The winter of 1874–1875 settled down upon Fort Lincoln, just as had
settled the long, cold snowy winter of the year preceding. Now again
was it buffalo shoes and mittens and fur caps; short drills, and time
hanging rather heavy. The Sioux under Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse
remained out somewhere in the depths of the vast reservation. They
refused to come into the agencies as did the other Indians; and any
supplies that they got were carried out to them by their friends. The
Sioux called General Custer’s trail into the Black Hills the “Thieves’
Trail.” They had made many protests against it. But white adventurers
were much excited, and were openly planning to go there prospecting for
gold. Already one party had gone out, in defiance of the Government and
of the Indians, and were somewhere in the Hills. Soldiers sent after
them failed to find them.
However, this was not the main excitement at Fort Lincoln. When
December was drawing to a close orders were suddenly issued for Captain
Yates to take three officers and one hundred men, and proceed out
upon a scout. Lieutenant Tom Custer was one of the officers; and as
trumpeter of Lieutenant Tom’s troop Ned was detailed for the march.
This seemed pretty tough, at holiday time; for the weather was piercing
cold, with a keen wind blowing. But it was a change, anyway, from the
rather dull garrison routine.
Nobody in the ranks seemed to know where the column were going, or why
they were going. Charley Reynolds was guide.
Southward led the route, down along the Missouri, with the officers and
troopers muffled to their noses in warmest clothing, regulation or not.
Fort Rice, twenty miles, was passed; and twenty more miles lay behind
ere, at a brief halt, the officers appeared to be consulting some
orders that Captain Yates had opened. He and Lieutenant Tom and the
other two officers murmured and nodded. At “For’rd—march!” the column
of fours moved on.
Ahead, thirty miles, or seventy miles below Fort Abraham Lincoln, was
the Standing Rock Agency for the Unkpapa and Yanktonais Sioux. On the
third day of the march the agency buildings rose in sight. Just outside
the agency grounds the column made temporary camp, to spend the night.
There were many Sioux about, for it was ration time, and from their
village ten miles down-river they were gathering to get their beef and
other supplies.
Now was it reported through the camp that the expedition had been made
for the purpose of capturing some Sioux who had killed a white man on
the Red River of the North, the summer before. That would seem correct;
for after breakfast forty of the troopers were led off, south, to the
village, where, rumor said, the murderers might be. This appeared
rather a foolish piece of work by Captain Yates and Lieutenant Tom. Of
course the other Sioux would see the soldiers arrive and would warn the
murderers to hide.
However, “Boots and Saddles” was it, for all the camp. After the
detachment had trotted away, Captain Yates took the remainder of the
company to the agency. They were halted a short distance from the post
store.
It was full of Indians, trading. In and out they stalked, wrapped all
in buffalo robes or Government blankets of red, blue and gray. Scarcely
a face was to be seen. Lieutenant Tom dismounted, and beckoning to five
of his soldiers leisurely entered. He stayed inside, as if chatting
with the trader.
“At ease,” ordered Captain Yates, to the sergeant of the troop outside.
So the remainder of the column might dismount, and stretch legs, and
swing arms, and watch curiously the many shrouded Indians. Even this
was poky work. Yet something was in the air. Evidently Captain Yates
and Lieutenant Tom had a scheme up their sleeves.
Three hours passed—and now on a sudden arose a great commotion. From
the store issued quick scuffle of feet, and sharp commands. High
swelled angry voices, in guttural Sioux; Indians outside began to run.
“Comp’ny—’ten’_shun_! Mount!” shouted Captain Yates. “Right into
line—march! For’r’d—march! Trot—march! Comp’ny—halt!”
In line they had drawn up before the agency door. An Indian within was
loudly speaking, as if calling to arms. At least five hundred Indians
came running, with their rifles; and out through the doorway was being
hustled between two of the soldiers another Indian, arms bound behind
him, blanket fallen from his proud, handsome, stolid face. Only his
eyes flashed defiance. Two soldiers opened the way; Lieutenant Tom and
the fifth soldier followed.
“Rain-in-the-Face!” aside said somebody, in the ranks; and the name
traveled right and left. That was Rain-in-the-Face, a prominent Unkpapa
warrior, who had been arrested by Lieutenant Tom.
“Advance—carbines!” shouted Captain Yates, above the tumult; and butts
of carbines were promptly placed upon thigh, muzzles up. This was a
“ready,” for quick action.
The Indian orator was still shrieking and urging; the other Indians
were jostling and clamoring, and from all directions the crowd was
being increased. It looked bad for the little company of cavalry.
Rain-in-the-Face made no resistance. He was hoisted upon a horse, and
ringed by a guard of soldiers, who gave not an inch before the scowls
and threats around-about.
Gradually, as through the post interpreter Captain Yates now talked to
the Indians, the tumult died. They knew that in a stand-up fight on the
spot many of them would be killed; and they knew that Rain-in-the-Face
had been arrested for good cause. So presently away they began to rush,
to their village, to pow-wow and maybe get reinforcements.
“Fours right—march! Column right—march!” ordered Captain Yates; and
with Rain-in-the-Face in the middle, out from the agency moved the
compact cavalry column.
When halt was made at the temporary camp just outside, speedily was
it known to all why Rain-in-the-Face had been arrested. A couple of
weeks before, the Sioux gathered at the agency had a great dance,
during which the warriors had recited their biggest deeds. They spoke
in Sioux, but Charley Reynolds the scout was sitting near, watching.
He understood Sioux. When Rain-in-the-Face had entered the circle, and
boasted of his career, suddenly Charley pricked his ears, but gave no
sign that he heard; for Rain-in-the-Face was vaunting how, a year and a
half before, he had killed two white men.
One was a fat man with no hair; him he had shot from his horse and had
finished with the war-club. The other was a younger man, the fat man’s
companion, who had taken refuge in a clump of trees. He had signed for
peace, and had offered his hat; but he also had been shot, with bullet
and arrow. No scalps were taken, because the fat man had been bald and
the other man had very short hair.
Then Charley Reynolds knew that he had found one of the murderers
of Veterinary Surgeon Honzinger and Sutler Baliran, killed when
inoffensive and unarmed, on the Yellowstone expedition of the summer of
1873. Out slipped Charley, as soon as he could, and hastened with the
news to General Custer at Fort Lincoln.
General Custer had kept the news quiet, lest the Sioux should be
alarmed and send word to Rain-in-the-Face. He was accounted a mighty
warrior, for he had made a record by hanging four hours, in a Sun Dance
ceremony, by ropes fastened to splints thrust through his chest and
back. He had five well-known brothers—Bear’s Face, Red Thunder, Iron
Horn, Little Bear, and Shave Head: warriors all. So whatever was to be
done must be done cunningly. And so it had been done.
Waiting there in the agency store, until the Indians should give
glimpses of their features, when Rain-in-the-Face finally had dropped
his blanket a little Lieutenant Tom, with a leap from behind, had
clasped him about both arms.
At Fort Lincoln Rain-in-the-Face confessed to the murders. He evidently
expected to be hanged at once, for he dressed himself in black. His
brother Iron Horn, and other leading Sioux, tried to comfort him, and
in council with the general they pleaded for him. But all actions and
talk were conducted in a solemn dignified manner, as befitting the
great Sioux nation.
While the general waited specific orders from the War Department,
Rain-in-the-Face must be confined in the guard-house. Here he stayed
for almost four months. He remained ever calm, ever proud, looking at
nobody when he was permitted to walk back and forth, chained to another
prisoner, for exercise.
Early in the morning of April spread an alarm, from sentry to
officers. Through a hole made in the wooden wall by white prisoners
Rain-in-the-Face had stolen away. He did not appear at the agency.
He was not found in the nearby camps. However, soon, by mouth to
mouth, Sioux to Sioux, from Sitting Bull’s band of hostiles far up the
Yellowstone River in Montana he sent word. Charley Reynolds himself was
authority.
“Rain-in-the-Face says,” reported Charley, “to tell the Long Hair and
the Long Hair’s brother that he will cut their hearts out because they
put a great warrior in prison.”