I got up and took my club and finished him. I killed these two Crows a little ways from the mouth of the Little Big Horn that flows through the camp where we are now. This is one of the daring events of my life. These two events occurred in one war party."

[The War Party]

The War Party

"Then, again, let me tell you about the battle that we had between the Sioux and the Flatheads about twenty miles north of where Billings now stands: In this battle the Sioux numbered about one hundred and fifty, and the Flatheads consisted of the entire tribe. We sent three spies across the Yellowstone, and they came back with the location of the Flatheads. They reported that the entire tribe was camped there. We were afraid because of their great numbers that they would beat us. We debated as to whether we should go back home or make the attack. Finally the chiefs selected thirty of the bravest men to go on ahead. The rest of the war party remained in camp. I was numbered among the thirty who were chosen to go ahead. We left there in the dark of the night. We journeyed on in silence until daybreak, when we first got a view of the enemy's camp. When daylight came we found that ten of our thirty had deserted from fear. When we got in sight of the camp another ten left us, so that only left ten to advance on the camp. We made a fool charge at the camp at the rising of the sun. None of us expected to come back when we made the charge. After we made the charge, there were about four who backed out again, so that left us only six in number. We ran our horses up to the side of the tents and then ran back again to the hills. The women were just getting out to get breakfast ready. We took about fifty horses with us, as we rode back, as a challenge for the enemy to come after us. The firing began from the camp and frightened the horses so that we only got about twenty out of the fifty. There was one horse, a spotted animal, that pleased me very much, and out of the six of us in number I rushed back to get that horse. When I went back after this horse the enemy came upon me so strong that I was obliged to flee to the hills. They came right behind us firing at us. The enemy chased us for miles and miles, shooting at us but never killing any of us. We turned in our saddles every once in a while and fired back, and then went on. We were reinforced by the last ten that left us. Just at this time a horse under one of our men was shot, and he was on foot running. We made a whirl around this man who was on foot, which seemed to check the enemy. At this time one of the enemy was shot off his horse. This man who was shot from his horse was surrounded by two of his friends who dismounted to defend him. As soon as I saw this man lying on his back, I made a hard charge at him; I struck at his head. An enemy standing near discharged his gun at me, and took the butt of the gun to strike me on the head. Just at this moment my horse stumbled and fell forward which saved me from receiving the blow. As I did so I made a circle and came back again to my own people. But I was mad at him in my heart because he had struck at me. I took my bow and arrow and shot an arrow right through his cheek. As I hit this enemy through the cheek I whipped up my horse and made a charge at him. One of my friends came riding up with me, and we both charged together. Our horses turned just as we reached this enemy whom I had shot through the cheek, and the enemy ran right in behind us. He got hold of my friend's horse's tail and shot him through the back with his revolver and he fell right over my horse. I got off my horse, holding my friend tight, and one of my friends saw the enemy at this time and shot him. This man who had been shot by my friend got up again as his wound was only a skin wound. I let go of my dead friend and got off my horse and charged at this fellow. Just as I charged at him there were two angry Sioux who laid their coup sticks on him. They went on by him and that left him for me to fight. Just as I reached him the enemy was very close behind me. They had shot at me at very close range. I could smell the smoke. He aimed his gun right at me, but he was so bewildered that he did not fire. I took the gun away from him and knocked him down. I got on my horse, taking his gun with me, at which time my horse was shot across the nose, but he kept on going toward my friends. The bullets whizzed around me, bewildering me for a moment. At this time it seemed as though the enemy were defeated, but the rest of our band came up at this moment. The enemy retreated when they saw our friends, but they pursued us all the way back to the Yellowstone. The dead numbered about a hundred in this battle. I did not go back, because my horse was exhausted. I have five more just such thrilling stories, including the one in which I was wounded."

[The Swirl of the Warriors]

The Swirl of the Warriors

"The greatest event in my life, leaving behind the story that I have told, is to be found at the time the Indians received allotments of land, and were given a home so they could not roam around; and above all, the time when I found religion and became a Christian. I was baptized and confirmed in the Episcopal Church. I married my wife under the holy bonds of matrimony, and am trying to live an upright life. In the roaming life, I fought, I took many scalps, and killed many Indians. Now, put alongside of that the fact that I live in my own home, own my land, have my own family, and am a church member. I like the last life better than the first. In the former life while we lived to ourselves, we were always fighting; in the life now we have peace. The one thing now that is killing me off is our mode of life. There is too much confinement; instead of fighting the enemy, I am fighting disease. The white people know about everything, but if they can kill that foul disease, consumption, I shall feel very thankful. As I told you before, I think of the buffalo time, the meat, and the hides, and the desire for it seems almost like a disease, and this is especially true with the old men."

When asked about his belief concerning the Indian's hereafter, before he became a Christian, he replied: "There was no definite Supreme Being that we believed in. There were a great many gods that we had faith in. I prayed to my own god; then we all heard that after we died we would meet in some good country where we would all be happy. No matter if we had lots of gods, we would all meet in that country. Now, while I cannot read the Bible, nor can I understand the Bible, yet we have preachers in our own language and they tell us that there is one God, and also His Holy Son, and we shall all meet in heaven, and I believe in that. A great many of the Sioux are followers like I am, but like a great many other people, there are many who do one thing and feel another. In the old days the sun was my god, the sun was my fathef's god, and I then thought the sun was my father and the earth was my mother. I sang and danced to the sun; I have my breast and arms tattooed with the sun, and I pierced my body through offering sacrifices to the sun. Now I look back upon those old Indian customs as foolishness. It is like a man coming out of darkness into light. I was then in the dark; I am now going into the valley of light, learning every day."



Folklore Tales—Sioux

Pretty Voice Eagle reached the other pole of life when his thoughts went back to the time when the old folks gathered around the campfire, and as a small lad he listened to their oft-repeated stories. "I can hardly remember them, but I will tell you a short story: There was a great big spider carrying a big roll of straw on his back, and he was running along between two lakes. There was a great big flock of geese on one of the lakes. One of the geese yelled over to the spider: 'Spider, where are you going?' The spider said: 'You hush up now! I have heard there is a camp of Indians over here who have returned from a victory with many scalps, and they sent for me with my songs. I have them all in the bundle on my back, and I am taking them over to them.' The spider kept on going, and one of the geese told him: 'You stop, and give us one of those songs you are taking over there.' The spider kept on going; said he was in a terrible hurry, but he still kept making the circle of the lake; he wanted the geese to yell to him again, which they did, and finally the spider yelled over to the geese: 'If you want one of my songs, come over here.' The spider made a little booth of straw. He had a little stick and was standing in the door. When the geese came over he told them to go in the booth, and when they did so, he sang a song, and told every one to close his eyes, for every one who opened his eyes would have red eyes. Of course they all closed their eyes, and he set about knocking them all down. One of the geese happened to open his eyes, and he called out to the other geese: 'Open your eyes and fly away; this spider is going to kill you all!' and he flew away. The spider said: 'You will have red eyes forever!' And so it is that the duck called hell-diver has red eyes."

Here is another story: There was a solitary man going along, and he had a lot of meat on his back. On his journey he stopped under some trees, built a great big fire, and was broiling some of the meat that he was carrying. The branches of two trees standing near got crossed over each other and when the wind blew made a squeaking noise. The man looked up to the tree, and said: "My brothers, you quit fighting up there!" The creaking continued, and he called up to them again to stop their fighting. But it still continued, and he finally said: "I am going to part you two; you must stop fighting." And he put his hand up between the two branches; as he put his hand between them the wind stopped blowing. His hand was caught and he was not able to get away. Just then a wolf passed along, and the man saw him and called out to him: "Go on about your business, and let my things alone." The wolf did not know anything about the broiled meat being there, but when this man called to him, he said to himself: "That man must have something for me," and he walked over to the broiled beef, took it all, and went his way. After the wolf had gone the wind blew again, and the man released his hand, and the squeaking began again. The man cried, and was sorry in his heart, and began trailing the wolf by his tracks. He went on till he came to a body of water, in which he plunged. He looked down into the water, and saw the wolf eating his meat. He dove down into the water, and felt all around and was nearly exhausted when he came out. He then got up in a tree and when the water became still again, there was the wolf down in the water again, so the man got down and tied a rope around his belt, piled some rocks on his side so he could stay down there long enough to get the wolf. During all this time the wolf was on the branch of the tree above him; the reflection of the wolf was in the water. When the man got down in the water, the weight of the rocks held him there, and he began to struggle to get out, and just barely succeeded in getting out of the water. Just as he got out of the water, he looked up and saw the wolf on the top of the tree. The man's sides were so filled with stones that he had great difficulty in getting up the steep bank, so much so that he could hardly crawl to the top of the bank, and as he was struggling to get out, the wolf finished eating the meat, jumped down, and ran away. So ends the story.



The life of the Indian is complex. To gather up the sixty-eight years of this man's life means that we round out a problem of infinite dimensions. His cradle lullaby, a war song; his earliest memories, stained with the blood of the white man; his unshaken valour on the field of battle; scars left on his soul by the broken treaties of the white man; his devotion to the mysterious gods in the pantheon of Nature; his unrequited lament at the loss of the buffalo; his natural eloquence born from the throne room of Nature: his final love of peace and acceptance of the shining face of the Son of Righteousness all lay upon civilization the heavy hand of condemnation.



[Chief White Horse]

Chief White Horse

Chief White Horse

"My father told me I was born in the Black Hills. Ever since I can remember my people have lived on the shores of the Bad River, South Dakota. While I lived there I saw the white people for the first time coming up the river in the big boats. At this time the buffalo were on both sides of the Missouri River, and there was plenty of game and we were all living fat at that time. It was not very long before the fort was built at the mouth of the Bad River. My father liked to be with the white people, and we were up at the store a good deal. The fort finally became a great trading post. The Indians brought in skins of the various animals, such as beaver, wolf, fox, panther, and buffalo. While I was still a young boy I left that section of the country and came further west with the other Indians. I have always tried to live without making any trouble among my own people or with the whites. When I got out among the Sioux I began to learn some of their wild tricks. I began to learn to fight the other Indians. I then went on the warpath, and have been in a good many Indian fights. One fight in particular against the Assinaboines I want to mention. In this battle there were about two hundred of us Sioux. The fight was on the Missouri River. There were charges and countercharges several times. One of the bravest came in advance of the others but he had to retreat. I put two arrows in his back and then rushed up and knocked him off his horse with my bow. After I had knocked this man off his horse my own horse ran away with me and ran right into the enemy's line, dashing in among the foe. They were firing arrows at me from all sides, and I expected that this was my last day. This was the greatest fight I was ever in, though I have been in many others."

It is a long step from the spear to the ploughshare, but the moccasined feet of White Horse soon took the step. Concerning this epoch in his life, he said: "The most important event in my life was when the Government began to give annuities to the Indians and we were placed on the reservation. I have always been a leader of the Indians and a chief. When farming implements were assigned us, and the allotments made, I was appointed head farmer over the Indians. I visited the Indians all over my district, and tried to get them to till the soil and send their children to school. I sent my own boy to school first as an example to the others. I sent my children to a nearby school until they were old enough and then I was one of the first to send my children to Hampton, Virginia, to school. They all came home and died of consumption. About this time the first missionary came to our country, and I was one of the first to be converted to the Church. I have since done all I could to bring the other Indians into the Church. I went at my own expense down to the place where I now live. There were no people living there at the time, and I cut out of the woods the logs and built a church in my own home. I had no help. The Indians came there to church, and afterward they named the church the White Horse Church. After this a settlement was made here by the Indians, and finally the Government made a post-office at this place, and they called it the White Horse post-office. It has since become a sub-agency. The influence thus brought to bear on the Indians had led them to live a good deal as the white man lives. I have my farm now, raise cattle and horses. All I have done for the Government and for the Church I have been glad to do, for they have all been kind to me. While other Indians have been fighting and making trouble for the United States I have never participated in any of it."

Before passing to the folklore tale that fell from the lips of Chief White Horse, the attention of the reader is especially directed to the chapter on Indian Impressions of the last Great Council, where White Horse describes his feelings and the lessons he learned while riding for the first time on the iron horse.



Folklore Tales—Yankton Sioux

"In the evenings of my boyhood days my father always told stories. I remember that I used to go to sleep while he was telling stories. This is one of the stories he used to tell: There goes a wolf on a journey. He came upon three buffalo. The wolf said to the buffalo: 'My brothers, make me as one of you, and we will all live together.' The buffalo told him: 'Will you stand the life that we live?' The wolf said 'Yes,' and they all told him to go a distance off and lie down on his back. The buffalo was going to make the wolf a buffalo, and he lay down on his back and sides and rolled in the dust, and then he got up and shook himself and he then made a plunge for the wolf and stuck his horns in him and threw him in the air. Just as he got to the wolf, the wolf jumped aside, and the buffalo said: 'You made me make that hard run for nothing.' The wolf said: 'Try again.' The buffalo said: 'This time you stand up and I will come at you.' So the wolf stood a good ways off. Just as the buffalo reached the wolf, the wolf turned into a buffalo, and they locked horns with each other. And thus he became a strong buffalo. He roamed with the buffalo for a while. The other buffalo went off a little way by themselves and grazed on the grass while the wolf-buffalo took the first grass near where he stood. While he was eating there another wolf came along, and he said to the buffalo: 'Make me a buffalo, and we will all be brothers together.' This wolf buffalo then told the wolf to stand just as he had stood before. This wolf buffalo lay down on his back and rolled in the dust and went for the wolf, and as he was going to strike him he turned back again into a wolf, and the two wolves were there together fighting. The wolf buffalo said: 'I was happy as a buffalo, and was living fat—why did you come around here and make me into a wolf again?' And he began to fight him. And thus the story ends. And this is why the Indians are always fighting each other."



[Chief Bear Ghost]

Chief Bear Ghost

Chief Bear Ghost

The great Siouan, or Dakota family, is divided into many different tribes. They are the dislocated remains of the "Seven Great Council Fires." The Indians resent the title of Sioux, meaning "Hated Foe," and prefer the word Dakota, which means "Leagued," or "Allied." There is the Brule Sioux, meaning "Burnt Hip"; the Teton, "On a Land without Trees"; the Santee Sioux, "Men Among Leaves," a forest; the Sisseton Sioux, "Men of Prairie Marsh," and the Yankton Sioux, which means, "At the End." Chief Bear Ghost is a Yankton Sioux. Among the Dakotas the chiefs are distinguished by a name that has either some reference to their abilities, having signalized themselves on the warpath or in the chase, or it may be handed down from father to son. Chief Bear Ghost bears the hereditary name of his father, Mato-wanagi—the ghost of a bear. The Dakotas count their years by winters, and all their records are called winter counts. They say a man is so many snows old, or that so many snow-seasons have occurred since a certain period. Adopting their own phrasing Chief Ghost Bear is fifty-seven snows old. Custer was not poetical when he gave the Sioux the name of "cut-throats," but he may have been true to the character and history of these fierce and warlike tribes. We may not wonder then that Bear Ghost should say: "The greatest event in my life was the participation in two great wars. I was on the warpath on the Missouri River against the Gros Ventres and the Mandans. It was a hard, fierce struggle; we had been facing and shooting each other from early dawn until the sun went down. An Indian near me, an enemy, was shot, and when I went after him my horse was shot, but still I pressed on and struck the enemy with a tomahawk. One of the enemy aimed at me, but I struck him with the tomahawk before he could shoot, and when this struggle was over the Indians called us men. In other years we came to that same place again. Two enemies were near the camp; they were armed with guns. There were seven of the enemy and but two of us. We went right up to the camp. I shot one of the enemy and wounded him, and captured one of their horses. Then a great number of Indians came out and chased us. They surrounded us, shooting all the while, and the horse I had taken from the enemy I shot rather than let them have it. And while they were chasing me my horse became exhausted and I had to get off and lead him. I ran into the creek where my enemies were on the banks shooting at me. These two things I consider the greatest events in my life, for I expected to die each time. Then I was made head chief of my tribe."

Before the police system was established on the reservation, Bear Ghost, along with one other Indian, was detailed by Captain Daugherty to watch for and capture a man who had committed murder. Bear Ghost succeeded in carrying out this commission, and the sheriff was sent for and the prisoner turned over to him, but on the way to Bismarck the prisoner killed the sheriff, jumped onto the best horse, and made his escape. Bear Ghost has often been chosen by his people to represent them at councils held among other tribes. He was also sent to Washington, on matters pertaining to treaties made years ago. He wears the countenance of a Roman senator; he is tall, graceful, and full of dignity, a forceful and convincing speaker, and a compelling advocate of peace.



[Chief Running Fisher]

Chief Running Fisher

Chief Running Fisher (2)

The story of this war-scarred Gros Ventres veteran emphasizes with double pathos the many times expressed sentiment of this book that the Indian is a vanishing race, for he died within two weeks after returning home from the last Great Indian Council. His words, therefore, are deeply significant: "I feel sad at the thought of not meeting these chiefs again, for I would like to meet them all once more, but I feel pretty sure we will never meet again."

Chief Running Fisher had measured threescore years of life, and for forty years of that time he had averaged a battle for every other year. Battles in Canada, battles in the mountains, and battles on the plains. He had fought the Sioux, the Blackfeet, the Nez Perce, the Crows, the Shoshones, and the Piegans. He said: "I have twenty shots in my body received in battle. I have had my arm broken and wrist sprained. A bullet went right through one of my arms. In early days I fought with the bow and arrow. In one battle I killed two men, shooting a single arrow through them both. The greatest event of my life occurred when I was shot at the battle of Big Spring and left for dead on the field. My friends kept back the enemy as long as they could and when they saw that I did not revive they left me. I was bleeding from the inside, a coughing of blood out of the throat brought me to. When I came to I found the enemy had departed and I followed the tracks of my own tribe. Some of my friends were shot and I could see by the blood stains on the snow the path they had taken. I was nineteen years of age at this time. It was a long time before I overtook the band. They travelled much faster than I could, but I finally reached the camp and recovered. We had no surgeons and but little care. Every Indian had to be his own doctor. I will tell you about another close call I had. The event that I am now about to relate is the main thing that makes a chief out of a warrior. We had a fight with the Piegans. One of the Piegans had a gun and a dagger, one in each hand. This Piegan ran at me and I ran at him. As we came together I grabbed the Piegan's gun with one hand and his dagger with the other and as I warded off his charge, his gun was fired, and I took the gun and the dagger away from him. Then my friends rushed to my rescue and killed the Piegan and scalped him."

Turning from battles and wounds, let this old chieftain recur to his boyhood days: "I remember when I was quite a boy the wonderful sun dance. It greatly impressed me. I could not understand it and I asked my father about it and he told me that I could not take part in the sun dance until I had earned my title as a warrior. The sun dance is a custom among the Indians which seeks to elevate a spirit of honour among men as well as women. No young woman dare take part in the sun dance unless she is virtuous, for she is sure to be pointed out and put to shame, and if she does not take part, then suspicion falls upon her and she is likewise put to shame. The men emulate the deeds of their fathers in order that they may take part in the sun dance. And thus this wonderful dance becomes a school for patriotism among the tribes and a stimulus to deeds of valour as well as an incentive to virtue. I do not think that anything has ever made a stronger impression upon me than the sun dance. It was always held in May, a beautiful time of the year, and as we young people watched the various phases of the dance, both young men and young women desired to do right that we might have our share in this wonderful ceremony."

This passing allusion to one of the great Indian rites and its influence upon Indian character may lead the reader to follow further into this weird enactment.

Another chieftain has been folded in his blanket. The war-bonnet and war-shirt he wears in the picture we made of him were laid beside him in his last sleep, emblems of his last battle and tokens of his final conquest.



[Chief Bull Snake]

Chief Bull Snake

Bull Snake

Old Bull Snake, or Snake Bull's, Indian name is Ear-Ous-Sah-Chee-dups, which means male snake. Years ago when far from camp he was bitten by a rattlesnake. The only companion with him did all within his power to save his friend. The death stupor was coming on, and his companion hurried to the camp with the tidings. His relations rushed to the rescue. He finally recovered and has ever since been called Bull Snake. It is a fitting appellation for this grizzled warrior of sixty-eight years. The bow and arrow became the plaything of his boyhood days. With it he sought the lair of wild things and shot with glee the buffalo calf; his final strength winging the arrow through the heart of the buffalo bull. Then came the days of the war trail, eager, savage days—days when the hated foe was pursued on foot and the warpath was followed for very love of war. This passion for war led him to the camp of General Crook, where he was assigned the task of trailing the hostile Sioux. The further story of Bull Snake is best told in his own words:

"At that time I must have been about twenty-three years old. We moved down to the Little Rosebud. I was the first of the scouts to discover the Sioux who were approaching us. After I reported, I mounted my horse and in company with two other scouts went over to locate the Sioux. We found ten Sioux and began to fight. My companions with both of their horses were killed. Then the battle of the Little Rosebud began. The Sioux and Cheyennes were all circling about us. General Crook sent for me. The entire command was surrounded. I thought it was my last day. I asked to be allowed to make a dash for a weak point in the line, his soldiers to follow. I did this and we broke through. Crook right flanked the enemy and won the day. In the counter attack two other Crows were on the ridge with me fighting. I raised my coup stick to strike a Sioux and he shot me, hitting my horse and we fell together. I found that I was badly wounded and could not stand up. I raised up as far as I could and fired three shots at the Sioux. There the battle ended."

War worn, halting on one foot, this savior of Crook's entire command presents a pitiful remnant of Indian valour. Speech more pathetic never came from the lips of any man: "The greatest thing to me is the education of my children. Since I was wounded, about thirty-six years ago, I have been thinking over my life. My leg has been weak and my heart has been sorry. I feel that I have suffered because I have followed my Great Father's order. I am glad I fought for the soldiers, for I think it was the right thing to do. Because of my wounded leg I am not able to work; sometimes I nearly starve, and yet I feel that I did the right thing. Will you be kind enough to see that I get my pension? I need it!" Be kind enough? Let the Government make answer in gratitude to the sagacious bravery of a red man bearing through life his daily burden of pain and the greater suffering of an unrequited heart who gloriously met the test of sacrifice.



[Mountain Chief]

Mountain Chief

Mountain Chief

Omaq-kat-tsa, carrying with it the meaning of Big Brave, is a name eminently fitting to Mountain Chief. The nobility of his presence, the Roman cast of his face, the keen penetration of his eye, the breadth of his shoulders, the dignity with which he wears the sixty-seven years of his life, all conspire to make this hereditary chief of the Fast Buffalo Horse band of the Blackfeet preeminent among the Indians and eminent among any class of men. He wears his hair on the left side in two braids; on the right side he wears one braid, and where the other braid should be, the hair hangs in long, loose black folds. He is very demonstrative. He acts out in pantomime all that he says. He carries a tin whistle pendent to his necklace. First he is whistling, again he is singing, then he is on his hands and knees on the ground pawing up the dust like a buffalo when he is angry. His gestures are violent and his speech is guttural, like the sputtering of water from an exhaust. He sings a war song of his own composition and you can hear him for a mile. When asked to tell a story of his boyhood days he said that rather than tell such a story he would prefer to describe the management of the camp under the two great chiefs; his father, Mountain Chief, and Chief Lame Bull. These two men signed the treaty between the United States and the Blackfoot tribe, together with other tribes, in 1855, when Franklin Pierce was President. The historic information vouchsafed by Mountain Chief regarding the conduct of an Indian camp, their manner and method of hunting buffalo, and the purposes to which they put the buffalo, has never before been put in type:

"I remember the different chiefs in the camp when I was a boy, and how they governed the camp. My father, Mountain Chief, and his chum, Chief Lame Bull, were living in the same tepee. They each had a medicine pipe. These two chiefs made the plans before they moved the camp. After the plans were made, they took their medicine pipes and placed them against the rear side of the tepee. That indicated that the camp was going to remain for another day. The women of the camp were sent around by the various warriors to note the position of the pipes so they could tell what the plans were. When they came back, they told their husbands the pipes were in the rear of the tepee; then the husbands would say: 'The camp is going to remain for another day.' Then the chiefs sent for Four Bear, who asked certain Indians to go around and tell the people that the camp would remain for another day. Then Four Bear went toward the camp from the sunrise and walked around the camp toward the sunset. Then the Indians told their wives and children to keep still, and see what was going to be said. Four Bear would then tell the people that the camp would remain another day and to tell their wives to go after wood. Then the women took the travois and went after wood. Then the chiefs sent for the leaders and warriors; we called them 'crazy dogs.' The leaders of the crazy dogs came into the tepee of Mountain Chief and Lame Bull, and my father, Mountain Chief, told these two crazy dogs to start before sunrise, and to take with them the other crazy dogs to find where there was a lot of good fresh water, and a lot of grass where they might camp, and also where they might find the nearest herd of buffalo. The crazy dogs found a good place where there was plenty of buffalo and water, and then they marked the camp. When these crazy dogs found a location for the camp they were fortunate enough to find a big herd of buffalo. On their return, before they reached the camp they began to sing a crazy dog song, riding abreast. It means: 'A song to sharpen your knife, and patch up your stomach, for you are going to have something good to eat.' They made a circle, coming to camp from the sunrise, and moved toward the sunset, and then the leaders told the camp they had seen lots of buffalo. Then they dismounted and went home. After the crazy dogs had had their meal, they went over to the tepee of the chiefs; then they told the chiefs they had found a good camping place, good ground, good water, and a big herd of buffalo just beyond. The crazy dogs had their smoke, it was late when they went home, and then they sent for Four Bear. Four Bear went to the camp, told the people concerning their new camp, and the next morning the women took the medicine pipes and put them at the side of the tepee looking toward the direction where they were going to camp. Husbands told their wives to go out and see on which side of the tepee the medicine pipes were placed, that they might know where they were going. Then the wives came in and told them that the medicine pipes pointed in a northerly direction. The husbands told the wives that the camp was going to move north. The camp broke up that very morning. The chiefs and their wives sat by their tepees in a half circle, smoking while the camp was being broken up. After the chiefs were through smoking, they got up, and found the camp ready to move. They got a lot of mixed tobacco ready, and then they got on their horses. The chiefs started out in procession. After going some distance they halted; the crazy dogs followed, standing on each side, watching the movement of the camp to see that everybody was out. After everybody had left the camp, the chiefs followed the procession. When they thought it was noon they made a halt. They took their travois and saddles from the horses, and rested; then had their lunch. The chiefs then told Four Bear to get the camp in traveling shape again, and went on. Finally they came to the spot where the camping place was marked. They then took the medicine pipes and put them on a tripod, and the warriors came and sat around and smoked. Four Bear was then told to get the people settled, to tie up the buffalo horses, and get ready for the hunt. Four Bear then told the people not to get a meal but to get a little lunch, and get ready for the hunt. Then the chiefs started out for the buffalo, the hunters following. They stopped halfway before they got to the herd, and told all the hunters not to start for the buffalo until they were all ready and everybody had a fair chance. In the meantime one of the Indians sneaked away to crawl up toward the buffalo. Then this fellow chased the buffalo, and the crazy dogs took after him. When they got him, they broke his gun, his arrows and bow, broke his knife, cut his horse's tail off, tore off his clothes, broke his saddle in pieces, tore his robe in pieces, cut his rope into small bits, also his whip. Then they sent him off afoot. About that time the buffalo had stopped again, then the main body got on their horses, and started the chase. If a hunter hit a buffalo with one arrow, he gave a scream, and that indicated that he had hit him just once. There were very few guns in those days and those were flint-locks. Sometimes when a hunter rode side by side with a buffalo, and shot the animal, the arrow would go clear through. The Indians were very proud and careful of their arrows. They did not wish to break them. That is the reason why they shot them on the side, so that when the buffalo fell the arrow would not be broken. Lots of the buffalo fell on their knees, and would begin to move from side to side. Then the Indian, for fear that the arrow would be broken, jumped off his horse and pulled it out. The hunter then tied his horse to the horns of the buffalo for fear that he might be attacked by enemies at any moment. After this they took out their knives and sharpened them on hard steel, like the flint with which they made fire. All the time they were sharpening their knives they were looking around for the approach of the enemy. The fire steel was scarce, we had to use rocks most of the time. The knives we procured from the Hudson Bay Company. When we killed a buffalo bull, we placed him on his knees, then we began to skin him down the back of the neck, down the backbone, splitting it on each side. The cows we laid on their backs, and cut down the middle. We used the buffalo cowhide for buffalo robes; the buffalo bulls' hides were split down the back because from this hide we made war shields, parflesche bags, and saddle blankets. The husbands would tell the wives to take care of the heads. The wives took the brains out of the buffalo skull and mixed them with the largest part of the liver, and after mixing well, used the brains and liver in tanning the hides. Then the wife was told to take out the tripe and skin it, for they used the skin as a bucket with which to carry water when they got home. They had strips of rawhide about three feet long and a quarter of an inch wide and tied the meat so that they could carry it home on the horses. They took the backbone after it had been cleaned of the flesh, and tied the meat to that and threw it over the back of the horse so that the load would not hurt the back of the horse. When we got home with the meat we unloaded. The men who had gone without their wives simply got off their horses and went into the tepee. The women rushed out to get the meat. Then the women took the horse with the meat on it to their father-in-law. Then the mother-in-law hurried to get the meal, taking the ribs of the buffalo, setting them up against the fire to roast. After the meat was cooked it was cut in slices and placed in a wooden bowl, and the mother-in-law took the meat over to the lodge of her son-in-law. That was all we had for our meal. We had no coffee or anything else to eat, but we made a good meal from the meat of the buffalo. Then the son-in-law said to his wife: Your mother has been feeding me all the time, now you go out and catch that mare and give it to her as a present. There was plenty of meat in the camp and then we boys would go out and play buffalo. We would take a long piece of rawhide, fasten a piece of meat to it, and one of us would drag it along while the others fired arrows into it—the arrows we used for killing squirrels and birds. When we chased the boy dragging the piece of meat he would stop after we overtook him, and paw the dust and would imitate the buffalo bull, and pick up the piece of meat and swing it round his head, all the while we were trying to shoot arrows into it. But sometimes in the swinging of the meat with the arrows in it a boy would get hit, and then he would run back and fall down, and we would run back to him and say that he had been hooked. He would be groaning all the time. Then we would pick up weeds and squeeze the juice out of them, acting as though we were doctors. About that time night came on, and the chiefs sent for Four Bear, and Four Bear would go around and tell the people that the grass in that camp was pretty well taken up. The next morning the women would take their medicine pipes and put them on the side, indicating where the next camp was going to be, and thus we went on from camp to camp."

"The years have passed on, and now the old warriors and myself get together and talk about the old buffalo days, and we feel very lonesome. We talk over the camping places, and the old days of the chase, and the events of those times, and we feel glad again. When we think of the old times we think also of the white man for it was their arms that made the buffalo extinct. If the Indians had had nothing but arrows, the buffalo would be left to-day. We blame the Government again, for they told the agents not to sell ammunition to the Indians, and they sold this ammunition on the sly. This was done so that the Indians could get the hides for the traders."

"The greatest event in my life was in the war of the Black-feet against the Crees, at Hope Up, Canada. My horse and myself were both covered with blood. Let me tell you about this battle. The war was between the Blackfeet and the Crees. The camp was on Old Man's River. The bands were so many that they were camped on every bend of the river. My father, Mountain Chief, was at the upper end of the camp. I was twenty-two years old at the time. It was in the fall of the year, and the leaves had all fallen. The lower camp was attacked by the Crees at night. The people were just getting up in the morning when the news came that the lower camp had been attacked by the Crees. I got my best horse; it was a gray horse. My father led his band in company with Big Lake who that summer had been elected a big chief. We rode up over the ridge while in the plain below the battle was raging. As we rode down the hill slope, I began to sing my war song. I carried the shield in my hand and this song that I sung belonged to that shield. One of the medicine men dreamed that whoever held this shield would not be hit by the bullets. While singing I put in the words: 'My body will be lying on the plains.' When I reached the line of battle I did not stop, but rode right in among the Crees, and they were shooting at me from behind and in front. When I rode back the same way the men made a break for the coulee. As soon as the men got into the coulee they dug a pit. I was lying about ten yards away on the side of the hill. I was singing while lying there. I could not hear on account of the roar of the guns, and could not see for the smoke. About that time they heard my whistle, and the Crees made a break for the river. Then the Blackfeet made an onrush for the Crees and I ran over two of them before they got to the river. As they were crossing the river I jumped off my horse and took my spear and stabbed one of the Crees between the shoulders. He had a spear and I took that away from him. I jumped off my horse again, and just as I returned there was a Cree who raised his gun to fire at me. I ran over him, and he jumped up and grabbed my horse by the bridle. I swung my horse's head around to protect myself and took the butt of my whip and knocked him down. When I struck him he looked at me and I found that his nose had been cut off. I heard afterward that a bear had bitten his nose off. After I knocked him down, I killed him. I jumped on my horse and just then I met another Cree. We had a fight on our horses; he shot at me and I shot at him. When we got close together I took his arrows away from him, and he grabbed me by the hair of the head. I saw him reach for his dagger, and just then we clinched. My war-bonnet had worked down on my neck, and when he struck at me with his dagger it struck the war-bonnet, and I looked down and saw the handle sticking out, and grabbed it and killed the other Indian. Then we rushed the Crees into the pit again, and my father came up with one of the old muskets and handed it to me. It had seven balls in it, and when I fired it it kicked so hard it almost killed me. I feel that I had a more narrow escape by shooting that gun than I had with the Indians. When we returned I had taken nine different scalps. The Crees who had not been scalped had taken refuge in the scant forest, and my father said to quit and go home. So we took pity on the tribe, and let them go, so they could tell the story. I remember that we killed over three hundred, and many more that I cannot remember. When we returned we began to count how many we had killed. We crossed the creek and went to the pit, and they were all in a pile. Then we were all singing around the pit, and I put in the words, 'The guns, they hear me.' And everybody turned and looked at me, and I was a great man after that battle. Then we went home and began to talk about the battle, and the Indians who were dead. There never was any peace between the Crees and the Black-feet; they were always bitter enemies. When the battle began, the leader of the Crees came right up to our tepee and slit it, and said: 'You people are sleeping yet, and I came,' I fired a gun and killed him. The Crees took their knives and slit the tepees of our village down the sides and then rushed in. When the Crees rushed into the tepees they took everything they could lay their hands on, killing the women and children, and that made me mad. That was why I fought so hard that day."

[War Memories]

War Memories



Mountain Chief's Boyhood Sports

"I remember when I was a boy how we used to trap foxes. We all got together and took our sisters along, took the axe, went into the woods and cut willows, tied them up in bundles, and put them on our backs, our sisters doing the same thing. We would go to the east of the camp, where the smoke and all of the scent would go, find a snowdrift in the coulee and unload our packs. The first thing we did was to stamp on the snow—to see if it was solid. We would drive four sticks into the snow, and while driving in the sticks we would sing: 'I want to catch the leader.' The song is a fox song to bring good luck. As far as I can remember I got this story from my grandfather. There was an old man in the camp who went to the mountains, and stayed there for four days without anything to eat in order that he might get his dream. A fox came to him and told him: 'This is one way you can kill us,' and this is why we put in this song while we were making the deadfall. After we got through fixing up our deadfall we returned home, a boy in the lead, then a girl, then a boy, then a girl, and while we were returning to the camp we sang the fox song, putting in these words: 'I want to kill the leader.' Then we fell down, imitating the fox in the trap. When we got back to camp we took buffalo meat, covering it with fat and roasted it a while so that the fox would get the scent. Then we took the bait and put it on a stick and put it over our left arm, and then the boys and girls all went back again, singing as we went; 'We hope to have good luck.' This song was a good-luck song. After we put the bait in the trap we all went home silently, not saying a word. But before we went to bed my mother said to me: 'I am going to get a piece of dried beef without any fat, and you take it over to the old man who always has good luck in trapping foxes, and he will pray for you that you may have good luck.' When the dried meat was done, I took it over to the old man, gave it to him, and asked him to pray for me that I might have good luck. The old fellow would then start to say his prayers for me. The old man to whom he prayed was the old man that dreamed how to kill the fox. The old man told me to pick up four stones about five inches long, and tie them with a string. He tied a stone on each wrist, one behind my neck, and one at the back of my belt. Then he took charcoal and blackened my nose on each side to represent the fox, then he made me take off my clothes; he took a stick about five feet long and held it in an inclined position. The old man then took two sticks and hit them together, and stood right by the door singing. He told me to whistle; then he walked toward the point where he had held the sticks. He then lay down by the stick and began to scratch on the ground as though he were caught in a trap. Then he said: 'You are going to catch one now.' By this time it was pretty late in the night. We gave a signal to the other boys and girls to come out and we all went to see our traps. I had a robe made out of a yearling calfskin that I threw over me, and I also had a rope my mother gave me with which to drag the foxes home if I caught any. Then we went to our traps, following the same path as we did when we went to set the trap with bait. As we went along we filled the night with song, singing: 'The fox is in a trap, and his tail is sticking out.' When we got near the traps we stopped singing, and one of us went on ahead. The leader who went ahead walked straight to our trap, when he returned he whistled; then we knew that some of us had caught something. When he came back he pointed out certain ones who had caught foxes. Then we lifted our deadfalls, slipped the ropes over them, and dragged them home. As we approached the camp we formed in line abreast, and began to sing. When we reached the camp every one was in bed. We sang the song which indicated that we had caught something; then we imitated the cry of the crow and the magpie, which indicated that we had had extra good luck. If we imitated the hooting of an owl, it showed that we had had bad luck, and none of us had caught anything. We were always anxious to catch some wild game, because we sold the skins to the traders, and with the money we bought knives and brass earrings and beads and paint."



[Chief Red Cloud]

Chief Red Cloud

Chief Red Cloud

Chief Red Cloud, head chief of the Ogallallas, was without doubt the most noted and famous chief at the time of his death, December, 1909, in the United States. He became famous through his untiring efforts in opposition to everything the Government attempted to do in the matter of the pacification of the Sioux. One of the most lurid pages in the history of Indian warfare records the massacre at Fort Phil Kearny, in December, 1866. Chief Red Cloud planned and executed this terrific onslaught. He always remained a chief. He was always the head of the restless element, always the fearless and undaunted leader. He was the Marshal Ney of the Indian nations, until sickness and old age sapped his vitality and ambition.

The holding of the last Great Indian Council occurred a little less than two months before his death. Blind and bedridden he could not attend the council. During the last few shattered years of his warrior life, he relegated all the powers of chieftainship to his son, now fifty-four years of age. The younger Chief Red Cloud attended the council. He is tall and straight and lithe, and possesses a splendid military bearing. He is a winsome speaker, and his words are weighted with the gold of Nature's eloquence. Every attitude of his body carries the charm of consummate grace, and when he talks to you there is a byplay of changing lights in his face that becomes fascinating. Like his father he was a born leader and warrior. His story of the Custer fight and his participation in it may be found in the chapter on that subject. Regarding his own life he tells us: