Crazy Horse was born on the Republican River about 1845. He was
killed at Fort Robinson, Nebraska, in 1877, so that he lived barely
thirty-three years.
He was an uncommonly handsome man. While not the equal of Gall in
magnificence and imposing stature, he was physically perfect, an Apollo
in symmetry. Furthermore he was a true type of Indian refinement and
grace. He was modest and courteous as Chief Joseph; the difference is
that he was a born warrior, while Joseph was not. However, he was a
gentle warrior, a true brave, who stood for the highest ideal of the
Sioux. Notwithstanding all that biased historians have said of him, it
is only fair to judge a man by the estimate of his own people rather
than that of his enemies.
The boyhood of Crazy Horse was passed in the days when the western
Sioux saw a white man but seldom, and then it was usually a trader or a
soldier. He was carefully brought up according to the tribal customs. At
that period the Sioux prided themselves on the training and development
of their sons and daughters, and not a step in that development was
overlooked as an excuse to bring the child before the public by giving
a feast in its honor. At such times the parents often gave so generously
to the needy that they almost impoverished themselves, thus setting an
example to the child of self-denial for the general good. His first
step alone, the first word spoken, first game killed, the attainment of
manhood or womanhood, each was the occasion of a feast and dance in
his honor, at which the poor always benefited to the full extent of the
parents’ ability.
Big-heartedness, generosity, courage, and self-denial are the
qualifications of a public servant, and the average Indian was keen
to follow this ideal. As every one knows, these characteristic traits
become a weakness when he enters a life founded upon commerce and gain.
Under such conditions the life of Crazy Horse began. His mother, like
other mothers, tender and watchful of her boy, would never once place an
obstacle in the way of his father’s severe physical training. They laid
the spiritual and patriotic foundations of his education in such a way
that he early became conscious of the demands of public service.
He was perhaps four or five years old when the band was snowed in
one severe winter. They were very short of food, but his father was
a tireless hunter. The buffalo, their main dependence, were not to
be found, but he was out in the storm and cold every day and finally
brought in two antelopes. The little boy got on his pet pony and rode
through the camp, telling the old folks to come to his mother’s
teepee for meat. It turned out that neither his father nor mother had
authorized him to do this. Before they knew it, old men and women were
lined up before the teepee home, ready to receive the meat, in answer to
his invitation. As a result, the mother had to distribute nearly all of
it, keeping only enough for two meals.
On the following day the child asked for food. His mother told him that
the old folks had taken it all, and added: “Remember, my son, they went
home singing praises in your name, not my name or your father’s. You
must be brave. You must live up to your reputation.”
Crazy Horse loved horses, and his father gave him a pony of his own when
he was very young. He became a fine horseman and accompanied his father
on buffalo hunts, holding the pack horses while the men chased the
buffalo and thus gradually learning the art. In those days the Sioux had
but few guns, and the hunting was mostly done with bow and arrows.
Another story told of his boyhood is that when he was about twelve he
went to look for the ponies with his little brother, whom he loved much,
and took a great deal of pains to teach what he had already learned.
They came to some wild cherry trees full of ripe fruit, and while they
were enjoying it, the brothers were startled by the growl and sudden
rush of a bear. Young Crazy Horse pushed his brother up into the nearest
tree and himself sprang upon the back of one of the horses, which was
frightened and ran some distance before he could control him. As soon
as he could, however, he turned him about and came back, yelling and
swinging his lariat over his head. The bear at first showed fight but
finally turned and ran. The old man who told me this story added that
young as he was, he had some power, so that even a grizzly did not
care to tackle him. I believe it is a fact that a silver-tip will dare
anything except a bell or a lasso line, so that accidentally the boy had
hit upon the very thing which would drive him off.
It was usual for Sioux boys of his day to wait in the field after a
buffalo hunt until sundown, when the young calves would come out in the
open, hungrily seeking their mothers. Then these wild children would
enjoy a mimic hunt, and lasso the calves or drive them into camp. Crazy
Horse was found to be a determined little fellow, and it was settled
one day among the larger boys that they would “stump” him to ride a
good-sized bull calf. He rode the calf, and stayed on its back while it
ran bawling over the hills, followed by the other boys on their ponies,
until his strange mount stood trembling and exhausted.
At the age of sixteen he joined a war party against the Gros Ventres. He
was well in the front of the charge, and at once established his bravery
by following closely one of the foremost Sioux warriors, by the name of
Hump, drawing the enemy’s fire and circling around their advance guard.
Suddenly Hump’s horse was shot from under him, and there was a rush
of warriors to kill or capture him while down. But amidst a shower of
arrows the youth leaped from his pony, helped his friend into his own
saddle, sprang up behind him, and carried him off in safety, although
they were hotly pursued by the enemy. Thus he associated himself in his
maiden battle with the wizard of Indian warfare, and Hump, who was
then at the height of his own career, pronounced Crazy Horse the coming
warrior of the Teton Sioux.
At this period of his life, as was customary with the best young men, he
spent much time in prayer and solitude. Just what happened in these days
of his fasting in the wilderness and upon the crown of bald buttes,
no one will ever know; for these things may only be known when one has
lived through the battles of life to an honored old age. He was much
sought after by his youthful associates, but was noticeably reserved and
modest; yet in the moment of danger he at once rose above them all--a
natural leader! Crazy Horse was a typical Sioux brave, and from the
point of view of our race an ideal hero, living at the height of the
epical progress of the American Indian and maintaining in his own
character all that was most subtle and ennobling of their spiritual
life, and that has since been lost in the contact with a material
civilization.
He loved Hump, that peerless warrior, and the two became close friends,
in spite of the difference in age. Men called them “the grizzly and his
cub.” Again and again the pair saved the day for the Sioux in a skirmish
with some neighboring tribe. But one day they undertook a losing battle
against the Snakes. The Sioux were in full retreat and were fast
being overwhelmed by superior numbers. The old warrior fell in a last
desperate charge; but Crazy Horse and his younger brother, though
dismounted, killed two of the enemy and thus made good their retreat.
It was observed of him that when he pursued the enemy into their
stronghold, as he was wont to do, he often refrained from killing, and
simply struck them with a switch, showing that he did not fear their
weapons nor care to waste his upon them. In attempting this very feat,
he lost this only brother of his, who emulated him closely. A party of
young warriors, led by Crazy Horse, had dashed upon a frontier post,
killed one of the sentinels, stampeded the horses, and pursued the
herder to the very gate of the stockade, thus drawing upon themselves
the fire of the garrison. The leader escaped without a scratch, but his
young brother was brought down from his horse and killed.
While he was still under twenty, there was a great winter buffalo
hunt, and he came back with ten buffaloes’ tongues which he sent to the
council lodge for the councilors’ feast. He had in one winter day killed
ten buffalo cows with his bow and arrows, and the unsuccessful hunters
or those who had no swift ponies were made happy by his generosity. When
the hunters returned, these came chanting songs of thanks. He knew that
his father was an expert hunter and had a good horse, so he took no meat
home, putting in practice the spirit of his early teaching.
He attained his majority at the crisis of the difficulties between the
United States and the Sioux. Even before that time, Crazy Horse had
already proved his worth to his people in Indian warfare. He had risked
his life again and again, and in some instances it was considered almost
a miracle that he had saved others as well as himself. He was no orator
nor was he the son of a chief. His success and influence was purely a
matter of personality. He had never fought the whites up to this time,
and indeed no “coup” was counted for killing or scalping a white man.
Young Crazy Horse was twenty-one years old when all the Teton Sioux
chiefs (the western or plains dwellers) met in council to determine upon
their future policy toward the invader. Their former agreements had been
by individual bands, each for itself, and every one was friendly. They
reasoned that the country was wide, and that the white traders should be
made welcome. Up to this time they had anticipated no conflict. They
had permitted the Oregon Trail, but now to their astonishment forts were
built and garrisoned in their territory.
Most of the chiefs advocated a strong resistance. There were a few
influential men who desired still to live in peace, and who were willing
to make another treaty. Among these were White Bull, Two Kettle, Four
Bears, and Swift Bear. Even Spotted Tail, afterward the great peace
chief, was at this time with the majority, who decided in the year 1866
to defend their rights and territory by force. Attacks were to be made
upon the forts within their country and on every trespasser on the same.
Crazy Horse took no part in the discussion, but he and all the young
warriors were in accord with the decision of the council. Although so
young, he was already a leader among them. Other prominent young braves
were Sword (brother of the man of that name who was long captain of
police at Pine Ridge), the younger Hump, Charging Bear, Spotted Elk,
Crow King, No Water, Big Road, He Dog, the nephew of Red Cloud, and
Touch-the-Cloud, intimate friend of Crazy Horse.
The attack on Fort Phil Kearny was the first fruits of the new policy,
and here Crazy Horse was chosen to lead the attack on the woodchoppers,
designed to draw the soldiers out of the fort, while an army of six
hundred lay in wait for them. The success of this stratagem was further
enhanced by his masterful handling of his men. From this time on a
general war was inaugurated; Sitting Bull looked to him as a principal
war leader, and even the Cheyenne chiefs, allies of the Sioux,
practically acknowledged his leadership. Yet during the following ten
years of defensive war he was never known to make a speech, though his
teepee was the rendezvous of the young men. He was depended upon to put
into action the decisions of the council, and was frequently consulted
by the older chiefs.
Like Osceola, he rose suddenly; like Tecumseh he was always impatient
for battle; like Pontiac, he fought on while his allies were suing for
peace, and like Grant, the silent soldier, he was a man of deeds and
not of words. He won from Custer and Fetterman and Crook. He won every
battle that he undertook, with the exception of one or two occasions
when he was surprised in the midst of his women and children, and
even then he managed to extricate himself in safety from a difficult
position.
Early in the year 1876, his runners brought word from Sitting Bull
that all the roving bands would converge upon the upper Tongue River in
Montana for summer feasts and conferences. There was conflicting news
from the reservation. It was rumored that the army would fight the Sioux
to a finish; again, it was said that another commission would be sent
out to treat with them.
The Indians came together early in June, and formed a series of
encampments stretching out from three to four miles, each band keeping
separate camp. On June 17, scouts came in and reported the advance of a
large body of troops under General Crook. The council sent Crazy Horse
with seven hundred men to meet and attack him. These were nearly all
young men, many of them under twenty, the flower of the hostile Sioux.
They set out at night so as to steal a march upon the enemy, but within
three or four miles of his camp they came unexpectedly upon some of his
Crow scouts. There was a hurried exchange of shots; the Crows fled back
to Crook’s camp, pursued by the Sioux. The soldiers had their warning,
and it was impossible to enter the well-protected camp. Again and again
Crazy Horse charged with his bravest men, in the attempt to bring the
troops into the open, but he succeeded only in drawing their fire.
Toward afternoon he withdrew, and returned to camp disappointed. His
scouts remained to watch Crook’s movements, and later brought word
that he had retreated to Goose Creek and seemed to have no further
disposition to disturb the Sioux. It is well known to us that it is
Crook rather than Reno who is to be blamed for cowardice in connection
with Custer’s fate. The latter had no chance to do anything, he was
lucky to save himself; but if Crook had kept on his way, as ordered,
to meet Terry, with his one thousand regulars and two hundred Crow and
Shoshone scouts, he would inevitably have intercepted Custer in his
advance and saved the day for him, and war with the Sioux would have
ended right there. Instead of this, he fell back upon Fort Meade, eating
his horses on the way, in a country swarming with game, for fear of
Crazy Horse and his braves!
The Indians now crossed the divide between the Tongue and the Little Big
Horn, where they felt safe from immediate pursuit. Here, with all their
precautions, they were caught unawares by General Custer, in the midst
of their midday games and festivities, while many were out upon the
daily hunt.
On this twenty-fifth of June, 1876, the great camp was scattered for
three miles or more along the level river bottom, back of the thin line
of cottonwoods--five circular rows of teepees, ranging from half a mile
to a mile and a half in circumference. Here and there stood out a large,
white, solitary teepee; these were the lodges or “clubs” of the young
men. Crazy Horse was a member of the “Strong Hearts” and the “Tokala”
or Fox lodge. He was watching a game of ring-toss when the warning came
from the southern end of the camp of the approach of troops.
The Sioux and the Cheyennes were “minute men”, and although taken by
surprise, they instantly responded. Meanwhile, the women and children
were thrown into confusion. Dogs were howling, ponies running hither and
thither, pursued by their owners, while many of the old men were singing
their lodge songs to encourage the warriors, or praising the “strong
heart” of Crazy Horse.
That leader had quickly saddled his favorite war pony and was starting
with his young men for the south end of the camp, when a fresh alarm
came from the opposite direction, and looking up, he saw Custer’s force
upon the top of the bluff directly across the river. As quick as a
flash, he took in the situation--the enemy had planned to attack the
camp at both ends at once; and knowing that Custer could not ford the
river at that point, he instantly led his men northward to the ford to
cut him off. The Cheyennes followed closely. Custer must have seen
that wonderful dash up the sage-bush plain, and one wonders whether he
realized its meaning. In a very few minutes, this wild general of the
plains had outwitted one of the most brilliant leaders of the Civil War
and ended at once his military career and his life.
In this dashing charge, Crazy Horse snatched his most famous victory out
of what seemed frightful peril, for the Sioux could not know how many
were behind Custer. He was caught in his own trap. To the soldiers it
must have seemed as if the Indians rose up from the earth to overwhelm
them. They closed in from three sides and fought until not a white man
was left alive. Then they went down to Reno’s stand and found him so
well intrenched in a deep gully that it was impossible to dislodge him.
Gall and his men held him there until the approach of General Terry
compelled the Sioux to break camp and scatter in different directions.
While Sitting Bull was pursued into Canada, Crazy Horse and the
Cheyennes wandered about, comparatively undisturbed, during the rest of
that year, until in the winter the army surprised the Cheyennes, but did
not do them much harm, possibly because they knew that Crazy Horse was
not far off. His name was held in wholesome respect. From time to time,
delegations of friendly Indians were sent to him, to urge him to come in
to the reservation, promising a full hearing and fair treatment.
For some time he held out, but the rapid disappearance of the buffalo,
their only means of support, probably weighed with him more than any
other influence. In July, 1877, he was finally prevailed upon to come in
to Fort Robinson, Nebraska, with several thousand Indians, most of them
Ogallala and Minneconwoju Sioux, on the distinct understanding that the
government would hear and adjust their grievances.
At this juncture General Crook proclaimed Spotted Tail, who had rendered
much valuable service to the army, head chief of the Sioux, which
was resented by many. The attention paid Crazy Horse was offensive to
Spotted Tail and the Indian scouts, who planned a conspiracy against
him. They reported to General Crook that the young chief would murder
him at the next council, and stampede the Sioux into another war. He was
urged not to attend the council and did not, but sent another officer to
represent him. Meanwhile the friends of Crazy Horse discovered the plot
and told him of it. His reply was, “Only cowards are murderers.”
His wife was critically ill at the time, and he decided to take her to
her parents at Spotted Tail agency, whereupon his enemies circulated the
story that he had fled, and a party of scouts was sent after him. They
overtook him riding with his wife and one other but did not undertake to
arrest him, and after he had left the sick woman with her people he went
to call on Captain Lea, the agent for the Brules, accompanied by all
the warriors of the Minneconwoju band. This volunteer escort made an
imposing appearance on horseback, shouting and singing, and in the words
of Captain Lea himself and the missionary, the Reverend Mr. Cleveland,
the situation was extremely critical. Indeed, the scouts who had
followed Crazy Horse from Red Cloud agency were advised not to show
themselves, as some of the warriors had urged that they be taken out and
horsewhipped publicly.
Under these circumstances Crazy Horse again showed his masterful spirit
by holding these young men in check. He said to them in his quiet
way: “It is well to be brave in the field of battle; it is cowardly
to display bravery against one’s own tribesmen. These scouts have been
compelled to do what they did; they are no better than servants of the
white officers. I came here on a peaceful errand.”
The captain urged him to report at army headquarters to explain himself
and correct false rumors, and on his giving consent, furnished him with
a wagon and escort. It has been said that he went back under arrest, but
this is untrue. Indians have boasted that they had a hand in bringing
him in, but their stories are without foundation. He went of his own
accord, either suspecting no treachery or determined to defy it.
When he reached the military camp, Little Big Man walked arm-in-arm with
him, and his cousin and friend, Touch-the-Cloud, was just in advance.
After they passed the sentinel, an officer approached them and walked
on his other side. He was unarmed but for the knife which is carried for
ordinary uses by women as well as men. Unsuspectingly he walked toward
the guardhouse, when Touch-the-Cloud suddenly turned back exclaiming:
“Cousin, they will put you in prison!”
“Another white man’s trick! Let me go! Let me die fighting!” cried Crazy
Horse. He stopped and tried to free himself and draw his knife, but
both arms were held fast by Little Big Man and the officer. While he
struggled thus, a soldier thrust him through with his bayonet from
behind. The wound was mortal, and he died in the course of that night,
his old father singing the death song over him and afterward carrying
away the body, which they said must not be further polluted by the touch
of a white man. They hid it somewhere in the Bad Lands, his resting
place to this day.
Thus died one of the ablest and truest American Indians. His life was
ideal; his record clean. He was never involved in any of the numerous
massacres on the trail, but was a leader in practically every open
fight. Such characters as those of Crazy Horse and Chief Joseph are not
easily found among so-called civilized people. The reputation of great
men is apt to be shadowed by questionable motives and policies, but here
are two pure patriots, as worthy of honor as any who ever breathed God’s
air in the wide spaces of a new world.