CHAPTER XIII.

SITTING BULL, OR TATANKA YOTANKA,

THE GREAT SIOUX CHIEF AND MEDICINE MAN.

The Sioux or 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 the _toga

virilis_ of 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.

{Illustration: Sitting Bull's two wives and daughters.}

From now on we will let the noted warrior tell his own story as found in

_Outdoor 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."

{Illustration: Chief Gall, War Chief of the Sioux.}

"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

escaping _impending 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.'"

{Illustration: Chief One Bull and Family.}

"To gain time, and not to dwell importunately on a single point, I asked

Sitting Bull to tell me something of his early life. In the first place,

where he was born? 'I was born on the Missouri River; at least I recollect

that somebody told me so--I don't know who told me or where I was told of

it.'

"'Of what tribe are you?' 'I am an Uncpapa.'

"'Of the Sioux?' 'Yes; of the great Sioux nation.'

"'Who was your father?' 'My father is dead.'

"'Is your mother living?' 'My mother lives with me in my lodge.'

"'Great lies are told about you. White men say that you lived among them

when you were young; that you went to school; that you learned to write and

read from books; that you speak English; that you know how to talk French?'

'It is a lie.'

"'You are an Indian?' (Proudly) 'I am a Sioux.'

"Then suddenly relaxing from his hauteur. Sitting Bull began to laugh. 'I

have heard,' he said, 'of some of these stories. They are all strange lies.

What I am I am,' and here he leaned back and resumed his attitude and

expression of barbaric grandeur. 'I am a man. I see, I know; I began to see

when I was not yet born--when I was not in my mother's arms. It was then I

began to study about my people. I studied about many things. I studied

about the smallpox, that was killing my people--the great sickness that was

killing the women and children. I was so interested that I turned over on

my side. The Great Spirit must have told me at that time (and here he

unconsciously revealed his secret), that I would be the man to be the judge

of all the other Indians--a big man, to decide for them in all their

ways.'

"'And you have since decided for them?' 'I speak. It is enough.'

"'Could not your people, whom you love so well, get on with the Americans?'

'No!'

"'Why?' 'I never taught my people to trust Americans. I have told them the

truth--that the Americans are great liars. I never dealt with the

Americans. Why should I? The land belonged to my people. I say I never

dealt with them--I mean I never treated with them in a way to surrender my

people's rights. I traded with them, but I always gave full value for what

I got. I never asked the United States Government to make me presents of

blankets or cloth, or anything of that kind. The most I did was to ask them

to send me an honest trader that I could trade with, and I proposed to give

him buffalo robes and elk skins, and other hides in exchange for what we

wanted. I told every trader who came to our camps that I did not want any

favors from him--that I wanted to trade with him fairly and equally, giving

him full value for what I got, but the traders wanted me to trade with them

on no such terms. They wanted to give little and get much. They told me if

I did not accept what they gave me in trade they would get the Government

to fight me. I told them I did not want to fight.'

"'But you fought?' 'At last, yes; but not until I had tried hard to prevent

a fight. At first my young men, when they began to talk bad, stole five

American horses. I did not like this and was afraid something bad would

come of it. I took the horses away from them and gave them back to the

Americans. It did no good. By and by we had to fight.'"

The reporter now drew from the great leader his version of the Little Big

Horn fight, and the death of Custer. But, as neither party to the dialogue

were in the battle, this part of the interview must of necessity be the

work of imagination and will not be quoted. It is impossible for any one to

give an authentic description of a battle fought in his absence.

John F. Finnerty, the war correspondent for the Chicago _Times,_ also

visited Sitting Bull, while he and his band were encamped on Mushroom

Creek, Woody Mountain, in the summer of 1879.

His experience with the "Sphinx" was somewhat different from that of the

other reporter.

The invitation to make this visit also came from Major Walsh, of the

mounted police, who called at General Miles's camp, on Rocky Creek, a few

days previous. We can only quote a few paragraphs bearing directly on the

famous chief:

"So," thought I, "I am going to see the elephant. I have followed Sitting

Bull around long enough, and now I shall behold 'the lion in his den,' in

earnest. Presently the tramping and shouting of the scalp-dance ceased, and

the chiefs, their many colored blankets folded around them, after the

fashion of the ancient toga, came filing down to the council, seating

themselves according to their tribes in a big semicircle.

"Major Walsh had chairs placed for himself and me under the shade of his

garden fence. The chiefs seated themselves on the ground, after the Turkish

fashion. Behind them, rank after rank, were the mounted warriors, and still

further back, the squaws and children. The chiefs were all assembled, and I

inquired which was Sitting Bull. 'He is not among them,' said Major Walsh.

'He will not speak in council where Americans are present, because he

stubbornly declares he will have nothing to do with them. You will see him,

however, before very long.'

"Soon afterward, an Indian mounted on a cream-colored pony, and holding in

his hand an eagle's wing, which did duty for a fan, spurred in back of the

chiefs and stared stolidly for a minute or two at me. His hair, parted in

the ordinary Sioux fashion, was without a plume. His broad face and wide

jaws were destitute of paint, and as he sat there on his horse, regarding

me with a look which seemed blended of curiosity and insolence, I did not

need to be told that he was Sitting Bull.

"'That is old Bull himself,' said the major. 'He will hear everything, but

will say nothing until he feels called upon to agitate something with the

tribe?

"After a little, the noted savage dismounted, and led his horse partly into

the shade. I noticed he was an inch or two over the medium height, broadly

built, rather bow-legged, I thought, and he limped slightly, as though from

an old wound. He sat upon the ground, and was soon engirdled by a crowd of

young warriors, with whom he was an especial favorite, as representing the

unquenchable hostility of the aboriginal savage to the hated palefaces.

"I amused myself on July 31 by accompanying the major to a bluff

immediately overlooking the Sioux camp, and from which a complete view of

the numbers and surroundings of that great horde of savages could be

obtained. I thought there were, at the lowest calculation, from one

thousand to eleven hundred lodges in that encampment. There must have been

twenty-five hundred fighting men, at the least, in the confederated tribes.

Arms and ammunition were plentiful, but food of any kind was scarce. The

Indians did not seem to trouble themselves about concealing their strength;

on the contrary, they seemed to glory in it, and the young warriors wore an

air of haughty hostility whenever I came near them. Their leaders, however,

treated me respectfully. Sitting Bull only stared at me occasionally, but

was not rude, as was often his habit when brought in contact with people he

supposed to be Americans, whom he hated with inconceivable rancor. He said

to Larrabee, the interpreter: 'That man (meaning me) is from the other

side. I want nothing to do with the Americans. They do not treat me well.

They cheat me when I trade. They have my country now. Let them keep it. I

never seek anybody. Least of all do I seek any Americans."

"This rather nettled me, for I had made not the slightest attempt to speak

to Mr. Bull, and, in fact, did not care much to interview him, as he had

been long ago pumped dry about his hatred of our people, and that was about

his chief stock-in-trade, although I am not going to deny that he had some

great mysterious power over the Sioux, and especially over his own tribe

of Uncpapas. He was, in fact, their beau-ideal of implacable hostility to

the paleface, and he shouted at the United States, from the safe recesses

of the Queen's dominions, 'No surrender!'

"'Tell Sitting Bull,' I said to Larrabee, 'that if he does not seek me,

neither do I him. I am not going to beg him to speak to me.'

"The interpreter laughed and said: 'It is just as well not to take any

notice. He may be in better humor by-and-by.'

"Many of the high-minded and most of the vicious men among the Indians of

the Northwest found their leader in Sitting Bull, who, although often

unpopular with his fellow-chiefs, was always potent for evil with the wild

and restless spirits who believed that war against the whites was, or ought

to be, the chief object of their existence. This was about the true status

of the Indian agitator in those days. He had strong personal magnetism. His

judgment was said to be superior to his courage, and his cunning superior

to both. He had not, like Crazy Horse, the reputation of being recklessly

brave, but neither was he reputed a dastard. Sitting Bull was simply

prudent and would not throw away his life, so long as he had any chance of

doing injury to the Americans.

"It is true that the wily savage was to all intents and purposes, a British

subject, but his influence crossed the line, and no settlers would venture

on Milk River until the implacable savage was thoroughly whipped and

humbled. I don't care what any one says about Sitting Bull not having been

a warrior. If he had not the sword, he had at least the magic sway of a

Mohammed over the rude war tribes that engirdled him. Everybody talks of

Sitting Bull, and, whether he be a figure-head or an idea or an

incomprehensible mystery, his old-time influence was undoubted. His very

name was potent. He was the Rhoderick Dhu of his wild and warlike race, and

when he fell the Sioux Confederation fell with him. The agitator was then

verging on fifty, but hardly looked it.

"Mrs. Allen, wife of the post trader, said Sitting Bull was the nicest

Indian around the trading-post, always treating her with the most marked

consideration, and never intruding upon the privacy of the household, by

hanging around at meal time, as some of the others did. In the hostile camp

I had several opportunities of studying his face, and I can say honestly

that 'Old Sit' has a fine aboriginal countenance, and, once seen, he can

never be forgotten. I heard his voice many times--deep guttural, but, at

the same time, melodious. He called my friend, Walsh, 'meejure,' his

nearest approach to the pronunciation of 'major.' In manner he was

dignified but not stiff, and when in good humor, which occurred pretty

often, he laughed with the ease of a schoolboy. The traditional idea of

white people that Indians never laugh, is but a time-honored absurdity.

Among themselves they are often gayly boisterous, and I know of no people

who can enjoy what they consider a good joke better.

"The Indians appeared to be pretty short on meat supply during my stay in

their camp, but the poor creatures had no more idea of the imminence of the

famine which subsequently compelled their surrender, than so many children.

The faithful squaws went out on the wooded bluffs and gathered all kinds of

berries to make up for the lack of animal food. Yet it was the intense

humanity of Major Walsh that absolutely kept the wretched people from

eating their horses. I knew then that the reign of Sitting Bull would not

be long in the land."

In the fall of 1880, E. H. Allison, the army scout, who was master of the

Sioux language, was ordered by Gen. A. H. Terry to visit the camp of

Sitting Bull and induce that leader and his band to surrender. Accordingly,

the scout made preparation to start, by filling an army wagon with

provisions and presents for the Indians. He now selected the four best

mules in the camp to draw the wagon, and Private Day, a soldier,

volunteered as teamster, dressed in citizen's clothes.

The scout and his companion started from Port Buford October 25, and

reached the camp of Sitting Bull in due time. They found the Indians on

the west bank of Frenchman's Creek, just where it joins Milk River, which

is in the northern part of Montana.

"We reached the camp," said the scout, "about 3 p. m., when I was rather

agreeably surprised and somewhat puzzled by receiving a pressing

invitation, which could easily be construed into a command, to make my home

at Sitting Bull's lodge, as long as I stayed in the camp. I accepted the

invitation, but stipulated that Chief Gall should superintend the

distribution of the provisions which I had brought them. [He thus satisfied

both chiefs and their followers.] To this Sitting Bull readily acceded,

and I was soon comfortably housed, together with the soldier, in the tepee

of the great Indian priest and prophet. After an early supper, I sought and

obtained a private interview with Chief Gall, who, knowing the object of my

visit, informed me that he had resolved to effect the surrender of the

entire band. Sitting Bull and all, but to accomplish this more time would

be required than he had first anticipated. He must first go back to Canada,

to enable Sitting Bull to keep an engagement to meet Major Walsh, of the

Dominion forces, in a council, at the Woody Mountain Trading Post. And to

insure success, and expedite matters, he advised that I should meet him

again at Woody Mountain, as soon as possible, after reporting to Major

Brotherton, at Fort Buford. Considering the circumstances, I deemed it best

to acquiesce in his plans. Yet I was anxious to make some kind of a showing

on this trip that would encourage Major Brotherton, and reward him for the

confidence he had placed in me. I explained this to Chief Gail, who told me

to remain in the camp two days, to rest my mules, and by that time he

would have twenty families ready to send in with me; but he cautioned me

not to let Silting Bull know their real purpose, but to lead him to

suppose they were only going in to the agency on a visit to their friends.

"Perfectly satisfied with these arrangements, I returned a little after

dark to Sitting Bull's lodge, where the soldier, who could not speak a word

of the Indian language, was having a lonesome time, and growing somewhat

anxious for my safety. We were both very tired and soon lay down to rest,

while I engaged the old chief in conversation. Sitting Bull's family at

that time consisted of his two wives (sisters), two daughters and three

sons, the eldest being a daughter of seventeen, the other daughter being

next, about fourteen, the eldest son, Crow Foot (since dead), seven years

old, and the two youngest boys were twins, born about three weeks before

the battle of the Little Big Horn, and were, therefore, not more than four

and a half years old; one of the twins was named Ih-pe-ya-na-pa-pi, from

the fact that his mother 'fled and abandoned him in the tepee,' at the time

of the battle. The accompanying cut shows the arrangement of beds, etc., in

the lodge, while we were there.

"I continued in conversation with the chief until about midnight, when I

fell asleep. I must have been asleep less than an hour, when I was awakened

by the sharp crack of a rifle ringing out on the still night air, and the

simultaneous war-whoop of contending savages. The camp was instantly in a

state of the wildest confusion. Indian women, seizing their babies, fled,

screaming, they knew not whither, for safety; warriors suddenly awakened

from their slumbers, seized their arms and flew with the speed of the wind

to the aid of their comrades, who were already engaged in conflict with an

enemy, whose presence could only be determined by the sharp report and

flashes of fire from their guns, as they fired in the darkness upon the

Sioux camp. Here was an opportunity for the soldier and myself to prove our

friendship, by aiding the Sioux warriors in their defense of the camp,

which we proceeded to do, by seizing our rifles and hastily joining the

warriors, who, by this time, had turned the enemy, whose firing soon ceased

altogether, and we all returned to the camp, where comparative quiet was

restored; but no one slept any more that night. Our muscles were strained

and our nervous systems were unstrung."

{Illustration: Rain-in-the Face, accredited slayer of Tom Custer.}

"The fact that myself and companion took part in the defense of the camp

was favorably commented on by all, and in all probability saved our lives,

for the Indians are very superstitious, and their blood was up; something

was wrong; in fact, things had been going wrong for several days. There

must be a 'Jonah' in the camp, and how easy it would be to find a pair of

'Jonahs' in the persons of two white men in camp; but our prompt action had

made a most favorable impression, and diverted their thoughts from the

subject of 'Jonahs,' and I improved the opportunity by comparing their

uncertain, hunted existence with the happy life of their friends at the

agencies in Dakota, whose wives and little ones were even then sleeping

peacefully in their beds, without fear of being disturbed by prowling bands

of Indian foes.

"A number of warriors followed cautiously after the retreating Blackfeet,

but failed to come up with them. They returned to camp about ten in the

morning, and reported finding blood-stained bandages on the trail, so there

must have been some of the enemy wounded. Among the Sioux, no one was hurt,

nor did they lose any horses on this occasion. But danger was yet lurking

near. About two in the afternoon, a warrior came into camp and reported the

discovery of a small herd of buffalo, about four miles from camp. About

thirty warriors mounted their horses and went out to kill them; among the

number was Scarlet Plume, a popular young brave, who was a favorite with

every one. The warriors approached the buffalo under cover, till they were

within easy rifle range, when they opened fire and killed all but one,

which struck on across the plain, seemingly unhurt. Young Scarlet Plume

alone gave chase, following the animal and finally killing it near the head

of a ravine, running up from the Milk River, which at that point was

densely studded with timber. He had killed his last buffalo. He was alone

and more than a mile from his companions. A party of Blackfeet braves,

concealed in the timber, had been watching his movements, and now, while he

was busily engaged skinning the buffalo, they approached, under cover of

the ravine, shot him, took his scalp and made good their escape. His body

was found by his father. Old Scarlet Thunder, and was brought by him into

camp, a little before sunset that evening. Then indeed there was weeping

and wailing in that camp. Language utterly fails me when I try to describe

the scene that followed. His old mother, his five sisters, and scores of

friends and relatives, tore their hair, slashed their limbs with knives,

till the ground where they stood was wet with hot human gore; they rent

their garments, calling in a loud wailing voice upon the name of the lost

son and brother.

"It was no time for negotiations. Not a time for anything, in fact, but

silence and obscurity on my part; so, with my companion, I sought the

seclusion of Sitting Bull's tepee, where we spent the night in fitful and

unrefreshing slumber. Early in the morning, at the first faint dawn of day,

I was awakened by a call from Chief Gall, whom I joined in a walk about the

camp. He informed me that the twenty lodges he had promised me had silently

taken their departure during the night, and that I would find them in the

evening encamped about twenty miles down the Milk River. He said that five

women and nine children belonging to the party, but who had no horses, had

remained behind, and desired to ride in my wagon. He also informed me that

Strong Hand would return with me to Poplar Creek. Accordingly, as soon as

breakfast was over, we hitched up the mules, and were only too glad to get

away from a place, where, to say the least, our experience had been very

unpleasant. Strong Hand was returning afoot, and at his suggestion, I

loaned him my horse, to enable him to traverse the river bottoms in quest

of deer. The women and children climbed in the wagon with their meager

effects, and we began moving out of the camp. Strong Hand riding just in

advance of the mules, while I occupied a seat with the driver.

"It was nearly dark when we came up with the twenty lodges sent on ahead by

Chief Gall. Strong Hand was there with plenty of good venison and we soon

had a hot supper. We returned in safety to Fort Buford, where, I hope, with

a pardonable degree of pride I turned over to Major Brotherton the first

fruits of my labor, twenty lodges of the hostile Sioux, and submitted an

official report to be forwarded to General Terry, of this, my visit to the

camp of Sitting Bull."

A short time after this Scout Allison heard from an Indian who arrived from

Sitting Bull's camp that an open rupture had occurred between Chief Gall

and Sitting Bull. This was occasioned by the discovery of some of the

adherents of Sitting Bull that Chief Gall had instigated the desertion of

the twenty lodges who had come with Allison to Buford. Concealment being no

longer possible, Chief Gall, characteristically prompt in action, had

leaped into the midst of the camp, and publicly called upon all who

acknowledged him as chief to separate themselves from the followers of

Sitting Bull, and prepare immediately to follow him to Fort Buford. It was

a bold thing to do, and the first time in the history of the reign of

Sitting Bull that his authority had been set at defiance. It was clearly a

test of supremacy, and Chief Gall came off victorious, taking away from

Sitting Bull fully two-thirds of the entire band.

On July 20, 1881, Sitting Bull, with the remainder of his band, surrendered

at Fort Buford. Two days later all the captive hostiles, numbering 2,829,

were turned over to the agent at Standing Rock, North Dakota.

Ellis, in his "Indian Wars," informs us that "For a time the old chief

acted like a good Indian. He exhibited himself for weeks in New York and

other cities, where he naturally aroused much interest and curiosity. A

striking scene was that observed in 1883, when, at one of the railway

stations of the West, Sitting Bull sat on a windy eminence selling his

autographs for a dollar and a half apiece. In the smiling group of

purchasers gathered around him were Generals U. S. Grant and P. H.

Sheridan, Carl Schurz, W. M. Evarts, a number of United States Senators and

Congressmen, several British noblemen, besides Berlin bankers, German

professors, railway presidents, financiers and journalists. The old chief

did a thriving trade disposing of his signature, of which this is a

facsimile:"

{Illustration: Facsimile of Sitting Bull's signature.}

"In July and August, 1888, Sitting Bull, at a conference at Standing Rock,

influenced his tribe to refuse to relinquish their lands. He was as defiant

as ever, and, but for his death, must have been the leading actor in the

last outbreak."

Nothing more is heard of Sitting Bull until 1890, when that strange

hallucination, the Messiah craze, took possession of some of the Sioux

bands. This strong delusion seems to have had its origin in about the

following manner, as we learn from a letter written to General Miles by an

army officer stationed at Los Angeles, California, and bearing the date of

November 28, 1890.

In it the officer says: "I know you will be surprised when I say to you, I

have found the Messiah, and the story of my finding him is as follows: Last

spring an Indian called and said he would like to speak to the commander.

I took him into the room, and he gave me a history of himself. He said his

name was Johnson Sides; that he was known as the Peace-maker among all

Indians and whites of Nevada, where he lived.

"To substantiate his statement he showed me a medal which he carried strung

around his neck, on which was a legend to the effect that he was presented

with the medal by some Christian society for his efforts toward doing good

to his fellowmen, whether white or red.

"He could talk very good English, was dressed like an ordinary laborer, but

had the Indian's way of wearing his hair. He told me he knew the Bible;

that he was desirous of making peace with every one, and that is why he was

named Peacemaker. He said that Indians had come from far and near to see

him, and he pulled out a pipe, such as are made by Northern Indians, which

pipe was recognized as having come from either Montana or Dakota. Johnson

Sides said it came from Dakota, and the kind of clay of which it was made

could not be found in Nevada, and that the stem was of a peculiar wood, not

found in Nevada or California. He mentioned the names of the Indians who

had visited him, and the tribes to which they belonged; also gave the time

they had called.

"I firmly believe that this is the good-natured Indian that has caused all

this trouble; that he has taught the members of his tribe the story of

Christ, or the Messiah, and the time when he will once more visit this

earth, as it has been taught him by the Christian people interested in his

welfare. He has told these visiting Indians of the paradise in store for

all people when the Son shall once more visit the earth; and the Indian's

paradise is whatever his imagination may lead him to believe, the same as

the white man's. He has no doubt delivered the story in its true light, and

the Indians, in retelling the story, have warped and woven it according to

their understanding."

It is believed that some of the Sioux of the Standing Rock Agency were

among those who visited Johnson Sides, and it is thought that the Messiah

craze and ghost dance grew out of the excitement incident to their report

of the visit, warped by an overwrought imagination.

While matters were thus shaping themselves, the wily old medicine man,

Sitting Bull, bided his time watching for an opportunity to regain his

former prestige. Vague traditions had always existed concerning the second

coming of Christ. Pontiac, Tecumseh and Black Hawk were each in touch with

a "prophet" who fired the imaginations of warriors and head chiefs to a

frenzy.

So the sagacious leader believed that once more his hour had struck. Was

not he, Sitting Bull, a great Medicine Man? A religious teacher? And shall

he not lead his people in this? Clearly this was his opportunity, but in

order to be an effectual leader, he must first see the Messiah. This he

actually claimed to have done, and the story was related to Mr. Zook, a

Montana ranchman, as follows:

"Sitting Bull was hunting one day near the Shoshone mountains, and as night

came on he was seized with a strange feeling, and at first involuntarily,

but finally with alacrity, he followed a star, which moved westward through

the sky. All night the star guided him, and near morning he met the

Messiah, clad in a white robe. His hair flowed upon his shoulders, his

beard was long, and around his head shone a bright halo. When Sitting Bull

beheld this wonderful apparition, he fainted and had a strange dream. A

band of Cheyennes and Arapahoes, who had long since been dead, appeared to

him and danced, inviting him to join them. Presently he was restored to his

senses, and the Messiah spoke to him. He asked him if the Indians would not

rejoice to see their dead kindred and the buffalo restored to life, and

Sitting Bull assured him that they would be deeply gratified. Then the

Messiah told him that he had come to save the white men, but that they

persecuted him; and now he had come to rescue the long-tormented Indian. He

showed him the holes in his hands, made by the nails when he was crucified,

to convince him that he was the same Christ who had appeared nineteen

hundred years ago. All day Christ instructed him and gave him evidence of

his power. He said that the white men had come to take him, but as they

approached the soil became quicksand and the men and horses sank. As

evening came on, he bade Sitting Bull depart; and although he had been

hunting away from his tepee for ten sleeps, he came to it in a very few

minutes. He told his people his story and sent others to verify his

statements, and they told the same tales."

When the Indians heard of this wonderful vision of Sitting Bull, they came

in swarms and pitched their tepees around him. There, at his suggestion,

they inaugurated the "worship dances," and forming a ring to the number of

three thousand people, they danced around Sitting Bull and his chiefs,

while chanting a monotonous accompaniment of weird strains. Thus they

danced all night, or until they dropped down from sheer exhaustion, when

others would take their place.

Sitting Bull soon became the acknowledged lender in this strange form of

worship, which spread like wild fire among the Sioux of the reservations.

Indian Agent McLaughlin called on Sitting Bull at his camp on Grand River,

forty miles southwest from Fort Yates, and had an earnest talk with the

great medicine man, hoping to dissuade him and his deluded followers from

their absurd action and unwarranted expectations.

Sitting Bull seemed a little impressed, but still assumed the role of big

chief before his followers. "He finally," said McLaughlin, "made me a

proposition, which was that I should accompany him on a journey to trace

from the beginning the story of the Indian Messiah, and when he reached the

last tribe, or where it originated, if they could not produce the man who

started the story, and we did not find the new Messiah, as described, upon

the earth, together with the dead Indians returning to reinhabit this

country, he would return convinced that they (the Indians) had been too

credulous and imposed upon, which report from him would satisfy the Sioux,

and all practices of the ghost societies would cease; but if we found the

Messiah, they be permitted to continue their medicine practices, and

organize as they are now endeavoring to do.

"I told him that this proposition was a novel one, but that the attempt to

carry it out would be similar to an attempt to catch up with the wind that

blew last year, but that I wished him to come to my house, where I would

give him a whole night, or a day and a night, in which time I thought I

could convince him of the absurdity of this foolish craze, and the fact of

his making me the proposition that he did was a convincing proof that he

did not fully believe in what he was professing and he tried so hard to

make others believe.

"He did not, however, promise fully to come into the agency to discuss the

matter, but said he would consider my talk and decide after deliberation."

Nothing came of it, however, and when it was found that neither cajolery

nor threats availed with Sitting Bull his arrest was determined on. It was

held that his failure to send his children to the agency school, and to

report in person, was a sufficient breach of peace to justify such a step.

The warrant for the arrest was sent in the form of the following telegram:

"Headquarters Department of Dakota,

St. Paul, Minn., Dec. 12, 1890.

"_To Commanding Officer, Fort Yates, North Dakota:_

"The division commander has directed that you make it your especial duty to

secure the person of Sitting Bull. Call on the Indian agent to cooperate

and render such assistance as will best promote the purpose in view.

"Acknowledge receipt, and if not perfectly clear, report back.

"By command of General Ruger.

"(Signed) M. Barber,

Assistant Adjutant-General."

After Colonel Drum, the commandant at Fort Yates, had consulted with Major

McLaughlin, the Indian agent, it was decided that the arrest should be

effected through the Indian police.

Accordingly, a band of police, under the command of Lieut. Henry Bull Head,

was detailed to make the capture.

The Indian police, to the number of forty, set out to perform their errand,

followed at some distance by two troops of cavalry under Captain Fetchet

and a body of infantry, under Colonel Drum.

Five miles from Sitting Bull's camp, the troops and police held a

consultation. It was agreed that the soldiers should station themselves

within two or three miles of the Indian camp, where they could be readily

signaled.

Lieutenant Bull Head now selected ten policemen, including Sergeants Shave

Head and Red Tomahawk, and at their head entered the house about 5:50

o'clock on the morning of December 15, and arrested Sitting Bull. He

occupied considerable time in dressing, and at first accepted his arrest

quietly; but while dressing, his son, Crowfoot, commenced upbraiding him

for agreeing to go with the police. On this Sitting Bull became stubborn

and refused to go. After some parleying, the police removed him from the

house and found themselves and prisoner in the midst of a howling mob of

ghost-dancers, frenzied with rage.

{Illustration: Indian Village.}

In a letter written by Major McLaughlin we learn what happened at this

time. Said he: "The policemen reasoned with the crowd, gradually forcing

them back, thus increasing the open circle considerably; but Sitting Bull

kept calling upon his followers to rescue him from the police; that if the

two principal men, Bull Head and Shave Head, were killed, the others would

run away; and he finally called out for them to commence the attack,

whereupon Catch-the-Bear, and Strike-the-Kettle, two of Sitting Bull's men,

dashed through the crowd and fired. Lieutenant Bull Head was standing on

one side of Sitting Bull and Sergeant Shave Head on the other, with

Sergeant Red Tomahawk behind, to prevent his escaping. Catch-the-Bear's

shot struck Bull Head on the right side, and he instantly wheeled and shot

Sitting Bull, hitting him in the left side, between the tenth and eleventh

ribs, and Strike-the-Kettle's shot having passed through Shave Head's

abdomen, all three fell together. Catch-the-Bear, who fired the first shot,

was immediately shot down by Private Lone Man."

It is said that while reeling, Sitting Bull managed to draw a revolver,

which exploded just as he fell, the ball entering Bull Head's thigh. At

the same instant the second sergeant, Red Tomahawk, shot the old chief in

the stomach.

The fight now became general, Sitting Bull's followers swarmed around the

police and guns were clubbed. The ground was strewn with broken stocks and

bent barrels.

The entire force of Indian police under Red Tomahawk now engaged in the

fray, but were getting the worst of it and retreated to Sitting Bull's

house. At this instant the white soldiers arrived and quickly formed for

action.

The cavalry, under Captain Fechet, charged the Indians, while the

artillery, under Lieutenant Brooks, began to shell them with their

Hotchkiss and Gatling guns, and the hostiles fled in disorder.

Though badly wounded, Sitting Bull crawled into the bushes, and, like

Custer before him, made his "last stand," fighting desperately with his

Winchester. He was dragged forth and an Indian policeman sprang forward

with a small pole, used on the sides of wagons, and beat in his head, while

others broke his rifle over his head, and slashed his face horribly with

their knives.

Lieutenant Slocum did all he could to prevent this brutality, but the

Indian police were infuriated on account of their loss and beyond his

control.

Thus died one of the greatest, and certainly the most famous, Indian since

Tecumseh. He divides honors with Little Turtle, in having planned and

gained the greatest victories ever achieved by the Indian over his white

foe. Nor will any warrior of the future surpass Sitting Bull, for the last

great battle between the two races has been fought. It will be remembered

that three among the greatest of the Indian chiefs, Philip, Pontiac and

Sitting Bull, were slain by Indians.

Many sensational writers profess to believe that Sitting Bull was murdered,

and that when his arrest was arranged it was understood that an excuse was

to be found for putting him out of the way.

We can not believe that our Government and military authorities would plot

a deliberate and horrible murder. This has never been our record in

disposing of vanquished foes. We firmly believe that had the great leader

submitted to arrest quietly his life would have been spared. But it was

Sitting Bull who alarmed the camp and ordered the attack, which was

commenced by his own warriors.

The fight which resulted was brief but desperate, and there fell of the

ghost-dancers, besides Sitting Bull, Catch-the-Bear, Black Bird, Little

Assiniboine, Crow Foot (son of Sitting Bull, seventeen years old), Spotted

Horse Bull, a chief; Brave Thunder, a chief, and Chase, badly wounded.

Of the police there were killed, Bull Head, the lieutenant in command;

Shave Head, first sergeant; Little Eagle, fourth sergeant;

Afraid-of-Soldiers, private; John Armstrong and Hawk Man, special police,

and Middle, mortally wounded.

The bodies of the Indian police were all buried with military honors in the

agency cemetery at Fort Yates a few days later. But the surviving police

and their friends objected so strenuously to the interment of Sitting Bull

among their dead that he was buried in the cemetery of the post, some

distance away.

Hundreds of tourists go each year to see the last resting place of this

truly great Indian; and, vandal-like, rob the grave and vicinity of

whatever they can find, as relics.

Sitting Bull was an enigma, and never fully understood by white man or

Indian. He prided himself, like all medicine men, in being mysterious; the

fact that he was a true patriot, from the Indian's standpoint, none can

question.

His old friend and fellow-chief, Rain-in-the-Face, was buried by his side.

United during most of their stormy lives, it was appropriate that "in death

they were not divided." Both sleep peacefully in the Indian cemetery of the

Standing Rock Reservation. The name, Standing Rock, comes from a solitary

stone which stands on the bank of the Missouri River at this point.

Following is the legend:

Long years ago, probably before Columbus' caravels crossed to the western

world, a Ree Indian took a Sioux squaw for his second wife. His first

spouse, and mother of his child, could not brook the rival and daily pined

in silence and sorrow. In vain her husband's assurances that she was still

first in his heart and home. The sight of the usurper ate into her heart,

and at last, with her babe on her shoulders, she fled as did Hagar with

Ishmael, although in this case it was Sarah who left her husband's home.

Her friends followed her, pleading with her to return, since only death and

starvation awaited her, but she kept on her way until she reached the bank

of the Missouri. There she sat with the child on her shoulders, paying no

heed to her friends, until at last she broke her silence. "Leave me," she

said. "I am turning to stone, and my child and I shall sit here forever."

Even as she spoke the change came over her, and there the mother and child

sit to-day. The Indians called the Standing Rock "wokan," or holy, and for

centuries votive offerings were laid before it. The Government placed it

upon a pedestal, and sphinx-like it looks toward the East, over the land

from which the Indian has been driven forever.