GALL

Chief Gall was one of the most aggressive leaders of the Sioux nation in

their last stand for freedom.

The westward pressure of civilization during the past three centuries

has been tremendous. When our hemisphere was “discovered”, it had been

inhabited by the natives for untold ages, but it was held undiscovered

because the original owners did not chart or advertise it. Yet some of

them at least had developed ideals of life which included real liberty

and equality to all men, and they did not recognize individual ownership

in land or other property beyond actual necessity. It was a soul

development leading to essential manhood. Under this system they brought

forth some striking characters.

Gall was considered by both Indians and whites to be a most impressive

type of physical manhood. From his picture you can judge of this for

yourself.

Let us follow his trail. He was no tenderfoot. He never asked a soft

place for himself. He always played the game according to the rules and

to a finish. To be sure, like every other man, he made some mistakes,

but he was an Indian and never acted the coward.

The earliest stories told of his life and doings indicate the spirit of

the man in that of the boy.

When he was only about three years old, the Blackfoot band of Sioux were

on their usual roving hunt, following the buffalo while living their

natural happy life upon the wonderful wide prairies of the Dakotas.

It was the way of every Sioux mother to adjust her household effects

on such dogs and pack ponies as she could muster from day to day, often

lending one or two to accommodate some other woman whose horse or dog

had died, or perhaps had been among those stampeded and carried away by

a raiding band of Crow warriors. On this particular occasion, the mother

of our young Sioux brave, Matohinshda, or Bear-Shedding-His-Hair

(Gall’s childhood name), intrusted her boy to an old Eskimo pack dog,

experienced and reliable, except perhaps when unduly excited or very

thirsty.

On the day of removing camp the caravan made its morning march up the

Powder River. Upon the wide table-land the women were busily digging

teepsinna (an edible sweetish root, much used by them) as the moving

village slowly progressed. As usual at such times, the trail was wide.

An old jack rabbit had waited too long in hiding. Now, finding himself

almost surrounded by the mighty plains people, he sprang up suddenly,

his feathery ears conspicuously erect, a dangerous challenge to the dogs

and the people.

A whoop went up. Every dog accepted the challenge. Forgotten were the

bundles, the kits, even the babies they were drawing or carrying. The

chase was on, and the screams of the women reechoed from the opposite

cliffs of the Powder, mingled with the yelps of dogs and the neighing of

horses. The hand of every man was against the daring warrior, the lone

Jack, and the confusion was great.

When the fleeing one cleared the mass of his enemies, he emerged with a

swiftness that commanded respect and gave promise of a determined chase.

Behind him, his pursuers stretched out in a thin line, first the speedy,

unburdened dogs and then the travois dogs headed by the old Eskimo

with his precious freight. The youthful Gall was in a travois, a basket

mounted on trailing poles and harnessed to the sides of the animal.

“Hey! hey! they are gaining on him!” a warrior shouted. At this juncture

two of the canines had almost nabbed their furry prey by the back. But

he was too cunning for them. He dropped instantly and sent both dogs

over his head, rolling and spinning, then made another flight at right

angles to the first. This gave the Eskimo a chance to cut the triangle.

He gained fifty yards, but being heavily handicapped, two unladen dogs

passed him. The same trick was repeated by the Jack, and this time he

saved himself from instant death by a double loop and was now running

directly toward the crowd, followed by a dozen or more dogs. He was

losing speed, but likewise his pursuers were dropping off steadily. Only

the sturdy Eskimo dog held to his even gait, and behind him in the frail

travois leaned forward the little Matohinshda, nude save a breech clout,

his left hand holding fast the convenient tail of his dog, the right

grasping firmly one of the poles of the travois. His black eyes were

bulging almost out of their sockets; his long hair flowed out behind

like a stream of dark water.

The Jack now ran directly toward the howling spectators, but his

marvelous speed and alertness were on the wane; while on the other hand

his foremost pursuer, who had taken part in hundreds of similar events,

had every confidence in his own endurance. Each leap brought him nearer,

fiercer and more determined. The last effort of the Jack was to lose

himself in the crowd, like a fish in muddy water; but the big dog made

the one needed leap with unerring aim and his teeth flashed as he caught

the rabbit in viselike jaws and held him limp in air, a victor!

The people rushed up to him as he laid the victim down, and foremost

among them was the frantic mother of Matohinshda, or Gall. “Michinkshe!

michinkshe!” (My son! my son!) she screamed as she drew near. The boy

seemed to be none the worse for his experience. “Mother!” he cried, “my

dog is brave: he got the rabbit!” She snatched him off the travois,

but he struggled out of her arms to look upon his dog lovingly and

admiringly. Old men and boys crowded about the hero of the day, the dog,

and the thoughtful grandmother of Matohinshda unharnessed him and poured

some water from a parfleche water bag into a basin. “Here, my grandson,

give your friend something to drink.”

“How, hechetu,” pronounced an old warrior no longer in active service.

“This may be only an accident, an ordinary affair; but such things

sometimes indicate a career. The boy has had a wonderful ride. I

prophesy that he will one day hold the attention of all the people with

his doings.”

This is the first remembered story of the famous chief, but other boyish

exploits foretold the man he was destined to be. He fought many sham

battles, some successful and others not; but he was always a fierce

fighter and a good loser.

Once he was engaged in a battle with snowballs. There were probably

nearly a hundred boys on each side, and the rule was that every fair hit

made the receiver officially dead. He must not participate further, but

must remain just where he was struck.

Gall’s side was fast losing, and the battle was growing hotter every

minute when the youthful warrior worked toward an old water hole and

took up his position there. His side was soon annihilated and there were

eleven men left to fight him. He was pressed close in the wash-out, and

as he dodged under cover before a volley of snowballs, there suddenly

emerged in his stead a huge gray wolf. His opponents fled in every

direction in superstitious terror, for they thought he had been

transformed into the animal. To their astonishment he came out on the

farther side and ran to the line of safety, a winner!

It happened that the wolf’s den had been partly covered with snow so

that no one had noticed it until the yells of the boys aroused the

inmate, and he beat a hasty retreat. The boys always looked upon this

incident as an omen.

Gall had an amiable disposition but was quick to resent insult or

injustice. This sometimes involved him in difficulties, but he seldom

fought without good cause and was popular with his associates. One of

his characteristics was his ability to organize, and this was a large

factor in his leadership when he became a man. He was tried in many

ways, and never was known to hesitate when it was a question of physical

courage and endurance. He entered the public service early in life, but

not until he had proved himself competent and passed all tests.

When a mere boy, he was once scouting for game in midwinter, far from

camp, and was overtaken by a three days’ blizzard. He was forced to

abandon his horse and lie under the snow for that length of time.

He afterward said he was not particularly hungry; it was thirst and

stiffness from which he suffered most. One reason the Indian so loved

his horse or dog was that at such times the animal would stay by him

like a brother. On this occasion Gall’s pony was not more than a stone’s

throw away when the storm subsided and the sun shone. There was a

herd of buffalo in plain sight, and the young hunter was not long in

procuring a meal.

This chief’s contemporaries still recall his wrestling match with the

equally powerful Cheyenne boy, Roman Nose, who afterward became a chief

well known to American history. It was a custom of the northwestern

Indians, when two friendly tribes camped together, to establish the

physical and athletic supremacy of the youth of the respective camps.

The “Che-hoo-hoo” is a wrestling game in which there may be any number

on a side, but the numbers are equal. All the boys of each camp are

called together by a leader chosen for the purpose and draw themselves

up in line of battle; then each at a given signal attacks his opponent.

In this memorable contest, Matohinshda, or Gall, was placed opposite

Roman Nose. The whole people turned out as spectators of the struggle,

and the battlefield was a plateau between the two camps, in the midst

of picturesque Bad Lands. There were many athletic youths present, but

these two were really the Apollos of the two tribes.

In this kind of sport it is not allowed to strike with the hand, nor

catch around the neck, nor kick, nor pull by the hair. One may break

away and run a few yards to get a fresh start, or clinch, or catch as

catch can. When a boy is thrown and held to the ground, he is counted

out. If a boy has met his superior, he may drop to the ground to escape

rough handling, but it is very seldom one gives up without a full trial

of strength.

It seemed almost like a real battle, so great was the enthusiasm, as the

shouts of sympathizers on both sides went up in a mighty chorus. At last

all were either conquerors or subdued except Gall and Roman Nose. The

pair seemed equally matched. Both were stripped to the breech clout, now

tugging like two young buffalo or elk in mating time, again writhing and

twisting like serpents. At times they fought like two wild stallions,

straining every muscle of arms, legs, and back in the struggle. Every

now and then one was lifted off his feet for a moment, but came down

planted like a tree, and after swaying to and fro soon became rigid

again.

All eyes were upon the champions. Finally, either by trick or main

force, Gall laid the other sprawling upon the ground and held him fast

for a minute, then released him and stood erect, panting, a master

youth. Shout after shout went up on the Sioux side of the camp. The

mother of Roman Nose came forward and threw a superbly worked buffalo

robe over Gall, whose mother returned the compliment by covering the

young Cheyenne with a handsome blanket.

Undoubtedly these early contests had their influence upon our hero’s

career. It was his habit to appear most opportunely in a crisis, and

in a striking and dramatic manner to take command of the situation. The

best known example of this is his entrance on the scene of confusion

when Reno surprised the Sioux on the Little Big Horn. Many of the

excitable youths, almost unarmed, rushed madly and blindly to meet the

intruder, and the scene might have unnerved even an experienced warrior.

It was Gall, with not a garment upon his superb body, who on his black

charger dashed ahead of the boys and faced them. He stopped them on the

dry creek, while the bullets of Reno’s men whistled about their ears.

“Hold hard, men! Steady, we are not ready yet! Wait for more guns, more

horses, and the day is yours!”

They obeyed, and in a few minutes the signal to charge was given, and

Reno retreated pell mell before the onset of the Sioux.

Sitting Bull had confidence in his men so long as Gall planned and

directed the attack, whether against United States soldiers or the

warriors of another tribe. He was a strategist, and able in a twinkling

to note and seize upon an advantage. He was really the mainstay of

Sitting Bull’s effective last stand. He consistently upheld his people’s

right to their buffalo plains and believed that they should hold the

government strictly to its agreements with them. When the treaty of 1868

was disregarded, he agreed with Sitting Bull in defending the last of

their once vast domain, and after the Custer battle entered Canada

with his chief. They hoped to bring their lost cause before the English

government and were much disappointed when they were asked to return to

the United States.

Gall finally reported at Fort Peck, Montana, in 1881, and brought half

of the Hunkpapa band with him, whereupon he was soon followed by Sitting

Bull himself. Although they had been promised by the United States

commission who went to Canada to treat with them that they would not be

punished if they returned, no sooner had Gall come down than a part of

his people were attacked, and in the spring they were all brought to

Fort Randall and held as military prisoners. From this point they were

returned to Standing Rock agency.

When “Buffalo Bill” successfully launched his first show, he made every

effort to secure both Sitting Bull and Gall for his leading attractions.

The military was in complete accord with him in this, for they still had

grave suspicions of these two leaders. While Sitting Bull reluctantly

agreed, Gall haughtily said: “I am not an animal to be exhibited before

the crowd,” and retired to his teepee. His spirit was much worn, and he

lost strength from that time on. That superb manhood dwindled, and in

a few years he died. He was a real hero of a free and natural people, a

type that is never to be seen again.