up and down the column and made the warriors stop talking. Then we
could see that the sun was up back of the ridge ahead of us and it was
shining on the hilltops. The Rosebud was just the other side of the
ridge, and the _akichita_ out ahead were just coming to the top. High
Horse and I were among the fronters because we had won honors.
“All at once there were horses’ heads and men’s heads on the ridge
right in front of us! It was a small party of the Gray Fox’s Crow
scouts out looking around.
“When we saw the Crows, we all forgot about the surprise. Everybody
was yelling. We whipped our horses and went over the ridge on the
run. The _akichita_ tried to stop us, but we rode right through
them. _Hokahey! Hokahey!_ Most of the Crows got away, but there were
plenty of soldiers, walking and horseback, down there in the valley.
When we swung to one side to attack the horsebacks, I could see all
our warriors swarming over the ridge. Nobody was leading us. We did
not circle the soldiers; we just rode in among them all mixed up,
and killing the nearest ones with spears and knives and war clubs.
Sometimes we would knock them off their horses, then jump down and
beat them to death. I saw a Cheyenne cut off a soldier’s arm and ride
away with it. Once I saw Crazy Horse, and he was not trying to guide
the warriors, he was just fighting like the rest of us. I did not
see Sitting Bull, but they say he was in there shouting to the young
warriors to give them courage.
“I do not know how long we were fighting there; but all at once the
horseback soldiers were gone, and I saw our warriors charging up the
valley where many Shoshonis and Crows were getting ready to charge us.
We were fighting them, and I think we were going to rub them out; but
all at once some horseback soldiers were coming from behind us. Then
I could hear our people crying, ‘Take courage! Let us die here! Think
of the women and children!’ So we charged back against the horseback
soldiers and made them run; but while we were in among them, the Crows
and Shoshonis felt braver because of the soldiers, and they charged
us. Many of our people began to run away out of the fight crying,
‘_Yea-hey!_’ High Horse and I were with them. All at once we were on
the hillside out of the fighting, and I could see the broad valley full
of fighting in bunches--scattered and all mixed up. I do not think
anybody was winning--just mixed up and fighting. When we had watched
awhile we felt ashamed; so we charged down into the fighting, yelling
to each other, ‘This is a good place to die! Take courage! _Hokahey!_’
Then there was dust, with shouting and guns shooting and men and horses
in the dust. Nobody was leading us; we were just hitting the nearest
soldier. High Horse and I were brother-friends and we kept together
all the time, helping each other. Sometimes we would be out of the
fighting, then we would be in again. It was that way all day. Then the
sun was setting and our warriors were leaving the valley, riding back
up the ridge towards the sunset. The soldiers did not follow us. I
think they were as tired of fighting as we were. Most of us rode back
to our village that night, but some stayed around there to see what the
Gray Fox was going to do. In the morning he went back up the valley
with all his soldiers. Some said we whipped him. Some said we did not.
I do not know. But it was not the rain of dead soldiers that Sitting
Bull saw in his vision.
“Nothing touched me all day; I think it was the quirt that protected
me. I did not think about my sore breast, but it was sorer that night.
Nothing touched High Horse either. Maybe the quirt protected both of us
that time because we stayed so close together.”
XXIV
“_It Was a Great Victory_”
“I was young then,” Eagle Voice continued after we had sat silent for
a while, hearing the high wind and the whipping of the canvas on the
poles. “I was young and strong, and I could still believe that sometime
we would drive all the Wasichus out of our country. But now, when I can
look back and see how it was going to be, it makes me sad to remember
the fight on the Greasy Grass. It was a few days after we fought the
Gray Fox on the Rosebud, and it was a great victory. But you see us now.
“Our whole camp had moved over into the valley of the Greasy Grass near
the mouth of Spring Creek. High Horse and I were with a small party
scouting and hunting over towards where the Gray Fox went after the
fight. We did not see any soldiers, and the hunting was not good. It
was late in the morning when we got home to the village on the Greasy
Grass. The hoops of the bands were strung out a long way on the flat
beside the river; and across the water, towards where the sun comes
up, there are high bluffs. It was an old camping place and we liked to
be there. Plenty of good water, plenty of good grass for the horses,
plenty of wood. It was a good place to swim and fish too, and we always
had fun there. On the other side, away from the river towards where the
sun goes down, was open prairie sloping, and with one look we could see
all the horses grazing. There were many, many. There were thousands, I
think.
“Our small scouting party came from up the river, and the hoop of
Sitting Bull’s people, the Hunkpapas, was the first one we came to. Not
far from there were the Miniconjous, High Horse’s band. The Oglalas
were farther down stream.
“We were riding across the Hunkpapa hoop, and some of the people
were asleep or just getting up, because they had been dancing the
victory dance all night. There was an old, old woman who saw me.
She was cooking some meat in a pot. I knew her because she was my
grandmother’s friend and they liked to help each other. As I rode by
her, she looked up and said something. The wind had come up and it
was getting stronger all the time, so I did not hear what she said
at first. When I stopped my horse she spoke louder and said, ‘_Natan
uskay! Natan uskay!_ [Attackers are coming fast].’ And I said, ‘Where
are they coming, Grandmother?’ And she answered in a high voice that
sounded like scolding a dog that is stealing meat: ‘_Grandson, I said
Natan uskay!_’ Then she went on stirring her pot.
“High Horse said to me, ‘Do you think she knows?’ And I said, ‘I know
that old woman, and there’s something to it. I’m going home to get
ready.’ High Horse said he would do that too, and then we’d come back.
So I galloped on towards our hoop farther down stream. I could see
people were excited, and some men and boys were out catching horses.
When I got home my step-father was gone, but my mother and little
brother and my grandfather and grandmother were there. They were tying
some things up in bundles; and my mother said, ‘Soldiers are coming,
they say! You’d better get ready! There’s meat in the pot.’ But I did
not stop to eat. I stripped myself and put some paint on my face. While
I was doing this, my grandfather said, ‘That’s right, Grandson! It is
good to be young and die for the people. Nothing lasts, and it is not
good to grow old.’ Then I took my fast-shooting gun that came from
Wasichu traders on Mini Shoshay, and ran out to get a fresh horse.
“Just then there was shooting up river where the Hunkpapas were--like
ripping a big blanket by jerks; and a big noise of yelling grew yonder.
“I ran into my cousin who was bringing in some horses, and one of
them was mine; so I took it, and rode towards where the big noise
came from. But it was spreading all along the valley now. Women and
children and old people were running down the river towards me. Women
were screaming, men were shouting and running for their horses. Some
were riding or running on foot towards the attackers yonder. It was so
crowded at first where I was that I could not ride fast. So I turned
out to the right into the prairie, and the whole flat along the stream
was covered with the big mixed, singing noise that floated above the
people.
“Just then I ran into Red Feather, a young fellow like me, and he was
bringing some horses. They were rearing and pulling at the lariats, and
he was having a hard time with them, because they were excited too. One
of them was my best horse, big and a good runner. Not Whirlwind; he was
wolf-meat long before that. This one was a roan with a crooked white
patch around his left eye and nearly over to his left ear. He had a
white look in that eye when he was excited, and he never got tame.
Sometimes he ran away with me, but he never got tired. So I got on this
horse and gave the other to a man who was running on foot towards the
attackers.
“I rode on the run towards where the big excitement was. There was an
old Hunkpapa woman pointing a gun at a man on the ground. He was a
Hunkpapa too and he was sitting holding himself up with his hands back
of him. I stopped my horse to see what the old woman was doing to the
Hunkpapa. His breast was all bloody. The woman pointed the gun at his
head, and it snapped but did not go off. The man said, ‘Don’t kill me,
Grandmother; I will be dead soon anyway.’ The woman screamed at him and
said, ‘You sneaking dog! Why did you come with the soldiers to kill
your relatives?’ Then the gun went off and the man fell over.
“I could see that horseback soldiers were running away up stream. They
were strung out along the river bank, and they were not fighting much,
just running away, with many, many Lakotas swarming against them and
pushing them towards the water that was running deeper than a horse’s
belly. I rode into the crowd and began knocking soldiers off their
horses with the butt of my gun. It was easy to do. It was easier than
shooting, for it was not like a fight. It was more like hunting cows.
There was a Lakota on a white horse and he was killing soldiers with a
sword he got in the Rosebud fight.
“The soldiers were jumping their horses into the river, and many
Lakotas were jumping after them. It was bad in there--horses and men
mixed up and fighting. Sometimes they would wrestle--like the game we
used to call ‘Throwing-them-off-their horses.’ They would go under and
come up fighting, and go under. I held back and shot fast at soldiers
and horses climbing out on the other side. Maybe I killed some; I
do not know. My horse was crazy and I shot while he was dancing and
whirling; but the soldiers and horsebacks were all crowded together
yonder, and maybe I hit some. It was like shooting into a stampeding
buffalo herd crowding up a steep hill. I was staying out that way
because I was looking for High Horse. He would be there because his
camp was close to the excitement.
“There was a Ree scout trying to break through to the river bank, and I
saw a Lakota leap from his horse onto the Ree. They went down together,
and for a little I could not see them. Then the Lakota was up on his
feet, trying to find his horse in the crowd of warriors. I saw his
face, and it was High Horse. So I pushed in there and he got up behind
me. He had a long knife and it was bloody. He was panting hard and
he kept saying, ‘I cut that one’s neck off, the Ree dog!’ He sounded
crazy. I think we were all a little crazy by then.
“I pushed out through the crowd of warriors looking for another horse.
There were some down and kicking, and some running this way and that
way. Some Cheyennes were just getting into the fight from down river,
and when they came swarming on the run towards us they chased a big
Wasichu horse right into us. High Horse caught its bridle rein and
leaped into the saddle.
“There was a big smoke down stream where our people were burning
soldiers out of the brush and grass. Then all at once we saw that our
warriors yonder were turning back down the valley, and those about us
began yelling that more soldiers were coming that way. So High Horse
and I started on the run towards where the others were going, and
we kept close together. Where the fire was we saw some Lakota boys
shooting with their bows and arrows at a soldier dodging around in the
brush. I think he had lost his gun and was trying to get away from the
fire.
“We were in a river of warriors, and I heard afterwards it was Crazy
Horse who was leading yonder; but I did not see him. Yonder ahead of us
on the hillside we saw horseback soldiers, and they were turning back
up the hill. There is a fast shallow place in the river where we used
to cross, and on the other side, towards where the sun comes up, there
is a deep draw that runs back through the bluff. Our warriors and many
Cheyennes were pouring up this draw like a flood running backwards, and
we were in it. I heard afterwards that warriors farther down stream
were coming up around the bluffs on the other side from us. I did not
know anything then. High Horse and I were just charging up the deep
draw with all the others, and men were yelling to each other, ‘It’s a
good day to die! Take courage! Think of the women and children down
there! _Hokahey! Hokahey!_’ And we whipped each other’s horses.
“When we got to the top, it was all a big noise and a big dust. The
wind was very strong and the day was hot and the earth was dry. Horses,
horses, horses, all mixed up and making a high dust in the big wind.
Yelling and singing and shooting and horses’ hoofs, thousands of
horses’ hoofs pounding. It was steady thunder with a long screaming on
top of it. It was not like night, but it was not day either. Horses and
men were shadows flying this way and that way.
“All at once there were soldiers around us, soldiers standing together.
I did not see any swords. I did not try to shoot. I think I hit one
with my gun butt. I did not see him fall. High Horse was still close
beside me, and I saw him slashing with his knife. Then there was only
dust and noise and no soldiers. So we swung around and charged back.
There were soldiers again, all on foot and huddled together. Our horses
knocked them over. I could feel them under my horse. Then there was
dust with shadows flying. There were two soldiers coming on foot right
towards us out of the dust. They were making motions like running,
but they were only walking. When we were nearly on them, they shot
their guns straight up. Both went down under our horses; and all at
once there were three horseback soldiers. We all came together and the
horses reared. I hit the nearest soldier on the head with my gun butt
and he fell off. My gun flew out of my hands. Then I saw High Horse
leap onto another one with his knife. I heard a gun go off. I think it
was the third one shooting, but when I looked he was gone in the dust.
High Horse and the soldier were on the ground. When I got off to help,
my horse tried to break away. He was screaming and rearing. The rope
was tied around his lower jaw, and I held him, but he dragged me. When
I got him back to where High Horse and the soldier were on the ground,
they were hugging each other. The knife was in the soldiers neck, and
he was coughing spurts of blood. When I pulled High Horse away, the
knife came too. Then he went limp. Blood was coming out of his back
and chest. He did not hear me when I called to him. I think that was
when my horse broke loose. Then I had High Horse on my back and I was
running. There were shadows flying by. Then there was only dust. Then
all at once there was a white sun shining, and I was on a hillside
alone and the roaring was yonder.
“I sat beside High Horse and cried hard because I would never see him
again in this world. While I was crying I felt his blood all over me,
and a power came into me. I wanted to kill soldiers and die. So I
called to High Horse, ‘My brother, look back as you are going, for I
will be coming too! Look back and wait, for I will be coming soon!’”
Eagle Voice fell silent, and for some time he sat gazing at the
slatting canvas wall of the tepee, while the high wind carried on the
story without words. At length he looked at me and, with a faint smile,
said: “You can see that he has been waiting long. It is not good. I ran
back towards the dust cloud and the roaring yonder, and I was crying
hard. I wanted to die killing Wasichus. There was a gun on the ground
and I picked it up for a club. There were soldiers’ horses with their
reins tied together and they were running around in a little circle,
rearing and pulling against each other. I got on one and rode at a run
into the dust, looking for soldiers to kill and one to kill me. Then
I was out on the other side. Wasichu horses were breaking out of the
dust and warriors were chasing them. I did not want any horses then. I
wanted to kill and die. So I rode back into the dust and it was getting
thinner. There were soldiers on the ground. There were no soldiers
standing.
“The big noise died. The sun began to shine again. I rode back to High
Horse and sat beside him awhile. I remembered and cried. The Wasichu
horse did not try to run away. He stood with his head down. I think
he was worn out. Afterwhile I lifted High Horse and put him behind
the saddle. Then I started home with him. The power was gone out of
me. There was no dust and no noise. Horseback warriors were standing
scattered over the hill, just looking. The women and boys were swarming
up from the valley looking for wounded soldiers to kill.
“I took him home to his father’s tepee among the Miniconjous. Big fires
burned that night and the people were dancing the victory dance until
morning. I did not dance. I remembered and remembered, and the power
was gone from me. I cried all night.”
XXV
_The Woman Who Died Twice_
“It was a great victory,” the old man said at last. He had been sitting
like the embodiment of the brooding stillness outside. Yesterday’s
booming warm wind had died late in the night, and it had seemed that
the still, soft dawn needed only a meadowlark to be April.
When he had filled and lighted his pipe, he drew a long draft and
passed the pipe to me. “_Dho_,” he said, “that was a great victory; but
you see us now. I do not like to think of it. We all went away from
there towards the mountains, and there was feasting and dancing, for
we had killed many enemies. But my heart did not sing when I danced.
High Horse was my brother-friend, and he was waiting for me yonder in
the world of spirits.” For a while the old man gazed in silence at the
ground. Then he squinted at me with a pucker of suppressed amusement
about his eyes, and said, “Maybe he will not know me when I come at
last, bent low and walking on three legs.” He chuckled and was still
again.
“But what about Tashina, Grandfather?” I asked, and had to wait for an
answer.
“I saw her at the sun dance on the Rosebud,” he said. “She looked at
me again the way she used to do, and I was glad she was not angry with
me any more. But my head was full of war and great deeds to be done. I
saw her once again after we had rubbed out Long Hair and his horseback
soldiers on the hill. But then my heart was sick because of High Horse.
It was the way I told you. There was a road I did not see until I had
walked across the world.
“It was a victory, but now I can see that it was the end of the old
days. The Wasichus were coming and coming, more and more Wasichus,
and the bison would soon be gone. While we were camped near the
mountains some of our people began to leave us, one _iglaka_, two,
three _iglakas_ at a time. They were going back to the agencies. We
heard of many soldiers getting ready on Goose Creek south of us, many
soldiers getting ready on the Yellowstone north of us. They would come
together and surround us. So in the Moon of Black Cherries [August]
the scattering of the people began. They always scattered in the fall
after they had come together for the sun dance. But that time it was
different. I did not know then that the hoop was breaking and would
never come together again. When we broke camp, most of us started
north together. Some were talking of Grandmother’s Land [Canada]. They
said if we went there, the soldiers could not chase us any more, and
Grandmother England [Queen Victoria] was kind to our relatives who were
living in her country. But many said they did not want to die in a
strange land far from home.
“The prairie burned behind us, wide as the sky. This made it hard for
the soldiers’ horses to follow. We turned east towards Mini Shoshay
[the Missouri River]. Then the rain came. Day and night it rained until
the mud was deep and our horses could hardly pull the drags. There were
still many, many of us, many, many horses; but some people were always
leaving us--one _iglaka_, two, three _iglakas_, maybe a big party. Some
would hunt awhile, but when they had made winter meat, they would go to
the agencies.
“My grandfather and grandmother had some relatives in Grandmother’s
Land, and when Sitting Bull turned north again with about a hundred
lodges, we went along with him and crossed the Yellowstone. Crazy
Horse, with many of the people, went on towards where the sun comes
up. I never saw him again. The Miniconjous went on with him, and when
I saw Tashina again after many moons, everything was different. My
step-father, Looks Twice, said if we went visiting in Grandmother’s
Land, afterwhile the soldiers might go away and we could come back home.
“Horseback soldiers came after us yonder, and there was a fight. It was
not much. We got away in the night with Sitting Bull, and fled north.
Then we camped and hunted and dried much meat. Soldiers did not come
there. We had good tepees and plenty of _papa_.
“In the Moon of Dark Red Calves [February] we heard about Crazy Horse
and his people. They had gone back through the burned-off land to
Tongue River, and they were hungry there when the soldiers came, many
soldiers. It was a bad fight in the snow and cold, and Crazy Horse had
no powder; so he fled with his people in a snowstorm to Little Powder
River, and there they were starving.
“The story was a moon old when it came to our village. Maybe many
soldiers would attack us too. So we broke camp when a melting wind
blew, as it did yesterday, and went into Grandmother’s Land. There we
had relatives to visit and the soldiers could not chase us.
“I thought maybe we would go back home when the new grass came; but
when the valleys were green along the creeks, another story came to
us. Crazy Horse had led his starving people into the Soldiers’ Town on
White River [Fort Robinson] so that they could eat. Then we thought
it would be better to wait until it was time for the fall hunt. Maybe
Crazy Horse and his people would be hunting, and we could join them,
and be happy together again. But bad stories came to us that summer,
and just before the winter we heard that the Wasichus had murdered
Crazy Horse at the Soldiers’ Town.
“We did not go home.”
The old man ceased and sat with drooped head, his hands on his knees.
When I held the pipestem towards him, he did not see it, and I felt
alone in the tepee. “What then, Grandfather?” I said at length. He
raised his head and seemed to come back slowly from a distant place.
His gaze took on the crinkled, quizzical look, and what he said came
with a shock of surprise: “I got married.”
He took the pipe and smoked awhile. “_Dho_,” he continued, “we did not
go home. Our relatives were kind to us. There were bison in plenty.
There were no soldiers to chase us. There were valleys and streams
like ours at home; but when I rode along a valley, something was not
there; and when I looked at a hill, it was a stranger. There were no
great deeds to be done and no great honors to win. When I was a boy,
and the sun would come up, something wonderful might happen that day.
It was not so any more. Stories came from the agencies, and they were
about hunger and sickness and the forked tongues of the Wasichus. The
soldiers even took away the people’s horses. Pa Sapa was full of crazy
Wasichus digging up the yellow metal.
“Grasses came forth and died, and the snow fell. Again the grass was
new and died and there was snow. Maybe next grass everything would be
better, and we would go home. We did not go home. The stories that came
to us were not good. Afterwhile we got used to the strange land. Then I
got married.
“She was a Hunkpapa girl and her right name was Plenty White Cows.
People called her Woman Who Died, and they told about a strange power
she had. She made charms for her two brothers, so that what they tried
to do, they could do it; and with these charms they had won great
honors in war. Also she could see things that were going to happen.
“She was older than I was, but she was a girl yet. I think maybe young
men were a little afraid of her because of the stories people told, and
she was not very strong--maybe because she had died once and gone to
the world of spirits. I will tell you how it was, the way people told
it; for it had been made into a story for anybody to tell.