SITTING BULL, THE MEDICINE MAN
THE LAST GREAT INDIAN UPRISING
On a slight elevation in a western town across which the gusty wind
was sweeping, sat a stolid, glum-looking Indian, slowly writing his
autograph on slips of paper and handing them out to the amused persons
in front of him. The thrifty red man charged a dollar and a half for
each signature, and was doing a thriving business. Not the ghost of a
smile lit up the wrinkled, iron countenance, though now and then he
grunted, which might have meant pleasure over his profits, or possibly
disgust that he had not charged a higher tariff. He never made any
mistake against himself in changing the bills passed over to him.
A plump, military man of short, stocky build, in civilian suit, with
big mustaches, and looking for fun in everything, bought one of his
autographs. A glance at the round pleasing face showed that he was
General Philip H. Sheridan, while the man standing on his left, with
close-cropped sandy beard, and smoking a black cigar, was a still more
famous American.
General Sheridan studied the awkward signature for a minute or two, and
then turning to his friend at his elbow, who was doing the same with
his autograph, said:
"Grant, I'll be hanged if the old fraud doesn't write a better hand
than you."
General Grant turned his bit of paper over several times, held it away
and then quite close to his face, as though interested only in the
scrawl, then removed his cigar and with a shadowy smile, replied to his
old comrade:
"I don't see that _you've_ any cause for boasting, Sheridan."
The little group that were listening to the couple laughed, for Grant,
Sherman and Sheridan never came together without chaffing one another.
Besides the illustrious heroes named, there were Carl Schurz, W. M.
Evarts, fully a score of United States Senators and Congressmen,
and several British noblemen, as well as German professors, railway
magnates and journalists.
This is a reproduction of one of the aboriginal autographs:
[Illustration]
You will have no difficulty in reading the signature, which is that
of a Sioux "medicine man," who, a few years ago was perhaps the most
notable of his race. Sitting Bull was born in Dakota, in 1837. He
inherited a deep hatred of the white people, and the tribe to which he
belonged is to-day the most powerful on this continent. It can put five
thousand bucks or more in the field, and every one of them would prove
himself a sturdy fighter.
A bloody outbreak of the Sioux in Minnesota took place in the summer of
1862. We were in the throes of our Civil War at that time. The crimes
of the Indians were of the most horrible nature, but the military force
sent thither, together with the volunteers steadily drove the hostiles
to the wall and captured a large number. Thirty-seven of the leaders
were tried by a military commission and found guilty of such fearful
outrages that they were hanged.
Sitting Bull, the Sioux chief, was not frightened by this exhibition of
a nation's anger. He was then a young warrior, but he gathered about
him a large number of Indians, who had been friendly to the whites. In
1874, they attacked the Crows and drove them from their reservation.
Notice was sent to him by the Interior Department, to remove with his
band by January 31, 1876. Sitting Bull paid no attention to the order,
and the business was put in the hands of the War Department. General
Crook destroyed the village of Crazy Horse in the following March, but
the severity of the weather compelled a halt in military movements.
[Illustration: GENERAL CROOK'S APACHE GUIDE]
The discovery of gold in the Black Hills led to an invasion of the
section by emigrants. The section belonged by treaty to the Sioux, and
the authorities warned all white people to keep away. No heed was
given to the notice, and the enraged Sioux left their own reservation
and began to plunder and massacre the people of Wyoming and Montana.
Generals Terry and Cook, with a strong force of regulars moved into the
region of the Upper Yellowstone, and drove Sitting Bull with several
thousand hostiles toward the Big Horn Mountains and the river. Generals
Custer and Reno with the Seventh Cavalry set out to locate the Indians.
They found their camp, three miles in length, on the left bank of the
Little Big Horn River. Custer sent Reno with three companies to attack
the rear, and without waiting for support, charged the Sioux.
Not a soldier came out of the charge alive. Fifteen officers, including
two brothers and a nephew of Custer, and two hundred and thirty-two men
were overwhelmed and massacred by the hostiles. It was one of the most
awful disasters in our frontier history, but the fault lay with the
dashing, headlong Custer himself.
When news of the calamity reached Fort Leavenworth, General Nelson P.
Miles was ordered to the scene with the Fifth Infantry. Certain that
a large number of the Indians were not far off, General Miles moved
down the left bank of the Yellowstone. On the way, he came upon the
following note, fastened on a stick thrust into the ground, where it
had been left by an Indian runner several days before:
"Yellowstone.
"I want to know what you are doing traveling on this road. You
scare all the buffalo away. I want to hunt in this place. I
want you to turn back from here. If you don't I will fight you
again. I want you to leave what you have got here and turn back
from here.
"I am your friend,
"+Sitting Bull+.
"I mean all the rations you have got and some powder. Wish you
would write as soon as you can."
Instead of writing, as requested, General Miles started
after Sitting Bull, and overtook him near one of the branches
of the Yellowstone. The two leaders met under a flag of
truce and the talk was sharp. Sitting Bull was not in chief
command of the Sioux at the Custer massacre, but he was
present and took part. The thought of accepting orders from
this dusky miscreant was beyond bearing, and General Miles,
notable for his self-restraint, said to the grim chieftain:
"I am going to drive you out or you are going to drive
me out."
[Illustration: AN INDIAN AGENCY]
Filled with rage, Sitting Bull strode back to his bucks, and, knowing
that all negotiation was at an end, General Miles attacked him with
such vigor that the Sioux were driven into wild flight, with the loss
of a large number of warriors. General Miles, who had long before
proved himself one of the finest of soldiers, pushed the pursuit so
resolutely that the Sioux leaped from their ponies, and, leaving
everything, scattered among the hills. General Miles was anxious to
capture Sitting Bull, the chief marplot, and he pressed the pursuit for
fifty miles, but the Sioux leader kept out of his way. It may as well
be said at this point, that Sitting Bull proved that he was lacking in
personal courage. He and several other chiefs managed to break away
from the main body and thus saved themselves.
Knowing the need of running down Sitting Bull, General Miles
reorganized his forces in the camp on Tongue River, and again started
in pursuit of the Sioux medicine man. A fall of snow hid the trail.
The cold grew intense. General Miles kept his scouts busy, and early
in January, the camp of the hostiles was located. It numbered about
two hundred lodges, and was attacked with such spirit that the horde
was driven headlong across the Missouri. Another assault a fortnight
later resulted in the capture of most of the camp equipage of the
Indians. Sitting Bull kept pushing northward until he believed he was
beyond reach of the tireless Miles. This proved true for the time, for
the snow was so deep that it was impossible for the cavalry to make
headway; but when spring began melting the snow and ice, the chieftain
knew he was liable to be pounced upon at any hour by the officers and
men who would not be baffled. So he clinched his safety by crossing
the line into Canada. So long as he stayed there, our troops could not
disturb him. The fervent hope was that he would stay there, for if he
returned to his own country, trouble was sure to follow. He knew better
than to misbehave himself while in Canada, where the mounted police
looked after the law-breakers.
You have read more than one account in the previous pages of great
uprisings and conspiracies on the part of the Indians of our country.
Some of them threatened large sections, and at times many cities and
towns were imperilled by these plottings and border wars. It seems
hard, therefore, to believe that the closing years of the nineteenth
century saw the gravest danger of that nature through which we have
ever passed. Yet such is the fact. An uprising might have been started
by the discharge of a single gun, or the rash act of one private
soldier, and once kindled, it would have swept like a cyclone from
Canada to Mexico, causing the deaths of thousands and the loss of
millions of dollars worth of property.
It need not be repeated that the cause of this fearful state of affairs
was the injustice of white men and the shameless treatment of the
Indians by our government. It is not necessary to give particulars, but
I will illustrate the fact by a single incident, which is a type of
scores of others.
[Illustration: BUFFALO BILL]
It once became certain that an agent at one of the Sioux agencies
had swindled the Indians and our government to the extent of eighty
thousand dollars. The offence was so flagrant that a committee was
sent from Washington to look into the matter. A friend of the agent
notified him of his danger. He bribed one of his interpreters to meet
the committee at a point where they had to take a stage to ride to
the agency. This cunning fellow did so without a hint of his purpose.
It did not take him long to make friends with the visitors. They
were pleased to learn that he was familiar with Indian affairs, and
still more pleased to find that he could speak the Sioux tongue. They
proposed that he should act as interpreter. He agreed, and the bargain
was closed by the payment to him of fifty dollars. The man carried out
his contract with his dishonest employer. The Indians poured their
grievance into his ears and he listened gravely, nodding his head as
if in sympathy. Then turning to the waiting members of the committee,
he changed those complaints into praise of the faithful labors of the
thieving agent. He took care that his face did not betray the truth to
either party. The committee, little dreaming of the trick, went back to
Washington, wondering how the unjust reports had been spread concerning
the model employé of the government.
The inhabitants of Dakota (not then divided into the two present
States) wished to open a highway through the Sioux reservation, and
have it settled by white men. The work would have been of advantage to
the Indians themselves. It was not hard to make them see this fact, and
they seemed willing to sell their lands. All they wanted was that they
should not be cheated, and if they had not been cheated, they never
would have raised a hand against the United States. Negotiations went
on for several years, until at last a new Commission, of which General
Crook was chairman, persuaded the Sioux to sign a treaty by which
they gave up about 11,000,000 acres of their reservation, reducing it
one-half.
The chiefs signed their names with misgiving. They had seen so much
deception that they had grown suspicious, even though they were argued
with by a leading military officer--a class who are always more honest
than civilians.
We hear of the Messiah craze about this time. It was the strange belief
that the Great Spirit was soon coming to destroy the white people, and
to give back the lands they had stolen from the Indians. The faith
spread like wildfire, and seemed to rob nearly all the Sioux tribe of
their senses. The bucks quickly reached that state of frenzy in which
they were eager to attack the whites.
To Sitting Bull this was the golden opportunity for which he had been
waiting for years. He could turn the fanaticism of his people to his
own account, and he determined to do so. He sent out his runners to
the different branches of the Sioux. They made numerous converts
everywhere. The heart of the old, brooding pagan must have glowed
when he saw everything working out as he wished it to work. Very soon
he would be able to launch his warriors against the settlements and
agencies, and spread desolation and death among those whom he hated
with unspeakable hatred.
[Illustration: SITTING BULL]
The camp of Sitting Bull was about forty miles southeast of the Pine
Ridge Agency. In December, 1890, General Ruger telegraphed from St.
Paul to Colonel Drum, commandant at Fort Yates, ordering him to arrest
the chief. General Ruger wished to have the military and civil officers
join in the act, but the agent believed less friction would follow if
the matter was placed in the hands of the Indian police. These men, as
the name shows are Indians. They are the sole agents of the Interior
Department for the enforcement of its regulations, and for preserving
the peace. They are taken from the best men, physically and mentally,
and, though their pay is moderate, they have done fine service, and
shown a bravery in many instances, which none of our own race could
surpass.
The arrest of Sitting Bull was certain to cause excitement among
his people, and would perhaps be attended by violence. The plan was
carefully guarded, and a time was selected, when most of the Indians
would be at the agency drawing their rations. The delay would have been
greater, had it not been learned that the chief was preparing to leave
the reservation, and unless the authorities acted promptly, would soon
be beyond reach.
Forty Indian police galloped toward the camp of the famous medicine
man, followed at some distance by two troops of cavalry and a force of
infantry. When within a few miles, these bodies united and halted. The
plan was that the soldiers should station themselves some two miles
from the camp, where they would be within call, should the police need
their help. Then the Indian police rode forward at an easy pace.
When they reached his tent, Sitting Bull was in bed. He was roused and
told that he was under arrest. He did not resist (you will remember
he was lacking in personal courage) and would have submitted quietly
but for his son, Crow Foot, a bright fellow of seventeen years. He was
provoked by the meekness of his father. "You are very brave," he said,
"when there is no danger, but when the police come you are a child."
Roused by the taunt, Sitting Bull began fighting, and called to his
friends to come to his help. One of these caught up a gun and added his
shouts. The next minute the battle was on, and raged viciously for some
minutes. The hostiles were twice as numerous as the police, and though
the latter fought heroically, they quickly found themselves in serious
danger. Several were shot down, and the outlook was doubtful, when one
of them galloped to the top of the nearest hill and signalled to the
cavalry, who dashed forward on a dead run. A few minutes later, they
opened with their Hotchkiss and Gatling guns and dispersed the hostiles.
In this affray, five of the police were killed, including the
lieutenant in command. Of the hostiles, seven were shot, besides
Sitting Bull, who was slain by the lieutenant a moment before his own
death. In addition to these, Crow Foot, the son of the chief, was drawn
out from hiding and killed by the police who were enraged because of
the losses they had suffered. This was apparently not justified even in
war.
The days now came, when, as I have stated, a spark would have kindled
the conflagration that would have raged from Canada to the Gulf; but
General Miles took charge, just before the battle at Wounded Knee, and
he acted with such admirable skill, that his success was perfect. The
hostiles were coaxed to come forward and surrender, and this was done
with such tact, that they soon showed signs of obeying. For days they
edged up foot by foot. Sometimes the bucks revolted, for they were bent
on war, and many a time it seemed that nothing less than a miracle
could prevent a terrific outbreak. On the morning of January 15, the
immense horde came in, gave up their guns, and made submission.
To show the strength of this body, it may be said that the procession
was four miles long and very nearly six thousand Indians were in line.
Actual count made the number of lodges seven hundred and thirty-two.
Army officers believed the whole number was fully eleven thousand.
One needs only to think of what such a host--larger than any had
supposed--when reinforced by the thousands from other tribes, would
have done if they had once taken the war path against the United States.
Our account of the great Indian uprising of 1890-91 would be incomplete
without a few words concerning one of the most prominent leaders of
that revolt. He was Red Cloud, who became head chief of the entire
Sioux tribe. Considerably older than Sitting Bull, he fiercely opposed
every change in the customs of his people which the government agents
tried to bring about. He was the leader in the councils, and, when the
outbreak came, he caught up his Winchester and proved himself a force
with which the military arm had to reckon. In December, 1866, he and
two thousand Sioux ambushed Colonel Fetterman and ninety of his men
near Fort Phil Kearney. He was deposed in 1876 by General Crook, who
made Spotted Tail his successor. This chief was killed by Crow Dog, and
the way thus opened for Sitting Bull.
When the storm-cloud passed, Red Cloud openly opposed the scheme
of allotting lands to the Indians, and making the red men support
themselves by farming and cattle raising. He lived for many years
in a two-story frame dwelling, which the government built for him
near the agency at Pine Ridge, but refused to take his allotment of
land, insisting that our government owed the Sioux a living without
compelling them to work. The proud old chief said he would starve
before he would accept a piece of land and toil like a squaw. So bitter
was his feeling against the white man that he would never learn a word
of our language.