Sitting Bull Tepee Plan
Sitting Bull
The Siouxor Dakota Indians were first seen by the French explorers in 1640, near the head waters of the Mississippi River. The Algonquins called them Nadowessioux, whence the name gradually became shortened into Sioux. This was the largest family or confederation in the Northwest and was divided into a number of tribes, known as the Santee, Sisseton, Wahpeton, Yankton, Yanktonnais, Teton, Brule, Ogalalla and Unepapa. These are all Sioux proper, and still number nearly thirty thousand tall, well-built Indians, with large features and heavy, massive faces. They are perhaps the finest type of plains Indians, who, until recent years, lived by hunting the buffalo.
At one time their territory extended east of the Mississippi and from the source of the "Father of Waters" to the upper Missouri, but they live at present chiefly in the States of North and South Dakota.
Undoubtedly the most famous leader of the Sioux was the subject of this sketch. He was great in spite of the fact that he was a medicine man, rather than chief proper, and that his tongue was mightier than his tomahawk.
Sitting Bull was born on Willow Creek, Dakota, in 1837. He is said to have been an Unepapa, though he signed the treaty in 1868 as an Oglala.
He is described as a heavy built Indian, with a large, massive head, and, strange to say,brown hair,which is very rare among Indians. His complexion was also light and his face badly marked with smallpox. He was about five feet ten inches tall, possessed a fine physique and striking appearance, with his prominent hooked nose, and fierce half-bloodshot eyes gleaming from under brows which indicate large perceptive organs. Judging from his photograph, taken in a standing position, he was slightly bow-legged, and wore his hair in two heavy braids hanging on either side in front of his shoulders.
Sitting Bull's reputation was more of the agitator and schemer than of the warrior. As Cyrus Townsend Bradley, in his "Indian Fights and Fighters," well says, "The Indians said he had a big head but a little heart, and they esteemed him something of a coward; in spite of this his influence over the chiefs and the Indians was paramount, and remained so until his death.
"Perhaps he lacked the physical courage which is necessary in fighting, but he must have had abundant moral courage, for he was the most implacable enemy and the most dangerous—because of his ability, which was so great as to overcome the Indian's contempt for his lack of personal courage—that the United States had ever had among the Indians. He was a strategist, a tactician—everything but a fighter. However, his lack of fighting qualities was not serious, for he gathered around him a dauntless array of war-chiefs, the first among them being Crazy Horse, an Ogalalla, a skilful and indomitable, as well as a brave and ferocious leader." There was probably, no other Sioux who could make so proud a showing of the combined essentials of leadership as this prophet, priest, medicine man and chief.
The leading events of the early part of his career were recorded by himself and fell into the hands of the whites by an accident soon after the Phil. Kearney massacre. It seems that a Yanktonnais Indian brought to Fort Buford an old roster-book of the Thirty-first Infantry, which had on the blank sides of the leaves a series of portraitures of the doings of a mighty warrior. They were rather skilfully executed in brown and black inks, with coloring added for the horses and clothing. The totem in the corner of each pictograph, a buffalo bull on its haunches, connected with the hero by a line, revealed the fact that it was a history of Sitting Bull, who with a band of warriors had been committing depredations in that part of the country for several years.
The Yanktonnais Indian finally admitted that he had stolen it from Sitting Bull and sold it for a dollar and a half's worth of supplies. Almost every picture of the first twenty-five represents the slaughter of enemies of all sorts—Indians and white men, women and children, frontiersmen, railroad hands, teamsters and soldiers. He was as impartial as death itself, and all was grist that came to his mill. The next lot of about a dozen show his exploits as a collector of horses, a pursuit at which he was a brilliant success. The last few pictures represent him as leader of the Strong Hearts—a Sioux fraternity of warriors noted for their bravery and fortitude—charging two Crow villages. In one of these encounters thirty scalps were taken. These picture diaries are usually correct in detail. Ordinarily they are made on buffalo robes, or buckskin, and are kept by the hero to display among his own people who are acquainted with the facts of which he boasts. In this case there were soldiers at the fort who could vouch for the truth of some of the picture records.
While, therefore, Sitting Bull was not a chief of any great prominence during "the piping times of peace," he had a record as a fighter and a reputation as a skilful commander, which made him a powerful loadstone of attraction to the discontented Sioux of the agencies. These always thought of him, and flocked to his camp at the first outbreak of hostility.
It was stated at one time that Sitting Bull, while hating the white Americans, and disdaining to speak their language, was yet very fond of the French Canadians, that he talked French and that he had been converted to Christianity by a French Jesuit, named Father De Smet. It is uncertain how much truth there is in the statement, but there is probably some foundation for it. Certain it is, the French Jesuits have always been noted for their wonderful success in gaining the affections of the Indians, as well as for the transitory nature of their conversions. It is quite possible that Father De Smet may not only have baptized Sitting Bull some time, but induced him and his braves to attend mass, as performed by himself in the wilderness. There was never any real evidence of a change of heart, and the benefits of the conversion were only skin deep, as far as preventing cruelty in war was concerned.
It can not be denied that Sitting Bull was an Indian of unusual powers of mind, and a warrior whose talent amounted to genius. He must have been a general of the highest order, to have set the United States at defiance, as he did, for ten long years. That he was able to do this so long was owing to his skilful use of two advantages: a central position surrounded by "bad-lands," and the quarter circle of agencies from which he and his band drew supplies as wards of the Government, and allies, every campaign. These so-called "bad-lands" are large sections of clay soil, baked into chasms, four or five feet wide and perhaps twenty feet deep, by the long and intense droughts of that climate. This rough country, impassable for wagons, surrounded the hostiles at the time of which we write.
In the face of these advantages and of Sitting Bull's talents as a warrior, the Government decided to pacify them by giving the Indians all they asked, in the treaty of 1868.
Thus matters stood from 1868 to 1875, when Sitting Bull, accompanied by Red Cloud and Spotted Tail, visited the national capital. The three distinguished Sioux chiefs attracted marked attention, and were feasted and entertained by some of the leading men of the nation. General Grant was then President and the Great Father granted an audience with the three chiefs. The President and his advisers tried to induce the Sioux leaders to sign a new treaty, because—well gold had been discovered in the Black Hills, most of which by treaty belonged to the Sioux, but the three chiefs stubbornly refused to sign any treaty whatever, even at the request of the Great Father.
"Peace hath her victories no less renowned than war." She also has her defeats, and this was one of them. Finding nothing could be accomplished in the way of a new treaty, or peaceable settlement of the vexatious question, it was determined in 1876 to try one more campaign against Sitting Bull and his hostiles.
When gold was discovered in the Black Hills, there was the usual rush of miners and turbulent frontier population. Notwithstanding the fact that our authorities warned the emigrants to keep away, thousands of desperate men were soon engaged in the scramble for the precious metal. By way of retaliation, the Sioux left their reservation and began burning houses, stealing horses and killing settlers in Montana and Wyoming. A strong force of regulars under Generals Crook and Terry marched against them in the mountainous country of the Upper Yellowstone, and several thousand warriors under Sitting Bull were driven back toward the Big Horn mountains and river.
Gen. George A. Custer and Major Reno were sent forward with the Seventh Cavalry to locate the hostiles. Custer started on June 22d, and early in the morning of the 25th, 1876, discovered the camp of Sitting Bull. The village extended three and a half miles up the Little Big Horn and is estimated to have contained at least five thousand people.
Any one else but Custer would have waited for reinforcements, or retired without risking a battle with such tremendous odds against him, but this was not Custer's way.
It is quite probable he did not realize what a fearful hornet's nest he was about to stir up. Certain it is, Custer, as had always been his custom, divided his command into three parts—one division under Major Reno, one under Captain Benteen, the third commanded by himself. Reno was ordered to charge the lower end of the village, Benteen to charge the center on the opposite side, and he intended to strike the enemy on the upper end of the valley.
The particulars of what followed can never be known, since Custer and every one of his immediate command were killed. As in the case of the fall of the Alamo, in 1836, none of the soldiers survived to tell the story.
There were, however, two survivors who were not soldiers in the strictest sense of the term. They were Curley, the Crow scout, who escaped by letting down his hair and donning a blanket, and thus disguising himself as a Sioux. He claims to have found an unguarded pass through which he escaped and to have informed General Custer of it. He even urged Custer to mount his fleet horse and ride for his life. But that gallant hero preferred to die by his men, rather than attempt to escape in this selfish manner.
The other survivor was Comanche, the famous horse of Captain Keogh, a relative of General Custer. He was found about a day's journey from the battlefield, and as he had seven bad wounds, and was very weak from loss of blood, the soldiers never expected to get him back to camp, but by constructing a strong litter of poles and army blankets this was accomplished. With the best of treatment the equine hero fully recovered, and was given an honorable discharge. Special provision was made for the care and support of Comanche at Fort Riley. Once in a while, when the cavalry troops were on inspection, Comanche was led out, saddled and bridled, but no one ever sat in his saddle after the battle of the Little Big Horn.
Custer's command used the dead bodies of their horses killed by the Indians for a barricade. As the soldiers began the attack with a charge, every horse had been saddled. When, however, Comanche was found he was stripped of his saddle, bridle and accoutrements. It is therefore supposed that the Indians stripped and left him, believing he could not recover.
He is known to be the sole survivor of the cavalry horses, as the body of every other horse was found among the heaps of slain.
Comanche was one of the original mounts of the Seventh Cavalry, which was organized in 1866, and had been in almost every battle with the Indian service of that thrilling period. He was now taken in charge by Captain Rowlan and sent to Fort Riley, where for fourteen years he roamed the pasture at will, and was the pet of the Seventh Cavalry. He received the kindest of treatment until he died of old age, November 6, 1891. At the time of his death it was estimated that he was forty-five years old. This is the more remarkable when it is remembered that few horses reach the age of thirty-five years.
Comanche's skin was stuffed and mounted and placed in the museum of the Kansas State University. It was afterward on exhibition at the Columbian Exposition in Chicago, where it was seen by the author.
As there were no white survivors of the Custer fight on Little Big Horn, the historian is compelled to get his information from the Indian leaders.
Sitting Bull, Gall and Rain-in-the-Face, Itiomagaju, have each been induced to give their versions of it. We have not thought it best to quote Sitting Bull's statement. He was absent at the time of the battle "making medicine," took no active part in it, and we consider the whole story as either drawn on his imagination, or that of the reporter who interviewed him. We quote the account of Rain-in-the-Face, because he at least was present at the battle, and is the accredited slayer of Capt. Tom Custer.
It seems that Rain-in-the-Face had waylaid and murdered Dr. Houzinger, a veterinary surgeon, and Mr. Baliran, a sutler, who were stragglers in the rear, at the time of the Yellowstone expedition under General Stanley. Not long after this Rain-in-the-Face, with other young Sioux, took part in the Sun Dance, a ceremonial performance of great torture in which the aspirants give final proof of endurance and courage which entitles them to thetoga virilisof a full-fledged, warrior. One feature of it was the suspension in air of the candidate by a rawhide rope passed through slits cut in the breast, or elsewhere, until the flesh tears and he falls to the ground. If he faints, falters or fails, or even gives way momentarily to his anguish during the period of suspension, he is called and treated as a squaw for the rest of his miserable life.
Edward Esmond says, "Rain-in-the-Face was lucky when he was so tied up; the tendons gave way easily, and he was released after so short a suspension that it was felt he had not fairly won his spurs. Sitting Bull, the chief medicine man, decided that the test was unsatisfactory. Rain-in-the-Face thereupon defied Sitting Bull to do his worst, declaring there was no test could wring a murmur of pain from his lips.
"Sitting Bull was equal to the occasion. He cut deep slits in the back over the kidneys, the hollows remaining were big enough almost to take in a closed fist years after, and passed the rawhide rope through them. For two days the young Indian hung suspended, taunting his torturers, jeering at them, defying them to do their worst, while singing his war songs and boasting of his deeds. The tough flesh, muscles and tendons would not tear loose although he kicked and struggled violently to get free. Finally, Sitting Bull, satisfied that Rain-in-the-Face's courage and endurance were above proof, ordered buffalo skulls to be tied to his legs, and the added weight, with some more vigorous kicking, enabled the Indian Stoic to break free. It was one of the most wonderful exhibitions of stoicism, endurance and courage ever witnessed among the Sioux, where these qualities were not infrequent."
Rain-in-the-Face had passed the test. No one thereafter questioned his courage. He was an approved warrior, indeed. It was while suspended thus that he boasted of the murder of Dr. Houzinger and Mr. Baliran, and was overheard by Charley Reynolds, the scout, who told Custer and the regiment. Rain-in-the-Face was arrested at Standing Rock Agency by a squad of soldiers under the command of Capt. Tom Custer, whom the Indians called Little Hair, to distinguish him from his brother, the general, whom they called Long Hair. He was put in the guard-house and condemned to execution, but, with the aid of white prisoners, made his escape. Before doing so, however, he told Tom Custer, in the event of his escape, he would cut his heart out and eat it.
Sitting Bull's Wives
From now on we will let the noted warrior tell his own story as found inOutdoor Life,of March, 1903:
"I rejoined Sitting Bull and Gall. They were afraid to come and get me there. I sent Little Hair a picture, on a piece of buffalo skin, of a bloody-heart. He knew I didn't forget my vow. The next time I saw Little Hair, ugh! I got his heart. I have said all."
And, Indian-like, he stopped. But we wanted to hear how he took Tom Custer's heart. McFadden, who is quite an artist as well as an actor of note, had made an imaginary sketch of "Custer's Last Charge." He got it and handed it to Rain, saying: "Does that look anything like the fight?" Rain studied it for a long time, and then burst out laughing.
"No," he said, "this picture is a lie. Those long swords, have swords—they never fought us with swords, but with guns and revolvers. These men are on ponies—they fought us on foot, and every fourth man held the others' horses. That's always their way of fighting. We tie ourselves onto our ponies and fight in a circle. These people are not dressed as we dress in a fight. They look like agency Indians—we strip naked and have ourselves and our ponies painted. This picture gives us bows and arrows. We were better armed than the long swords. Their guns wouldn't shoot but once—the thing would not throw out the empty cartridge shells. (In this he was historically correct, as dozens of guns were picked up on the battlefield by General Gibbon's command, two days after, with the shells still sticking in them, showing that the ejector wouldn't work.) When we found they could not shoot we saved our bullets by knocking the long swords over with our war-clubs—it was just like killing sheep. Some of them got on their knees and begged; we spared none—ugh! This picture is like all the white man's pictures of Indians, a lie. I will show you how it looked."
Then turning it over he pulled out a stump of a lead pencil from his pouch and drew a large shape of a letter S turned sidewise. "Here," said he, "is the Little Big Horn River; we had our-lodges along the banks in the shape of a bent bow."
"How many lodges did you have?" asked Harry.
"Oh, many, many times ten. We were like blades of grass." [It is estimated that there were between four and six thousand Indians, hence there must have been at least a thousand lodges.]
"Sitting Bull had made big medicine way off on a hill. He came in with it; he had it in a bag on a coup-stick. He made a big speech and said that Waukontonka (the Great Spirit) had come to him riding on an eagle. Waukontonka had told him that the long swords were coming, but the Indians would wipe them off the face of the earth. His speech made our hearts glad. Next day our runners came in and told us the long swords were coming. Sitting Bull had the squaws put up empty death lodges along the bend of the river to fool the Ree scouts when they came up and looked down over the bluffs. The brush and bend hid our lodges. Then Sitting Bull went away to make more medicine and didn't come back till the fight was over.
"Gall was head chief. Crazy Horse led the Cheyennes; Goose, the Bannocks. I was not a head chief—my brother, Iron Horn was—but I had a band of the worst Uncpapas; all of them had killed more enemies than they had fingers and toes. When the long swords came we knew their ponies were tired out. We knew they were fooled by the death lodges. They thought we were but a handful.
"We knew they made a mistake when they separated. Gall took most of the Indians up the river to come in between them and cut them off. We saw the Ree scouts had stayed back with Long Yellow Hair, and we were glad. We saw them trotting along, and let them come in over the bluffs. Some of our young men went up the gully which they had crossed and cut them off from behind.
"Then we showed our line in front, and the long swords charged. They reeled under our fire and started to fall back. Our young men behind them opened fire. Then we saw some officers talking and pointing. Don't know who they were, for they all looked alike. I didn't see Long Hair then or afterward. We heard the Rees singing their death song—they knew we had them. All dismounted and every fourth man held the others' ponies. Then we closed all around them. We rushed like a wave does at the sand out there (this interview occurred at Coney Island) and shot the pony holders and stampeded the ponies by waving our blankets in their faces. Our squaws caught them, for they were tired out.
"I had sung the war-song—I had smelt the powder smoke—my heart was bad—I was like one that had no mind. I rushed in and took their flag; my pony fell dead as I took it. I cut the thong that bound me. I jumped up and brained the long-sword flagman with my war-club and ran back to our line with the flag.
"The long sword's blood and brains splashed in my face. It felt hot and blood ran in my mouth. I could taste it. I was mad. I got a fresh pony and rushed back, shooting, cutting and slashing. This pony was shot and I got another.
"This time I saw Little Hair. I remembered my vow. I was crazy. I feared nothing. I knew nothing would hurt me, for I had my white-weasel-tail-charm on. {FN} [He was wearing the charm at the time he told this.] I don't know how many I killed trying to get at him. He knew me. I laughed at him and yelled at him. I saw his mouth move, but there was so much noise I couldn't hear his voice. He was afraid. When I got near enough I shot him with my revolver. My gun was gone, I don't know where. I leaped from my pony and cut out his heart and bit a piece out of it and spit it in his face. I got back on my pony and rode off shaking it. I was satisfied and sick of fighting; I didn't scalp him."
{FN} Notwithstanding his white-weasel-tail charm Rain-in-the-Face was wounded in this battle. A bullet pierced his right leg just above the knee. With a razor the wounded man attempted some surgery. First he cut deeply into the front of his leg, but failed to reach the bullet. Then he reached around to the back of his leg and cut into the flesh from that quarter. He got the bullet, also several tendons, and narrowly missed cutting the artery and bleeding to death. He was lame and had to walk on crutches all his life thereafter. [Statement of Mr. Esmond.]
"I didn't go back on the field after that. The squaws came up afterward and killed the wounded, cut their bootlegs off for moccasin soles and took their money, watches and rings. They cut their fingers off to get them quicker. They hunted for Long Yellow Hair to scalp him, but could not find him. He didn't wear his fort clothes (uniform), his hair had been cut off, and the Indians didn't know him. [This corroborates what Mrs. Custer says about her husband having his long yellow curls cut at St. Paul some weeks before he was killed.]
"That night we had a big feast and the scalp dance. Then Sitting Bull came up and made another speech. He said, 'I told you how it would be. I made great medicine. My medicine warmed your hearts and made you brave.'
"He talked a long time. All the Indians gave him the credit of winning the fight because his medicine won it. But he wasn't in the fight. Gall got mad at Sitting Bull that night. Gall said: 'We did the fighting, you only made medicine. It would have been the same anyway.' Their hearts were bad towards each other after that always.
"After that fight we could have killed all the others on the hill (Reno's command) but for the quarrel between Gall and Sitting Bull. Both wanted to be head chief. Some of the Indians said Gall was right and went with him. Some said Sitting Bull was. I didn't care, I was my own chief and had my bad young men; we would not obey either of them unless we wanted to, and they feared us.
"I was sick of fighting—I had had enough. I wanted to dance. We heard more long swords were coming with wheel guns (artillery, Gatlings). We moved camp north. They followed many days till we crossed the line into Canada. I stayed over there till Sitting Bull came back, and I came back with him. That is all there is to tell. I never told it to white men before."
When he had finished, I said to him: "Rain, if you didn't kill Long Yellow Hair, who did?" "I don't know. No one knows.It was like running in the dark." "Well," asked Mae, "Why was it Long Yellow Hair wasn't scalped, when every one else was? Did you consider him too brave to be scalped?"
"No one is too brave to be scalped; that wouldn't make any difference. The squaws wondered afterward why they couldn't find him. He must have lain under some other dead bodies. I didn't know, till I heard it long afterward from the whites, that he wasn't scalped."
Rain-in-the-Face was about sixty-two years of age at the time of his death, which occurred at Standing Rock Agency, North Dakota, September 12, 1905, and was the last chief to survive and tell the tale of the Custer fight, Gall and Sitting Bull have both gone to hunt the white buffalo long since. Rain could write his name in English. He was taught to do it at the World's Fair in order to sell Longfellow's poem entitled, "The Revenge of Rain-in-the-Face." He didn't know the significance of it after he had written it. His knowledge of English was confined to about thirty words, but he could not say them so any one could understand him, though he could understand almost anything that was said in English. The author recalls seeing him at the World's Fair while hunting Indian data. He looked then very much like his picture and walked with crutches.
Like many other Indians, his gratitude was for favors to come and not for favors already shown. You could depend upon any promise he made, but it took a world of patience to get him to promise anything. Even at the age of sixty he was still a Hercules. In form and face he was the most pronounced type of the ideal Fenimore Cooper dime novel Indian in America.
Upon the arrival of news of the Custer fight at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, General Miles and the Fifth Infantry were ordered to proceed to the scene of hostilities and form part of the large command already there. The order was at once obeyed.
On October 18 Lieut.-Col. E. S. Otis, commanding a battalion of four companies of the Twenty-third Infantry, was escorting a wagon train of supplies from Glendive, Montana, to the cantonment, when he was attacked by a large force of Indians. The soldiers had a hard fight to keep the animals from being stampeded, and the train from capture. They finally beat off the Indians, and during a temporary cessation of hostilities, a messenger rode out from the Indian lines, waving a paper, which was left on a hill in sight. When it was picked up Colonel Otis found it to be an imperious message, probably written by some half-breed, but dictated by the subject of this sketch. It ran as follows:
"Yellowstone.
"I want to know what you are doing traveling on this road. You scare all the buffalo away. I want to hunt in this place. I want you to turn back from here. If you don't I will fight you again. I want you to leave what you have got here and turn back from here.
"I am your friend. Sitting Bull."
"I mean all the rations you have got and some powder. Wish you would write as soon as you can."
This document was certainly unique in Indian warfare, as it illustrates both the spirit and naivete of the noted chief.
Colonel Otis dispatched a scout to Sitting Bull with the information that he intended to take his wagon train through to headquarters in spite of all the Indians on earth, and if Sitting Bull wanted to have a fight, he (Otis) would be glad to accommodate him at any time and on any terms. The train soon started and the Indians as promptly resumed the attack. But the engagement was soon terminated by a flag of truce. A messenger from the Indians stated that they were tired and hungry and wanted to treat for peace.
Otis invited Sitting Bull to come into his lines, but that wily chief refused, although he sent three chiefs to represent him. Otis had no authority to treat for peace, but he gave the Indians a small quantity of hard bread and two sides of bacon. He also advised them to go to Tongue River and communicate with his superior officer, General Miles. The train now moved on, and after following a short distance with threatening movements the Indians withdrew.
The same night Otis met General Miles with his entire force, who sent the train on to the cantonment, and started after Sitting Bull. Miles's little army at this time numbered three hundred and ninety-eight men, with one Gatling gun. With Sitting Bull were Gall and other noted chiefs, and one thousand warriors of the Miniconjous, San Ares, Brules and Uncpapas, together with their women and children, in all over three thousand Indians. Miles overtook Sitting Bull on October 21, at Cedar Creek, when that chief asked for an interview, which was arranged. Sitting Bull was attended by a sub-chief and six warriors, Miles by an aide and six troopers. The meeting took place at a halfway point between the two lines, all parties being mounted.
In his "Indian Fights and Fighters," Cyrus Townsend Brady says of this interview: "Sitting Bull wanted peace on the old basis. The Indians demanded permission to retain their arms, with liberty to hunt and roam at will over the plains and through the mountains, with no responsibility to any one, while the Government required them to surrender their arms and come into the agencies. The demands were irreconcilable, therefore. The interview was an interesting one, and though it began calmly enough, it grew exciting toward the end.
"Sitting Bull, whom Miles describes as a fine, powerful, intelligent, determined looking man, was evidently full of bitter and persistent animosity toward the white race. He said, 'No Indian that ever lived loved the white man, and no white man that ever lived loved the Indian; that God Almighty had made him an Indian, but He didn't make him an agency Indian, and he didn't intend to be one.' The manner of the famous chief had been cold, but dignified and courteous. As the conversation progressed, he became angry—so enraged, in fact, that in Miles's words, 'he finally gave an exhibition of wild frenzy. His whole manner seemed more like that of a wild beast than a human being. His face assumed a furious expression. His jaws were lightly closed, his lips were compressed and you could see his eyes glisten with the fire of savage hatred.'
"One can not help admiring the picture presented by the splendid, though ferocious, savage. I have no doubt General Miles himself admired him.
"At the height of the conference, a young warrior stole out from the Indian lines and slipped a carbine under Sitting Bull's blanket. He was followed by several other Indians, to the number of a dozen, who joined the band, evidently meditating treachery. Miles, who with his aide, was armed with revolvers only, promptly required these new auxiliaries to retire, else the conference would be terminated immediately. His demand was reluctantly obeyed. After some further talk a second meeting was appointed for the morrow, and the conference broke up.
"During the night Miles moved his command in position to be able to intercept the movement of the Indians the next day. There was another interview with the picturesque and imperious savage, whose conditions of peace were found to be absolutely impossible, since they involved the abandonment of all military posts, the withdrawal of all settlers, garrisons, etc., from the country. He wanted everything and would give nothing. He spoke like a conqueror, and looked like one, although his subsequent actions were not in keeping with the part. Miles, seeing the futility of further discussion, peremptorily broke up the conference. He told Sitting Bull that he would take no advantage of the flag of truce, but that he would give him just fifteen minutes to get back to his people to prepare for fighting. Shouting defiance, the chiefs rode back to the Indian lines.
"There was 'mounting in hot haste' and hurried preparations made for immediate battle on both sides. Watch in hand, Miles checked off the minutes, and exactly at the time appointed he ordered an advance. The Indians set fire to the dry grass, which was not yet covered with snow, and the battle was joined amid clouds of flame and smoke. Although outnumbered nearly three to one, the attack of the soldiers was pressed home so relentlessly that the Indians were driven back from their camp, which fell into the possession of Miles.
"The Sioux were not beaten, however, for the discomfited warriors rallied a force to protect their flying women and children, under the leadership of Gall and others. Sitting Bull not being as much of a fighter as a talker. They were led to the fight again and again by their intrepid chiefs. On one occasion, so impetuous was their gallantry that the troops were forced to form a square to repel their wild charges. Before the battle was over—and it continued into the next day—the Indians had been driven headlong for over forty miles."
Chief Gall
"They had suffered a serious loss in warriors, but a greater in the destruction of their camp equipage and winter supplies and other property. Two thousand of them came in on the third day and surrendered under promises of good treatment. Several hundred broke into small parties and scattered. Miles's little force was too small to be divided to form a guard for the Indians; he had other things to do, so he detained a number of the principal chiefs as hostages, and exacted promises from the rest that they would surrender at the Spotted Tail or Red Cloud Agency—a promise which, by the way, the great majority of them kept. Sitting Bull, Gall and about four hundred others refused to surrender, and made for the boundary line, escaping pursuit for the time being."
Here they were joined by the brothers Iron Horn and Rain-in-the-Face, each leading a band.
Sitting Bull now determined to make his home in British America, and seemed to be on friendly terms with his cousin John of the same surname. His following was augmented by discontented Indians from the reservations, who were continually crossing the boundary to join the famous chief. Canada thus became the sanctuary of refuge for the Indian, as it had formerly been for the Negro slave, but the two races were impelled by entirely different motives. That of the Negro was to escape cruel servitude, often with the accompaniment of the overseer's lash or the bloodhound's fangs; while the incentive of the Indian in fleeing from our reservations was the hope of escapingimpending starvation.One of the military commanders, in his official report, says, "The hostile body was largely reenforced by accessions from the various agencies, where the malcontents were, doubtless in many cases, driven to desperation by starvation and the heartless frauds perpetrated on them"; and that the Interior Department is obliged to confess that, "Such desertions were largely due to the uneasiness which the Indians had long felt on account of the infraction of treaty stipulations by the white invasion of the Black Hills, seriously aggravated at the most critical period by irregular and insufficient issues of rations necessitated by inadequate and delayed appropriations."
Indeed, it seemed in those dark days the "apparent purpose of the Government to abandon them (the reservation Indians) to starvation."
As if to add insult to injury, about this time a commission consisting of Brig.-Gen. A. H. Terry, Hon. A. G. Lawrence and Colonel (now General) Corbin, secretary, was sent to Canada to treat with Sitting Bull, and the malcontents then at Fort Walsh. General Terry recapitulated to them the advantages of being at peace with the United States, the kindly (?) treatment that all surrendered prisoners had received, and said: "The President invites you to come to the boundary of his and your country, and there give up your arms and ammunition, and thence go to the agencies to which he will assign you, and there give up your horses, excepting those which are required for peace purposes. Your arms and horses will then be sold, and with all the money obtained for them cows will be bought and sent to you."
The reference to the kindly treatment received by the surrendered prisoners would have been amusing if it had not been pitiful. At that moment there were Indians in the council who had left our reservations solely to escape starvation, and the Indian chiefs knew all about this.
The Indians must have been totally without sense of humor if they could have listened to the commissioners without laughing. Sitting Bull's reply, which we can only quote in part, is worthy of being put on record among the notable protests of Indian chiefs against the oppressions of their race. Said he "For sixty-four years you have kept me and my people and treated us bad. What have we done that you should want us to stop? We have done nothing. It is all the people on your side that have started us to do all these depredations. We could not go anywhere else and we took refuge in this country. . . . I would like to know why you came here? In the first place I did not give you the country; but you followed me from one place to another, so I had to leave and come over to this country. . . . You have got ears to hear, and eyes to see, and you see how I live with these people. You see me. Here I am. If you think I am a fool, you are a bigger fool than I am. This house is a medicine-house. You come here to tell us lies, but we don't want to hear them. I don't wish any such language used to me that is to tell me lies in my Great Mother's (Queen Victoria's) house. This country is mine, and I intend to stay here and to raise this country full of grown people. See these people here. We were raised with them [shaking hands with the British officers]. That is enough, so no more. . . . The part of the country you gave me you ran me out of. . . . I wish you to go back and take it easy going back."
After several others had spoken, and the Indians seemed about to leave the room, the interpreter was directed to ask the following questions: "Shall I say to the President that you refuse the offers that he has made to you? Are we to understand that you refuse those offers?" Sitting Bull answered: "I could tell you more, but that is all I have to tell. If we told you more, you would not pay any attention to it. This part of the country does not belong to your people. You belong to the other side, this side belongs to us."
Thus the conference closed. The Indians positively refused to give up all their weapons, to exchange their horses for cows and the priceless privilege of being shut up upon reservations, off which they could not go without being pursued, arrested and brought back by troops.
Sitting Bull did not believe the cows would materialize if his people gave up their horses. He had long since lost faith in the Government which, as he expressed it, "had made fifty-two treaties with the Sioux and kept none of them."
It was also in this connection that the great Indian leader made his famous reply: "Tell them at Washington if they have one man who speaks the truth to send him to me, and I will listen to what he has to say."
The country originally owned and occupied by the Sioux extended many miles beyond the Canadian boundary line. Hence they had claims to territory in both countries, but their lot at this period was indeed sad. Those bands on our side were for the most part confined to reservations where, by reason of crop failure and the other causes already given, they were threatened with starvation.
Those malcontent Indians under Sitting Bull, on the Canadian side, enjoyed liberty, but they had little else. The Canadian Government would give them protection but no supplies. And now the buffalo, on which they depended mainly for subsistence, was being gradually exterminated or driven off.
Besides the commission appointed by the Government at least two enterprising Chicago papers sent reporters all the way to Canada to interview the Indian sphinx of the Northwest. These interviews took place at Fort Walsh, in the presence of Major Walsh, who seems to have been a prime favorite with Sitting Bull and all his followers. In the first one, it is stated:
"At the appointed time, half-past eight, the lamps were lighted and the most mysterious Indian chieftain who ever flourished in North America was ushered in. There he stood, his blanket rolled back, his head upreared, his right moccasin put forward, his right hand thrown across his chest. I arose and approached him, holding out both hands. He grasped them cordially. 'How!' said he, 'How!' At this time he was clad in a black and white calico shirt, black cloth leggins and moccasins, magnificently embroidered with beads and porcupine quills. He held in his left hand a foxskin cap, its brush drooping to his feet; with the dignity and grace of a natural gentleman he had removed it from his head at the threshold. His eyes gleamed like black diamonds. His visage, devoid of paint, was noble and commanding; nay, it was something more. Besides the Indian character given to it by high cheek-bones, a broad, retreating forehead, a prominent, aquiline nose and a jaw like a bull-dog's, there was about the mouth something of beauty, but more an expression of exquisite irony. Such a mouth and such eyes as this Indian's, if seen in the countenance of a white man would appear to denote qualities similar to those which animated the career of Mazarin. Yet there was something wondrously sweet in his smile as he extended to me his hands.
"Such hands! They felt as small and soft as a maiden's, but when I pressed them I could feel the sinews beneath the flesh quivering hard like a wild animal's. I led him to a seat, a lounge set against the wall, on which he sat with indolent grace. Major Walsh, brilliant in red uniform, sat beside him, and a portable table was brought near. Two interpreters brought chairs and seated themselves, and at a neighboring desk the stenographer took his place. I afterward learned that two Sioux chiefs stood on guard outside the door, and that all the Indians in the fort had their arms ready to spring in case of a suspected treachery. On the previous night two of the Indians had been taken suddenly ill, and their sickness had been ascribed by some warriors to poison. So restless and anxious were all the savages that nothing but the influence and tact of Major Walsh could have procured for me and for your readers the following valuable, indeed, historical, colloquy with this justly famous Indian.
"I turned to the interpreter and said, 'Explain again to Sitting Bull that he is with a friend.' The interpreter explained. 'Banee!' said the chief, holding out his hand again and pressing mine.
"Major Walsh here said: 'Sitting Bull is in the best mood now that you could possibly wish. Proceed with your questions and make them as logical as you can. I will assist you and trip you up occasionally if you are likely to irritate him.'
"Then the dialogue went on. I give it literally:"
"'You are a great chief,' said I to Sitting Bull, 'but you live behind a cloud. Your face is dark, my people do not see it. Tell me, do you hate the Americans very much?"
"A gleam as of fire shot across his face.
"'I am no chief.'
"This was precisely what I expected. It will dissipate at once the erroneous idea which has prevailed that Sitting Bull is either a chief or a warrior.
"'What are you?'
"'I am.' said he, crossing both hands upon his chest, slightly nodding, and smiling satirically, 'a man.'
"'What does he mean?' I inquired, turning to Major Walsh. 'He means,' responded the major, 'to keep you in ignorance of his secret if he can. His position among his bands is anomalous. His own tribe, the Uncpapas, are not all in fealty to him. Parts of nearly twenty different tribes of Sioux, besides a remnant of the Uncpapas, abide with him. So far as I have learned, he rules over these fragments of tribes, which compose his camp of twenty-five hundred, including between eight hundred and nine hundred warriors, by sheer compelling force of intellect and will. I believe that he understands nothing particularly of war or military tactics, at least not enough to give him the skill or the right to command warriors in battle. He is supposed to have guided the fortunes of several battles, including the fight in which Custer fell. That supposition, as you will presently find, is partially erroneous. His word was always potent in the camp or in the field, but he has usually left to the war-chiefs the duties appertaining to engagements. When the crisis came he gave his opinion, which was accepted as law.'
"'What was he then?' I inquired, continuing this momentary dialogue with Major Walsh. 'Was he, is he, a mere medicine man?'
"'Don't for the world,' replied the major, 'intimate to him, in the questions you are about to ask him, that you have derived the idea from me, or from any one, that he is a mere medicine man. He would deem that a profound insult. In point of fact he is a medicine man, but a far greater, more influential medicine man than any savage I have ever known. He has constituted himself a ruler. He is a unique power among the Indians. To the warriors, his people, he speaks with the authority of a Robert Peel, to their chiefs with that of a Richelieu. This does not really express the extent of his influence, for behind Peel and Richelieu there were traitors and in front of them were factions. Sitting Bull has no traitors in his camp; there are none to be jealous of him. He does not assert himself over strongly. He does not interfere with the rights or duties of others. His power consists in the universal confidence which is given to his judgment, which he seldom denotes until he is asked for an expression of it. It has been, so far, so accurate, it has guided his people so well, he has been caught in so few mistakes and he has saved even his ablest and oldest chiefs from so many evil consequences of their own misjudgment, that to-day his word among them all is worth more than the united voices of the rest of the camp. He speaks; they listen and they obey. Now let us hear what his explanation will be?
"'You say you are no chief?' 'No!' with considerable hauteur.
"'Are you a head soldier?' 'I am nothing—neither a chief nor a soldier.' 'What, nothing?' 'Nothing.'
"'What, then, makes the warriors of your camp, the great chiefs who are here along with you, look up to you so? Why do they think so much of you?' Sitting Bull's lips curled with a proud smile. 'Oh, I used to be a kind of a chief; but the Americans made me go away from my father's hunting ground.'
"'You do not love the Americans?' You should have seen this savage's lips. 'I saw to-day that all the warriors around you clapped their hands and cried out when you spoke. What you said appeared to please them. They liked you. They seemed to think that what you said was right for them to say. If you are not a great chief, why do these men think so much of you?'
"At this, Sitting Bull, who had in the meantime been leaning back against the wall, assumed a posture of mingled toleration and disdain.
"'Your people lookup to men because they are rich; because they have much land, many lodges, many squaws.' 'Yes.'
"'Well, I suppose my people look up to me because I am poor. That is the difference.' In this answer was concentrated all the evasiveness natural to an Indian.
"'What is your feeling toward the Americans now?' He did not even deign an answer. He touched his hip, where his knife was.
"I asked the interpreter to insist on an answer.
"'Listen,' said Sitting Bull, not changing his posture, but putting his right hand out upon my knee. I told them to-day what my notions were—that I did not want to go back there. Every time that I had any difficulty with them they struck me first. I want to live in peace.'
"'Have you an implacable enmity to the Americans? Would you live with them in peace if they allowed you to do so or do you think you can only obtain peace here?' 'The White Mother is good.'
"'Better than the Great Father?' 'Hough!' And then, after a pause, Sitting Bull continued: 'They [the Commissioners] asked me to-day to give them my horses. I bought my horses and they are mine. I bought them from men who came up the Missouri in Mackinaws. They do not belong to the Government, neither do the rifles. The rifles are also mine. I bought them I paid for them. Why I should give them up, I do not know. I will not give them up.'
"'Do you really think, do your people believe that it is wise to reject the proffers that have been made to you by the United States Commissioners? Do not some of you feel as if you were destined to lose your old hunting grounds? Don't you see that you will probably have the same difficulty in Canada that you have had in the United States?' 'The White Mother does not lie.'
"'Do you expect to live here by hunting? Are there buffaloes enough? Can your people subsist on the game here?' 'I don't know. I hope so.'
"'If not, are any part of your people disposed to take up agriculture? Would any of them raise steers and go to farming? 'I don't know.'
"'What will they do, then?' 'As long as there are buffaloes that is the way we will live.'
"'But the time will come when there will be no more buffaloes.' 'Those are the words of an American.'
"'How long do you think the buffaloes will last?' Sitting Bull arose. 'We know,' said he, extending his right hand with an impressive gesture, 'that on the other side the buffaloes will not last very long. Why? Because the country over there is poisoned with blood—a poison that kills all the buffaloes or drives them away. It is strange,' he continued, with his peculiar smile, 'that the Americans should complain that the Indians kill buffaloes. We kill buffaloes, as we kill other animals, for food and clothing, and to make our lodges warm. They kill buffaloes for what? Go through your country. See the thousands of carcasses rotting on the plains. Your young men shoot for pleasure. All they take from a dead buffalo is his tail or his head, or his horns, perhaps, to show they have killed a buffalo. What is this? Is it robbery? You call us savages. What are they? The buffaloes have come north. We have come north to find them, and to get away from a place where the people tell lies.'"