“It was many years ago, when I was only a child,” began White Ghost,
the patriarchal old chief of the Yanktonnais Sioux, “that our band was
engaged in a desperate battle with the Rees and Mandans. The cause of
the fight was a peculiar one. I will tell you about it.” And he laid
aside his longstemmed pipe and settled himself to the recital.
“At that time the Yanktonnais numbered a little over forty families.
We were nicknamed by the other bands Shunkikcheka, or Domestic Dogs,
because of our owning large numbers of these animals. My father was the
head chief.
“Our favorite wintering place was a timbered tract near the mouth of the
Grand River, and it was here that we met the Blackfoot Sioux in the fall
hunt. On the opposite side of the river from our camp was the permanent
village of the Rees and Mandans, whose houses were of dirt and partly
underground. For a hundred years before this time they had planted
large gardens, and we were accustomed to buy of them corn, beans, and
pumpkins. From time to time our people had made treaties of peace with
them. Each family of the Rees had one or two buffalo boats--not round,
as the Sioux made them, but two or three skins long. In these boats they
brought quantities of dried beans and other vegetables to trade with us
for jerked buffalo meat.
“It was a great gathering and a time of general festivity and
hospitality. The Sioux young men were courting the Ree girls, and the
Ree braves were courting our girls, while the old people bartered their
produce. All day the river was alive with canoes and its banks rang with
the laughter of the youths and maidens.
“My father’s younger brother, whose name was Big Whip, had a close
friend, a young man who ever after the event of which I am about to tell
you was known as Bald Eagle. They were both daring young men and very
ambitious for distinction. They had been following the Ree girls to
their canoes as they returned to their homes in the evening.
“Big Whip and his friend stood upon the river bank at sunset, one with a
quiver full of arrows upon his back while the other carried a gun under
his blanket. Nearly all the people of the other village had crossed the
river, and the chief of the Rees, whose name was Bald Eagle, went home
with his wife last of all. It was about dusk as they entered their
bullhide boat, and the two Sioux stood there looking at them.
“Suddenly Big Whip exclaimed: ‘Friend, let us kill the chief. I dare you
to kill and scalp him!’ His friend replied:
“‘It shall be as you say. I will stand by you in all things. I am
willing to die with you.’
“Accordingly Bald Eagle pulled out his gun and shot the Ree dead. From
that day he took his name. The old man fell backward into his boat, and
the old woman screamed and wept as she rowed him across the river. The
other young man shot an arrow or two at the wife, but she continued to
row until she reached the other bank.
“There was great excitement on both sides of the river as soon as
the people saw what had happened. There were two camps of Sioux, the
Blackfoot Sioux and the Yanktonnais, or our people. Of course the
Mandans and Rees greatly outnumbered us; their camp must have numbered
two or three thousand, which was more than we had in our combined camps.
“There was a Sioux whose name was Black Shield, who had intermarried
among the Rees. He came down to the opposite bank of the Missouri and
shouted to us:
“‘Of which one of your bands is the man who killed Bald Eagle?’
“One of the Blackfoot Sioux replied:
“‘It is a man of the Yanktonnais Sioux who killed Bald Eagle.’
“Then he said: ‘The Rees wish to do battle with them; you had better
withdraw from their camp.’
“Accordingly the Blackfeet retired about a mile from us upon the bluffs
and pitched their tents, while the Yanktonnais remained on the flats.
The two bands had been great rivals in courage and the art of war, so
we did not ask for help from our kinsfolk, but during the night we dug
trenches about the camp, the inner one for the women and children, and
the outer one for the men to stay in and do battle.
“The next morning at daybreak the enemy landed and approached our camp
in great numbers. Some of their women and old men came also, and sat
upon the bluffs to watch the fight and to carry off their dead and
wounded. The Blackfeet likewise were watching the battle from the
bluffs, and just before the fight began one Blackfoot came in with his
wife and joined us. His name was Red Dog’s Track, but from that day he
was called He-Came-Back. His wife was a Yanktonnais, and he had said to
her: ‘If I don’t join your tribe to-day, my brothers-in-law will call me
a coward.’
“The Sioux were well entrenched and well armed with guns and arrows,
and their aim was deadly, so that the Rees crawled up gradually and took
every opportunity to pick off any Sioux who ventured to show his head
above the trenches. In like manner every Ree who exposed himself was
sure to die.
“Up to this time no one had seen the two men who made all the trouble.
There was a natural hollow in the bank, concealed by buffalo berry
bushes, very near where they stood when Bald Eagle shot the Ree.
“‘Friend,’ said Big Whip, ‘it is likely that our own people will punish
us for this deed. They will pursue and kill us wherever they find us.
They have the right to do this. The best thing is to drop into this
washout and remain there until they cease to look for us.’
“They did so, and remained hidden during the night. But, after the fight
began, Big Whip said again: ‘Friend, we are the cause of the deaths of
many brave men this day. We committed the act to show our bravery. We
dared each other to do it. It will now become us as warriors to join our
band.’
“They both stripped, and taking their weapons in hand, ran toward the
camp. They had to pass directly through the enemy’s lines, but they were
not recognized till they had fairly passed them. Then they were between
two fires. When they had almost reached the entrenchment they faced
about and fired at the Rees, jumping about incessantly to avoid being
hit, as is the Indian fashion. Bullets and arrows were flying all about
them like hail, but at last they dropped back unhurt into the Sioux
trenches. Thus the two men saved their reputation for bravery, and their
people never openly reproached them for the events of that day. Young
men are often rash, but it is not well to reprove one for a brave deed
lest he become a coward.
“Many were killed, but more of the Rees than of our band. About the
middle of the afternoon there came a cold rain. It was in the fall of
the year. The bow-strings were wet, and the guns were only flint-locks.
You know when the flint becomes wet it is useless, and it looked as if
the fight must be with knives.
“But the Rees were much disheartened. They had lost many. The women
were all the time carrying off the wounded, and there were the Blackfoot
Sioux watching them from the hills. They turned and fled toward the
river. The Sioux followed like crazy wolves, tomahawking the tired and
slow ones. Many were killed at the boats, and some of the boats were
punctured with shot and sank. Some carried a load of Sioux arrows back
across the river. That was the greatest battle ever fought by our band,”
the old man concluded, with a deep sigh of mingled satisfaction and
regret.