CHAPTER XXIV.
THE SURRENDER OF “CRAZY HORSE”—SELLING AMMUNITION TO HOSTILE INDIANS—PLUNDERING UNARMED, PEACEABLE INDIANS—SUPPER WITH “CRAZY HORSE”—CHARACTER OF THIS CHIEF—HIS BRAVERY AND GENEROSITY—THE STORY OF THE CUSTER MASSACRE AS TOLD BY “HORNY HORSE”—LIEUTENANT REILLY’S RING—THE DEATH OF “CRAZY HORSE”—“LITTLE BIG MAN’S” STORY ABOUT IT—“CRAZY HORSE” PROBABLY HIS OWN SLAYER—THE EBB OF SIOUX SUPREMACY
On the 6th of May, 1877, shortly after meridian, “Crazy Horse’s” band approached the agency, descending the hills in the following order: First, Lieutenant William P. Clarke, with the agency Indians—that is, “Red Cloud” and his Indian soldiers; next, “Crazy Horse,” at the head of his warriors, having abreast of him “Little Big Man,” “Little Hawk,” “He Dog,” “Old Hawk,” and “Bad Road.” Stringing along behind, for a distance of nearly two miles, came the old men with the women and children, lodges, ponies, dogs, and other plunder. Lieutenant Clarke had gone out early in the morning to a point seven or eight miles from the post to meet the incoming party. “Crazy Horse,” upon learning who he was, remained silent, but was not at all ungracious or surly. He dismounted from his pony, sat down upon the ground, and said that then was the best time for smoking the pipe of peace. He then held out his left hand to Clarke, telling him: “Cola (friend), I shake with this hand because my heart is on this side; I want this peace to last forever.” The principal warriors were then presented, each shaking hands. “Crazy Horse” had given his feather bonnet and all other regalia of the war-path to “Red Cloud,” his brother-in-law,as he had no further use for them. “He-Dog” took off his own war bonnet and scalp shirt and put them upon Clarke in sign of friendly good-will. The most perfect discipline was maintained, and silence reigned from the head of the cavalcade to the farthest“travois.”
When the post was reached, the warriors began to intone a peace chant, in whose refrain the squaws and older children joined, and which lasted until a halt was ordered and the work of turning over ponies and surrendering arms began. An enumeration disclosed the fact that “Crazy Horse” had with him not quite twenty-five hundred ponies, over three hundred warriors, one hundred and forty-six lodges, with an average of almost two families in each, and between eleven hundred and eleven hundred and fifty people all told, not counting the very considerable number who were able to precede the main body, on account of having fatter and stronger ponies. Lieutenant Clarke, in firm but quiet tones, informed the new arrivals that everything in the shape of a fire-arm must be given up, and to insure this being done he would wait until after the squaws had pitched their “tepis,” and then make the collection in person. One hundred and seventeen fire-arms, principally cavalry carbines and Winchesters, were found and hauled away in a cart. “Crazy Horse” himself gave up three Winchesters, and “Little Hawk” two. By what seemed to be a curious coincidence, “Little Hawk” wore pendent at his neck the silver medal given to his father at the Peace Conference on the North Platte, in 1817; it bore the effigy of President Monroe. Some of the other chiefs, in surrendering, laid sticks down upon the ground, saying: “Cola, this is my gun, this little one is a pistol; send to my lodge and get them.” Every one of these pledges was redeemed by the owner. There was no disorder and no bad feeling, which was remarkable enough, considering that so many of “Crazy Horse’s” band had never been on a reservation before. Everything ran along as smooth as clock-work, such interpretation as was necessary being made by Frank Gruard and Billy Hunter; Clarke, however, needed little help, as he could converse perfectly in the sign language. Just behind the knoll overlooking the flat upon which “Crazy Horse’s” village had been erected, every one of the Cheyenne warriors was in the saddle, armed to the teeth, and ready to charge down upon “CrazyHorse” and settle their score with him, at the first sign of treachery.
“Crazy Horse’s” warriors were more completely disarmed than any other bands coming under my observation, not so much in the number of weapons as in the pattern and condition; to disarm Indians is always an unsatisfactory piece of business, so long as the cowboys and other lawless characters in the vicinity of the agencies are allowed to roam over the country, each one a travelling arsenal. The very same men who will kill unarmed squaws and children, as was done in January, 1891, near Pine Ridge Agency, will turn around and sell to the bucks the arms and ammunition which they require for the next war-path. At the very moment when Crook was endeavoring to deprive the surrendering hostiles of deadly weapons, Colonel Mason captured a man with a vehicle loaded with metallic cartridges, brought up from Cheyenne or Sidney, to be disposed of to the young men at Spotted Tail. As with cartridges, so with whiskey: the western country has too many reprobates who make a nefarious living by the sale of vile intoxicants to savages; this has been persistently done among the Sioux, Mojaves, Hualpais, Navajos, and Apaches, to my certain knowledge. Rarely are any of these scoundrels punished. The same class of men robbed the Indians with impunity; “Spotted Tail” lost sixty head of ponies which the Indian scouts trailed down to North Platte, where they were sold among the stock-raisers. The arrest of the thieves was confided to the then sheriff of Sidney, who, somehow, always failed to come up with them; possibly the fact that he was the head of the gang himself may have had something to do with his non-success, but that is hard to say.
“Crazy Horse” took his first supper at Red Cloud Agency with Frank Gruard, who had been his captive for a long time and had made his escape less than two years previously. Frank asked me to go over with him. When we approached the chief’s “tepi,” a couple of squaws were grinding coffee between two stones, and preparing something to eat. “Crazy Horse” remained seated on the ground, but when Frank called his name in Dakota, “Tashunca-uitco,” at the same time adding a few words I did not understand, he looked up, arose, and gave me a hearty grasp of his hand. I saw before me a man who lookedquite young, not over thirty years old, five feet eight inches high, lithe and sinewy, with a scar in the face. The expression of his countenance was one of quiet dignity, but morose, dogged, tenacious, and melancholy. He behaved with stolidity, like a man who realized he had to give in to Fate, but would do so as sullenly as possible. While talking to Frank, his countenance lit up with genuine pleasure, but to all others he was, at least in the first days of his coming upon the reservation, gloomy and reserved. All Indians gave him a high reputation for courage and generosity. In advancing upon an enemy, none of his warriors were allowed to pass him. He had made hundreds of friends by his charity towards the poor, as it was a point of honor with him never to keep anything for himself, excepting weapons of war. I never heard an Indian mention his name save in terms of respect. In the Custer massacre, the attack by Reno had at first caused a panic among women and children, and some of the warriors, who started to flee, but “Crazy Horse,” throwing away his rifle, brained one of the incoming soldiers with his stone war-club and jumped upon his horse.
“Little Hawk,” who appeared to rank next to “Crazy Horse” in importance, was much like his superior in size and build, but his face was more kindly in expression and he more fluent in speech; he did most of the talking. “Little Big Man” I did not like in those days; principally on account of his insolent behavior to the members of the Allison Commission at this same agency, during the summer. In appearance he was crafty, but withal a man of considerable ability and force. He and I became better friends afterwards, and exchanged presents. I hold now his beautiful calumet and a finely-beaded tobacco bag, as well as a shirt trimmed with human scalps, which was once the property of “Crazy Horse.”
As it is never too soon to begin a good work, Mr. Thomas Moore, the Chief of Transportation, was busy the next morning in teaching the Sioux squaws how to make bread out of the flour issued to them, which used to be wasted, fed to their ponies, or bartered off at the trader’s store.
Mingling as we were with chiefs and warriors who had been fighting the Government without intermission for more than a year, and who had played such a bloody part in the Custertragedy, it was natural that we should seek to learn all we could to throw light upon that sombre page in our military annals. I cannot say that much information was gained not already known to the public. The Indians appeared to believe that from the moment that Custer divided his forces in presence of such overwhelming odds, the destruction of the whole or the greater part was a foregone conclusion. A picture of the battle-field was drawn by one of the Indians present in hostility, and marked by myself under his direction. In some of the villages indicated there were portions of several bands.
This is the exact language of “Horny Horse”: “Some lodges came out from Standing Rock Agency and told us the troops were coming. The troops charged on the camp before we knew they were there. The lodges were strung out about as far as from here to the Red Cloud Agency slaughter-house (about two and a half miles). I was in the council-house with a lot of the old men, when we heard shots fired from up the river. The troops first charged from up the river. We came out of the council-house and ran to our lodges.
“All the young bucks got on their horses and charged the troops. All the old bucks and squaws ran the other way. We ran the troops back. Then there was another party of troops on the other side of the river. One half of the Indians pursued the first body of troops (i. e., Reno’s); the other half went after the other body (i. e., Custer’s). I didn’t see exactly all the fight, but by noon, all of one party (i. e., Custer’s) were killed, and the others driven back into a bad place. We took no prisoners. I did not go out to see the bodies, because there were two young bucks of my band killed in the fight and we had to look after them.
“We made the other party of soldiers (i. e., Reno’s) cross the creek and run back to where they had their pack-train. The reason we didn’t kill all this (Reno’s) party was because while we were fighting his party, we heard that more soldiers were coming up the river, so we had to pack up and leave. We left some good young men killed in that fight. We had a great many killed in the fight, and some others died of their wounds. I know that there were between fifty and sixty Indians killed in the fight. After the fight we went to Wolf Mountain, near the head of Goose Creek. Then we followedRosebud down, and then went over to Bluestone Creek. We had the fight on Rosebud first, and seven days after, this fight. When we got down to Bluestone, the band broke up.”
Lt. Faison. Capt. Roberts. Geronimo. Capt. Maus. Capt. Bourke. Mayor. Strauss.Lt. Shipp. Gen. Crook. Charles Roberts.Antonio Besias.CONFERENCE BETWEEN GENERAL CROOK AND GERONIMO
Lt. Faison. Capt. Roberts. Geronimo. Capt. Maus. Capt. Bourke. Mayor. Strauss.Lt. Shipp. Gen. Crook. Charles Roberts.Antonio Besias.CONFERENCE BETWEEN GENERAL CROOK AND GERONIMO
Lt. Faison. Capt. Roberts. Geronimo. Capt. Maus. Capt. Bourke. Mayor. Strauss.Lt. Shipp. Gen. Crook. Charles Roberts.Antonio Besias.CONFERENCE BETWEEN GENERAL CROOK AND GERONIMO
From the bands surrendering at Red Cloud and Spotted Tail agencies, many relics of the Custer tragedy were obtained. Among other things secured was a heavy gold ring, surmounted with a bloodstone seal, engraved with a griffin, which had formerly belonged to Lieutenant Reilly of the Seventh Cavalry, who perished on that day. This interesting relic was returned to his mother in Washington.
The total number of Indians surrendering at these agencies (Red Cloud and Spotted Tail) was not quite four thousand five hundred, who made no secret of the fact that they had yielded because they saw that it was impossible to stand out against the coalition made by General Crook between the white soldiers and their own people; the terrible disaster happening to the Cheyenne village had opened their ears to the counsels of their brethren still in those agencies, and the alliance between the Cheyennes and the whites proved to them that further resistance would be useless. They surrendered, and they surrendered for good; there has never been another battle with the tribes of the northern plains as such; work of a most arduous and perilous character has been from time to time performed, in which many officers and brave soldiers have laid down their lives at the behest of duty, but the statement here made cannot be gainsaid, and will never be questioned by the honest and truthful investigator, that the destruction of the village of “Dull Knife,” and the subsequent enlistment of the whole of the northern Cheyennes as scouts in the military service, sounded the death-knell of Indian supremacy for Nebraska, Wyoming, both the Dakotas, and Montana.
Crook took up the tangled threads of Indian affairs at the agencies with his accustomed energy, intelligence, coolness, patience, and foresight gained in an experience of almost twenty-five years. The new surrenders were ignorant, timid, sullen, distrustful, suspicious, revengeful, and with the departure of the Cheyennes for the Indian Territory, which took place almost immediately after, began to reflect more upon the glories of the fight with Custer than upon the disaster of November. This was the normal state of affairs, but it was intensified by therumors, which proved to be only too well founded, that Congress was legislating to transfer the Sioux to another locality—either to the Missouri River or the Indian Territory. A delegation was sent down to the Indian Territory to look at the land, but upon its return it reported unfavorably.
“Crazy Horse” began to cherish hopes of being able to slip out of the agency and get back into some section farther to the north, where he would have little to fear, and where he could resume the old wild life with its pleasant incidents of hunting the buffalo, the elk, and the moose, and its raids upon the horses of Montana. He found his purposes detected and baffled at every turn: his camp was filled with soldiers, in uniform or without, but each and all reporting to the military officials each and every act taking place under their observation. Even his council-lodge was no longer safe: all that was said therein was repeated by some one, and his most trusted subordinates, who had formerly been proud to obey unquestioningly every suggestion, were now cooling rapidly in their rancor towards the whites and beginning to doubt the wisdom of a resumption of the bloody path of war. The Spotted Tail Agency, to which “Crazy Horse” wished to belong, was under the supervision of an army officer—Major Jesse M. Lee, of the Ninth Infantry—whose word was iron, who never swerved from the duty he owed to these poor, misguided wretches, and who manifested the deepest and most intelligent interest in their welfare. I will not bother the reader with details as to the amount of food allowed to the Indians, but I will say that every ounce of it got to the Indian’s stomach, and the Indians were sensible enough to see that justice, truth, and common honesty were not insignificant diplomatic agencies in breaking down and eradicating the race-antipathies which had been no small barrier to progress hitherto. General Crook had been specially fortunate in the selection of the officers to take charge of Indian matters, and in such men as Major Daniel W. Burke and Captain Kennington, of the Fourteenth Infantry, and Mills, of the Third Cavalry, had deputies who would carry out the new policy, which had as one of its fundamentals that the Indians must not be stolen blind. The Sioux were quick to perceive the change: less than twelve months before, they had been robbed in the most bold-faced manner, the sacks which were accepted as containing one hundred pounds of flour containing only eighty-eight.When delivery was made, the mark of the inspecting and receiving officer would be stamped upon the outer sack, and the moment his back was turned, that sack would be pulled off, and the under and unmarked one submitted for additional counting.
Those two agencies were a stench in the nostrils of decent people; the attention of honest tax-payers was first called to their disgraceful management, by Mr. Welsh, of Philadelphia, and Professor Marsh, of New Haven. After a sufficiently dignified delay, suited to the gravity of the case, a congressional committee recommended the removal of the agents, and that the contractor be proceeded against, which was done, and the contractor sentenced to two years in the penitentiary.
Two other officers of the army did good work in the first and most trying days at these agencies, and their services should not be forgotten. They were Lieutenant Morris Foote, of the Ninth, and Lieutenant A. C. Johnson, of the Fourteenth Infantry. Lieutenant William P. Clarke, who had remained in charge of the Indian scouts, kept General Crook fully posted upon all that “Crazy Horse” had in contemplation; but nothing serious occurred until the fall of the year 1877, when the Nez Percé war was at its height, and it became necessary to put every available man of the Department of the Platte at Camp Brown to intercept Chief “Joseph” in his supposed purpose of coming down from the Gray Bull Pass into the Shoshone and Bannock country, in the hope of getting aid and comfort. “Crazy Horse” had lost so many of his best arms at the surrender, and he felt that he was so closely watched, and surrounded by so many lukewarm adherents, that it would be impossible to leave the agency openly; and accordingly he asked permission to go out into the Big Horn on a hunt for buffalo, which permission was declined. He then determined to break away in the night, and by making a forced march, put a good stretch of territory between himself and troops sent in pursuit.
Including the band of “Touch the Clouds,” which had surrendered at Spotted Tail Agency some time before the arrival of “Crazy Horse” at Red Cloud, and the stragglers who had preceded him into the latter agency, “Crazy Horse” reckoned on having about two thousand people to follow his fortunes to British America, or whithersoever he might conclude to go.When his purposes became known his arrest was made necessary. General Crook hurried to Red Cloud Agency, and from there started over towards Spotted Tail Agency, intending to have a talk with “Crazy Horse” and the other chiefs; but when about half-way our conveyance was stopped by a Sioux runner—“Woman’s Dress”—who said that he had been sent by “Spotted Tail” and the other Indians to warn General Crook that “Crazy Horse” had unequivocally asserted that he would kill General Crook in the coming council, if Crook’s words did not suit him. Crook returned to Red Cloud Agency and summoned all the chiefs, including “Crazy Horse,” to a conference; “Crazy Horse” paid no attention to the message.
General Crook informed the Indians that they were being led astray by “Crazy Horse’s” folly, and that they must preserve order in their own ranks and arrest “Crazy Horse.” The chiefs deliberated and said that “Crazy Horse” was such a desperate man, it would be necessary to kill him; General Crook replied that that would be murder, and could not be sanctioned; that there was force enough at or near the two agencies (“Crazy Horse” had removed from Red Cloud to Spotted Tail) to round up not only “Crazy Horse,” but his whole band, and that more troops would be sent, if necessary; he counted upon the loyal Indians effecting this arrest themselves, as it would prove to the nation that they were not in sympathy with the non-progressive element of their tribe.
General Crook had started for Camp Brown to superintend in person the massing of the troops who were to head off Chief “Joseph,” but when Sheridan heard of the threatening look of things at the Nebraska agencies, he telegraphed to Crook under date of September 1, 1877: “I think your presence more necessary at Red Cloud Agency than at Camp Brown, and wish you to get off (the Union Pacific Railroad train) at Sidney, and go there.” Again, under date of September 3, 1877: “I do not like the attitude of affairs at Red Cloud Agency, and very much doubt the propriety of your going to Camp Brown. The surrender or capture of ‘Joseph’ in that direction is but a small matter compared with what might happen to the frontier from a disturbance at Red Cloud.” ... Agent Irwin, who had assumed charge of affairs at Red Cloud Agency, was a faithful and conscientious representative of the Indian bureau; he did all in his power toassist in breaking down the threatened uprising, and showed a very competent understanding of the gravity of the situation.
“Crazy Horse” broke away during the night of the 3d of September, but was unable to get away from the column in pursuit, whose work may perhaps be best described in the language of General L. P. Bradley, Ninth Infantry, commanding the district of the Black Hills, which embraced the posts of Laramie, Fetterman, Robinson, and Sheridan.
“General Crook left here on the morning of the 4th, and, under his instructions, I sent out a strong force about 9 o’clock of that date to surround ‘Crazy Horse’s’ village, about six miles below the post. The column consisted of eight companies of the Third Cavalry, and about four hundred friendly Indians. The Indian scouts were under Lieutenant Clarke; the other Indians under chiefs ‘Red Cloud,’ ‘Little Wound,’ ‘American Horse,’ ‘Young Man Afraid of His Horses,’ ‘Yellow Bear,’ ‘Black Coal,’ ‘Big Road,’ ‘Jumping Shield,’ and ‘Sharp Nose.’ The cavalry were under the command of Colonel Mason, Third Cavalry. When the command reached the site of the village, they found it had broken up in the night, and most of it had disappeared. A part of the lodges returned to the agency of their own accord and joined the friendly bands, a large number were overtaken by the friendly Indians and brought back, and a few went to the Spotted Tail Agency. ‘Crazy Horse’ escaped alone and went to the Spotted Tail Agency, where he was arrested the same day by friendly Indians and was brought here under guard of Indians on the 5th instant. My orders from General Crook were to capture this chief, confine him, and send him under guard to Omaha. When he was put in the guardhouse he suddenly drew a knife, struck at the guard, and made for the door. ‘Little Big Man,’ one of his own chiefs, grappled with him, and was cut in the arm by ‘Crazy Horse’ during the struggle. The two chiefs were surrounded by the guard, and about this time ‘Crazy Horse’ received a severe wound in the lower part of the abdomen, either from a knife or bayonet, the surgeons are in doubt which. He was immediately removed, and placed in charge of the surgeons, and died about midnight. His father and ‘Touch the Clouds,’ chief of the Sans Arcs, remained with him till he died, and when his breath ceased, the chief laid his hand on ‘Crazy Horse’s’ breast and said: ‘It isgood; he has looked for death, and it has come.’ The body was delivered to his friends the morning after his death. ‘Crazy Horse’ and his friends were assured that no harm was intended him, and the chiefs who were with him are satisfied that none was intended; his death resulted from his own violence. The leading men of his band, ‘Big Road,’ ‘Jumping Shield,’ and ‘Little Big Man,’ are satisfied that his death is the result of his own folly, and they are on friendly terms with us.”
The chiefs spoken of in General Bradley’s telegram an accompanying “Crazy Horse” were: “Touch the Clouds,” “Swift Bear,” and “High Bear.” All accounts agree in stating that “Crazy Horse” suddenly drew two knives, and with one in each hand started to run amuck among the officers and soldiers. “Little Big Man,” seeing what he had done, jumped upon “Crazy Horse’s” back and seized his arms at the elbows, receiving two slight cuts in the wrists while holding his hands down. Here, there is a discrepancy: some say that the death wound of “Crazy Horse” was given by the sentinel at the door of the guard-house, who prodded him in the abdomen with his bayonet in return for the thrust with a knife made by “Crazy Horse”; others affirm that “Little Big Man,” while holding down “Crazy Horse’s” hands, deflected the latter’s own poniard and inflicted the gash which resulted in death. Billy Hunter, whose statement was written out for me by Lieutenant George A. Dodd, Third Cavalry, is one of the strongest witnesses on the first side, but “Little Big Man” himself assured me at the Sun Dance in 1881 that he had unintentionally killed “Crazy Horse” with the latter’s own weapon, which was shaped at the end like a bayonet (stiletto), and made the very same kind of a wound. He described how he jumped on “Crazy Horse’s” back and seized his arms at the elbow, and showed how he himself had received two wounds in the left wrist; after that, in the struggle, the stiletto of the captive was inclined in such a manner that when he still struggled he cut himself in the abdomen instead of harming the one who held him in his grasp. “Little Big Man” further assured me that at first it was thought best to let the idea prevail that a soldier had done the killing, and thus reduce the probability of any one of the dead man’s relatives revenging his taking off after the manner of the aborigines. The bayonet-thrust made by the soldier was received by the door of the guard-house, where“Little Big Man” said it could still be seen. I give both stories, although I incline strongly to believe “Little Big Man.”
“Crazy Horse” was one of the great soldiers of his day and generation; he never could be the friend of the whites, because he was too bold and warlike in his nature; he had a great admiration for Crook, which was reciprocated; once he said of Crook that he was more to be feared by the Sioux than all other white men. As the grave of Custer marked high-water mark of Sioux supremacy in the trans-Missouri region, so the grave of “Crazy Horse,” a plain fence of pine slabs, marked the ebb.