The Gathering of the Sioux
Dick and Albert abode nearly two weeks in the great lodge of the
Akitcita, that is, as guests, although they were prisoners, whose
lives might be taken at any time, and they had splendid
opportunities for observing what a genuine Spartan band the
Akitcita were. Everyone had his appointed place for arms and his
rush or fur mat for sleeping. There was no quarreling, no
unseemly chatter, always a grave and dignified order and the
sense of stern discipline. Not all the Akitcita were ever
present in the daytime, but some always were. All tribal
business was transacted here. The women had to bring wood and
water to it daily, and the entire village supplied it every day
with regular rations of tobacco, almost the only luxury of the
Akitcita.
Both Dick and Albert were keenly observant, and they did not
hesitate also to ask questions of Bright Sun whenever they had
the chance. They learned from him that the different tribes of
the Sioux had general councils at irregular intervals, that there
was no hereditary rank among the chiefs, it being usually a
question of energy and merit, although the rank was sometimes
obtained by gifts, and ambitious man giving away all that he had
for the prize. There were no women chiefs, and women were not
admitted to the great council.
The boys perceived, too, that much in the life of the Sioux was
governed by ancient ritual; nearly everything had its religious
meaning, and both boys having an inherent respect for religion of
any kind, were in constant fear lest they should violate
unwillingly some honored law.
The two made friendly advances to the members of the Akitcita
but they were received with a grave courtesy that did not invite
a continuance. They felt daily a deepening sense of racial
difference. They appreciated the humane treatment they had
received, but they and the Sioux did not seem to come into touch
anywhere. And this difference was accentuated in the case of
Bright Sun. The very fact that he had been educated in their
schools, that he spoke their language so well, and that he knew
their customs seemed to widen the gulf between them into a sea.
They felt that he had tasted of their life, and liked it not.
The two, although they could not like Bright Sun, began to have a
certain deference for him. The old sense of power he had created
in their minds increased greatly, and now it was not merely a
matter of mind and manner; all the outward signs, the obvious
respect in which he was held by everybody and the way in which
the eyes of the warriors, as well as those of women and children,
followed him, showed that he was a great leader.
After ten days or so in the great lodge of the Akitcita, Dick and
Albert were removed to a small bark tepee of their own, to which
they were content to go. They had no arms, not even a knife, but
they were already used to their captivity, and however great
their ultimate danger might be, it was far away for them to think
much about it.
They observed, soon after their removal, that the life of the
village changed greatly. The old women were not often to be
found in the shadow of the lodges playing Woskate Tanpan, the men
gave up wholly Woskate Painyankapi, and throughout the village,
no matter how stoical the Sioux might be, there was a perceptible
air of excitement and suspense. Often at night the boys heard
the rolling of the Sioux war drums, and the medicine men made
medicine incessantly inside their tepees. Dick chafed greatly.
"Big things are afoot," he would say to Albert. "We know that
the Sioux and our people are at war, but you and I, Al, don't
know a single thing that has occurred. I wish we could get away
from here. Our people are our own people, and I'd like to tell
them to look out."
"I feel just as you do, Dick," Albert would reply; "but we might
recall our promise to Bright Sun. Besides, we wouldn't have the
ghost of a chance to escape. I feel that a hundred eyes are
looking at me all the time."
"I feel that two hundred are looking at me," said Dick, with a
grim little laugh. "No, Al, you're right. We haven't a chance
on earth to escape."
Five days after their removal to the small lodge there was a
sudden and great increase in the excitement in the village. In
truth, it burst into a wild elation, and all the women and
children, running toward the northern side of the village, began
to shout cries of welcome. The warriors followed more sedately,
and Dick and Albert, no one detaining them, joined in the throng.
"Somebody's coming, Al, that's sure," said Dick.
"Yes, and that somebody's a lot of men," said Albert. "Look!"
Three or four hundred warriors, a long line of them, were coming
down the valley, tall, strong, silent men, with brilliant
headdresses of feathers and bright blankets. Everyone carried a
carbine or rifle, and they looked what they were--a truly
formidable band, resolved upon some great attempt.
Dick and Albert inferred the character of the arrivals from the
shouts that they heard the squaws and children utter: "Sisseton!"
"Wahpeton!" "Ogalala!" "Yankton!" "Teton!" "Hunkpapa!"
The arriving warriors, many of whom were undoubtedly chiefs,
gravely nodded to their welcome, and came silently on as the
admiring crowd opened to receive them.
"It's my opinion," said Dick, "that the Seven Fireplaces are
about to hold a grand council in the lodge of the Akitcita."
"I don't think there's any doubt about it," replied Albert.
They also heard, amidst the names of the tribes, the names of
great warriors or medicine men, names which they were destined to
hear many times again, both in Indian and English--Sitting Bull,
Rain-in-the-Face, Little Big Man, and others. Then they meant
nothing to either Dick or Albert.
All the chiefs, led by Bright Sun, went directly to the lodge of
the Akitcita, and the other warriors were taken into the lodges
of their friends, the Mendewahkantons. Then the women ran to the
lodges and returned with the best food that the village could
furnish. It was given to the guests, and also many pounds of
choice tobacco.
Dick and Albert had made no mistake in their surmise. The great
council of the Seven Fireplaces of the Sioux was in session. All
that day the chiefs remained in the lodge of the Akitcita, and
when night was far advanced they were still there.
Dick and Albert shared the excitement of the village, although
knowing far less of its nature, but they knew that a grand
council of the Seven Fireplaces would not be held without great
cause, and they feared much for their people. It was a warm,
close night, with a thin moon and flashes of heat lightening on
the hilly horizon. Through the heavy air came the monotonous
rolling of a war drum, and the chant of a medicine man making
medicine in a tepee near by went on without ceasing.
The boys did not try to sleep, and unable to stifle curiosity,
they came from the little bark lodge. One or two Sioux warriors
glanced at them, but none spoke. The Sioux knew that the village
was guarded so closely by a ring of sentinels that a cat could
not have crept through without being seen. The boys walked on
undisturbed until they came near the great council lodge, where
they stopped to look at the armed warriors standing by the door.
The dim light and the excited imaginations of the boys made the
lodge grow in size and assume fantastic shapes. So many great
chiefs had come together for a mighty purpose, and Dick was sure
that Bright Sun, sitting in the ring of his equals, urged on the
project, whatever it might be, and would be the dominating figure
through all.
Although they saw nothing, they were fascinated by what they
wished to see. The great lodge held them with a spell that they
did not seek to break. Although it was past midnight, they
stayed there, staring at the blank walls. Warriors passed and
gave them sharp glances, but nothing was said to them. The air
remained close and heavy. Heat lightening continued to flare on
the distant hills, but no rain fell.
The chiefs finally came forth from the great council. There was
no light for them save the cloudy skies and one smoking torch
that a warrior held aloft, but the active imagination of the two
boys were again impressed. Every chief seemed to show in his
face and manner his pride of race and the savage strength that
well became such a time and place. Some bore themselves more
haughtily and were more brilliantly adorned than Bright Sun, but
he was still the magnet from which power and influence streamed.
Dick and Albert did not know why they knew it, but they knew it.
The chiefs did not go away to friendly lodges, but after they
came forth remained in a group, talking. Dick surmised that they
had come to an agreement upon whatever question they debated;
now they were outside for fresh air, and soon would return to the
lodge of the Akitcita, which, according to custom, would shelter
them as guests.
Bright Sun noticed the brothers standing in the shadow of the
lodge, and, leaving the group, he walked over to them. His
manner did not express hostility, but he made upon both boys that
old impression of power and confidence, tinged now with a certain
exultation.
"You would know what we have been doing?" he said, speaking
directly to Dick, the older.
"We don't ask," replied Dick, "but I will say this, Bright Sun:
we believe that the thing done was the thing you wished."
Bright Sun permitted himself a little smile.
"You have learned to flatter," he said.
"It was not meant as flattery," said Dick; "but there is
something more I have to say. We wish to withdraw our pledge not
to attempt to escape. You remember it was in the agreement we
could withdraw whenever we chose."
"That is true," said Bright Sun, giving Dick a penetrating look.
"And so you think that it is time for you to go?"
"We will go, if we can," said Dick boldly.
Bright Sun, who had permitted himself a smile a little while ago,
now permitted himself a soft laugh.
"You put it well," he said in his precise English, "'if we
can.' But the understanding is clear. The agreement is at an end.
However, you will not escape. We need you as hostages, and
I will tell you, too, that we leave this village and valley
to-morrow. We begin a great march."
"I am not surprised," said Dick.
Bright Sun rejoined the other chiefs, and all of them went back
into the lodge of the Akitcita, while Dick and Albert returned to
their own little tepee. There, as each lay on his rush mat, they
talked in whispers.
"What meaning do you give to it, Dick?" asked Albert.
"That all the Sioux tribes are going to make a mighty effort
against our people, and they're going to make it soon. Why else
are they holding this great council of the Seven Fireplaces? I
tell you, Al, big things are afoot. Oh, if we could only find a
chance to get away!"
Albert rolled over to the door of the lodge and peeped out.
Several warriors were pacing up and down in front of the rows of
tepees. He rolled back to his rush mat.
"They've got inside as well as outside guards now," he whispered.
"I thought it likely," Dick whispered back. "Al, the best thing
that you and I can do now is to go to sleep."
They finally achieved slumber, but were up early the next morning
and saw Bright Sun's words come true. The village was dismantled
with extraordinary rapidity. Most of the lighter lodges were
taken down, but how much of the place was left, and what people
were left with it, the boys did not know, because they departed
with the warriors, each riding a bridleless pony. Although
mounted, their chance of escape was not increased. Warriors were
all about them, they were unarmed, and their ponies, uncontrolled
by bridles, could not be made to leave their comrades.
Dick and Albert, nevertheless, found an interest in this journey,
wondering to what mysterious destination it would lead them.
They heard behind them the chant of the old women driving the
ponies that drew the baggage on poles, but the warriors around
them were silent. Bright Sun was not visible. Dick surmised
that he was at the head of the column.
The clouds of the preceding night had gone away, and the day was
cooler, although it was now summer, and both Dick and Albert
found a certain pleasure in the journey. In their present
of suspense any change was welcome.
They rode straight up the valley, a long and formidable
procession, and as they went northward the depression became both
shallower and narrower. Finally, they crossed the river at a
rather deep ford and rode directly ahead. Soon the hills and the
forest that clothed them sank out of sight, and Dick and Albert
were once again in the midst of the rolling immensity of the
plains. They could judge the point of the compass by the sun,
but they knew nothing else of the country over which they
traveled. They tried two or three times to open conversation
with the warriors about them, trusting that the latter knew
English, but they received no reply and gave up the attempt.
"At any rate, I can talk to you, Al," said Dick after the last
futile attempt.
"Yes, but you can't get any information out of me," replied
Albert with a laugh.
The procession moved on, straight as an arrow, over the swells,
turning aside for nothing. Some buffaloes were seen on the
horizon, but they were permitted to crop the bunch grass
undisturbed. No Indian hunter left the ranks.
They camped that night on the open prairie, Dick and Albert
sleeping in their blankets in the center of the savage group. It
might have seemed to the ordinary observer that there was
looseness and disorder about the camp, but Dick was experienced
enough to know that all the Mendewahkantons were posted in the
circle according to their clans, and that the delegates were
distributed with them in places of honor.
Dick noticed, also, that no fires were built, and that the
warriors had scrutinized the entire circle of the horizon with
uncommon care. It could signify but one thing to him--white
people, and perhaps white troops, were near. If so, he prayed
that they were in sufficient force. He was awakened in the night
by voices, and raising himself on his elbow he saw a group of
men, at least a hundred in number, riding into the camp.
The latest arrivals were Sioux warriors, but of what tribe he
could not tell. Yet it was always the Sioux who were coming, and
it would have been obvious to the least observant that Dick's
foreboding about a mighty movement was right. They were joined
the next day by another detachment coming from the southwest, and
rode on, full seven hundred warriors, every man armed with the
white man's weapons, carbine or rifle and revolver.
"I pity any poor emigrants whom they may meet," thought Dick;
but, fortunately, they met none. The swelling host continued its
march a second day, a third, and a fourth through sunshiny
weather, increasing in warmth, and over country that changed but
little. Dick and Albert saw Bright Sun only once or twice, but
he had nothing to say to them. The others, too, maintained their
impenetrable silence, although they never offered any ill
treatment.
They were joined every day by bands of warriors, sometimes not
more than two or three at a time, and again as many as twenty.
They came from all points of the compass, but, so far as Dick and
Albert could see, little was said on their arrival. Everything
was understood. They came as if in answer to a call, took their
places without ado in the savage army, and rode silently on.
Dick saw a great will at work, and with it a great discipline. A
master mind had provided for all things.
"Al," he said to his brother, "you and I are not in the plan at
all. We've been out of the world two years, and we're just that
many years behind."
"I know it's 1876," said Albert, with some confidence, but he
added in confession: "I've no idea what month it is, although it
must be somewhere near summer."
"About the beginning of June, I should think," said Dick.
An hour after this little talk the country became more hilly, and
presently they saw trees and high bluffs to their right. Both
boys understood the signs. They were approaching a river, and
possibly their destination.
"I've a feeling," said Dick, "that we're going to stop now. The
warriors look as if they were getting ready for a rest."
He was quickly confirmed in his opinion by the appearance of
mounted Indians galloping to meet them. These warriors showed
no signs of fatigue or a long march, and it was now obvious that
a village was near.
The new band greeted the force of Bright Sun with joy, and the
stern silence was relaxed. There was much chattering and
laughing, much asking and answering of questions, and soon Indian
women and Indian boys, with little bows and arrows, came over the
bluffs, and joining the great mounted force, followed on its
flanks.
Dick and Albert were on ponies near the head of the column, and
their troubles and dangers were forgotten in their eager interest
in what they were about to see. The feeling that a first step in
a great plan was accomplished was in the air. They could see it
in the cessation of the Sioux reserve and in the joyous manner of
the warriors, as well as the women. Even the ponies picked up
their heads, as if they, too, saw rest.
The procession wound round the base of a hill, and then each boy
uttered a little gasp. Before them lay a valley, about a mile
wide, down the center of which flowed a shallow yellow river
fringed with trees and also with undergrowth, very dense in
places. But it was neither the river nor trees that had drawn
the little gasps from the two boys, it was an Indian village, or
rather a great town, extending as far as they could see--and
they saw far--on either side of the stream. There were hundreds
and hundreds of lodges, and a vast scene of animated and varied
life. Warriors, squaws, children, and dogs moved about; smoke
rose from scores and scores of fires, and on grassy meadows
grazed ponies, thousands in number.
"Why, I didn't think there was so big an Indian town in all the
West!" exclaimed Albert.
"Nor did I," said Dick gravely, "and I'm thinking, Al, that it's
gathered here for a purpose. It must be made up of all the Sioux
tribes."
Albert nodded. He knew the thought in Dick's mind, and he
believed it to be correct.
Chance so had it that Bright Sun at this moment rode near them
and heard their words. Dick of late had surmised shrewdly that
Bright Sun treated them well, not alone for the sake of their
value as hostages, but for a reason personal to himself. He had
been associated long with white people in their schools, but he
was at heart and in fact a great Sioux chief; he had felt the
white man's assumption of racial superiority, and he would have
these two with the white faces witness some great triumph that he
intended to achieve over these same white people. This belief
was growing on Dick, and it received more confirmation when
Bright Sun said:
"You see that the Sioux nation has many warriors and is mighty."
"I see that it is so, Bright Sun," replied Dick frankly. "I did
not know you were so numerous and so powerful; but bear in mind,
Bright Sun, that no matter how many the Sioux may be, the white
men are like the leaves of the tree--thousands, tens of
thousands may fall, and yet only their own kin miss them."
But Bright Sun shook his head.
"What you say is true," he said, "because I have seen and I know;
but they are not here. The mountains, the plains, the wilderness
keep them back."
Dick forebore a retort, because he felt that he owed Bright Sun
something, and the chief seemed to take it for granted that he
was silenced by logic.
"This is the Little Big Horn River," Bright Sun said, "and you
behold now in this village, which extends five miles on either
side of it, the Seven Fireplaces of the Sioux. All tribes are
gathered here."
"And it is you who have gathered them," said Dick. He was
looking straight into Bright Sun's eyes as he spoke, and he saw
the pupils of the Sioux expand, in fact dilate, with a sudden
overwhelming sense of power and triumph. Dick knew he had
guessed aright, but the Sioux replied with restraint:
"If I have had some small part in the doing of it, I feel proud."
With that he left them, and Dick and Albert rode on into the
valley of the river, in whatsoever direction their bridleless
horses might carry them, although that direction was bound to be
the one in which rode the group surrounding them.
Some of the squaws and boys, who caught sight of Dick and Albert
among the warriors, began to shout and jeer, but a chief sternly
bade them to be silent, and they slunk away, to the great relief
of the two lads, who had little relish for such attention.
They were full in the valley now, and on one side of them was
thick undergrowth that spread to the edge of the river. A few
hundred yards father the undergrowth ceased, sand taking its
place. All the warriors turned their ponies abruptly away from
one particular stretch of sand, and Dick understood.
"It's a quicksand, Al," he said; "it would suck up pony, rider,
and all."
They left the quicksand behind and entered the village, passing
among the groups of lodges. Here they realized more fully than
on the hills the great extent of the Indian town. Its
inhabitants seemed a myriad to Dick and Albert, so long used to
silence and the lack of numbers.
"How many warriors do you suppose this place could turn out,
Dick?" asked Albert.
"Five thousand, but that's only a guess. It doesn't look much
like our own valley, does it, Al?"
"No, it doesn't," replied Albert with emphasis; "and I can tell
you, Dick, I wish I was back there right now. I believe that's
the finest valley the sun ever shone on."
"But we had to leave sometime or other," said Dick, "and how
could we tell that we were going to run into anything like this?
But it's surely a big change for us."
"The biggest in the world."
The group in which they rode continued along the river about two
miles, and then stopped at a point where both valley and village
were widest. A young warrior, speaking crude English, roughly
bade them dismount, and gladly they sprang from the ponies.
Albert fell over when he struck the ground, his legs were cramped
so much by the long ride, but the circulation was soon restored,
and he and Dick went without resistance to the lodge that was
pointed out to them as their temporary home and prison.
It was a small lodge of poles leaning toward a common center at
the top, there lashed together firmly with rawhide, and the whole
covered with skins. It contained only two rude mats, two bowls
of Sioux pottery, and a drinking gourd, but it was welcome to
Dick and Albert, who wanted rest and at the same time security
from the fierce old squaws and the equally fierce young boys.
They were glad enough to lie a while on the rush mats and rub
their tired limbs. When they were fully rested they became very
hungry.
"I wonder if they mean to starve us to death?" said Albert.
A negative answer was given in about ten minutes by two old
squaws who appeared, bearing food, some venison, and more
particularly wa-nsa, a favorite dish with the Sioux, a compound
made of buffalo meat and wild cherries, which, after being dried,
are pounded separately until they are very fine; then the two are
pounded together for quite a while, after which the whole is
stored in bladders, somewhat after the fashion of the white man's
sausage.
"This isn't bad at all," said Albert when he bit into his
portion. "Now, if we only had something good to drink."
Neither of the old squaws understood his words, but one of them
answered his wish, nevertheless. She brought cherry-bark tea in
abundance, which both found greatly to their liking and they ate
and drank with deep content. A mental cheer was added also to
their physical good feeling.
"Thanks, madam," said Albert, when one of the old squaws refilled
the little earthen bowl from which he drank the cherry-bark tea.
"You are indeed kind. I did not expect to meet with such
hospitality."
The Indian woman did not understand his words, but anybody could
understand the boy's ingratiating smile. She smiled back at him.
"Be careful, Al, old man," said Dick with the utmost gravity.
"These old Indian women adopt children sometimes, or perhaps she
will want to marry you. In fact, I think the latter is more
likely, and you can't help yourself."
"Don't, Dick, don't!" said Albert imploringly. "I am willing to
pay a high price for hospitality, but not that."
The women withdrew, and after a while, when the boys felt fully
rested, they stepped outside the lodge, to find two tall young
Sioux warriors on guard. Dick looked at them inquiringly, and
one of them said in fair English:
"I am Lone Wolf, and this is Tall Pine. You can go in the
village, but we go with you. Bright Sun has said so, and we
obey."
"All right, Mr. Lone Wolf," said Dick cheerfully. "Four are
company, two are none. We couldn't escape if we tried; but
Bright Sun says that you and your friend Mr. Pine Tree are to be
our comrades on our travels, well and good. I don't know any
other couple in this camp that I'd choose before you two."
Lone Wolf and Pine Tree were young, and maybe their youth caused
them to smile slightly at Dick's pleasantry. Nor did they annoy
the boys with excessive vigilance, and they answered many
questions. It was, indeed, they said, the greatest village in
the West that was now gathered on the banks of the Little Big
Horn. Sioux from all tribes had come including those on
reservations. All the clans of the Mendewahkantons, for
instance, were represented on the reservations, but all of them
were represented here, too.
It was a great war that was now going on, they said, and they had
taken many white scalps, but they intimated that those they had
taken were few in comparison with the number they would take.
Dick asked them of their present purpose, but here they grew
wary. The white soldiers might be near or they might be far, but
the god of the Sioux was Wakantaka, the good spirit, and the god
of the white man was Wakansica, the bad spirit.
Dick did not consider it worth while to argue with them. Indeed,
he was in no position to do so. The history of the world in the
last two years was a blank to him and Albert. But he observed
throughout the vast encampment the same air of expectancy and
excitement that had been noticeable in the smaller village. He
also saw a group of warriors arrive, their ponies loaded with
repeating rifles, carbines and revolvers. He surmised that they
had been obtained from French-Canadian traders, and he knew well
for what they were meant. Once again he made his silent prayer
that if the white soldiers came they could come in great force.
Dick observed in the huge village all the signs of an abundant
and easy life, according to Sioux standards. Throughout its
confines kettles gave forth the odors pleasing to an Indian's
nostrils. Boys broiled strips of venison on twigs before the
fires. Squaws were jerking buffalo and deer meat in a hundred
places, and strings of fish ready for the cooking hung before the
lodges. Plenty showed everywhere.
Dick understood that if one were really a wild man, with all
instincts of a wild man inherited through untold centuries of
wild life, he could find no more pleasing sight than this great
encampment abounding in the good things for wild men that the
plains, hills, and water furnished. He saw it readily from the
point of view of the Sioux and could appreciate their confidence.
Albert, who was a little ahead of Dick, peered between two
lodges, and suddenly turned away with a ghastly face.
"What's the trouble, Al?" asked Dick.
"I saw a warrior passing on the other side of those lodges,"
replied Albert, "and he had something at his belt--the yellow
hair of a white man, and there was blood on it."
"We have taken many scalps already," interrupted the young Sioux,
Lone Wolf, some pride showing in his tone.
Both Dick and Albert shuddered and were silent. The gulf between
these men and themselves widened again into quite a sea. Their
thoughts could not touch those of the Sioux at any point.
"I think we'd better go back to our own lodge," said Dick.
"No," said Lone Wolf. "The great chief, Bright Sun, has
commanded us when we return to bring you into his presence, and
it is time for us to go to him."
"What does he want with us?" asked Albert.
"He knows, but I do not," replied Lone Wolf sententiously.
"Lead on," said Dick lightly. "Here, we go wherever we are
invited."
They walked back a full mile, and Lone Wolf and Pine Tree led the
way to a great lodge, evidently one used by the Akitcita,
although Dick judged that in so great a village as this, which
was certainly a fusion of many villages, there must be at least a
dozen lodges of the Akitcita.
Lone Wolf and Pine Tree showed Dick and Albert into the door, but
they themselves remained outside. The two boys paused just
inside the door until their eyes became used to the half gloom of
the place. Before them stood a dozen men, all great chiefs, and
in the center was Bright Sun, the dominating presence.
Despite their natural courage and hardihood and the wild life to
which they had grown used, Dick and Albert were somewhat awed
by the appearance of these men, every one of whom was of stern
presence, looking every inch a warrior. They had discarded the
last particle of white man's attire, keeping only the white man's
weapons, the repeating rifle and revolver. Every one wore, more
or less loosely folded about him, a robe of the buffalo, and in
all cases the inner side of this robe was painted throughout in
the most vivid manner with scenes from the hunt or warpath,
chiefly those that had occurred in the life of the wearer. Many
colors were used in these paintings, but mostly those of cardinal
dyes, red and blue being favorites.
"These," said Bright Sun, speaking more directly to Dick,
"are mighty chiefs of the Sioux Nation. This is Ta Sun Ke
Ka-Kipapi-Hok'silan (Young-Man-Afraid-of-His-Horses)."
He nodded toward a tall warrior, who made a slight and grave
inclination.
"I'd cut out at least half of that name," said Dick under his
breath.
"And this," continued Bright Sun in his measured, precise
English, "is Ite-Mogu'Ju (Rain-in-the-Face), and this Kun-Sun'ka
(Crow Dog), and this Pizi (Gall), and this Peji (Grass)".
Thus he continued introducing them, giving to every one his long
Indian appellation until all were named. The famous Sitting Bull
(Tatanka Yotanka) was not present. Dick learned afterwards that
he was at that very moment in his own tepee making medicine.
"What we wish to know," said Bright Sun--"and we have ways to
make you tell us--is whether you saw the white troops before we
took you?"
Dick shivered a little. He knew what Bright Sun meant by the
phrase "we have ways to make you tell," and he knew also that
Bright Sun would be merciless if mercy stood in the way of
getting what he wished. No shred of the white man's training was
now left about the Indian chief save the white man's speech.
"I have not seen a white man in two years," replied Dick, "nor
has my brother. We told you the truth when you took us."
Bright Sun was silent for a space, regarding him with black eyes
seeking to read every throb of his heart. Dick was conscious,
too, that the similar gaze of all the others was upon him. But
he did not flinch. Why should he? He had told the truth.
"Then I ask you again," said Bright Sun, "where have you been all
this time?"
"I cannot tell you," replied Dick. "It is a place that we wish
to keep secret. It is hidden far from here. But it is one to
which no one else goes. I can say that much."
Rain-in-the-Face made an impatient movement, and said some
words in the Sioux tongue. Dick feared it was a suggestion
that he be put to the torture, and he was glad when Bright Sun
shook his head.
"There are such places," said Bright Sun, "because the mountains
are high and vast and but few people travel among them. It may
be that he tells the truth."
"It is the truth. I swear it!" said Dick earnestly.
"Then why do you refuse to tell of this place?" asked Bright Sun.
"Because we wish to keep it for ourselves," replied Dick frankly.
The faintest trace of a smile was visible in Bright Sun's eyes.
"Wherever it may be it belongs to us," said the chief; "but I
believe that you are telling the truth. Nor do I hesitate to
tell you that we have asked these questions because we wish to
learn all that we can. The soldiers of your people are advancing
under the yellow-haired general, Custer, Terry, Gibbon, and
others. They come in great force, but the Sioux, in greater
force and more cunning will destroy them."
Dick was silent. He knew too little to make any reply to the
statements of Bright Sun. Rain-in-the-Face and Crazy Horse spoke
to Bright Sun, and they seemed to be urging something. But the
chief again shook his head, and they, too, became silent. It was
obvious to both boys that his influence was enormous.
"You can go," he said to Dick and Albert, and they gladly left
the lodge. Outside, Lone Wolf and Pine Tree fell in on either
side of them and escorted them to their own tepee, in front of
which they stood guard while the boys slept that night.