THE BATTLE OF WOUNDED KNEE.
“If there is anything I do despise it is to wait on an Indian until he
gets ready to do anything,” said Carl, after they had waited three or
four days to receive the Sioux who had gone into the Bad Lands. “An
Indian has no idea of the value of time, and he thinks that a month or
six weeks from now will do the same as though he came in to-morrow.
All they want is a dance to make up their minds whether to come in and
surrender or not.”
Lieutenant Parker was getting sadly impatient also, and he began to
think that the Indians would not come in at all, that they would be
alarmed at so many troops coming to surround them, and that they would
decide to stay in the Bad Lands and fight it out; but one day they were
electrified by the arrival of a courier who rode at once to Colonel
Forsyth’s tent.
“Something is going to happen now,” said Carl. “That man has brought
news of some kind.”
“Go over there, Carl,” said Parker. “Our colonel is there. You are not
an enlisted man, and you can go and come when you please.”
Carl mounted his horse, which he always kept saddled and ready for
instant use, and rode over to Colonel Forsyth’s headquarters. He loafed
around there for a spell, waiting to hear what was going on, and a few
moments later his colonel came out.
“Can you tell me what’s up, sir?” said Carl.
“Oh, nothing, only the Indians are coming in at last,” answered the
officer.
“How many of them are there?”
“About four hundred; but we have eight hundred men here, so I guess
they will not attempt any tricks.”
Carl rode back to his camp in company with the colonel, who summoned
his officers and held a short consultation with them. Parker and the
rest of the young officers, who had never seen a hostile camp before,
listened to what Carl had to tell them, and then turned their attention
to the pass through which the courier had come out. But it was a long
time before the Indians arrived. Just as the sun was setting they came
into view, and there were so many of them that Parker grew alarmed.
“Have those Indians all got guns?” he asked. “I don’t see anything to
indicate the fact.”
“They have guns, for you never saw an Indian go on the warpath without
one; but they have them hidden where we can’t find them,” said Carl.
“When the order is given to disarm them, you will see what sort of
weapons we are going to get—old, worthless things that you wouldn’t
pick up in the street.”
“Then the soldiers will search their tepees for them,” said a young
officer decidedly.
“Of course; and that is what is going to bring on the fight.”
“Are we really going to have a brush with them?”
“I think so, and you may make up your mind to hear how a bullet
whistles as it goes by your head.”
“Well, why don’t they begin it, if that is what they are up to?”
“It is too late to do anything to-day, but it will keep. You wait until
to-morrow and you will wish that you were back at the fort.”
“Not much, I won’t,” said Parker indignantly. “If my men have come out
here to fight Indians, I am going in, too.”
“I see a big tepee off there, sir,” said one of the officers to his
captain, who at that moment came up, “and they are carrying somebody
into it. Who is that, sir?”
“That is Big Foot, who is ill with pneumonia,” answered the captain;
“and the doctor who has just gone in to attend to him is Colonel
Forsyth’s surgeon.”
“And there are some soldiers taking in a stove,” added the officer.
“They are going to warm him up. I supposed that when an Indian became
sick he would kick out all the white surgeons and depend entirely on
his medicine man.”
“So he does, generally,” said the captain, “but old Big Foot is so bad
now that he can’t attend to anything. I hope you boys will get a good
sleep to-night, for we are going to have fun in the morning.”
But the boys did not get a good sleep, for they were busy thinking
of what was going to happen when daylight came—that is, all except
Carl, who would have found rest if he had known that the Indians were
powerful enough to massacre their whole command. When morning came he
was as bright as a lark, while Parker and the other young officers were
pale and nervous, and kept looking forward to that order to disarm the
Indians which would transform their peaceable camp into a scene that
they did not like to think of.
It was the morning of December 29th, and as soon as breakfast was
eaten the cavalry mounted their horses and stretched themselves out in
a single line far beyond the ground occupied by the Indian encampment,
and the infantry moved up within ten yards of their position. The
Indians evidently did not like this, for they congregated in little
groups, and talked violently, and made motions which Lieutenant Parker
thought meant war and nothing else. Finally an interpreter went among
them, and after a long wait the warriors all moved out in a body and
seated themselves on the ground. Then Colonel Forsyth took a hand in
the matter, and, with the interpreter at his side, told the Indians
that he had come out there for the purpose of disarming them, and
ordered them back to their tepees to bring out their weapons. A part
of the Indians went, and after a long wait they brought out two guns,
which they handed to the soldiers.
“That won’t do,” said the colonel in a loud voice. “I want each one of
you to bring out the weapons that you use in fighting us. If you don’t
do it, my men will go in there and search your houses.”
“Now it is coming,” said Carl in a low tone to his friend, and he got
down and buckled up his saddle. “When the soldiers go in there, you can
make up your mind to advance.”
The Indians did not move, and all the while Yellow Bird, a medicine
man, was walking about among them, blowing on a whistle made of an
eagle bone and talking to them in the Sioux language. He was telling
them that they need not be afraid, for their ghost shirts would render
the soldiers weak and powerless, and that their bullets would fall
harmlessly to the ground.
“If I was Colonel Forsyth I would arrest that Indian the first thing,”
said Carl, who was rendered awfully impatient by the Sioux actions.
“Why don’t he make that man talk English.”
“What is he doing?” asked Parker.
“I don’t catch the words very distinctly, but he is urging them on to
fight,” said Carl. “I wonder if those Indians have ghost shirts on? If
they have, that is what he is depending on.”
Still the Indians did not move to go into their tepees and bring
out more weapons, and Colonel Forsyth, becoming impatient, ordered
the soldiers up closer and sent a party to search the tepees. After
a thorough hunt these last returned with about forty rifles, most
of which were old and of little value. The search had consumed
considerable time, and created a good deal of excitement among the
women and children, as the soldiers found it necessary to overturn the
beds and other furniture of the houses, and sometimes to drive the
inmates out of doors. One of the searchers, in coming out, attempted
to raise the blanket of one of the warriors, and that seemed to be
all Yellow Bird was waiting for. Suddenly he stooped down and seized
a handful of dust which he threw into the air, and in an instant
afterward a young Cheyenne brave threw off his blanket and fired at the
soldiers.
“It is come! it is come!” exclaimed Carl, who was so excited that he
could hardly sit still on his horse. “That means war. Now get ready.”
The smoke of the warrior’s gun had scarcely died away when an
answering volley came from the soldiers, and they were so close to
the Sioux that the guns almost touched each other. After that all was
confusion to Lieutenant Parker, although he tried his best to mind what
he was doing. He heard the adjutant shout “Forward!” and drove his
horse down the ravine, and Carl was right close behind him.
“Shoot to kill!” said the captain. “Don’t throw away a single bullet!”
At first it was not possible for any of the cavalry to shoot, so busy
were they in working their way down one side of the gully and up the
other; but by the time they were on solid ground once more, the yell
that went up from five hundred lungs must have added to the panic of
the frightened Indians; for the Indians were frightened, there could
be no doubt about that. They fought bravely for a few minutes, but
their ghost shirts did not avail them. They saw their comrades fall on
every side, they heard the shouts of the soldiers as they pressed them
from every side, and finally they turned and sought safety in flight.
Lieutenant Parker did not draw his sword from the time he started until
the bugle sounded the recall. He used his revolver, and those who knew
him said he was a very passable shot. The Hotchkiss guns got the range
of the ravine when they saw the Indians escaping that way. They fired
two-pound explosive shells at the rate of fifty a minute, cutting down
everything that was alive. In a few minutes there were two hundred men,
women and children lying dead and wounded on the ground, the tepees had
been torn down by shells, some of them were burning above the helpless
wounded, and the surviving handful of Sioux were flying in a wild panic
to the shelter of the ravine. Sixty soldiers were also lying on the
ground, which shows how hard the Indians fought at the beginning of the
battle.
Lieutenant Parker did not try to hold in his horse when he got fairly
out of the ravine. The animal had never been in action before, but he
seemed to delight in the whistling of balls and the roaring of cannon.
Whenever Parker saw an Indian he pulled on him, and whenever he missed,
it is sure that the boy who followed close at his side did _not_ miss
with his Winchester. They followed the Sioux for a mile or more, and
then the lieutenant heard the sound of the bugle. It was the recall,
and he forthwith returned his empty revolver to its holster and shouted
to the men who were nearest to him.
“Cease firing!” he yelled. “Don’t you hear the bugle sounding a
recall? How did you work it, Murphy?” he added, turning to a soldier
who had oftentimes told him that he would not take any prisoners. “Did
you see any drop?”
“To be sure I did, sir,” said he. “I thought ‘Remember Custer’ all the
time I was doing it. Halloo, there’s one. I guess I will fix him so
that he won’t kill any more soldiers.”
Murphy stopped in front of a wounded Sioux, who raised on his elbow and
looked at him with a countenance full of vindictive fury. He was shot
through both legs, and of course he fell to the ground. The soldier
felt all over his person but could not find a cartridge left.
“No matter,” said he, throwing himself off his horse. “You’ve got a
knife there, and I can soon put you out of the way with that.”
“Hold on, Murphy; that won’t do,” said Parker. “Get back on your horse
and let him go.”
“If I don’t kill him somebody else will,” said the soldier, very much
disappointed to hear this order. “He is good for all the men who can
get around him. See that?” he added, sticking the muzzle of his carbine
into the warrior’s face.
The brave proved that if his legs were shot through his hands were all
right, for he seized the gun and tried to draw the soldier toward him.
If he had got him within reach of the knife he held in his hand, he
would have struck him down without mercy.
“Don’t you think he ought to be killed after that?” inquired Murphy.
“We are not here to make war upon crippled Indians,” said Lieutenant
Parker decidedly. “Disarm him and let him go.”
Now, to Carl it seemed as if it was a matter of some importance
to take away the Indian’s knife. One of his race, when he becomes
frightened and can run, gets as frightened as anybody; but when he is
wounded so badly that he is brought to a standstill, he becomes really
a dangerous foe. He will fight as long as he has strength left to draw
a weapon. The soldier advanced toward him, but his knife was raised in
the most threatening manner. But Murphy was equal to the emergency.
In an instant his carbine was poised in the air; the blow descended,
beating down the Indian’s guard and landing with its full force on his
unprotected head. He was stretched out as dead, apparently, as any of
the Indians that surrounded him. His muscles grew rigid, he sank back
upon the ground, and the eyes which had gazed so ferociously at his
assailant became glazed.
“Well, you have killed him now, at all events,” said the lieutenant in
disgust.
“Oh no, sir,” said Murphy. “It takes more than one little whack like
that to kill an Indian. He will come out all right. Here’s his knife,
sir—as a present from me,” he continued, taking off his hat and
giving the weapon to Parker. “Hold on a minute and I will get you his
scabbard.”
The Indian was too far gone to make any resistance as he took the
sheath and belt off, and presenting them to Lieutenant Parker, he
mounted his horse and rode back with him to the camp.