broke into small bands and scattered. Two thousand of them, however,
came in on the third day and surrendered. Sitting Bull refused to think
of such a measure, and, making for the Canadian boundary line, rode off
into British territory. His depleted and starving camp was subsequently
attacked, in mid-winter, by a detachment under Lieutenant Baldwin, and
was still further crippled. Game to the last, he threw himself upon the
protection of England, crossed the Canadian line, and lived for some
years in peaceful security.
At last, realizing that he would be better off in his old hunting
grounds, he returned to the United States and surrendered to the
army. A large territory was assigned to the Sioux as a reservation,
and an Indian agency established at Pine Ridge, in South Dakota. This
place became the rallying point for the scattered bands of Sioux
who still looked to Sitting Bull for counsel. Supported in idleness
by the Government, and occasionally exhibiting himself with Buffalo
Bill's "Wild West Show," the noted chief lived for some time in great
contentment. But within him slumbered a deep dislike and distrust
of the whites. He was one of the prime movers of the Ghost Dance
uprising in 1890, and, while resisting arrest, was killed by an Indian
policeman. Peace to the aged counsellor and sachem of the Sioux!
Crazy Horse had still one more fight in him before he, too, was forced
to capitulate.
[Illustration: By permission of Kurz and Allison.
DEATH OF SITTING BULL.]
Late in December of 1876, Miles started after this gallant fighter,
who was supposed to be in the valley of the Tongue River, south of
the Yellowstone. He found his village not far from the place where
Crook had battled on the Rosebud. There were between eight and nine
hundred warriors posted on the cliffs surrounding a valley of the Wolf
Mountains,--a spur of the Big Horn Range. The position was a good one,
because the soldiers had to scale some bristling heights to get at the
savages, but they were equal to the emergency.
"You have had your last breakfast," shouted the red warriors as the
soldiers began to climb up to their position. "You will not eat again."
But they did not know with whom they were dealing. Undaunted by the
superior position of the red men, and unfrightened by their jeers, the
soldiers crept up the face of the cliffs, as the shells from their
artillery exploded among the followers of the gallant Crazy Horse. The
bluffs were icy and snow-covered. It was rough work to scale them; it
was only accomplished after slow, dogged, determined crawling, with
a halt every moment or so to fire at some Indian above. The plunging
shots of the savages did little damage, for their aim was unsteady. The
red men clung to their post tenaciously, but they were routed--driven
off--and forced back upon the plateau in the rear. Snow was now
falling, and the combatants fired at each other in a blinding blizzard.
This was the last stand of Crazy Horse and his band, for their
ammunition was about gone, and, not possessing the knowledge necessary
to manufacture more, they were unable to prolong their resistance.
Their confederates were nearly all captured. Sitting Bull was miles
away and could not be reached. The Brulé Sioux and Unkpapas had
surrendered. Their supplies were in the hands of General Miles and his
men. Their fate was sealed.
In the early spring Crazy Horse surrendered, with the remnant of
his once formidable band of frontier fighters. He was placed in a
reservation of the Brulé Sioux at the Red Cloud Agency. "He did not
surrender with the humility of a defeated, broken-spirited chief,"
Major-General Jesse W. Lee has written me. "He was an unsubdued
warrior; a great soldier chief; and had come in to make such terms as
would bring peace and rest to his people, who had scarcely known defeat
under his valiant leadership. To his mind there was no _unconditional
surrender_ about it. He was willing, for a time, to give up the
uncertain buffalo for the certain Agency beef; to exchange the old,
worn-out skin lodges for new and handsome army duck."
But Crazy Horse chafed under the restraints of the agency. He was
restless, uneasy and unsatisfied with the tame conditions which he
found. He was watched by detectives and was closely guarded, but one
day escaped and came to Spotted Tail: another rendezvous of the Sioux,
forty miles away. Trouble was feared from him, and what subsequently
occurred is best told in the language of General Lee, who was there
at the time, in charge of the Brulé Sioux at Spotted Tail Agency in
Northwestern Nebraska. He says:
"We soon called the chiefs together and told them that probably some
trouble might occur at Red Cloud, but it must not affect them, and
for all to remain perfectly quiet and have no fear. We then had only
to wait! Imagine, if you please, being compelled to sit down over a
powder magazine, with sparks flying around, and wondering how long it
would be until the blow-up comes. We felt certain an explosion _would_
occur, but uncertain as to the hurt it might do. Well, we had not
long to wait! About 4 P.M. _an Indian courier arrived in the Northern
camp_--_not to us!_--his quivering horse all white with foam,--with the
startling news that their friends were fighting at Red Cloud, and that
the troops were coming to Spotted Tail Agency.
"The old scout, Joe Merivale, well known and respected by the Northern
Indians, had been sent to their camp with some reliable Agency chiefs,
to meet just this contingency and allay excitement. By dint of hard
effort they were succeeding fairly well, when Black Crow came to us
and said, "_Crazy Horse is in the Northern camp!_" This came like a
clap of thunder from a clear sky. Could it be possible, after all the
precautions, spies, detectives, and the large force of troops and
Indian allies, that the one man of all others they wished to secure
_had made good his escape and had come to our Agency_?
"The arrival of the Indian courier from the Indians had produced
intense excitement, but when he was soon followed by Crazy Horse,
there was a wild scene, beggaring description. The bold warrior, the
venerated hero of his band, who had ever led them to victory, was in
the midst of devoted friends, and to them a hunted victim of rank
injustice and cruel persecution.
"All the tepees in that camp came down with magic swiftness, and had it
not been for White Thunder, and other loyal Brulés, a stampede would
have resulted at once; merciless slaughter of unsuspecting whites on
the line of flight would probably have followed, and another Indian war
inaugurated.
"The 'reliables' surrounded and harangued the camp and restored some
degree of quiet. Word was sent to the Indians under Touch the Clouds,
to bring Crazy Horse to the Post. Major Burke, Dr. Koerper and myself,
with an interpreter, started for the Northern camp, about three miles
from the Post. When over half way out, we met over three hundred armed
Indians in good line of battle, not so much _guarding_ as _escorting_
Crazy Horse, in the direction of the Post. There were war bonnets and
war shirts in profusion, and had it not been for a score or more of
'reliables,' intermingled with the three hundred, we might have had
serious trouble. Touch the Clouds was on one side of the great warrior
and the brave, handsome White Thunder on the other, with the austere
and desperate Black Crow just in the rear. Just here I would add that
White Thunder and Black Crow had determined to shoot Crazy Horse,
should he make a break.
"We took Crazy Horse to the Post, or I would better say, he and his
three hundred friends were taking _us_ there. Just as we reached the
little parade ground of Camp Sheridan, Spotted Tail, able planner
that he was, arrived from another direction, with not less than three
hundred of his trusty Brulé soldiers, all armed with good breech
loaders, principally Winchesters. This number, with more who joined
soon after, gave good solid backing, and, with our ninety soldiers at
quarters, ready to aid at a moment's notice,--turned the scale and kept
it safely in our favor. As if by intuition, these forces of Indians
formed on either side of a walk, leaving a small space, about 6' ×
8', in the center. It was a wild, weird scene; and had the spectacle
been for display, it would have been grand beyond compare, but, as it
meant most serious business, and was fraught with danger, every nerve
was under the severest strain. For once, Crazy Horse realized that his
prestige had forsaken him; for once he was in the presence of one whose
mastery he dare not, then and there, dispute. Spotted Tail, the coolest
man of all the assembled hundreds, in the plain, Indian blanket garb,
without any insignia of chieftainship, stepped into the little arena,
and in a few words, delivered in a clear, ringing voice, with dignity
and eloquence, addressed Crazy Horse, who was almost within touch: 'We
never have trouble here; the sky is clear; the air is still and free
from dust! You have come here and you must listen to me and my people!
_I_ am chief here. We keep the peace. We, the Brulés, do this! _They_
obey me! and every Indian who comes here must listen to me! You say you
want to come to this Agency and live peaceably. If you stay here, you
must listen to me. That is all!'
"It is hard to justly render an Indian speech, especially on such an
occasion; but had you heard its telling points and pauses, emphasized
and punctuated by the click of loaded rifles, you would have thought
it one of the most effective speeches ever delivered. Its conclusion
was greeted with four hundred vociferous 'hows.' One frenzied Northern
Indian, believing his friend Crazy Horse was to be harmed, wanted to
sacrifice himself in his place. He caught hold of Major Burke's arm and
excitedly exclaimed: 'Crazy Horse is brave, but he feels too weak to
die today. Kill me! Kill me!' The Brulé guns were already loaded, and
had a shot been fired, serious trouble would have begun.
"After a few more words, and as night was coming on, the crowds
dispersed, and we got Crazy Horse into Major Burke's quarters to have
a talk. He seemed like a frightened, trembling, wild animal, brought
to bay, hoping for confidence one moment and fearing treachery the
next. He had been under a severe nervous strain all day, and it plainly
showed.
"Before proceeding with what was the last talk or council, let me
go back a little. Soon after we heard Crazy Horse had reached our
Agency, a courier arrived from Red Cloud with the following message
from Clark: 'Dear Lee:--There has been no fight. Crazy Horse's band is
just going into camp and will give up their guns without trouble, in
all probability. Crazy Horse has skipped out for your place. Have sent
after him. Should he reach your Agency, have "Spot" arrest him, and I
will give any Indian who does this, $200.' Soon thereafter, a squad of
fifteen or twenty Indian scouts arrived from Red Cloud, having been
sent after Crazy Horse to arrest and take him back. It was understood
then, and afterwards known to be a fact, that they overtook Crazy Horse
as he was riding along quite leisurely with his sick wife, and when
they asked him to go back with them, the prestige of his name and
warlike deeds overawed them when he said: '_I am Crazy Horse. Don't
touch me! I'm not running away!_'
"At our talk in Major Burke's quarters, Crazy Horse seemed to realize
his helplessness. We assured him we had no reason to do him any hurt;
and he promised, almost at the outset, to go with me next day to Camp
Robinson.
"The best solution of the matter was to get Crazy Horse back to
Red Cloud safely and quietly; let him make his talk there with the
authorities, who could decide what should be done as to granting or
refusing his desire for transfer to our Agency. He said he wanted to
get away from trouble, that he had brought his sick wife to be treated
and came for that purpose only. I told him I would remember what he
said and repeat his words to the authorities at Robinson. Several of
the chiefs were held responsible, under a binding Indian pledge, for
Crazy Horse's safe keeping during the night and his reporting to Major
Burke next morning at nine o'clock.
"Crazy Horse reported at the appointed time next morning and said he
had changed his mind about going back to Red Cloud, because he 'was
afraid something would happen.' He asked us to go down without him and
fix up the matter for him and his people. We assured him we had no
thought of harming him in any way; that he owed it to his people at Red
Cloud to return, and we insisted upon his return peaceably and quietly,
to which he agreed upon the following express conditions, which, under
the circumstances, Major Burke and I felt we had a perfect right to
make: first, that neither Crazy Horse nor myself should take any arms;
second, that I would state to the Soldier Chief at Red Cloud all that
had occurred at Spotted Tail Agency, and that if Crazy Horse had made
a statement of the facts, I would say to the Soldier Chief that Major
Burke, Spotted Tail and I were willing to receive him by transfer from
Red Cloud, if the District Commander so authorized; that Crazy Horse
should make his statement to the Soldier Chief as to what occurred, how
'he had been misunderstood and misinterpreted; that he wanted peace and
quiet, and did not want any trouble whatever.'
"We made Crazy Horse no promise that he would be transferred to Spotted
Tail Agency, because _we_ knew and _he_ knew that could be settled
only by the higher authority at Red Cloud. Boiled down to a simple
statement, our promise to Crazy Horse was that he should be _heard_ on
his own behalf, upon arrival at Red Cloud. On this condition, he was
willing to return peaceably, and with Major Burke's express consent, _I
guaranteed its fulfillment_.
"Crazy Horse asked to ride horseback, which request was granted. We
started from the Northern camp about 10.30 on the morning of September
5th. In the ambulance with me were Louis Bordeau, the interpreter,
Black Crow and Swift Bear, two reliable Agency chiefs, and High Bear
and Touch the Clouds, Crazy Horse's friends. By consent, seven Northern
Indians went along to see fair play, but Good Voice and Horned
Antelope, two 'reliables,' rode with Crazy Horse, to take care of him
and prevent his escape.
"When about fifteen miles out, small parties of Spotted Tail's Indian
soldiers began to arrive, and when half way, about twenty miles, I had
over forty reliable Indian soldiers. Crazy Horse then realized that he
was practically a prisoner.
"At one time, Crazy Horse dashed ahead and disappeared for a moment
over the brow of a hill one hundred yards away. 'Twas here he probably
obtained a knife of an Indian family stampeding to Spotted Tail. He was
soon overhauled and said he went ahead only to water his horse. He was
then directed to ride immediately in the rear of my ambulance, and he
saw at once he was closely guarded. He seemed nervous and bewildered,
and his serious expression showed clearly he was doubtful of the
outcome. He said but little, but his appealing looks seemed to ask,
'Is this treachery?' Ignorant of what was in store for him, I tried
to reassure his friends by telling them not to worry, that I would do
exactly as had been promised, present his case, and he could be heard
also.
"When within fifteen miles of Red Cloud, I sent a note to Clark by a
swift Indian courier, asking whether I should take Crazy Horse to Post
or Agency. I also stated briefly and explicitly that we had to use tact
and discretion in securing Crazy Horse without precipitating serious
trouble, and that we had promised him that he should be heard by the
Commanding Officer, or the 'Soldier Chief,' when we reached Red Cloud,
and I requested that arrangements be made accordingly.
"When within four miles of Red Cloud, I received this answer, in
writing: 'Dear Lee:--General Bradley wishes you to drive direct to his
office with Crazy Horse. Yours, Clark.'
"I had built the post and knew that the C. O.'s office was next the
guard house. This brief note, being silent as to the important parts of
my request, signified to my mind that Crazy Horse was to be put in the
guard house, but still I hoped that _he would be allowed to say a few
words_, at least, _which would redeem the promise we had made in good
faith_.
"We proceeded to the post, my Indians on either side of the ambulance,
with pieces ready for instant use, and Crazy Horse in the center.
Upon arriving at the C. O.'s office, I was met by the Adjutant, who
informed me that General Bradley directed that Crazy Horse be turned
over to the officer of the day. I said: '_No, not yet!_' and asked if
Crazy Horse could say a few words to the C. O. before this was done. I
was referred to the General. I had Crazy Horse dismount, go into the
office and sit down, and Swift Bear, Touch the Clouds, High Bear, Black
Crow and Good Voice went in with him. I stationed an Indian soldier
at the door with orders to admit no one while I was away. I then went
to the General's quarters, some 200 yards distant, and in earnest and
respectful language preferred my request, and he informed me, in no
doubtful terms, that ''twas no use! The orders were peremptory; he
could not change them; General Crook himself could not change them, and
nothing further need be said, and the sooner I turned over Crazy Horse
the better!' I tried to explain what had been done; just what had been
promised in securing Crazy Horse, to all of which the General said:
'It's too late to have any talk.' I replied: '_Can he be heard in the
morning?_' The General looked at me steadily for an instant, but did
not answer. I was again ordered to deliver Crazy Horse to the officer
of the day, and 'tell him to go with the officer of the day and not a
hair of his head should be harmed."
"General Bradley was every inch a soldier. An order to him was law
and gospel and met with prompt, undeviating obedience, and woe betide
the one who dared question, evade or fail in obeying _his orders_. I
knew the General too well to attempt to prolong the interview. I felt
that as it must be done, ''twere well 'twere quickly done,' yet, as I
retraced my steps to the office, I had a glimmering hope that on the
_morrow_ Crazy Horse might be heard and the promise thus redeemed. I
told Crazy Horse '_the night was coming on_ and the Soldier Chief said
it was too late for a talk; that he said for him to go with the officer
of the day and he would be taken care of and not a hair of his head
would be harmed.'
"At the conclusion of my message, the chiefs uttered a joyous 'how!'
Crazy Horse's face lighted up hopefully, and he stepped quickly
across the room to the door and took the officer of the day, Captain
Kennington, warmly by the hand. _My_ duty, my _military_ duty, was
done, but I took Touch the Clouds and High Bear, Crazy Horse's friends,
to one side to explain to them, as best I could, the unexpected turn
affairs had taken, and how it was I had nothing more to do with the
matter and that I was entirely subject to higher authorities there.
"Crazy Horse willingly went along with Captain Kennington, closely
followed by two soldiers of the guard with side arms, straight to the
guard house and into the main door. When he reached the prison room,
he saw the dungeon cells, the small grated window, and some prisoners
in irons, it was said. Across the puzzled brain of this Indian leader,
whose life had been free as the wind, there no doubt flitted the
terrible thought of prison chains and ignominious death. He was, then
and there, at last brought face to face with what the white man had in
store for him. To his mind, abandoned by his friends, alone, betrayed,
and surrounded by a score or more of his armed enemies, he sprang, with
the desperation of an infuriated tiger, into the main guard room, and
drawing from his clothing a long, glittering knife, attempted to plunge
it into Captain Kennington, but the Captain's drawn sword diverted this
purpose; he then sprang outside, striking right and left and struggling
to make his way to where his seven friends were.
"At this juncture, Little Big Man, an erstwhile friend and comrade
of Crazy Horse, appeared on the scene. He seized Crazy Horse by the
arm and attempted to force him to the ground. The great chief, even
in his frenzy, was too magnanimous to plunge the knife into the heart
of Little Big Man, but merely punctured his arm to free himself from
his treacherous grasp. He then tried hard to kill a soldier of the
guard who blocked his way. Swift Bear, Black Crow and Fast Thunder
caught him, and in the struggle Captain Kennington called out: _'Kill
him! Kill him!_' and just then an Infantry soldier of the guard made a
successful lunge and Crazy Horse fell, mortally wounded, with a deep
bayonet thrust in his right side.
"The friendly Indians prevented Crazy Horse's friends from firing
on the guard. All the Indians were taken by surprise, and upon the
pressing appeal and earnest demand of his friends, Crazy Horse was
carried into the office from whence he came.
"Confusion followed; troops turned out, and pandemonium seemed to have
broken loose in the Indian camps. Even the friendlies, though they
disliked Crazy Horse, were not pleased with the result, and there was
not much that could then be explained to their satisfaction.
"Crazy Horse's uncle at once sought to take revenge, but two friendlies
caught and led him away. Touch the Clouds asked permission to take
Crazy Horse to an Indian lodge and let him die there, but it was
refused. He then asked to remain in the office with him, and that was
granted on condition that he give up his gun. I recall his remarkable
reply: '_You_ are many. _I_ am only one. _You_ may not trust _me_, but
_I_ will trust _you_! You can _take_ my gun!'
"Crazy Horse's old father and mother were also allowed to remain with
him. About 10 P.M. Touch the Clouds sent word that Crazy Horse wished
to see me before he died. I went to the office. Crazy Horse was lying
on the floor, as he desired. He took my proffered hand and said
between his dying moans, 'My friend, I don't blame _you_ for this; had
I listened to you, this trouble would not have happened to me.' He died
at midnight, and thus passed away the restless, untamed spirit of as
brave an Indian chief as ever drew a bow or wore a moccasin.
"After his death I was informed, and the statement is, I believe, in
the official reports, that he had threatened to kill General Crook,
should the General scold or speak roughly to him, at a proposed council
to be held at Crazy Horse's camp, some days prior to this trouble.
General Crook was on his way in an ambulance to the camp for the talk,
when one of the scouts, or some one who was watching Crazy Horse, met
him with news of this impending danger, and the General returned to the
post without meeting Crazy Horse. This _may_ have all been true, but
whether it was merely an idle threat, announced in a spirit of bravado,
or if made and meant, he would have sought an excuse to carry it into
execution can never be known.
"A field officer of Cavalry, then a Captain, informed me that his troop
was detailed to take Crazy Horse from the guard house that night at
midnight and push on rapidly to the railroad, and from there he was to
be sent as a prisoner to the Dry Tortugas.
"When he died, Touch the Clouds shook hands with all present, thus
showing he had no bad heart toward anyone.
"Crazy Horse's father made some pathetic remarks as to the life and
character of his son. He asked that he might take the body away and
give it an Indian burial, and consent was given--_the lifeless form
was harmless then!_ The offer of an ambulance was declined, and at
daylight, September 6th., the gray, bareheaded, wailing, wretched,
old father and mother, followed on foot out of the post the travois
on which was lashed the body of their only son and protector. Their
pitiable condition appealed to the sympathy of everyone, and as they
passed Major Burrowes' quarters, they were kindly offered something
to eat, which they accepted with apparent gratitude, and then resumed
their mournful journey.
"With respect to Crazy Horse, I neither eulogize nor condemn. I
have merely stated the facts as they occurred, mainly under my own
observation, or as told to me by reliable eye-witnesses. There is no
Indian journalist, author or reporter, to present the warlike chief's
side of the sad story of his tragic fate. With the lapse of time, his
name and fame may linger for a while in the traditions of his tribe,
and then fade away forever."
CONCLUSION.
Farewell to the Indian!