Imagine a Roman warrior with clear-cut visage and flashing eye, his face
written all over with battle lines, his voice running the entire gamut
from rage to mirth, and you have a mental picture of Chief Runs-the-Enemy,
a tall, wiry Teton Sioux whose more than sixty-four years of life have
crossed many a battlefield and won many a triumph. From boyhood days a
ringing challenge to battle seemed ever vibrant in the air he breathed.
When I asked him to let me drink at some of the secret springs of his life
his very first sentence contained the ring of battle!
“The first thing that I remember is that my father made me a bow and
arrow; it was a small bow and arrow, and made in proportion to my size,
compared with the bows and arrows used in killing buffalo. I had seen the
buffalo meat that they brought in and the wild game. My father taught me
how to use the bow and arrow, and also how to ride a horse, and soon it
became natural for me to ride. I soon grew to be able to use the bow and
arrow that my father used; with it I killed buffalo. My father also
taught me how to skin the buffalo, so that when I killed the buffalo I
knew how to skin it and bring the buffalo meat home. My father taught me
to pity the old men and women, and when I went on the warpath to be brave,
and even try to die on the field. My father also taught me that it was
better to go on the field of battle and have my body filled with arrows
from the enemy and die on the field, and let the wolves come and eat up my
flesh and bones, rather than be wrapped up and buried in some high tree,
and in this spirit I went forth into all my fights. I remember when I was
very young I went on the warpath and carried the bundles of moccasins and
provisions for the war party. When I was fifteen years old I went with my
first war party. The snow was very deep and hard, so that the horses
slipped round. We charged upon the Assinaboines. I remember when we
charged the camp we found one Indian down in the creek trapping foxes. We
did not know he was there. As soon as he saw us he ran toward his own
camp, and I whipped up my horse and ran after him. The enemy came out
with guns and bows and arrows. I ran the man clear into the midst of the
smoke; I came back without even myself or my horse getting hurt. That is
how I got my name, Runs-the-Enemy. I was then at the age of fifteen.
When we got back to camp the Sioux people said I did not know what I was
doing, and I replied that I knew that was what my father had taught me. I
performed this deed in the face of a lot of brave warriors, and this is
how my name is great among the Sioux. There was a lifelong enmity between
the Sioux and the Assinaboines. My father was wounded by the
Assinaboines, and I made up my mind I was going to do something to that
tribe. I have been in about forty battles altogether, rather
insignificant some of them, but about ten great battles. When I was about
eighteen, a band of Sioux, including myself, went down to the Black Rees.
They greatly outnumbered us. We attacked them, but did not kill any of
them. They pursued us a long way, killing five of our number. My horse
was hit with an arrow, and I jumped off, and while I was running I was
shot through the ankle with an arrow. The enemy surrounded me; my own
friends had gone on. I crossed my wounded ankle over the other foot and
defended myself as best I could. I looked at the ground and the sky, and
made up my mind that this was my last day. Just at this moment, while I
was surrounded by my enemies, one of my friends was brave enough to come
back; he rode into the midst of our foes and put me on the back of his
horse, and we rode away in safety. Let me tell you about the other wound
that I received. In one of the late battles that we had with the tribe of
Black Rees, in 1874, I was shot through the thigh, a ball also going
through the forearm, and breaking the bone.”
[Scouting Party on the Plains]