ready to go there. Medicine Wolf, Growing Dog, Meat and my brother
Yellow Hair said they were going to stay out hunting. They said it
would not be long before lots of Indians would be back out here, the
same as had been here during the year before. I was almost persuaded
to remain with them, but Last Bull said he now was convinced the
Indians would not come back to this country. So I kept with the main
part of our band. We traveled southeastward toward the White River
agency of the Cheyennes and the Ogallalas.
At a white man house far along our way we stopped to see if the
people there might give us some food. The only people there were two
white men. They acted as if they were badly frightened, but we made
peace signs to them, and only two of us went to their door. We made
signs that our Indians all were very hungry, and we asked them for
something to eat. They gave us a little beef meat and some sugar and
coffee. We were glad to get this, and we told them our hearts were
good toward them.
Three strange Indians on horseback approached us from our front as
we arrived about a day’s journey from the agency. We could see they
were Indians, but they had on soldier clothing. This alarmed us. All
of our men cocked their guns and went out in front of the women and
children. We watched and waited. The three Indians stopped. At a
distance they made signs to us. They told us they were soldier scouts
come out to help us find our way to the agency. We allowed them to
join us and remain with us the remainder of the way. One of them was
a Cheyenne, another was a Sioux, the third was a Cheyenne-Sioux
named Fire Crow.
It made all of us feel good to see the hundreds of Indian lodges
as we came near to the agency.[52] We galloped our horses forward.
We cheered and fired gunshots into the air. Some soldiers came
running out from their tents, but they soon saw we were friendly
and were only celebrating and notifying our people we had come. We
saw great camps of Arapahoes and Ogallalas as well as the tribal
camp circle of our own Cheyennes. Many soldiers also were there,
in their own separate camp. Several of the soldier chiefs came and
shook hands with our men and said, “How.” One of these soldier chiefs
we specially liked. We learned from a Cheyenne his name among the
Indians was White Hat.[53] He could make good sign-talk. It appeared
he understood Indians better than any white man soldier I ever had
seen. I suppose that was why we liked him.
A white man married to a Cheyenne woman was acting as interpreter for
the soldiers. His name was Rowland. But White Hat did not need any
interpreter in talking to us, he could make the sign-talk so well.
After the general handshaking, White Hat said:
“Now, you men must give to me your guns and your horses.”
We were not expecting this, but we trusted him, so we began to do as
he had asked. But Black Coyote jumped back and said he would not give
up his gun. He cocked it and stood there. He was much excited. Just
then three Sioux dressed in soldier clothing came riding toward us.
Black Coyote aimed his gun at them. Last Bull pushed the gun aside
and said:
“Don’t shoot. You are crazy.”
He talked to Black Coyote, telling him that a shot just now might
cause all of us to get killed. White Hat motioned the three Sioux to
go away, and they did so. Black Coyote then quieted down. He gave his
gun to Last Bull, and this leader gave it to a soldier with White
Hat. I was the only one among us having a gun captured from the
soldiers at the battle on the Little Bighorn. When I handed it to a
soldier he gave it to White Hat. White Hat examined it with apparent
great interest. He then called other soldier chiefs to look. Finally
he asked me:
“Where did you get this gun?”
I did not answer him at once. He asked me again, making signs so
clear that I could not help but make some kind of answer. I told him
the truth. I showed him just how I had seized it and wrenched it away
from a soldier riding toward the river during the first part of the
great battle a year before this time. The way they talked about it,
it appeared the Indians had not been giving them these guns taken
from the soldiers. After a little while, White Hat shook hands again
with me and made signs to me: “You are a brave man. Do not be afraid
any soldier will want to kill you.”
The next morning all of us went to the agency buildings for gifts we
had been told would be there for us. Wagons came with the presents.
They were unloaded in piles. Blankets, clothing and different kinds
of food were in the piles. Two of our people were appointed to divide
up and distribute the articles among all of us. Our hearts now were
glad. It seemed good to be here with plenty and not be in fear of
soldiers.
I received other gifts. An Ogallala Sioux presented me with a
medicine pipe, the first one I had owned since the loss of mine when
the soldiers burned out our forty lodges on lower Powder river. A
Cheyenne young man gave me a wad of paper money like I had seen at
the time of the great battle. He said: “You can buy things at the
trader’s store with this paper.” I put it into my pocket. After a
while I got a Sioux young man friend to go with me to the agency
trader’s store. I took out my money and gave it all to the trader.
He counted it over and over. Then he asked me, in Sioux speech:
“Where did you get all of this money?”
My Sioux friend quickly answered:
“He got it from Custer.”
The trader said to me:
“The soldiers are going to hang you.” This startled me at first, but
both he and my Sioux friend laughed, so I knew he was only joking.
“Now, what all do you want?” the trader asked, after they had joked
me a little while.
I got first a red and yellow shirt. Then I got some breeches that
fitted me much better than the pair that had been given to me by
the agency people. I picked out a fine red blanket, a hat and a big
silk scarf. I got plenty of tobacco. I bought coffee, sugar, meat
and other things. I did not want all of the goods I bought, but the
trader kept telling me of what I ought to have. After each time he
brought me what I asked for, he took from the money some part of it.
Then he would ask:
“And what else?”
I did not know how much the different articles were worth. I kept on
choosing some other until finally the trader said:
“Your money is all gone.”
My friend helped me to carry all of my property to my home lodge. I
wore the new hat just bought. But I took along the old white hat I
had captured from the soldiers. I gave this old one to my father. He
was much pleased to get it. It was the first white man hat he ever
owned. He threw away then the old Indian buffalo hat he had been
wearing.
Some of the Cheyennes who had gone to the Elk river soldier fort were
here now. They had been sent here by the soldiers. Other Cheyennes
had stayed at that fort, the men joining the soldiers as scouts for
them. All of these Cheyennes brought here were dwelling in soldier
tents. Many other Indians, Cheyennes, Ogallalas and Arapahoes, also
had the soldier tents. These were larger than most of the Indian
tepees then in use. The tepees were smaller than usual because only a
few buffalo skins had been taken during this summer.
There was some dissatisfaction among the Cheyennes on account of talk
of them being taken to the South. The agent and the soldier chiefs
had said we ought to go there and be joined as one tribe with the
Southern Cheyennes. Our people did not like this talk. All of us
wanted to stay in this country near the Black Hills. But we had one
big chief, Standing Elk, who kept saying it would be better if we
should go there. I think there were not as many as ten Cheyennes in
our whole tribe who agreed with him. There was a feeling that he was
talking this way only to make himself a big Indian among the white
people. The white men chiefs would not talk much to any Cheyenne
chief but him. They gave him extra presents and treated him as if he
were the only chief in the tribe, when he was but one of our forty
tribal big chiefs. One day he went about telling everybody:
“All get ready to move. The soldiers are going to take us from here
tomorrow.”
Lots of Cheyennes were angry. We had understood that when we
surrendered we were to live on our same White River reservation. We
had given up our guns and our horses and had quit fighting because
of this promise. Now, after we had put ourselves at this great
disadvantage, the promise was to be broken. But we could not do
anything except obey him. So, three sleeps after my small band had
come to what we thought was to be our home, the whole tribe was on
its way to what we now call Oklahoma.
FOOTNOTES:
[49] Bruyère, a Frenchman-Sioux scout for Miles.
[50] The Cheyenne name for General Miles.
[51] Fort Keogh, at the mouth of Tongue river.
[52] White River agency, Fort Robinson, Nebraska.
[53] Lieutenant W. P. Clark, who wrote a book on sign language.
XIII
_Taken to the South._
The soldier leader of our movement to the South was known to us as
Tall White Man. He was a good man, always kind to the Indians. We had
to do whatever he said we must do, but he talked good to our chiefs,
so all of us were pleased to have him guiding us. He had with him a
band of soldiers. I do not know how many, but I think there may have
been almost a hundred of them.
Our horses that had been taken away from us at the agency were now
returned to us. Still, many Cheyennes did not own any. Old people
who had no animal to ride were provided with them from the soldier
herd. Or, very old or sick people were allowed to ride in the soldier
wagons. Young men who owned no horses had to walk or borrow from
friends. I owned four. I had three of them loaned out most of the
time.
Soldier tents were used by the Indians as well as by the soldiers. I
think the Indians had a few canvas cone tepees, but I do not remember
seeing among us any buffalo skin lodges. We had not killed for a
long time enough buffaloes to renew the old dwelling shelters we
liked so well. Wagons were used to haul the tents. Other wagons were
loaded with bread, crackers, coffee, sugar and other food. Every day,
rations were issued to all of the soldiers and all of the Indians.[54]
A drove of cattle was kept moving along behind us. Some of them were
butchered every day for meat. This was good, but the Indians liked
better the wild meat when it could be found. Our chiefs talked to
Tall White Man about this. He listened to their talk. He said it was
good. He told them how it would be arranged for some of the Indians
to hunt along the way.
Thirty men, ten from each of the three warrior societies, were chosen
by our warrior chiefs to do the hunting. Each of these thirty was
given a rifle. At every time of hunting, each of them was allowed to
have five cartridges for his gun. Other Indians were allowed also to
hunt, but they had to use the bows and arrows or whatever else they
might have for use. A few took out guns they had kept hidden when we
had surrendered at the agency, but they had to be sly about this so
the soldiers would not find out about them.
We traveled slowly and camped often, so there was plenty of time for
hunting at distances from the moving people. The soldiers went always
ahead. The Indians followed them. The wagons came behind the Indians.
The drove of cattle were last. We kept mostly along the old trails of
the Cheyennes as they had gone back and forth between the Black Hills
and the South. These were across the high lands at the headwaters of
the rivers. Not yet were many white people living here.
Buffalo and antelope were plentiful. There were a few deer, but no
elk. I rode out at times with the hunters, but I had neither gun nor
bow and arrows. I could do nothing but look on and wish I could do
some killing. I knew of one certain Cheyenne who had a rifle hidden.
One night in camp I said to him:
“I see every day lots of antelope. Let me take your gun tomorrow.”
I killed a buffalo the next day with his gun. I killed also two
antelope. I gave him half of the meat. Both of us had plenty to
distribute among our friends. The soldiers never knew anything about
it. Or, none of them said anything to me.
Soldiers hunted with the Indians. All of the soldiers were friendly
and good to us. They were good shooters and they killed lots of game.
They gave us most of the meat. I became specially friendly with two
or three of them. I liked to be with them, and they appeared to like
me. I went at times to their camp in the evening and visited with
them. When we were about half along our journey I asked one of them:
“Let me take your gun tomorrow.”
“Yes, you may take it,” he told me.
He let me have five cartridges when I got the gun the next morning.
Oh, how good I felt--on horseback, having a good rifle, and after
buffalo! I killed one and brought in the best parts of its meat. I
gave the soldier his choice of it and all he wanted, when I returned
his gun that night in camp.
Either a rifle or a six shooter was loaned to me for a day at other
later times. Each time, with the rifle came five cartridges. Each
time, with the six shooter came six loads for it. Each time, I
returned the borrowed gun at the night camp and gave the friendly
soldier whatever meat he might want. Most of them did not want much
of it, so I had at all times plenty of the food we liked most, for
our family group and for our friends who might need it.
We camped near one certain big town far along on our journey. None of
us were allowed to go into the town, but I went walking all about the
outside of it to look at it. As I walked I found a big piece of wood
that I wanted. I had seen at past times this same kind of wood, and I
knew its usefulness to us. It was the heavy piece that lays across
the necks of cattle when they draw a wagon. The Indians liked to get
these, because they made the best kind of bows and arrows. I picked
it up and lifted it over a shoulder. I went right away to my home
tent lodge.
I made a good bow. My mother had in her packs some dried sinew from
buffalo back tendons. This I used to string my bow. I made then ten
arrows. I got here and there some pieces of metal for the points. My
mother made a pouch for the bow and arrows. She made it of a calfskin
she had tanned as we were moving. I was glad now, with the full pouch
slung from my shoulder and dangling at my left side. Two days I spent
most of our camping time at this work.
On the first day out with my new bow and arrows I killed a buffalo.
I could have killed more, but I did not want any more. There were
not so many of them here as we had found farther north, but we still
were finding a few. There were yet plenty of antelope feeding out on
the rolling hills and level lands. An antelope, though, is hard to
hit with arrows. It can run fast and can dodge quickly. Still, if
one be chased a long time it becomes tired. Any ordinary horse then
can catch up with it. It is easy enough then to shoot arrows into
its body. One arrow often is enough to kill it. I killed several of
them, as many as I wanted to kill, while we were going on our way. I
killed also a few more buffalo.
One sleep before we got to the Southern Cheyenne agency we had some
special doings. The agent there came out to see us. He had with him
a half-breed Cheyenne as interpreter. They went to every tent of the
Indians. At each place the interpreter asked the names and he wrote
them on paper. We were in camp beside a soldier fort. That evening I
saw some of the soldiers there trying to rope loose horses. I went
to them and asked them to let me try it. They did. I could loop the
lariat noose over a running horse almost every time I tried. The
soldiers cheered. They were very friendly to me.
The thirty Cheyennes who had been allowed to have soldier guns for
hunting were told now they must give back these guns. But Little Wolf
and Standing Elk talked to Tall White Man about this. They said: “Let
us keep these guns for hunting, or we might need them for protecting
ourselves.” But the good soldier chief replied: “No, I cannot do
that. They must be returned to us.” Others of our chiefs joined
Little Wolf and Standing Elk. Tall White Man sat in a long council
with them. Finally, he agreed:
“Yes, the Cheyennes may keep the few guns they have.”
I learned in the South the white man name of Long Hair, the soldier
big chief we had killed on the Little Bighorn. I was told he was
called General Custer. I had heard this name spoken at the White
River agency, but I did not understand clearly who was meant by it.
The Southern Cheyennes knew of him because of his having fought
against them before he had come into our northern country. They had
surrendered to him.
A few of our Northern Cheyennes had not yet joined us before we left
the White River agency, at the North. Or, some of these fled from us
as soon as it was decided we must go to the South. My brother Yellow
Hair had not yet come in to surrender. He stayed hunting or he went
to the Ogallalas. Not long after we became settled in the new home
the news came to us that he had been killed. He was hunting on Crow
creek, a stream flowing into the east side of upper Tongue river,
when some white men not soldiers shot him. Our family now was made up
of my father and mother, myself, my younger sister and the small boy
brother.
My first shoes were given to me at the southern agency. They were too
big, but I wore them a part of the time. All of my life before this,
I had worn only the moccasins made by Indians. I yet liked best the
moccasins, but we did not have skins enough to make all of them we
needed.
I did some hunting in the southern country. But the hunting was
not for the large food game animals. Very few of these got on the
reservation, and we were not allowed to go off the reservation for
hunting. So, my searching for something to shoot at with bow and
arrows or with gun was for whatever small game could be found there.
On one certain bow and arrow hunt I was afoot and alone. The weather
was hot. I was tired and sweating. I went to the shade of two big
trees. As I rested there, a fluttering noise attracted my attention
to the tops of two trees. I looked. There sat an eagle perched high
up. I aimed an arrow and shot. No harm done. I drew out another arrow
and fitted it to my bowstring. I aimed more carefully this time. In a
moment after the second shot, the eagle fluttered and tumbled to the
ground out a little distance from the trees. I ran out there. The big
bird flopped and hobbled along away from me. Before I could get hold
of it the eagle had lifted itself into the air. It flew on and up,
farther and higher. I watched it until it was gone entirely from my
view.
I learned how to hunt specially for eagles. Their regular sleeping
places were at the tops of big trees. I would go out on horseback and
locate myself under a big tree just as darkness was about to come.
One night I sat under a tree waiting. I had both a rifle and a six
shooter. Two eagles came. I shot and killed one with the rifle. I
jerked out the six shooter and fired at the other one. It too tumbled
down dead. That was good shooting, considering that the light was
dim. But always in shooting eagles at night the dark body against the
sky made a good enough target.
On another eagle hunt at night, when I shot up into the tree the
eagle fell to the ground wounded but not dead. It lay there moving
about a little but not much. I ran to it and seized it, to hold it
while I might beat it with the handle of my pony whip. It grasped in
its two taloned feet my left forearm and my right thigh just above
the knee. I struck it with the whip handle, but this only made it
sink the talons in more deeply. I had to pry them loose. Then I beat
it to death. I still own and make regular use of a fan made from a
wing of that eagle.
I shot one certain eagle in a tree above my head one night. Right
after I fired the shot it tumbled. But it did not fall to the ground.
I looked up among the branches, but I could not see it. I began to
look about me on the ground. Just then a heavy thump on top of my
head almost knocked me down. The eagle had lodged somewhere and then
had fallen. It seized my hat in its talons and bounced off my head to
the ground. There I killed it with my six shooter.
One night, as I stood watching under a tree I saw something moving
along on a branch high up. It did not appear to be an eagle, but
when it stopped on the branch I aimed my rifle and fired. It dropped
straight down and plumped hard upon the ground. It was dead. It was
to me a strange animal. It looked somewhat like the badgers of the
northern country, except this animal I had killed was smaller. I
remembered, too, that badgers do not live in trees. When I took it to
the home lodge I found out what it was. The white people call this
kind of animal a coon. I afterward saw others. I saw also what the
white people call possums. We ate these little animals when we could
get them.
The tallest Indian I ever saw was a Southern Cheyenne young woman.
I first saw her at one of our Omaha dances. I stood beside her, for
measurement. The top of my head came just above the level of her
shoulders. She was extremely slender and she stood up straight, not
stooping. Her name was Slit Eyes. I did not see her father, but I saw
her mother. The mother was a short woman. This very tall young woman
died when she was about twenty years old.
After we had been a year on this reservation, many of our people
began to ask to be taken back to the North. There was no game here,
we were not allowed to go off the reservation for hunting, and we
were not given food as it had been promised we should be given. At
times, some of our young men would violate the orders and would slip
away from the reservation to get a buffalo or some other animal
good to eat. Some white people said the Indians were killing their
cattle. I do not know. I did not do this. I stayed all the time on
the reservation. But if any Indians did kill the white men cattle
they did so because they were very hungry and could not find any wild
game. We ate the beef because it was the best we could get. We always
liked better the wild game.
There was much sickness among the Northern Cheyennes. To us it was
a new kind of sickness. Chills and fever and aching of the bones
dragged down most of us to thin and weak bodies. Our people died,
died, died, kept following one another out of this world. Finally,
Chief Little Wolf declared that he for one was going to move back
North, whether the white people consented or not. Others said they
would follow him. The agent told them that soldiers would go on their
trail and would kill them. They were promised more food. They waited
for it, but it did not come. More people flocked to Little Wolf’s
side. Dull Knife said he too would go. Late in the summer, more than
half of the tribe started out. Little Wolf’s last message to the
agent was:
“The soldiers may kill all of us, but they cannot make us stay in
this country.”
Soldiers went after them. Other soldiers from other places were sent
out to head them off. The Cheyennes were hunted from all directions.
They were found many times, but each time the Cheyennes fought off
their pursuers and kept on going northward. Many of our people were
killed, but the most of them got back to their old home country and
were allowed to stay there.
My father and I considered joining Little Wolf. But we had managed in
one way and another to keep our family from starving, and we believed
that after a while the food would be more plentiful. Some of us had
been sick at times, but none of us yet had come near to death. We
sympathized fully with our deceived and suffering people, and both of
us had a high admiration for Little Wolf. But we settled our minds to
stay here and keep out of trouble.
From the Southern Cheyennes I learned a great deal about General
Custer’s dealing with them in that country. All of them said he had
smoked the peace pipe with them at the time they had surrendered to
him, seven years before he was killed. According to the custom among
us, this was understood as a promise by him that never again would
he fight against the Cheyennes. When they learned that he had been
killed by our people and the Sioux, they considered him as having
deserved that kind of death, on account of his failure to keep his
peace pipe oath.
They told us also about the band of Southern Cheyennes who started
out for the North, to join us, during the summer when we fought the
great battle. Their medicine man chief was with the band, and he had
the tribal medicine arrows and its tepee with him. Soldiers got after
them. The medicine man chief and his wife separated themselves in the
scattering flight from the soldiers, each of the two taking two of
the four sacred arrows. After a few days the band all got together
again, on upper Powder river. But there were so many soldiers in the
country that they decided to go back to the South.