It is no secret that Red Cloud’s ponies were looked upon as legitimate
prey by the Whites living near the reservation. One man told me he had
seen a bunch of cattle driven around the beef corral twice in order to
figure in a double count, and corn and provisions had been passed twice
through a certain building in order that some one might make just 100
per cent off the Indians. During the early ’70’s horse-stealing was
carried on to a surprising extent, and Indian ponies were openly sold in
frontier towns. A deputy United States marshal, who had twenty years’
experience on the reservation of the Sioux, told me that some detectives
and trailers employed by the Government were in league with the thieves
and received two compensations—one from the Government and the other
from their confederates. Stolen stock was seldom recovered. The
warriors, becoming desperate, would steal stock from some ranchman in
retaliation. Another method of getting even was to complain to the
officers at Fort Robinson, who would give the Sioux an escort of troops.
Along the trail of the robbers the combined forces traveled as rapidly
as possible, and, upon reaching any ranch or town where ponies were
assembled in large numbers, the warriors would claim, and apparently
identify as their property, a number of horses. Protests on the part of
the Whites were of no avail, and the triumphant party would return with
some of the stolen stock, and, perhaps, some which had never been on
their pastures. I asked an old Indian about this and he said it seldom
happened, but as they lost thousands of horses which were never
recovered, and as nearly all white men living near the reservation were
there to rob the Indians, and as every white man (whether he had or had
not Sioux ponies on hand) would deny knowledge of the location of stolen
stock, he thought it was fair and just to seize everything in sight!
In spite of suffering, privation and thefts of every description, the
Red Cloud tribe kept their faith. Would that white men had been as
faithful to their treaty promises. They complained to the Great Father
that they had been moved eight times since 1863. Exclaimed Red Cloud:
“How can you expect us to take the white man’s road when you move us
before we have time to plant and grow corn, to clear the ground and
raise cattle?” In 1874 the Red Cloud and Spotted Tail reservations were
in Western Nebraska, the nearest railroad point being Sidney, on the
Union Pacific. Except in spots the land was barren—absolutely worthless.
Red Cloud said that the Whites gave it to his people because they could
not use it themselves. A delegation of Indians went to Washington, were
talked to in the usual patronizing manner, flattered, promised, and
returned to their agency. Some one suggested to the Commissioner of
Indian Affairs to remove the Indians to the Missouri River, where some
good soil assured corn and wheat. Red Cloud and Spotted Tail begged that
they be not sent there, for whisky was brought up the river and sold to
their young men, to the injury of the entire tribe. Being assured that
their supplies had all been sent to the old Ponca reservation, they
consented to go there provided they would be sent to a new reservation
in the spring.
[Illustration:
THE HIDE HUNTER’S WORK. 40,000 BUFFALO HIDES AT DODGE CITY, KANSAS,
1876
Drawn from a print owned by R. M. Wright.
]
I can best describe what ensued by use of Mrs. Helen Hunt Jackson’s
words:[31] “In the spring no orders came for the removal. March passed,
April passed—no orders. The chiefs sent word to their friend, General
Crook, who replied to them with messages sent by swift runner, begging
them not to break away, but to wait a little longer. Finally, in May,
the Commissioner of Indian Affairs went himself to hold a council with
them. When he rose to speak, Chief Spotted Tail sprang up, walked toward
him, waving in his hand the paper containing the promise of the
Government to return them to White Clay creek, and exclaimed: ‘All the
men who come from Washington are liars, and the bald-headed ones are the
worst of all! I don’t want to hear one word from you—you are a
bald-headed old liar! You have but one thing to do here, and that is to
give an order for us to return to White Clay Creek. Here are your
written words, and if you don’t give this order, and everything here is
not on wheels inside of ten days, I’ll order my young men to tear down
and burn everything in this part of the country! I don’t want to hear
anything more from you, and I’ve got nothing more to say to you,’ and he
turned his back on the Commissioner and walked away. Such language would
not have been borne from unarmed and helpless Indians; but when it came
from a chief with 4000 armed warriors at his back, it was another affair
altogether. The order was written. In less than ten days everything was
‘on wheels’ and the whole body of these Sioux on the move to the country
they had indicated, and the Secretary of the Interior says, naively, in
his report: ‘The Indians were found to be quite determined to move
westward, and the promise of the Government in that respect was
faithfully kept’.” It had been decided in council that Spotted Tail
would do the talking, while Red Cloud and his followers held themselves
in readiness for any emergency which might arise.
Crazy Horse as war chief, and Sitting Bull as the most prominent of the
shamans, engage our attention during 1875–’76. A continual warfare was
kept up against the Whites. Gold was discovered in the Black Hills, and
settlers and miners flocked into the new territory, committing en route
depredations against the Sioux. They promptly retaliated, and our
Government sent General Custer to remove the miners from the new
gold-fields, and history records that he successfully scattered the
obnoxious invaders. During his famous march not one shot was fired at
Indians. Red Cloud had kept his treaty promise, but peace was not long
to be maintained. The frontier towns began to fill up with outcasts of
civilization. Breeders of mischief, they instilled into the minds of the
Oglalas love of gain. “You should have more money, more rations,” said
they. “These lands to the north (Black Hills) are full of valuable mines
which are yours. Drive out the miners and we will show you how to
develop the country.” Custer had returned from his expedition and the
miners flocked back to the gulches about Deadwood. Buffalo-hunters were
fast destroying the great north and south herds, and Red Cloud beheld
the encroachments with a heavy heart. The death-knell of his people’s
freedom and prosperity on the Plains was sounded in the noise of the
train, the blast in the mine, and the hum in the town. Civilization was
advancing, savagery must die! He could not go to war himself, he must
look after his people on the reservations; but he sent many of his best
warriors to join Crazy Horse and American Horse. Murders and robberies
followed in rapid succession. Custer was ordered to the Little Big Horn
to destroy the villages of the hostiles.
As to the battle which followed, the Bureau of Ethnology Report,
1888–’89, gives a series of pictographic paintings made by Chief Red
Horse, which are considered the most accurate we possess of the Sioux
side of that unfortunate affair. I can only refer to it briefly. People
digging wild turnips saw a cloud of dust in the distance. Supposing it
to be made by a herd of buffalo, they informed the end of the village
(scattered for three miles along the river) nearest them. Before any
persons were armed a runner came up in great excitement and said,
“Soldiers are coming.” There was no time to hold a council. The chiefs
shouted their orders. At first it seemed as if the whites would take the
whole village, but as warriors hastened up from the main body of the
camp, the flanks as well as the front were attacked, and the troops
forced across the river. Red Horse says there were two men with long
yellow hair. One wore a buckskin coat.
Captain French was the bravest man the Sioux ever fought. Red Horse says
he repeatedly covered the retreat of his men. Finally the soldiers
gained the top of the hill and began to throw up little earthworks, but
were all killed. Red Horse said some of the soldiers became demoralized
and begged the Sioux to take them prisoners but not to kill them.
At Pine Ridge agency I was told that Flat Hip, an Uncapapa Sioux,
claimed to have killed Custer. Flat Hip died of consumption a few years
after the battle. No one knew positively as to Custer’s manner of death,
but two men, dressed alike, were noticed for their bravery. Oglalas at
Pine Ridge said Sitting Bull was not in the fight, but made medicine
while it was in progress. Eastman’s account is probably more correct.
Many Sioux surrendered after the summer of 1876, and were returned to
their respective agencies. Sitting Bull and his most faithful followers
fled to Canada, where he remained some time. General MacKenzie took
nearly all of Red Cloud’s horses shortly after the Custer battle, thus
effectively preventing further hostilities.
September 3, 1877, a soldier ran a bayonet into Crazy Horse while the
latter was confined as a prisoner of war in the guard-house of Fort
Robinson. The murder occasioned much talk among the Sioux, and, but for
the interference of Red Cloud, who counseled peace, would have resulted
in a war of revenge. Crazy Horse was a desperate but withal, a brave
Indian.
During the latter part of 1876 and 1877, Red Cloud gave General Crook a
party of young men to help him fight the Cheyennes, which was greatly to
his credit, considering his treatment at the hands of the Whites.
After the removal of his people to Pine Ridge agency he was somewhat
dissatisfied because of the poor land given him as a reservation. He
also appealed to Washington for reimbursement for the ponies stolen by
lawless men. There are voluminous reports, Congressional and Interior
Department, filled with speeches of Red Cloud and his people, and all
more or less pathetic. They ask for fulfillment of treaty stipulations,
for money due, and for cattle and goods. At the time of the visit of the
Congressional Committee in 1883 he had 8000 people under him. The flag
from Fort Robinson agency was there, and, by the way, there is an
incident regarding that flag. Their Agent had cut and hauled a long
pole, upon which he proposed to raise a flag. Red Cloud said he wanted
no flag over his reservation, and so his men cut to pieces the
flagstaff, but the Agent saved the colors and sent them to Pine Ridge.
Red Cloud last achieved prominence in the Messiah craze of 1890.[32]
Whether he believed in the coming of an Indian Savior is uncertain, but
I know that he used his influence to preserve peace.
When the news of the Wounded Knee massacre reached Pine Ridge, a few
miles distant, most of the friendlies “stampeded,” tore down their
lodges and fled north. Red Cloud and his daughter and son, in spite of
protests, were compelled to accompany them. Jack Red Cloud, his son,
smuggled him out of camp, and his daughter led him eighteen miles
through a severe blizzard, back to Pine Ridge. I mention this incident
to show the faithfulness of the man.
Red Cloud was nearly blind and aged rapidly after 1890. Eighty-seven
years is a long time for an Indian to live. Continual exposure,
uncertain food supply, and frail habitation, break down the
constitution, and one rarely sees an Indian more than sixty years of
age. During the last years of his life Red Cloud enjoyed the comforts of
a two-story frame-house. It was given him by the Government as a special
mark of honor. During the presence of the troops he kept a little
American flag and a white peace flag constantly floating above it. He
bemoaned the fate of his race, and from his conversation one could
easily discern that he had done his duty, had defended the claims of the
Dakotas in adversity as in prosperity. Over twenty years ago I had
several conversations with him through the interpreter. He dwelt upon
the happy “buffalo days”, and the free life of the Plains sixty years
ago. We stepped outside the house and he told me to look about over the
valley, for his eyes were dim; but he knew its character. I cannot give
the exact words of his speech, but it was somewhat as follows: “You see
this barren waste. We have a little land along the creek which affords
good grazing, but we must use some of it for corn and wheat. There are
other creeks which have bottoms like this, but most of the land is poor
and worthless. Think of it! I, who used to own rich soil in a
well-watered country so extensive that I could not ride through it in a
week on my fastest pony, am put down here! Why, I have to go five miles
for wood for my fire. Washington took our lands and promised to feed and
support us. Now I, who used to control 5000 warriors, must tell
Washington when I am hungry. I must beg for that which I own. If I beg
hard, they put me in the guard-house. We have trouble. Our girls are
getting bad. Coughing sickness every winter (consumption) carries away
our best people. My heart is heavy, I am old, I cannot do much more.
Young man, I wish there was some one to help my poor people when I am
gone.”
It is a singular anomaly that the character of an Indian should not be
gauged by the same standards employed in measuring the virtues and worth
of a white man. To my mind Red Cloud’s high character places him on an
equality with prominent men of America, irrespective of color.
In considering the Indian, while most persons recognize the
disadvantages under which he has labored, yet I am persuaded that very
few realize the great, almost overwhelming difficulty, which must be
overcome before a truly strong and high character can be developed. With
but few exceptions, nearly every white man who went on the frontier as a
scout, miner, trader, hunter or explorer, exhibited the worst side of
his character when among Indians. It is natural that when a man is in a
new and wild country, far from restraint, untrammeled by laws, unchecked
by society or the refining influence of women, all that is bad in him
comes to the surface. Many men died in defense of a woman or child,
underwent great hardship to succor a comrade in danger, exhibited
personal bravery in the defense of claims, wagon-trains, ranches, etc.,
but, admitting all this in their favor, most of them were destitute of a
regard for the rights of Indians. Such men inspired hatred in their
dealings with the Sioux.
The Indian became acquainted with all that was bad, and saw but little
of the real good of civilization. He heard more oaths than prayers, saw
more saloons than churches or schools. The men whom he met were not
calculated, by their acts, to inspire him with any confidence or respect
for the white race. If the Plains tribes had associated with a better
class of citizens before they had learned the vices of civilization, I
am satisfied that the historian would not be compelled to write so dark
and tragic a narrative; nor would he feel constrained to hold them up as
fit subjects for pity and compassion.
Considering that Red Cloud came in contact with a class of white men
whose presence would not be tolerated in a respectable community; his
high character, his forbearance, his submission to the unjust acts of
his conquerors, places him, in my opinion, among the great men of
America, regardless of color, birth or ancestry. His career exhibits a
degree of mental capacity, a knowledge of human nature and an
acquaintance with the affairs of men which we would not expect in the
mind of a savage. Red Cloud’s bearing towards the Government in the
Leavenworth and Fort Robinson treaties, in having secured his end in
both instances, indicates a knowledge of diplomacy of no mean order.
His people were suddenly confronted with a high civilization which they
could neither understand nor follow. For centuries they had been
schooled in the simple life of the Plains (and it ranked below the
culture of the bronze age of man in Europe), unmolested by any extensive
or exterminating war, content with their lot. To be suddenly brought
face to face with a question, the issue of which was not a matter of
temporary supremacy, but involved the very existence of themselves as a
nation—to have bravely met it, mustered every available young man and
fought their superior forces for a period of nearly thirty years, and
then to have ceased only when resistance was no longer possible—presents
an heroic spectacle. All through this stormy period, Red Cloud figures
as a brave warrior, dignified counselor, and staunch advocate of the
welfare of his people.
After the treaty, he and his immediate followers, or those directly
under his control, observed their part of the agreement, although the
white people gave them every pretext for violation. A weaker man, one of
less character, would have taken his warriors, as Sitting Bull did, and
have fought until there was not a man left.
Red Cloud possessed more human kindness than any of his red
contemporaries. It has been affirmed that after the Fetterman fight, he
assisted the young men in scalping and mutilating the bodies of the
dead. There is no direct evidence as to this. Red Cloud himself says he
never tortured a living person nor mutilated a dead body, and that those
under his control were no more cruel than the Colorado citizens at the
Sand Creek massacre, the soldiers in the battle of Washita, or the
Seventh Cavalry at Wounded Knee. He cites the murder of Crazy Horse and
several subchiefs after they had surrendered and were held as hostages
in one of the forts. He also says that some Whites, many years ago,
visited the camps of the Sioux under the guise of friendship, and
presented the Indians with whiskey which contained strychnine. Nineteen
who partook of it died in terrible agony. He claims that in all his
fights and raids he never perpetrated cruelties like these; that he was
either a staunch friend or a bitter enemy.
In his later years he rather inclined towards the faith of the
Catholics, but when younger he was reported to have said that he
believed in no white man’s God, but held to the Great Spirit,
Wakantanka, and propitiated the evil spirit also; that, if he tried to
do his duty, help his people and was a good man, he should not fear to
meet the Great Spirit in the hereafter. That so far he agreed with the
missionaries of different denominations, but because they were in
discord among themselves as to just how the Great Spirit should be
worshipped, he considered that not one of them was better than another;
that his religion was as good as theirs, and that he would do as his
heart prompted him.
He has always been a little vainglorious, but not more so than other
prominent men. His twenty years’ residence at Pine Ridge exhibited a
quiet and gentle demeanor. He ever lamented the fate of his people, but
there was no bitterness, and his bearing was such as one might expect in
a man who has faced death upon the field of battle.
[Illustration: © _by Rodman Wanamaker 1913_ _The Last Arrow_]
After his removal to Pine Ridge, a petty Agent arrested this great man,
on a trivial charge, and confined him in the guardhouse. Immediately his
warriors armed, and a great number of Indians prepared to attack the
agency.
When some of the subchiefs after his release said, “Let us kill our
women and children and fight until we are gone, that is preferable to
starvation here on the reservation,” he is reported to have made a
dignified and manly speech, in which he maintained that the Almighty had
decreed that they should continue on the reservation, virtually as
prisoners of their conquerors, and resistance would only result in
suffering and bloodshed, and could accomplish no good.
An intelligent savage, reared upon the Plains amidst surroundings not
calculated to develop other than the lowest desires, and possessing a
primitive idea of the true type of manhood, he has presented us with a
career which shall endure in American history long after the
frontiersmen shall have been forgotten.
[Illustration:
War Dance
Sung by a party of Warm Spring Indians (Oregon) about 1889. A few of
these Indians traveled in the East and gave entertainments. This
song is repeated many times, rapidly.
]
I have no Sioux war-dance music, but the above is the most weird Indian
song ever brought to my attention.