The morning after his arrival in the village of the hostiles Vipan was
seated eating his breakfast in the lodge of his host, in company with
the latter and one of his brothers, when the door of the _teepe_ was
darkened, and an Indian entered.
Now there was nothing in the appearance of this warrior to denote
special rank. His dress was strikingly plain, the beaded blanket thrown
around his shoulders was considerably the worse for wear, not to say
shabby, and his head was adorned with a single eagle quill stuck in the
back of his hair. Yet a glance at the powerful, thickly-built frame,
the deep-set, though penetrating eyes, the square jaw and slightly
pock-marked countenance, and Vipan felt instinctively that this was none
other than the redoubtable war-chief of the hostiles himself.
With a grunt of salutation, the new arrival sat himself down among the
inmates of the _teepe_, then, without a word, and as a matter of course,
proceeded to help himself out of the three-legged pot containing the
smoking and savoury stew which constituted the repast. Not a word was
spoken, not a question asked, and the four men proceeded with their meal
in silence.
Tatanka-yotanka, or Sitting Bull, was at that time in the very zenith of
his pride and influence. He represented the fearless and implacable
war-faction in the nation, and in his persistent and uncompromising
hostility to the Americans and the United States Government he differed
from the more diplomatic Red Cloud. As in the case of the latter,
however, Sitting Bull was not born to hereditary chieftainship, yet at
that time the influence he had achieved among his countrymen by his
personal prowess and skilful generalship was so solid and far-reaching
that sagacious and powerful war-chiefs such as Mahto-sapa deemed it
sound policy to co-operate with him; for the authority of a chief among
the Plains tribes, in addition to his prowess in war, depends not a
little on his conformity with the sense and wishes of his tribesmen, and
he who should commit himself unreservedly to a peace policy in
opposition to the desires of his people would soon find himself in the
position of a chief without any adherents. Yet as savages rarely do
things by halves, it followed that however inclined for peace they might
be at first, such chiefs and warriors once they stood committed to war
threw themselves into the prosecution of hostilities with all the ardour
and aggressiveness of their more bloodthirstily disposed brethren.
Sitting Bull--like many another savage leader--was a shrewd thinker.
The experience of the last campaign had inspired him with profound
contempt for the United States Government. The latter's demands had
then been successfully resisted, and after a sharp and sanguinary
struggle, culminating in the Fort Phil Kearney massacre, the Government
had retired, almost precipitately. The Sioux nation had never been
conquered. The Sioux warriors were as daring and warlike to-day as
then, and were better armed, for they could obtain, and had obtained,
from unscrupulous traders as many weapons of the latest improved
patterns and as much ammunition as they could afford to purchase. The
Government, he reasoned, had not kept faith with them in the matter of
the Black Hills and other sections of their country, then full of white
men; therefore, let the Government look to itself. That the Indian
leader's reasoning was sound according to his lights, was proved by
subsequent events, among them the calamitous massacre of nearly three
hundred brave soldiers, together with one of the most dashing cavalry
officers and successful Indian fighters the United States army has ever
possessed. [Note 1.] But no savage of his race and instincts could be
expected to take into his reckoning the steady tide of immigration
pouring into the American continent from the Old World, for the simple
reason that his conception of the very existence of an Old World was of
so shadowy a nature as to be practically legendary.
The meal over, each of the three Indians wiped his knife upon his
leggings or the soles of his moccasins with a grunt of satisfaction.
Then the inevitable pipe was filled, lighted, and duly passed round.
Vipan, thoroughly restored by a good night's rest, and with perfect
confidence in himself, looked forward to the keen skirmish of wits which
was at hand, and in which the slightest failure in coolness and wariness
might cost him his life, with feelings not far short of downright
enjoyment.
After the pipe had gone round in silence, Sitting Bull spoke. He had
often heard of Golden Face, the friend of the Dahcotah nation, he said.
Now he was glad to have an opportunity of smoking with him, and learning
from his lips.
The speaker paused, and Vipan merely acknowledged the compliment by a
grave bend of the head. The chief continued:
Golden Face, he had been given to understand, had been a great fighting
man among his own people, and a leader of warriors. He was not of the
Mehneaska, the nation with whom no faith could be kept. Why, then, had
he fought for the Mehneaska against his Dahcotah brethren?
Vipan, with due deliberation, replied that those for whom he fought
_were_ his own countrymen--not Americans. They were subjects of the
Great White Queen, whose dominions lay to the north (Canada). Why had
the Dahcotah attacked them and run off their stock?
"Were they all King George men?" asked the shrewd chief, half closing
his eyes and looking into space.
This was a staggerer, but Vipan was equal to it.
"They were not," he said. "Only the leader and his household. For the
rest, they bore me as little love as they do the Dahcotah warriors who
ran off their horses and cattle. Listen now, and mark." Then he
graphically narrated the circumstances under which he had warned
Winthrop's outfit of the lurking war-party, making it appear that his
warning had been due simply and solely to his recognition of his
fellow-countrymen among the travellers.
Not a muscle of Sitting Bull's crafty countenance moved as he listened.
"How!" he said, quietly, when the speaker ceased. "Did not Golden Face
declare that he owned no nationality?"
This was another staggerer, and a more serious one than before. But
Vipan's imperturbability was of a quality warranted to stand shocks.
Inwardly he laughed over the other's shrewdness in bringing up his own
words in judgment against him.
That was true, he replied. But apart from the fact of that particular
white man being his fellow-countryman, and therefore one against whom
the Dahcotah nation had no quarrel, he was the son of a man who had once
rendered him a most important service. Who worthy of the name and
dignity of a warrior ever forgot to requite a good turn once rendered,
even at the peril of his life?
This answer, if not altogether received as gospel by his hearers, sent
him up ten per cent, in their estimation. Nowhere is diplomatic talent
and readiness in debate held in such high respect as among savage races.
"The white girl who hunted with Golden Face is very beautiful," went on
Sitting Bull. "Was it for her he lifted his rifle against his Dahcotah
brethren?"
"Who would not fight for a beautiful woman, be she white or red?"
answered Vipan, with a burst of well-timed frankness. "Sitting Bull is
a great chief, let him judge if my words are straight. Did War Wolf and
his followers come to me as to a friend? No; they attacked me as
enemies. Then when they treated me as an enemy and an ordinary prisoner
of war, did I complain? Sitting Bull is a great chief, a warrior of
renown, but who is War Wolf? Who is he, I say? Enough: I have smoked
in council with Red Cloud and the chiefs of the Dahcotah nation. My
words are for the ears of chiefs, not for those of boys, who passed the
Sun-dance but yesterday."
The ghost of a smile flitted across Sitting Bull's grim features at this
reply, while a murmur of approbation escaped the other two auditors. No
one understood better than the speaker the advantage of making the most
of himself among these people, nor was the dexterous compliment to his
own eminence thrown away upon the bold and sagacious warrior who had, so
to say, risen from the ranks.
"But," rejoined the latter, "if the white girl was of the race of King
George, with whom we have no quarrel, why did not Golden Face bring her
among his Dahcotah brethren, where he might have lived with her in peace
and safety?"
Vipan explained that a white girl such as her of whom they were speaking
would never consent to accompany him unless as his wife, and even then
she must be married according to the customs of her people. To this the
wily chief quoted the case of his friend and brother, Mahto-sapa, who
had a white wife. She had been taken to wife according to Dahcotah
custom; and whose lodge was more comfortable than hers; who was cared
for better than she?
Now Vipan was aware of the existence of this personage, yet strange to
say, bearing in mind his friendship with the Minneconjou chief, had
never seen her. He was aware, too, that she was originally a white
captive, seized by the Indians during one of their dreaded raids upon a
settlement or waggon train some years previously, but that was the
extent of his knowledge. It must be confessed he felt a good deal of
curiosity on the subject, but he was not the man to allow any sign of it
to appear. His answer, however, was ready and to the point.
That might be true, he replied; but it was a matter of which he, Vipan,
knew nothing, nor did it concern him in any way. What he did know was
this: The white girl in question was of very considerable account in her
own country. True, most of the warriors in Sitting Bull's village were
his--the speaker's--brethren. But some were not. There were some in it
at that moment who looked upon him as an enemy, who had treated him as
one. What if he had brought this white girl with him, and she had met--
with harm at the hands of any of these? Would not her people require a
heavy reckoning? The Dahcotah hunting-grounds were bounded on the north
by the British line. Would it be the act of a friend to do anything
which should embroil the Dahcotah nation with two strong Powers instead
of one, in such wise too that they should be surrounded with enemies on
every side?
He had played a very trump card in making this reply, and he knew it.
For he had seen through Sitting Bull's motives in requiring his presence
in the camp of the hostiles, and was resolved to make the most of it;
and upon the extent of his success he was well aware that his very life
depended.
"Wagh!" exclaimed the chief, with well-feigned indifference. "The
Dahcotah people fear the enmity of no one. Yet they seek no quarrel
with the countrymen of Golden Face. They have always heard that the
King George men have straight tongues, and that the Great White Queen
keeps her promises, and fulfils her treaties with the red tribes within
her territory."
Then followed a good deal of what, for want of a better word, we will
call "dark" talking. Sitting Bull in a series of highly diplomatic
hints, and using much figurative language, strove to sound his prisoner
as to the probability of the British being induced to espouse his
people's cause in the event of the coming campaign ending disastrously
to them. Vipan, ever mindful of his precarious position as in fact a
prisoner, though treated outwardly as a guest, answered cautiously, and
to the effect that although the British would be to the last degree
unlikely actively to interfere in their favour, yet it would be fatally
imprudent to commit any act tending to incur the hostility of the great
and mighty Power who occupied the northern boundary line of their
country, and whose territory, indeed, might yet serve them as a refuge
in time of need, for who could foretell the chances of war? At the same
time he threw out more than one dexterous hint as to the services he
himself might be able to render his Dahcotah brethren in the event of
any such lamentable contingency.
Judging that enough had been said for the present, Sitting Bull arose.
"It is well," he said, throwing his blanket round his shoulders, as he
prepared to depart. "The counsels of Golden Face are always good to
listen to. His presence is very welcome to his red brethren."
Judging the moment a favourable one, Vipan delicately hinted that so
welcome a guest should not be treated in a manner unworthy the dignity
of a warrior--in a word, that his weapons should be restored to him.
Again that ghost of a smile crossed the face of the wily chieftain.
"No one could mistake Golden Face for anything but a warrior," he said,
sweetly. "Is he not surrounded by his friends, his brothers? Who
requires to go armed among his friends?"
There was nothing for it but to accept the position, and, moreover, to
accept it with a good grace. Suddenly there arose a terrific din
outside--shrieks and yells, shouts of demoniac laughter, and the
trampling of many feet.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Note 1. General George A. Custer, who fell into an ambuscade on the
Little Bighorn river, and perished with his entire command at the hands
of the hostile Sioux, under Sitting Bull, on the 25th June, 1876.