"It has been a part of my life to go out on the warpath, ever since I was fourteen years old. As you know it is a part of our history that the man who goes on the warpath and kills the most enemies gets a coup stick, and the coup stick is the stepping-stone to become a chief. I remember my first war party was forty-one years ago. This battle was at Pryor Creek against the Crows. I was in four great battles, with my father, Chief Red Cloud. At the battle of Pryor Creek I captured many horses, and took three scalps. Thirty-four years ago I killed four Crows and earned my coup stick. I kept these scalps until my visit to Washington when some white man wanted them."

"I want to speak about the buffalo. There were plenty of buffalo and deer when I was a young man, but the white man came and frightened all the game away, and I blame the white man for it. By order of our Great Father in Washington the buffalo were all killed. By this means they sought to get the Sioux Indians back to their reservation."

"The greatest event in my life I may explain in this way: Years ago I had been trained to go on the warpath. I loved to fight; I was fighting the Indians and fighting the soldiers. Then there came a time when the Great Father said we must stop fighting and go to school, we must live in peace, that we were Indian brothers, and must live in peace with the white man. I believe that the greatest event in my life was when I stopped the old Indian custom of fighting and adopted what the white man told me to do—live in peace."

The hoar frosts of autumn had touched into opal and orange the leaves of the forest until great banners of colour lined the banks of the swiftly flowing Little Big Horn; the camp of the last Great Indian Council lifted cones of white on the edge of these radiant trees. Sombre winds uttered a melancholy note through the dying reeds on the river bank, and all of it seemed a prelude to an opening grave, and significant of the closing words uttered to me by Chief Red Cloud:

"My father, old Chief Red Cloud, has been a great fighter against the Indians, and against the white man, but he learned years ago to give up his fighting. He is now an old man, ready to die, and I am sorry that he could not come here. It is now over five years since he gave me his power and I became chief, and he and I both are glad that we are friends to the white man and want to live in peace."



[Chief Two Moons]

Chief Two Moons

Chief Two Moons

Chief Two Moons wears about his neck an immense cluster of bear claws. His arms are also encircled with this same insignia of distinction. Although he has reached the age of nearly threescore years and ten, his frame is massive and his posture, when standing, typifies the forest oak. It takes no conjuring of the imagination to picture this stalwart leader of the Cheyennes against Custer on that fateful June day, as suffering no loss in comparison with the great generals who led the Roman eagles to victory. Two Moons is now nearly blind; he carries his coup stick, covered with a wolfskin, both as a guide for his footsteps and a badge of honour. There is not a tinge of gray in the ample folds of his hair, and his voice is resonant and strong. His story of the Custer fight, told for me at the cross marking the spot where Custer fell, to be found in the Indians' story of that battle, is both thrilling and informing.

[Here Custer Fell]

Here Custer Fell

Seated around the campfire in my tepee while a cold rain sifted through the canvas, Two Moons became reminiscent. His mother and brother were called Two Moons, meaning two months—in the Indian tongue, Ish-hay-nishus. His mind seemed to travel back to his boyhood days, for he started right in by saying: "When a Cheyenne boy wants to marry a young woman it takes a long time for them to get acquainted with each other. When he wants to marry a girl or have her for a sweetheart he tells another fellow with whom he is acquainted, and who is also acquainted with the girl, and this young man goes and tells her, the same as a white man writes to the young lady on paper. And this Indian friend brings them together; this Indian goes and tells the girl that the boy wants to be a sweetheart to her, and the girl will say, 'Well, I will think it over.' And then she thinks it over, and finally says if he comes to see her some time in the day or night then she will believe that he is a sweetheart of hers. So then the young man goes to the young girl, and talks to her, and they make up their minds to get married. They get married after this fashion: the young man may go to the tent of the girl at night and the girl may come out, then the boy will take the girl away to his home. So then the next morning the young man's folks and family bring their presents. They take two or three horses, good horses, and load these horses up with good stuff, clothes, shawls, necklaces, bracelets, and moccasins. Then they take the girl back to her home. The girl's family divides up the presents after they get home."

"There is another way: When an old man and woman decide they want a grandchild, they tell their son they are going to buy a certain girl and he must marry her. Then another Indian goes and tells the girl's family that they would like to trade for the girl, and if it is all right he goes back and the boy's people load up some horses with goods, and take them over to the girl's folks. And then they take her back and give her to the boy's family. The bride was bedecked with brass rings which were taken from the tepee, but they used other rings for engagement rings after the white man came."

In speaking of death, Two Moons said: "If the person who dies has a mother or father or friend, they all cry, and all the things that belonged to the boy they give away to other people. They dig a grave in between the rocks and put the body in the ground and cover it up with dirt and rocks. They always dig a grave for a person who dies whether they have friends or folks. The old people believed there was a man came on earth here and some of his children had done a lot of crime and fooling with him, and they talked of his going up to heaven, and living there and looking down, and that is where we will all go when we die. Also the old people believed that that man said: 'There will be a kind of cross light up in the sky, which will mark the path for souls on the road.' 'High White Man' is our name for God. And it was the son of High White Man who told this, and who created us and made everything."

"The first time the Indian saw a locomotive, he called it the Iron Horse, and the railroad was called the Iron Road. The old people first saw what they called white men, and they called the white man a Ground Man. I was so young then that I did not know anything at that time. I saw some men driving an ox team, or carrying packs on their backs and walking. When I got older most of the people knew that these white men were good. The first time they saw a white man they called him Drive-a-Wagon. They did not know what they were hauling, but found out afterward that it was sugar and coffee. I remember how pleased I was when I first saw sugar and coffee. When I was a boy the Indians used to get the grains of coffee and put it in a bucket and boil it, and it would never cook at all. Finally a white man came along and took the coffee and put it in a bucket and put it on the coals without any water, and stirred it until it turned brown, and then he took it off and mashed it up between two stones, and that was how we learned to make coffee. I like it, and have always liked it."

"The white man is to blame for the driving away of the buffalo." (It will here be observed that the Indian cannot talk very long at a time without this ever recurring subject being forced to the front.) "After the white man had driven the buffalo away, a great council among the Indians was held; all the tribes possible were called to this big council on the Platte River. All the different tribes were there. A white man came there and brought a lot of stuff, such as clothes, plates, guns, coffee grinders, knives, blankets, and food, and gave them to the Indians. They also brought shoes. This man said that he wanted some Indians to go to Washington. They went down the Missouri River. They went by ox team from the Platte River to the Missouri, and then by ship down the Missouri River. These men were gone to Washington for a year; they came back about the middle of the summer. The President told the Indians they were his grandchildren, and thus the Indians called the President their grandfather. Grandfather told them that a white man would come and live with them, and that for fifty-five years they would get clothes and food. I was nine years old when they held the council and ten years old when they came back. From the time of the council the old people settled down in the Black Hills and in the south and quit running around. From that time all the Indians became friends of the white man, and the white man bought the buffalo hides and other skins. After they settled down everything went along all right until I was fifteen years old, and then the whites came in and there was a fight between the whites and Cheyennes and some other tribes of Indians. I do not know what happened, but some Cheyennes went over to the white man's camp on Shell River, and the white men started to fire at the Indians. That was the cause of the trouble that year. Later the Comanches and Apaches and Kiowas fought among themselves, and came north to fight the Cheyennes. We called them the Texas Indians. Then the wars between the tribes and the hostilities between the Red and White grew less and less. There was a man named Honey;—the Indians called him Bee—he told the Cheyennes they must not fight. In the numerous battles in which I was engaged I received many wounds. I was wounded by the Pawnee Indians in a fight with them, by an arrow; wounded again at Elk River in the Yellowstone, when I was shot through the arm by a Crow of the Big Horn. I was wounded again on the Crow River in Utah in a fight with the United States soldiers, when I was shot through the thigh. I had my horse shot through the jaw in a fight with the Crows, but to-day I am a friend of all the tribes; once I was their enemy. I was told by General Miles at Fort Kearny that we must not fight any more, that it was the orders from Washington. I remember General Miles well. I know him and I am a friend of his. When General Miles told me what I ought to do, it was just as though he put me in his hand and showed me the white man and the Indian, and told us we were all to be good friends, so that is the reason General Miles' name is a great name among the Cheyennes as well as the whites. And your coming among us is just like General Miles; you are helping the Indians and can help them. They need help for they are all poor. After the Indians settled down and General Miles had told us what the Great Father at Washington wanted, and after I had succeeded in settling the Indians, the order came from Washington that we should take up land and call it a claim. So I looked all around for land on which to settle; then I went over to Tongue River on the Rosebud so that my family and children could be reared and have a home. All that I have told you is true. General Miles told me that when I settled down and took this land, there might be some people who would come along and try to cheat us out of our land, but not to pay any attention to them, that it was our land. There are a great many people settled in Montana in the land that belonged to the Indians. These people are raising lots of cattle and ought to be good to the Indian. I have been on this land for over twenty years, but we are not yet accustomed to the white man's food: we love the meat yet, and we long for the buffalo. There is a great deal of land leased by cattle men in Montana, and the money ought to go to buy more cattle for the Indian, and clothes for our children. I like to tell the truth just as I have seen it with my own eyes, and I will have another good story for you to-morrow night. I am getting old, but when I begin to talk about the old times I think I am young again, and that I am the biggest of them all."



[Custer Scouts]

Custer Scouts

THE STORY OF THE SURVIVING CUSTER SCOUTS

Too little stress has been laid upon the values accruing to the safety and success of the United States troops, in their warfare on the western frontier, from the services of Indian scouts.

A wild and often inaccessible country to traverse, with none of the aids of electricity or modern travel; with difficult mountain ranges to climb, blinding blizzards and insufferable cold, blistering heat, and the hazards of unknown rivers to cross through banks of perilous quicksands; stupendous distances to travel, and all the time an alert, wily, and masterful foe lurking in any one of ten thousand impregnable coverts—this is a hint of the scout's life. These brave and tireless scouts led not to ambush but to the advantage of our men at arms. Estimate the bravery, the sagacity, the perseverance, the power of endurance displayed by these Indian scouts, and their superlative service will call for our patriotic gratitude. No trial of strength and endurance, no test of bravery, no audacity of peril, hindered or made them afraid. They were more important than guns and munitions of war. The Crows made the best scouts, for two reasons: They had never taken up arms against the whites; all the neighbouring tribes battled against the Crows for the conquest of their land. The Crow scouts, therefore, aided the United States soldiers to conquer and drive out their hereditary foes that they might preserve their land and their homes. It was therefore not only a fight of fidelity and fealty but of preservation—Nature's strongest law.

Our story is now concerned with the four surviving scouts who led the United States soldiers in many campaigns under Crook, Terry, Miles, Howard, and finally Custer. The Indians who piloted Long Hair to the great Sioux camp in the valley of the Little Big Horn—the last day of life for Custer, the last contest at arms for the Indians—are now old men, and their own life record is full of thrilling interest.



[White Man Runs Him—Custer Scout]

White Man Runs Him—Custer Scout

White-Man-Runs-Him

This red man of the plains is a veritable Apollo Belvedere. He is pronounced by all ethnologists as possessing a physique hardly paralleled by any of the northern tribes. He fulfills in his life the nobility of his stature. At the age of sixty-five, his figure, seventy-four inches in height, stands unbent—supple and graceful. His whole aspect is that of quiet dignity, his voice is soft and musical, his eye is keen and penetrating; modestly and earnestly he describes his share in the Custer fight. He was trustworthy to the point of death. Very many times the safety of an entire command depended upon his caution and sagacity. He served as scout under Terry, Crook, and Custer.

While telling his story he stood upright, lifted his hands full length, which among the Crows signified an oath, meaning that he would tell the truth. His Indian boyhood name was Be-Shay-es-chay-e-coo-sis, "White Buffalo That Turns Around." When he was about ten years of age his grandfather named him after an event in his own father's life. A white man pursued his father, firing his gun above his father's head in order to make him run. And he was afterward called "White-Man-Runs-Him."

Regarding his boyhood days he tells us: "Until I was fifteen years of age, together with my boy playmates, we trained with bows and arrows. We learned to shoot buffalo calves, and this practice gave us training for the warpath. It answered two purposes: protection and support. We were also taught the management of horses. We early learned how to ride well. When the camp moved we boys waited and walked to the new camp for exercise, or we hunted on the way. We felt brave enough to meet anything. Thus it was that we roamed over the hills, and climbed the rocks in search of game, but we were sure to arrive at the camp just in time for the meal which had been prepared by the squaws. If on our way to the camp we came across game, such as a rabbit, we shot it with our arrows, broiled it and ate it for fun. When we got to the new camp we would all praise one boy for some deed that he had performed on the way, and then we would sing and dance. That boy's folks would give all us boys a dish of pemmican for the good deed he had performed. The little girls had small tepees. They practised cooking, learning from the older women. These girls would serve delicacies to us, and we would sing and dance around their tepee."

"When we were quite small boys we would go out hunting horses, and bring back a dog and call it a horse. When we made a new camp we seldom stayed more than ten days. In that way our health was sustained by travel. While we were on the move from one camp to another, we had to cross wide streams. We boys would measure the width of the river, and compete with each other to see who could swim across without stopping. I am telling you now what I did to build myself up to be the man I am now. The boys who were the same age and size as myself would wrestle, and if a boy downed me three or four times, I kept up the practice of wrestling until I had more strength. Then I could throw this boy and I was satisfied. I selected a boy to run a race; if the boy passed me, then I made the distance longer, and if he passed me again, I made the distance still longer, for I knew that I was long-winded. Then I won the race."

"Fifteen or twenty of us boys would go out to the river, and daub ourselves up with mud and so disguise ourselves that no one in the camp would know us. Then we would take jerked buffalo beef that the women had hung up around the camp to dry and go off out of sight and have a feast. None of us was caught at it, because they could not tell one boy from another. During this time I watched what old people did. When I came to grow up, I went forth equipped. I always had an amibition to do more than the best man in the camp could do. When I went on the chase, I made up my mind that I would bring home a buffalo or I would not go home. And my folks rejoiced, believing that they had a good boy to help support the family."

"We were surrounded by many different tribes, Shoshones, Sioux, Piegans, and Gros Ventres. They were all our enemies. We often went on the warpath against these people, because they were always trying to take our horses and conquer our land. When we went on the warpath sometimes we would stop and kill a buffalo and have a feast. If we could, we crawled up on the enemy's camp and stole his horses. If we met a foe we tried to kill him and bring his scalp home."

"Our custom of painting was a sign. If in a dream we saw any one painted, that was our medicine. In our dreams we would see various kinds of paints and how to use them; we would see certain birds and feathers, and we adopted this as our style of paint. Others would try to buy from us our style of paint. The kind of paint and feathers we wore made us brave to do great deeds—to kill the enemy or take his horses. We did not buy horses, but stole them. We gave the horses to our relations. If I got one or more horses, it represented so much value to me, and brought honour to me. And, besides, the girls admired the man who could go out and get horses, and in this way we won a wife. After marriage I would sell a horse, buy elk teeth, beaded leggings, and put them on my wife as a wedding present. Elk teeth and horses were a sign of wealth. Then my wife would make a tepee, and put it up; then I would settle down and have a home."

"In early days we had nothing for clothing except the skins of animals. We used the buffalo hide or the deer hide for a breechclout. For a bucket we used the tripe of the buffalo, after thoroughly cleaning it. We would hang it up on the branch of a tree, full of water, and drink out of it."

"The white people came long before I was born, but when I first remember the white man I thought he was very funny. I never knew of any one person particularly, but I know there are good white people and bad white people, honest white people and dishonest white people, true white people and mean white people. We always take it for granted that what the white people say is true, but we have found out by experience that they have been dishonest with us and that they have mistreated us. Now when they say anything we think about it, and sometimes they are true. I am saying this about the white people in general."

"Going back to the days when we had no horses, we would see the buffalo on the plains; we then surrounded them, driving them as we did so, near to the edge of some steep precipice. When we got the buffalo up near the edge of the precipice we would all wave our blankets and buffalo robes and frighten the buffalo and they would run off the steep place, falling into the valley below, one on top of another. Of course the undermost animals were killed. Then we would go down and get them and take away the meat."

"The Indians found some dogs on the prairie. After they got the dogs they would fasten a pole on either side of the dogs with a tanned hide fastened between the poles, and the Indians would put their trappings, their meat, and their pappooses on this hide stretched between the poles. In that way they moved from place to place, the dog carrying the utensils of the camp. We called it a travois. One day when we were moving, the dog who was carrying a baby in the travois saw a deer and ran after it. He went over a bank and carried the baby with him, and finally came back without the baby."

"In counting the dead on the battlefield we placed sticks by the dead soldiers or Indians, then gathered the sticks up, took them to one place in a pile and there counted the sticks. We count by fixing events in our mind. We have a brain and a heart, and we commit to memory an event, and then we say Chief So-and-So died when we broke camp on the Big Horn, and So-and-So were married when we had the big buffalo hunt in the snow. Or we had a big fight with the Sioux when our tepees were placed in a ring in the bend of the Yellowstone River. We dated our time from these events."



Folklore Tale—Crow

"When I was a little boy this is a story that was told around every campfire: It was called 'Old Man Coyote!' Before the white man came the coyote used to roam over all the land. The Old Man Coyote took the little coyotes he picked up on the prairies and called them his little brothers. The little coyote was such a sly animal that the old coyote always sent him on errands, because he knew he would always be up to something. The Old Man Coyote says: 'We are alone: let us make man.' He said: 'Go and bring me some mud so that I can make a man, so that we can be together.' The Old Man Coyote took the mud and put it together, and put hair on it, and set it up on the ground, and said: 'There is a man!' The little coyote said: 'Make some more.' And the Old Man Coyote made four—two were women and two were men. The Old Man sized them up and said they were good, and so he made a whole lot more. Old Man Coyote said: 'It is good that we live together, and I want you to open each other's eyelids.' Old Man Coyote said to these people whom he had made: 'Now, if you stay together and are good to each other, you will be happy, and you will increase in numbers.' Old Man Coyote was our creator. Old Man Coyote said to these people whom he had made: 'This is your land; live here, eat of the fruit of the trees, drink of the rivers, hunt the game, and have a good time.' From that we believe that the white people had nothing to do with the land—it belonged to the Indian. This story, told to our people so many times, and told to me since I can remember, led me to believe when I came to know and understand that this land was wholly ours, and belonged entirely to the Indians. Old Man Coyote, after he had created man and woman, did not have anything to do, so he made a bow and arrow. He took the flint for the arrowhead, and with it he killed the buffalo. Then he gave the bow and arrow to the Indian and said to him: 'This is your weapon.' The people whom Old Man Coyote created had no knife, so he took the shoulder blade of the buffalo and sharpened it and made it into a knife. These people whom Old Man Coyote had created roamed round over the land and they found a mule. It was a great big mule with great big ears, and when they brought it home the people were all afraid of it. They all gathered around the mule, staring in amazement at him, and said: 'What kind of an animal is this? It is a dangerous animal.' Just then the mule stuck up his ears, and let out an awful cry, just such a cry as only the mule can make. Then the people all ran away as hard as they could go, scared almost to death, except one Indian, who fell flat on the earth—too scared to run. And finally the people called this man, 'Not-Afraid-of-the-Mule.' And in this way we learned how to name our Indians."



[Hairy Moccasin—Custer Scout]

Hairy Moccasin—Custer Scout

Hairy Moccasin

Isapi-Wishish is the name the Indians called Hairy Moccasin, a scout under Gibbon, Miles, Howard, and Custer. His frame is small and wiry, and like his brother scout, Goes-Ahead, he too will soon be numbered with the great army of the dead. Silent, unobtrusive, carrying no mark of distinction, his moccasined feet move slowly along the path made by others. It must be noted that however unprepossessing his personality he wears an untarnished badge for bravery and faithful service as a scout. White-Man-Runs-Him said: "I cannot say anything better about Hairy Moccasin than to say that he executed faithfully the orders of General Custer." He was the boyhood playmate of White-Man-Runs-Him. They were companions in all the sports and games and tricks of the camp. When the Custer scouts traversed the difficult and dangerous route from the Little Rosebud to the valley where they located the mighty camp of the Sioux, it was Hairy Moccasin who under the stars of that June night reached the apex of the hills at dawn. The other scouts lay down to rest. Hairy Moccasin, leaving the others asleep, went to the summit—which is called the Crow's Nest—and as the gray streaks of the dawn began to silver the east, it was Moccasin's eye which caught the vision of the myriads of white tents, of the brown hills in the distance covered with brown horses, the curling smoke from hundreds of wigwams. Word was sent back to Custer. In excited tones, he asked: "Have you seen the cut-throat Sioux?" From the vantage point of the hills where they had seen the camp Hairy Moccasin was sent still farther in advance to reconnoitre. He climbed a pine-clad hill, found the Sioux everywhere, and then he rode back and reported to General Custer the size and position of the camp. On hearing the report Custer hurried up his command. As the brave general moved out of the valley up the ridge it is the testimony of White-Man-Runs-Him that Hairy Moccasin rode immediately in advance of Custer, and when the Chey-ennes came up, "He fired at them, banged and banged at them, and the Cheyennes were afraid of Moccasin. They were afraid of all three of us. Custer would have been killed before the time he was shot if it had not been for Hairy Moccasin and myself, who were around him shooting at the Indians." When the United States soldiers were fighting the Nez Perces Hairy Moccasin got a horse away from the enemy, and brought it into the camp of the soldiers. Hairy Moccasin was always on the warpath performing brave deeds. The name and fame of Custer will live in the archives of his country, and a fadeless lustre will forever crown the heroic deeds of this Indian Scout.



[Curly—Custer Scout]

Curly—Custer Scout

Curly

Curly, a Reno Crow, was born on the Little Rosebud, Montana, and is fifty-seven years of age. He has the bearing, grace and dignity of an orator. His name will also go down in history as one of the leading scouts who trailed for General Custer the Indian camp, and as the last of his scouts on the fated field where Custer and his command were slain. At times he is taciturn and solemn, and then bubbles over with mirthfulness. At the council held on the Crow Reservation, in October, 1907, with reference to the opening of unoccupied lands, Curly uttered this eloquent speech:

"I was a friend of General Custer. I was one of his scouts, and will say a few words. The Great Father in Washington sent you here about this land. The soil you see is not ordinary soil—it is the dust of the blood, the flesh, and bones of our ancestors. We fought and bled and died to keep other Indians from taking it, and we fought and bled and died helping the whites. You will have to dig down through the surface before you can find nature's earth, as the upper portion is Crow. The land, as it is, is my blood and my dead; it is consecrated, and I do not want to give up any portion of it."

Accompanied by a group of Indians, Curly came to my tepee when we were camped on the Little Big Horn. The whole company were greatly agitated because an Indian possessed with the spirit of self-importance had gone to Washington to make war against other Indians in the tribe who were industrious and loyal home builders. They all made speeches around the campfire, asking my interposition at Washington. In his argument Curly said: "Which man would you believe, the man who is trying to raise wheat for the people to get flour and bread from, oats to feed his horses, who builds a house for the shelter and preservation of his family, builds a stable in which to shelter his horses, tills the soil to get the product, trying to raise vegetables so that his people may have something to eat in summer and winter, or the man who would come along and run over this man who was working and trying to do something for his family, and would not work himself, but just run around and make a renegade of himself, quarrelling with his mother and brothers—which man would you believe? A man who quarrels with his mother is not fit for any duty." Gems like these would grace any brightest page of literature, but they are the everyday eloquence of the Indian.

Curly said regarding his early life: "When I was a boy I did not do much. I was not crazy, but I did not run into mischief. My father and mother always advised me not to get into mischief. My first remembrance of the white man was when I took the skins of buffalo calves into the trading stores and traded with the white man. I thought that was a great thing to do. I had been many times on the trail of the buffalo and had sought opportunity to go on the warpath. When I was about eighteen years old the Crow chiefs made the announcement that there were some United States officers in camp who wanted some Crow scouts. I quickly volunteered. My brother approached us after we started and took myself and Hairy Moccasin and White Swan and told us that we had a secret mission in another district. My brother was then on the warpath. We went as far with my brother as Tongue River and did not see what we were searching for and we came back home. Then the Crow scouts left the agency and camped at Clark's Ford, and Bonnie Bravo and Little Face, Indian scouts and interpreters, met us there. These scouts took us over to General Terry's camp again. The scouts who were with Terry had no horses, for the Sioux had captured them. We had with us eight horses. Then we marched down as far as the Little Rosebud. There one of Terry's officers told us we were to go out and scout for the Sioux camp. We went as far as Tongue River, and Bonnie Bravo was the first one to discover the Sioux camp. Then we came back to the command and reported. General Terry moved his cavalry forward and attempted to ford the Yellowstone River. The water was so high that many of the men and horses were drowned, and the rest came back. Then Terry asked the scouts to go forward again, and see if the camp was still there. We found that the camp had moved from Tongue River up on the Little Rosebud. After that we reported, and General Terry did not say very much. General Terry then sent Bonnie Bravo and the two scouts back to the camp to procure horses. They sent two other scouts and the army wagons to Crow Agency for provisions. The soldiers did not leave the camp very far for fear of attack by the Sioux, for they kept close watch on them constantly, firing at any soldiers they saw. Then General Terry sent me toward Crow Agency to meet the wagons and the men who were with the horses. After we had met the wagons we stayed there all night and then went on to camp. General Terry then moved his camp, following the Yellowstone down. We were taken clear down to the mouth of the Powder River. White-Man-Runs-Him and another scout did not have any horses, so they got into the boat and went down the river, bringing a dispatch to Terry. The dispatch told us to go back and follow the Yellowstone up again. We went back and camped within ten or twelve miles of the mouth of the Big Horn, near where we had camped before. We stayed there three or four days, and then a steamboat arrived bringing Bouyer, the scout. He told us all to break camp. There were six of us who did the most of the scouting, and out of the six Terry told three of us to go and find the enemy's camp. General Terry and the commander of the infantry were in the ambulance, and Bouyer was there talking with them. Terry sent for Yellow Shield, then Yellow Shield sent for me. Bouyer then asked me who among the Crow scouts did the most scouting. I said White Swan, Hairy Moccasin, and myself. These scouts then camp up and joined me. Yellow Shield then told us that he wanted six men in all. Then we had a conference. We thought of White-Man-Runs-Him, but he had no horse. Then Yellow Shield said he would call White-Man-Runs-Him and Goes-Ahead to join us. After they had called these men they put us on the steamboat and sent us down the river, sending the other Crows home. We were taken down to the mouth of the Little Rosebud by the Yellowstone. We were told after we had had our dinner that we must dress ourselves up and paint up and get ready to scout."

Curly at this point reaches the camp of General Custer, and the remainder of the fascinating story of this warrior, orator, and scout, who followed with unfailing fidelity the fortunes of the United States soldiers, will be told in the chapter on "The Indians' Story of the Custer Fight."



[Goes Ahead—Custer Scout]

Goes Ahead—Custer Scout

Goes-Ahead-Basuk-Ore

Goes-Ahead carries about a tall, attenuated, and weakened frame. He is standing on the verge of yonder land. He is stricken with a fatal disease. In manner he is as quiet and unobtrusive as a brooding bird. When reminiscent his wonted smile disappears, his eye lights up with a strange mysterious fire. He talks straight on like a man who has something to tell and is eager to tell it. We may gain better glimpses of his life if we let him tell his own tale:

"When I was quite a lad I went to war. I was the first in the battle and the others all said: 'There he goes ahead of us.' I have been first in battle ever since and thus I got my name, Goes-Ahead. The greatest pleasure I had when I was a boy, I remember, was in killing wolves. After we had shot the wolf we would run up and put our coup stick on him and play that he was our enemy. Another sport we had was playing buffalo. We divided up and part of the boys would be buffalo and part would be hunters. The boys who were playing buffalo would paw up the dust and we would run after them and shoot arrows at them, and then the buffalo bull would chase us back until he caught one of the boys, then we went on until we conquered the buffalo. When I was a young man we had buffalo skulls with the meat and skin all taken off and we would tie ropes to them and put them on the ice. The girls would sit on the buffalo head and we would draw them along the ice. That was one of our greatest pleasures. I was about fifteen years old when I first went on the war trail. It was in the winter time and I was on foot. I used a bow and arrows and my arrows were not very good. The young fellows who went with me had old Springfields, using powder and bullets. We used to make a shack by the edge of the woods, the others would kill the buffalo and then we would roast the meat by the fire. I used to cut the buffalo meat in strips, and dried it, and then put it in sacks and carried it along for the war party. When we made a little log shelter at night they made me stay by the door where it was cold and I had to do all the cooking for the party. We had no bucket with which to carry water, so when we killed a buffalo we took the tripe and used that for a pail in which to carry water. The scouts of the war party of course were away ahead of us and when we made our shack in the woods they would return at night. If they returned singing we knew that they had buffalo and we would run to get their packs. These scouts got up before daybreak and left the camp on another scouting expedition—they were looking for the enemy to see which way they were moving or what they had been killing. We found the trail by the marks of their old camps. The scouts trailed the enemy until they found the camp, then they returned howling like a wolf as they came near us, and then we knew they had found the enemy. When they approached the camp we made piles of different material and then they shook their guns at the piles and we knew that they were telling the truth, that they had seen the enemy. Then they run over the piles. Then we got ready for the night and stretched our ropes; we took our medicine and tied it on our heads. Then we all stood up in a row and they selected the bravest to take the lead to the camp of the enemy. Then these braves started on a run, first on a dog trot and then faster and faster until they got their speed, and then we endeavoured to keep up until we reached the enemy's camp. When we got within sight of the camp we would all sit in a row and take off our moccasins and put on new ones. Then we selected two men to go around to the camp and get all the horses they could capture and bring them back to our party. When these horses were caught and brought back to us we roped and mounted them bareback and rode away as fast as we could, driving the remainder of the horses they had captured. We kept on for days and nights without anything to eat or any rest. After we had reached our camp and had spent the night we painted ourselves and the best horses, mounted them, and started shooting guns in the air; then everybody knew that the war party was back. We rode through the camp on our horses. We did not expect the enemy to pursue us, because we had gone so far and so long that we knew we were out of their reach."

[On the War Trail]

On the War Trail

"My first battle was on the Yellowstone River. I rode a roan horse. I was scouting under General Miles. We found the trail of the Nez Perce Indians. We fought a battle twenty miles north of where Billings is now located. The Nez Perce chased the scouts back. Just at this time our interpreter, Bethune, had quit riding, for his horse had played out and he went on foot. Then many of the Nez Perce dismounted and began to surround Bethune and open fire on him. I thought then his life would be lost and I rode back as fast as I could ride into the midst of the fire, pulled him on the back of my horse and rode away, saving his life."

In his own words Goes-Ahead tells us how he became a scout in the United States Army: "I was a single man and I loved to go on the warpath. The chiefs announced to all the camp asking young men to go to the army officers and enlist as scouts. As I wanted to scout I obeyed the command of my chiefs. The army officers took the names of these young men. The young men whose names were not taken were turned back, but they always took my name, and that is how I came to be a scout." Goes-Ahead tells for us a most graphic story of his share in the Custer fight and his impressions of General Custer in the chapter on "The Indians' Story of the Custer Fight."



[In Battle Line]

In Battle Line

THE INDIANS' STORY OF THE CUSTER FIGHT

We are thinking now of the reddest chapter in the Indian wars of the Western plains. Out amid the dirge of landscape, framed within the valley of the Little Big Horn, where that historic river winds its tortuous way through the sagebrush and cactus of Montana, a weather-beaten cross stands on a lonely hillside, surrounded by a cluster of white marble slabs, and all marking the final resting-place of the heroes of the Seventh United States Cavalry, who perished to a man, "in battle formation," with their intrepid leader, Gen. George A. Custer. "Custer's Last Battle," as chroniclers of Indian wars have designated that grim tragedy, has been written about, speculated upon, and discussed more than any other single engagement between white troops and Indians. Volumes have already been written and spoken on all sides—the controversy still goes on. The brave dead sleep on; they are bivouacked on Fame's eternal camping ground. Civilization has irrigated the valley and swept on to Western frontiers, but as though to forever write laurels for the brow of Custer—called the Murat of the American army—the white stones and the decaying crucifix of wood are surrounded by barren bluffs and a landscape so forbidding that it is a midnight of desolation. It seems to be preserved by the God of Battles as an inditement on the landscape never to be erased by any human court—lonely, solemn, desolate, bereaved of any summer flower, written all over with the purple shadows of an endless Miserere. Thirty-six years have run through the hourglass since these dreary hills and the flowing river listened to the furious speech of rifles and the warwhoop of desperate redmen. The snows have piled high the parchment of winter—a shroud for the deathless dead—whiter than the white slabs. Summer has succeeded summer, and all the June days since that day of terrific annihilation have poured their white suns upon these white milestones of the nation's destiny—the only requiem, the winds of winter, and in summer the liquid notes of the meadow lark. In all the argument and controversy that has shifted the various factors of the fight over the checkerboard of contention, the voice of the Indian has hitherto been hopelessly silent. It is historically significant, therefore, that the Indian now speaks, and the story of Custer's Last Battle, now told for the first time by all four of his scouts, and leaders of the Sioux and Cheyennes, should mark an epoch in the history of this grim battle. The Indians who tell this story were all of them members of the last Great Indian Council, and they visited the Custer Field a little over two miles from the camp of the chiefs, traversed every step of the ensanguined ground and verified their positions, recalling the tragic scenes of June 26, 1876. It matters much in reading their story to remember that all of Ouster's command were killed—every lip was sealed in death and the silence is forever unbroken. The Indian survivors are all old men: Goes-Ahead and Hairy Moccasin are each on the verge of the grave, fatally stricken by disease; Chief Two Moons, leader of the hostile Cheyennes, is a blind old man; Runs-the-Enemy, a Sioux chief, totters with age. In a near tomorrow they too will sink into silence.

[The Custer Battlefield]

The Custer Battlefield

These four scouts, faithful to the memory of Custer, together with the Sioux and Cheyenne chiefs, trudged with the writer to stand on the spot where Custer fell, and with bowed heads pay their silent tribute to the dead. The camera has recorded the scene, a last vision of the red man standing above the grave of his conquerors, a pathetic page in the last chapter of Indian warfare.



[Scouts on the March]

Scouts on the March

THE STORY OF WHITE-MAN-RUNS-HIM—CUSTER SCOUT

The Great Father at Washington sent representatives out to our country. The Indians met them and held a council. The Sioux were the hereditary enemies of the Crows. The head man sent by the Great Father said to the Crows: "We must get together and fight, and get this land from the Sioux. We must win it by conquest." We called the officer, who was lame, No-Hip-Bone—the officer was General Terry. We loved our land so we consented to go in with the soldiers and put these other tribes off the land. No-Hip-Bone took me in the winter time, and I went with him wherever he wanted me to go until the next summer. During this journey I had a good horse. The Sioux took it away from me, and I was left to go on foot, so I put my gun on my shoulder and marched with the soldiers. I thought that I was a man, and had confidence in myself that I was right. And so I kept up with the soldiers. I endured all the hardships the soldiers endured in order to hold my land. We had hardships climbing mountains, fording rivers, frost and cold of winter, the burning heat of summer—my bones ache to-day from the exposure, but it was all for love of my home. I stood faithfully by the soldiers. They did not know the country. I did. They wanted me for their eye, they could not see. The soldiers were the same as though they were blind, and I used both of my own eyes for them. The soldiers and I were fighting in friendship, what they said, I did; what I said, they did. So I helped my tribe. Land is a very valuable thing, and especially our land. I knew the Cheyennes and Sioux wanted to take it by conquest, so I stayed with the soldiers to help hold it. No-Hip-Bone moved to Tongue River at the time the leaves were getting full. We heard that General Custer was coming and I and thirty soldiers went down the river in boats. Two scouts, Elk and Two-Whistles, were with me. At the junction of the Yellowstone with the Missouri River we met Custer. I was the first one of the Crows to shake hands with General Custer. He gripped me by the hand tight and said: "You are the one I want to see, and I am glad that you are first." We went into the steamboat with General Custer, and he pointed out different places to me as objects of interest. I directed Custer up to No-Hip-Bone, who had moved to the mouth of the Little Rosebud. They had a council, Bonnie Bravo was their interpreter. General Custer said to the interpreter, pointing to me: "This is the kind of man we want for this campaign, and I want some others also." Goes-Ahead, Hairy Moccasin, White Swan, Paints-His-Face-Yellow, and Curly were chosen. There were six of us altogether. The others were sent back. We always moved ahead of Custer—we were his pilots. We always travelled at night, climbing the mountains and wading the rivers. During the day we made a concealed camp. We travelled in this way several days before we reached the Sioux camp. When we reached the top of the Wolf Mountains we saw the enemy's camp near where the Custer Field is at the present time. Hairy Moccasin, Goes-Ahead, Curly, and myself saw the camp. Custer had halted at the foot of a mountain, and we all went back and told Custer that we had seen a big camp, and it was close. Custer was rejoiced and anxious to go ahead and make the battle. The sun was just peeping when we saw the camp. It was eight or nine o'clock when we scouts all went ahead again. We got close to the place of the enemy's camp, and Custer divided the scouts, sent some across the river, and the others remained on the hill. In the meantime Custer had divided his command. Yellow Face and White Swan went with Reno across the river; Goes-Ahead, Hairy Moccasin, Curly, and myself remained with Custer. Custer sent me to a high knoll. He said: "Go and look for me and see where I can make a success." He left it to me. When I was up there I looked around and the troops were very close upon me, and I motioned to them to come on, and we passed up on to the ridge. The Indian scouts stood in front of Custer and led his men. We went down to the Little Horn until we came to a little coulee, and were moving towards the enemy's camp. We wanted to cross the river at that place. The Sioux fired at us. We then went up the hill to the ridge. I was all along the ridge where the fight was raging. We looked over the river, and saw Reno in his engagement with the Sioux. Finally they wiped out Reno, and he retreated to the hills. Custer and all of us got off our horses here. At that time the enemy was surrounding us. They were banging away at us. We had a heavy skirmish. Custer then came up and said: "You have done your duty. You have led me to the enemy's camp. And now the thing for you to do is to obey my orders and get away." Farther on up the river was a packtrain, escorted by three hundred soldiers, and I made my way to the pack-train, and I found the Indians there fighting. Custer when he told me to go said: "You go; I am now going with my boys." Had Custer not ordered me to go, the people who visit the Custer Field to-day would see my name on the monument. When I got back to the packtrain, I directed them back to where the old trenches are to-day, and where you may still see a pile of bones. The Indians had killed all the mules when I got there. The fight lasted through the whole of a long, hot summer day. My friends, the soldiers who were with Custer, were all wiped out. When the sun went down I was about exhausted and I had no clothes on save a breechclout. All the scouts were dressed like myself. When night came on, exhausted as we were, we scouts went down the river to meet No-Hip-Bone. We reached him early the next morning. There was a terrific rainstorm all night long. I had no clothes on and I stuck to my wet horse. My horse was so exhausted that he stumbled on through the night, and to-day I feel the effects of it. It was my nature to endure; from a boy I had been trained to endure, but as strong as I was it wounded me for life. We met No-Hip-Bone and told him that up the river yesterday, when the sun was midway between morning and noon, until the sun was midway between noon and night, the Indians had killed Custer and all of his command. And he was mad. We told him that our horses' hoofs were worn out and asked permission to go back home and get fresh horses. He said: "Yes, you can go, but come back. Meanwhile I will travel up the river and see the dead soldiers." I went to Pryor, our Crow camp.

[Sunset on the Custer Field]

Sunset on the Custer Field

Custer and the soldiers were my friends and companions, and I cried all night long as I rode through the rain to tell No-Hip-Bone the news.

When we were at the Rosebud, General Custer and his staff held a council as to what we should do when we found the enemy's camp, as to whether we should attack by day or night. I said we had better fight by night. Paints-His-Face-Yellow said: "Let us attack by day, so that we can see what we are doing." I thought I was laying a good plan for them but they listened to Yellow-Face. General Custer was a brave and good man, a straightforward and honest man. When General Custer took me by the hand, patted me on the shoulder, and I looked him in the face, I said: "There is a good general." If General Custer was living to-day, I would get better treatment than I now receive. General Custer said: "Where does your tribe stay?" and I told him in the valley through which Pryor Creek runs, along the Big Horn River at Lodge Grass, and in the valley of the Little Horn—there is my home. Custer said: "If I die, you will get this land back and stay there, happy and contented, and if you die, you will be buried on your own land."

When I joined General Custer, I had full confidence in myself and my ability to help him, and for this reason I joined Custer so that I might help hold my land against our enemies, the Sioux and the Cheyennes. After the Custer battle, when we had obtained fresh horses, I took the other scouts with me, and we went over the field and looked at the remains of the dead soldiers who were my friends and companions. Knowing the country I always directed General Custer to the best places to ford the river, and the easiest way to climb the hills, that he might reach the path of success. After the loss of my horse, I traveled on foot with the soldiers, and was willing even to go down to death with Custer in order that I might help him.



THE STORY OF CURLY—CUSTER SCOUT

We had been brought to the Little Rosebud down the Yellowstone by steamer. After we had landed we were told to get dinner, dress ourselves, paint up, and get ready to scout. Then we heard that General Custer wanted to use us. We mounted and rode over to General Custer's camp. He had a big tent. We got off at the door. I was the first to shake his hand. I had a dollar in my hand, and I pressed that into his hand. Each scout shook hands with him. When I saw Custer sitting there, tall and slim, with broad shoulders and kind eyes, I said to myself: "There is a kind, brave, and thinking man." The first words that Custer uttered were: "I have seen all the tribes but the Crows, and now I see them for the first time, and I think they are good and brave scouts. I have some scouts here, but they are worthless. I have heard that the Crows are good scouts, and I have sent for you to come to my command. I have given General Terry six hundred dollars for the use of you Crow Indians as scouts. I have called you Indians here not to fight but to trace the enemy and tell me where they are; I do not want you to fight. You find the Indians and I will do the fighting. With all these dollars I have given you I want you to go into the steamboat and buy some shirts and paint. We will leave here in two days. We will follow the Little Rosebud up." That evening the Mandans danced with us, and they gave us some money. Then Custer said: "I think you are good Indians. I will have the cook prepare our dinner, and you can eat alongside of me. I will have a tent put up here and you can camp near me." Within two days we started on our journey. We got on our horses and started with Custer up the Little Rosebud. The whole command were with us. He asked us where we saw the last Sioux camp while we were scouting for Terry. We told him we would not be near there until to-morrow. The next morning we were at the place where we saw the last camp of the Sioux. Then we followed the Sioux trail. We found the trail, and saw that it forked on the Little Rosebud River. Custer gave orders for Goes-Ahead to follow one trail, and for me to follow the other to see which was the largest camp. We found that the trails came together after a while and that the Sioux were all in one camp. When we got to the camp, we saw that a battle had been fought, for we found the scalps and the beards of white men. We went back that night and reported to Custer. It was pretty late, but Custer's cook was up and had a light in his tent. Then Custer told the cook to give the boys their meal. After we got through our supper we went to his tent as Custer wanted to see us. We took with us some of the scalps and white men's beards, and showed them to Custer. Then Custer asked us if the camp separated or came together, and we told him it came together. Then Custer said: "This is the main point—these Sioux have been killing white people, and I have been sent here by the Great Father to conquer them and bring them back to their reservation. I am a great chief, but I do not know whether I will get through this summer alive or dead. There will be nothing more good for the Sioux—if they massacre me, they will still suffer, and if they do not kill me, they will still suffer for they have disobeyed orders. I do not know whether I will pass through this battle or not, but if I live, I will recommend you boys and you will be leaders of the Crows. Tomorrow I want five of my Crow boys to go on the trail." We started just before daybreak. When we started we saw some of the Mandans running round on the top of the hill, and Goes-Ahead told me to go back and tell the command that they must not have these Mandans running round over the hills, but to keep them down in the valley, as we might be near the Sioux camp and would be discovered before we knew it. Then they ordered these Mandans to come down from the hills and stay down. When I started back I heard a howl like a coyote. White Swan, Hairy Moccasin, Goes-Ahead, and White-Man-Runs-Him were coming in to report. The Sioux had broken camp the day before and had camped above where their old camp was on the Little Rosebud. Custer told us to go on ahead and see which way they went, and we came to where they had broken camp. We followed the trail until we saw that they had camped on the Little Horn, and then we noticed that the Sioux had gone toward the Little Horn and we waited at the head of Tallec Creek for the command to come up. The command did not come up, for they had camped on the Little Rosebud; and we went back to the camp. Then the scouts had an argument, and I went by myself and asked Custer what we should do. Custer asked me what I came back for. I told him that the trail of the Sioux had gone to the west, toward the Little Horn, and that I had come back for further orders. Then Custer told me to get my supper, and take a lunch for the other scouts, and take with me two soldiers and go on and camp on the hill in sight of the enemy. I was lying down at daybreak, half asleep—the boys said they saw the camp where the Sioux were located. I got up and saw them through the smoke. The command came halfway toward us and then stopped and this officer who was with us wrote a message for General Custer, and sent a Mandan scout back with it. Custer did not wait. As soon as he got the message his men moved on rapidly toward the Custer Field. Then Custer said: "We will charge upon them now—that settles their journey." Custer then gave the order to inspect their guns. Soon they started on down the ridge. Custer told us to go on ahead. We followed the creek all the way down. There was half a battalion behind us. We found a tepee like the one in which we are now sitting, as we went along, and found two dead Sioux inside. Then the main command came up to us. We all stopped at the fork of the Little Reno Creek. Custer split up his command at this point, and told Reno to follow the creek down, which is now called Reno Creek. Then we crossed over the ridge. I came down with Custer as far as the creek; then he gave me a message to take to Reno. I did not know the import of the messsage. I brought the answer back from Reno to Custer. While I was delivering the last message, Reno was fighting his battle, but it was not very fierce, and when I got to Custer with the message he was fighting at the mouth of the creek. Then Custer told me to go and save my life. I made a circle around, and I found that my ammunition was getting low. I found a dead Sioux. I took his ammunition and gun and horse, and got out. I stayed near where the dead Sioux was until the fight was pretty fierce. I went up on a high butte to the east of the battlefield where I could see the fight. When I got on the high hill I looked back, and saw that Custer was the last man to stand. After that I rushed over the hill and hid in the brush. The next morning about five or six o'clock I was at General Terry's camp and reported. General Terry called his officers about him. I could not speak English and there were no interpreters there, so I took the grass and piled it all up in a heap, then I took my fingers and scattered it wide apart, and attempted in this way to show General Terry that the soldiers were all killed. Then General Terry gave me a dispatch. I was very tired and did not want to go, but I had to take this dispatch from General Terry, to Reno at the packtrain. Reno gave me a dispatch to take back to Terry, while they were burying the dead soldiers. Then another dispatch was given me to take to the head command at the steamboat. I felt sorry and depressed that I should never again see Custer.

[The Reno Battlefield]

The Reno Battlefield



THE STORY OF GOES-AHEAD—CUSTER SCOUT

I was under General Terry at the Yellowstone at the mouth of the Big Horn. There was a boat at the mouth of the Big Horn. The steamboat had a pontoon bridge reaching to the shore. The soldiers came off the boat and joined General Terry's command. Then General Terry gave the command for us all to mount and go ahead of the line. Then he selected men from this line of scouts to send to General Custer as scouts. He mentioned my name and also called Yellow-Shield, White-Man-Runs-Him, White Swan, Hairy Moccasin, and Curly out of this line. There were six of us. Then they gave us orders to go on the steamboat. We sailed down to the mouth of the Little Rosebud, there we got off the boat. Then our interpreter told us there was a man in the camp of the army who wanted to see us, and we went over there. Then we went into General Custer's tent; we sat on one side of the tent, and that was a day of great pleasure to me. I saw that General Custer was a man of about six feet two inches, slim and well-built, and kind-hearted. He wore long hair. General Custer told us that he had heard that the Crow Indians were the bravest scouts and the best horsemen among all the Indians, and that was the reason he asked General Terry to send us to him. He said he had some Mandan scouts but they were not going to do any Indian scouting for him, but would remain in the line and do the cooking for the scouts. Then General Custer told us he wanted us to find the Sioux trail and follow it until we reached the Sioux camp and to report to him where they were. He did not want us to enter into battle with the Sioux, but to come back and tell him the location of their camp. Then after he had won the battle he would give us all the Sioux horses we could drive home. Then we scouted in search of the Sioux. We followed the trail of the Sioux where they had been moving, and we got to where they had camped on the Little Rosebud. I got to the place where they had been camping just after their fight with General Crook at the battle of the Little Rosebud, and they had moved to the Little Horn. General Custer gave us strict orders when we were scouting not to mistake the scouts of General Terry and General Crook for the other Indians, because we might run across them and to be sure we had seen the Sioux. We were two nights on our way before we came upon the village. It was located on the plain above where the Custer fight took place, on the banks of the Little Horn. I was by myself and after I saw the village I went back and reported to General Custer and he was greatly pleased. I always tried to obey orders and follow closely my instructions. I reported to General Custer that it was a pretty big village. Custer said "That is just what I am looking for; we might just as well enter the battle." General Custer told me to go ahead of his column, and keep ahead, but not to go too far for fear the enemy would capture me, and I did what he ordered me to do. General Custer marched his troops all night up to a point about five miles from where I reported to him, and then he divided his command. Reno followed down the Reno Creek, Custer crossed the ridge, going over to the Medicine Tail Creek which runs into the Little Horn. There on the creek General Custer dismounted, and said prayers to the Heavenly Father. Then he rose and shook hands with me, and said: "My scout, if we win the battle, you will be one of the noted men of the Crow Nation." In a moment or two he turned around again and said to me: "I have forgotten to tell you, you are not to fight in this battle, but to go back and save your life." White-Man-Runs-Him and Hairy Moccasin and Curly heard what Custer said. The other two were with Reno. We were in sight of the camp when Custer told us this. Reno had then crossed the Little Horn with his two Crow scouts and the rest of the Mandans. If we had been smart enough we would have asked General Custer to give us a paper as a recommendation, but we did not know anything much in those days. As we stood looking, we saw Reno take his battle position between eight and nine o'clock. Custer stood there a little for we expected all the Crow Creeks, and Terry's command, to meet us there that day, and make a battle that day. After he said this Custer started into the battle and opened fire on the camp. We scouts were up on top of the bluff, and we fired at the camp. Hairy Moccasin and White-Man-Runs-Him were with him. Curly I did not see because he carried the last dispatch to Reno. Although Custer had given us command to do no fighting, it was impossible for us to stand there on the bluff and see the soldiers fighting and not do something, so we had to fire. I do not want to make any mistake in this story, and I have told you the truth. Reno took the battle. There was so much smoke and dust that I could hardly tell, but Reno was driven back by the Indians toward the bluff. In all the valley and woods there was nothing but Indians. Then I did not know which way he went, for I was fighting my own way. Custer also opened fire just beyond the Medicine Creek where he had crossed. Soon after Reno opened fire Custer began his fire. From there I cannot tell you. About four or five o'clock the packtrain came up and the hard fighting was down there. I went back to the packtrain and helped fight a while and then I took to the pine hills away over to the east. When I heard that Custer had been killed I said: "He is a man to fight the enemy. He loved to fight, but if he fights and is killed, he will have to be killed."



THE STORY OF CHIEF RED CLOUD——OGOLLALA SIOUX

I remember that our camp was located in the valley of the Little Big Horn. As I remember there were about four thousand Indians in our camp, and about a hundred Sioux warriors in my own band. There were four or five different sections of the Sioux tribe in this fight. I remember that Rain-in-the-Face and Sitting-Bull, Crazy Horse, and Big Man were with us in the battle. We were in our camp; there was plenty of buffalo meat in those days, and we killed a good many. The women were drying the meat, and the warriors were resting. Suddenly we heard firing, and we found out that the soldiers were on us. The women and children were all frightened, and started to run across the hills, and we men mounted our horses and started toward the enemy. I remember that we pushed Reno back until he had to cross the river, and go up against the bluffs, and then some of our Sioux rode around the hill to head him off, and we had him in a pocket. After we had killed many of Reno's men, Custer came along the ridge, and we were called off to fight Custer. We kept circling around Custer, and as his men came down the ridge we shot them down. And then the rest dismounted and gathered in a bunch, kneeling down and shooting from behind their horses. We circled round and round, firing into Custer's men until the last man was killed. I did not see Custer fall, for all the Indians did not know which was Custer. One reason why we did not scalp Custer was because the Indians and the white soldiers were so mixed up that it was hard to distinguish one man from another; and another reason was because Custer was the bravest man of all and we did not want to touch him as he made the last stand. This is also the opinion of Rain-in-the-Face. Regarding the cause of the Custer fight I must say, we were pursued by the soldiers, we were on the warpath, and we were on the warpath with the Crows and other tribes. We were trying to drive them back from the hunting grounds, and the soldiers came upon us and we had to defend ourselves. We were driven out of the Black Hills by the men seeking gold, and our game was driven off, and we started on our journey in search of game. Our children were starving, and we had to have something to eat. There was buffalo in that region and we were moving, simply camping here and there and fighting our Indian enemies as we advanced, in order to get the game that was in this country. We fought this battle from daylight up until three o'clock in the afternoon, and all of the white men were killed. I think that Custer was a very brave man to fight all these Indians with his few men from daylight until the sun was almost going down.



THE STORY OF CHIEF RUNS-THE-ENEMY—SIOUX LEADER

I fought at the Custer fight with a band of one hundred and thirty Two-Cattle Sioux under me. With the bravery and success I had had in former battles, I was able to command the force at this fight. We were encamped for two days in the valley of the Little Big Horn. The third day we were going to break camp and move farther along, but the old men went through the camp saying they were going to stay there still another day. After the cry had gone through the camp that we were to remain, the horses were all turned loose and were feeding on the hills north and west and south, and we were resting in the camp. Everything was quiet. I went over to the big tepee where there were several leading men, and we were sitting there talking and smoking. About ten o'clock a band of Sioux, who had been visiting the camp and had gone home, came rushing back with the tidings that the soldiers were coming. We could hardly believe that the soldiers were so near, and we were not very much depressed because of the report for two reasons: the soldiers had gone back to Wyoming, and we did not think they were near enough to attack us; and from the history of all our tribe, away back for generations, it had never been known that soldiers or Indians had attacked a Sioux camp in the daytime; they had always waited for night to come. And still we sat there smoking. In a short time we heard the report of rifles, and bullets whizzed through the camp from the other side of the river. I left my pipe and ran as hard as I could, as did all the others, to our tents. As I ran to my tent there was a scream ran through the camp: "The soldiers are here! The soldiers are here!" The Indians who were herding the horses on the hill rushed to the camp with the horses, and the dust raised just like smoke. When I got to my tent the men who were herding the horses had got the horses there, and they were screaming. I grabbed my gun and cartridge belt, and the noise and confusion was so great that we did not know what we were doing. The women were running to the hills, and my heart was mad. The guns were still firing in the upper part of the camp. I did not have time to put on my war-bonnet; I jumped on the horse I had and made a pull for where the firing was. The first thing I saw when I got to'the battle line was a horse with a bridle on with the lines hanging down, and a dead Sioux. When I got to this line of battle—I thought I was quick, but I found a lot of Sioux already there—they were rushing on up the hill. We were all naked, and the soldiers with their pack saddles and their uniforms on and their black horses looked like great big buffalo. The Sioux were all riding up the hill. We saw one lone Indian on the hill going down toward the soldiers, and the river. We could not see him as he came down the hill, but we could see the smoke coming from under his horse's head, and we all thought that he was going to make a charge on the soldiers, and we all charged. It seemed as though that one Indian had the attention of all the soldiers, and they were all firing at him. When we saw that the smoke was all going toward the soldiers that gave us a chance to charge from this side, and we all made a rush. When we made the charge we got them all stampeded. For smoke and dust we could not see the soldiers as they retreated toward the river. The Sioux were fresh, and we soon caught up with them. We passed a black man in a soldier's uniform and we had him. He turned on his horse and shot an Indian right through the heart. Then the Indians fired at this one man, and riddled his horse with bullets. His horse fell over on his back, and the black man could not get up. I saw him as I rode by. I afterward saw him lying there dead. We fought them until they rolled and tumbled and finally had to go into the river, which was very deep. We made them cross the river. The country around the river in those days was very heavily wooded. We chased some of the soldiers into the woods, and others across the river and up the hill. I did not know the name of the commander of the soldiers at that time, but I afterward heard that it was Reno. I also heard afterward that they had a big trial and charged him with being a coward, but I praised him for rushing into the camp. The reason I praised him was that he only had a few soldiers and our camp was a great camp, and he came rushing into the camp with his few soldiers. In all the history of my great-grandfather I have never known of such an attack in daylight. After they retreated over the hills and we had killed a large number of them that battle was ended. I was at the Custer Battlefield this morning, and I noticed there were no monuments up for the soldiers who fell on the Reno Field. As we had finished with the Reno battle and were returning to camp we saw two men on the Reno Hills waving two blankets as hard as they could. Two of us rode over to where they were, and they yelled to us that the genuine stuff was coming, and they were going to get our women and children. I went over with the others and peeped over the hills and saw the soldiers advancing. As I looked along the line of the ridge they seemed to fill the whole hill. It looked as if there were thousands of them, and I thought we would surely be beaten. As I returned I saw hundreds of Sioux. I looked into their eyes and they looked different—they were filled with fear. I then called my own band together, and I took off the ribbons from my hair, also my shirt and pants, and threw them away, saving nothing but my belt of cartridges and gun. I thought most of the Sioux will fall to-day: I will fall with them. Just at that time Sitting-Bull made his appearance. He said, just as though I could hear him at this moment: "A bird, when it is on its nest, spreads its wings to cover the nest and eggs and protect them. It cannot use its wings for defense, but it can cackle and try to drive away the enemy. We are here to protect our wives and children, and we must not let the soldiers get them." He was on a buckskin horse, and he rode from one end of the line to the other, calling out: "Make a brave fight!" We were all hidden along the ridge of hills. While Sitting-Bull was telling this I looked up and saw that the Cheyennes had made a circle around Custer on the west, north, and east sides, and that left a gap on the south side for us to fill. We then filled up the gap, and as we did so we looked over to the Cheyenne side, and there was a woman among the Cheyennes who was nearest the soldiers trying to fight them. While Custer was all surrounded, there had been no firing from either side. The Sioux then made a charge from the rear side, shooting into the men, and the shooting frightened the horses so that they rushed upon the ridge and many horses were shot. The return fire was so strong that the Sioux had to retreat back over the hill again. I left my men there and told them to hold that position and then I rushed around the hills and came up to the north end of the field near where the monument now stands. And I saw hundreds and hundreds of Indians in the coulees all around. The Indians dismounted and tied their horses in a bunch and got down into the coulees, shooting at the soldiers from all sides. From the point that juts out just below where the monument stands about thirty of us got through the line, firing as we went, and captured a lot of Custer's horses and drove them down to the river. The horses were so thirsty that the moment we reached the river they just stood and drank and drank, and that gave us a chance to get off our horses and catch hold of the bridles. They were all loaded with shells and blankets and everything that the soldiers carried with them. Just then I returned to my men, and the soldiers were still on the hill fighting, with some of their horses near them. Just as I got back some of the soldiers made a rush down the ravine toward the river, and a great roll of smoke seemed to go down the ravine. This retreat of the soldiers down the ravine was met by the advance of the Indians from the river, and all who were not killed came back again to the hill. After the soldiers got back from the hills they made a stand all in a bunch. Another charge was made and they retreated along the line of the ridge; it looked like a stampede of buffalo. On this retreat along the ridge, the soldiers were met by my band of Indians as well as other Sioux. The soldiers now broke the line and divided, some of them going down the eastern slope of the hill, and some of them going down to the river. The others came back to where the final stand was made on the hill, but they were few in number then. The soldiers then gathered in a group, where the monument now stands—I visited the monument to-day and confirmed my memory of it—and then the soldiers and Indians were all mixed up. You could not tell one from the other. In this final charge I took part and when the last soldier was killed the smoke rolled up like a mountain above our heads, and the soldiers were piled one on top of another, dead, and here and there an Indian among the soldiers. We were so excited during the battle that we killed our own Indians. I saw one that had been hit across the head with a war axe, and others had been hit with arrows. After we were done, we went back to the camp. After the onslaught I did not see any soldiers scalped, but I saw the Indians piling up their clothes, and there was shooting all over the hill, for the Indians were looking for the wounded soldiers and were shooting them dead. Just as I got back to the camp I heard that a packtrain was coming from over the hills. I looked over the hills and saw the Sioux and Cheyennes moving that way. I remained a little while to look after my wife and children. After I had located my family I fired off my shells and got a new supply of ammunition and went toward the packtrain. When I got over there the fighting had begun. The packtrain had already fortified itself by making entrenchments. The Indians were on the outside firing into it, and the soldiers inside were firing at the Indians. During this last fight the sun was getting low. After it grew dark the firing continued; you would see the flash of the guns in the entrenchments. The Indians would crawl up and fire a flock of arrows into the entrenchments and then scatter away. This kept up all night. I did not stay, but went home. The next morning I went over there and found that the Indians still had the packtrain surrounded and the fight was still going on. We kept at long range and continued our firing. The soldiers were all sharpshooters, and the moment we put our heads up they fired at us and nearly hit us. The news went around among all the Indians that they were to stay there, and that all the soldiers in the entrenchment would be so dry soon that they would have to get out and we would get them. I cannot quite remember, but I think it was about noon—we held them until then—when news came from our camp down on the plain that there was a big bunch of soldiers coming up the river—General Terry with his men. As soon as we heard this we let the packtrain go and fled back to our camp. We at once broke camp and fled up the Little Big Horn, or Greasy Creek, as it is called by the Indians. If it had not been for General Terry coming up as he did we would have had that packtrain, for they were all dry—they had had no water for two days. After we had killed Custer and all his men I did not think very much about it. The soldiers fired into us first and we returned the fire. Sitting-Bull had talked to us and all the tribes to make a brave fight and we made it. When we had killed all the soldiers we felt that we had done our duty, and felt that it was a great battle and not a massacre. With reference to the real reason for this fight I may say that the talk among the Indians was that they were going to compel us to stay on the reservation and take away from us our country. Our purpose was to move north and go as far north as possible away from the tribes. Our object was not to fight the Crows or any other tribe, but we learned that the soldiers were getting after us to try to compel us to go back on the reservation, and we were trying to get away from them. During the Custer fight our tents were not attacked, but after the battle the women gathered up their dead husbands and brothers, and laid them out nicely in the tepee, and left them. I understand that after we had left the tepees standing, holding our dead, the soldiers came and burned the tepees. According to my estimate there were about two thousand able-bodied warriors engaged in this fight; they were all in good fighting order. The guns and ammunition that we gathered from the dead soldiers of Custer's command put us in better fighting condition than ever before, but the sentiment ran around among the Indians that we had killed enough, and we did not want to fight any more. There has been a good deal of dispute about the number of Indians killed. About the closest estimate that we can make is that fifty Sioux were killed in the fight, and others died a short time afterward from their wounds.



[Two Moons as he fought Custer]

Two Moons as he fought Custer

THE STORY OF CHIEF TWO MOONS—CHEYENNE LEADER, AS TOLD WHERE CUSTER FELL

It was a September day. The hoarfrost had written the alphabet of the coming winter—there was promise of snow. With Chief Two Moons and his interpreter we climbed the dreary slopes leading to the monument and graves of the Custer dead. Chief Two Moons took his position by the stone which reads: "Brevet Major General George A. Custer, 7th U. S. Cavalry, fell here June 26th, 1876." A tiny flag waved by this stone, marking the spot where the hero made his last stand. The hills all about us wore a sombre hue; the sky kept marriage bonds with the scene. Cold, gray clouds hung over the ridges along which Custer rode with the daring Seventh. They draped the summits of the Big Horn Range on the far horizon in gray and purple. The prairie grass had come to the death of the autumn and it too creaked amid the stones. The heart beat quick at the sight of Chief Two Moons, a tall and stalwart Roman-faced Indian, standing amid the white slabs where thirty-three years before, clad in a white shirt, red leggings, without war-bonnet, he had ridden a white horse, dealing deathblows to the boys in blue, and with these deathblows the last great stand of the Red Man against the White Man. The battle echoes are heard again as Two Moons tells his story:

"Custer came up along the ridge and across the mountains from the right of the monument. The Cheyennes and the Sioux came up the coulee from the foot of Reno Hill, and circled about. I led the Cheyennes as we came up. Custer marched up from behind the ridge on which his monument now stands, and deployed his soldiers along the entire line of the ridge. They rode over beyond where the monument stands down into the valley until we could not see them. The Cheyennes and the Sioux came up to the right over in the valley of the Little Big Horn. Custer placed his men in groups along this ridge. They dismounted. The men who had dismounted along the ridge seemed to have let their horses go down the other side of the ridge. Those who were on the hill where the monument now stands, and where I am now standing, had gray horses and they were all in the open. The Sioux and the Cheyennes came up the valley swarming like ants toward the bunch of gray horses where Long Hair stood. I led the Cheyennes up the long line of ridge from the valley blocking the soldiers, and I called to my Cheyenne brothers: 'Come on, children; do not be scared!' And they came after me, yelling and firing. We broke the line of soldiers and went over the ridge. Another band of Indians and Sioux came from over beyond the ridge, and when I got over there, I got off my white horse and told my men to wait, and we loaded our guns and fired into the first troop which was very near us. At the first volley the troop at which we fired were all killed. We kept firing along the ridge on which the troops were stationed and kept advancing. I rode my horse back along the ridge again and called upon my children to come on after me. Many of my Cheyenne brothers were killed, and I whipped up my horse and told them to come on, that this was the last day they would ever see their chief, and I again started for the bunch of gray horses on the hilltop. The Indians followed me, yelling and firing. I could not break the line at the bunch of gray horses and I wheeled and went to the left down the valley with the line of soldiers facing me as I went, firing at me, and all my men firing at the soldiers. Then I rode on up the ridge to the left. I met an Indian with a big war-bonnet on, and right there I saw a soldier wounded. I killed him and jumped off my horse and scalped him. The Indian I met was Black Bear, a Cheyenne. I then rode down the ridge and came to a group of four dead soldiers; one of them had on a red flannel shirt, the other three had red stripes on the arm, one had three stripes, the other had three stripes and a sword. They all had on good clothes, and I jumped off my horse and took their clothes and their guns. When I turned back I could not see anything but soldiers and Indians all mixed up together. You could hardly tell one from the other. As I rode along the ridge I found nearly all the soldiers killed. I again rode up to the ridge along which Custer's troops had been stationed. I found two or three killed and saw one running away to get on top of the high hills beyond, and we took after him, and killed him."