THE PLIGHT OF THE OGALALAS
Two anxious days and two terrible nights had passed since High Eagle had
crawled successfully through the Pawnee lines. During that time the
great host of Pawnee fighting men had made many desperate attempts to
enter the Ogalala village. In each attack, however, they had been
compelled to recoil before the heroic defense of the Sioux. At the dawn
of the third day, therefore, the camp was still in possession of its
gallant defenders.
In spite of their apparent success, however, the Ogalalas were in a
desperate plight. Many of the warriors had been killed, and many more
had been wounded. Thus the Sioux force, which was outnumbered four to
one at the beginning of hostilities, had been still further weakened,
and most of the boys and all the old men had been called upon to take
part in the fight. The food supply was exhausted, and they had already
killed several ponies for meat. Fortunately the pool which supplied the
water was located close to the edge of the village, and as yet the
Pawnees had been unable to gain possession of it.
"My people, over there you see the first light of a new day," Wolf Robe
told the Ogalalas as the dawn crept slowly above the rim of the plain.
"Two suns have passed since the Wolf People came here to fight us. Well,
we are still alive. The Pawnees have made many boasts, but we have
laughed at them. Our women and children are safe in the lodges. We have
killed many of our enemies. Pretty soon our brothers, the Minneconjoux,
will come here. Yes, I am listening for the noise of their ponies. White
Otter will lead them to this place. Then you will see how the Pawnees
can run. My brothers, we have made a great fight. But I must tell you
that it is not over. No, the Wolf People will keep trying to get into
the village. Perhaps another sun will pass before the great chief, Curly
Horse, and his warriors come here. Yes, perhaps two suns will pass.
Well, we will keep off our enemies. They are many more than we are, but
that is nothing to a Dacotah. We have plenty of ponies. We can give meat
to our people. We have water. The Pawnees cannot get that. Yes, we will
keep up the fight until our people come. You have heard the words of
Wolf Robe."
"Ogalalas, you have listened to a great war chief," cried Yellow Horse,
the medicine-man. "Wolf Robe has led us in many battles. We will keep
his words in our hearts. Yes, we will show the boastful Pawnees that it
takes many wolves to kill the bear in his den. We are Dacotahs! It is
enough. Now it is getting light. We must watch."
As the narrow streak of light gradually broadened and reached across the
sky, the Sioux listened expectantly for the first warning yell from
their foes. They felt sure that they would make another attack before
sunrise, and each moment's delay increased the suspense. However, when
darkness finally merged into twilight, a long, quavering cry rose in the
south. Then the Ogalalas knew that the expected assault was at hand. An
ominous silence followed the signal. The Sioux looked anxiously for
their foes. Their efforts were fruitless, however, for the light was
still too weak to disclose objects beyond bow-shot, and it was evident
that the cautious Pawnees were safely beyond that distance. The
stillness was baffling. The Ogalalas were perplexed. They wondered why
the Pawnees were delaying their attack. The maneuver made them
suspicious.
"My brothers, we must keep watching," cried Wolf Robe. "The Wolf People
are very sly. Perhaps they are moving forward like the fox. Then they
will rush ahead. If we are not ready, then----"
At that instant he was interrupted by a wild outburst of piercing
whoops, and a multitude of yelling horsemen emerged from the shadows and
swept toward the camp. Having entirely surrounded the village, they
charged with a reckless fury that might have temporarily demoralized the
bravest foes. However, the Sioux faced them with the same calm
determination that had made their resistance so effective in the
previous attacks. Reserving their arrows until the Pawnees were close
upon them, their deadly volleys took costly toll of ponies and riders.
Although they exposed themselves with great bravery, the invaders were
again prevented from reaching the village. Realizing, at length, that
they were sacrificing themselves in vain, the Pawnees wheeled and raced
from danger. Once beyond bow-shot, they rode furiously around the camp,
shaking their weapons and shouting idle threats at the jeering Sioux.
The Ogalalas had repulsed this last attack without losing a man,
although a number of warriors had been more or less severely wounded.
They knew that they had inflicted heavy punishment upon the Pawnees, and
they believed that the latter would be slow to renew the fight. The
thought gave them considerable relief. They hoped that a strong force of
tribesmen were racing to their aid, and they realized that if they could
hold out another day they might be saved.
The Pawnees soon tired of riding around the village, and finally
withdrew far out on the plain. Then, leaving a sufficient number of
sentinels on each side of the camp, the several war parties united and
rode from sight over a distant ridge. The Sioux knew at once that they
had gone to hold a council of war, and they hoped that they might decide
to abandon the siege.
"No, I do not believe that they will go away," said Wolf Robe. "They
have come here to do a great thing. We have killed many of their people.
Their hearts are very black against us. We must watch them. Perhaps they
will wait until it is dark. But I must tell you that I believe they will
make another great fight. Perhaps our brothers, the Minneconjoux, will
come before that time. If they do not come here, then I do not know what
will happen. I have spoken."
Soon after sunrise the Pawnees reappeared. Once more they separated into
four companies. The suspicious Sioux watched them with much anxiety.
However, it was soon evident that for the moment, at least, they had no
intention of attacking the camp. They sat quietly on the ponies,
watching the village like a pack of hungry wolves around a herd of
buffaloes.
"Those people are thinking about something," said Yellow Horse. "We
must be very cautious."
"Yes, I believe they will try to fool us," declared old Crying Wolf, a
warrior who had seen more than ninety winters.
However, as the day wore on, and the Pawnees made no further attempts
against the village, the Sioux began to take heart. They believed that
their determined foes were waiting to make one supreme effort under
cover of the night, and they comforted themselves with the thought that
their tribesmen would come to their assistance in the meantime. They
felt sure that High Eagle had reached the Minneconjoux and delivered his
appeal for aid. They peered anxiously toward the west, therefore, hoping
each moment to see the dust signal that would tell them that help was at
hand.
Then, when the long day finally passed, and the sun disappeared below
the plain, their hopes began to dwindle. The thought of night filled
them with dread. They had a gloomy premonition that unless the
Minneconjoux arrived before dark, their own efforts would at last prove
ineffectual. They believed that the vastly superior strength of their
foes would eventually give them the victory. As yet the Pawnees had
withdrawn before the deadly volleys that met them at the edge of the
camp, but the Sioux feared that in the final attempt they might make one
supreme sacrifice to achieve their object. In that event the Ogalalas
realized that it would be impossible to keep them from the village. Once
they had gained a foothold, their superiority in numbers would soon give
them the victory. The bravest Sioux heart faltered at the possibility.
They knew that it would mean torture and death for themselves, and
captivity and slavish drudgery for their women and children. The peril
appalled them. They turned their anxious faces to the sky and asked the
Great Mystery to help them. Then they waited calmly for the falling of
darkness, determined to meet whatever fate awaited them with the undying
courage of their race.
"My people, I must tell you that my heart is heavy," said Wolf Robe, as
the light slowly faded from the plain. "I have looked for something,
but it has not come. I have listened for something, but I have not heard
it. Curly Horse and his warriors are not here. Pretty soon it will be
dark. I feel bad about it. Some of our bravest men are dead. Some are
hurt and cannot fight. We have used many arrows. The Pawnees are very
strong. They are like mad wolves. Their medicine-men will talk to them.
They will tell them to do great things. When it is dark I believe they
will rush ahead to fight us. Perhaps they will leave their ponies and
crawl close to the lodges. We must watch with the eyes of the great war
bird, and listen with the ears of the deer. But if they get into the
camp, then we must fight until we die. Our women and children are in
those lodges. I will ask you to keep thinking about it. Perhaps
something has happened to High Eagle. The Minneconjoux have not come. I
do not know about that. I have finished."
When Wolf Robe had ceased speaking, several famous warriors ran to the
center of the camp and called out in a loud tone so that all might hear.
They urged their comrades to be brave, and declared that the odds
against them were not sufficient to cause defeat. They reminded their
listeners that having successfully repulsed every attack of their foes,
there was no reason to believe that they would not be equally successful
in the final assault. They declared that they had no doubt that a great
Minneconjoux war party was racing to their aid. They recalled many
desperate battles with these same hated foes in which they had turned
apparent defeat into victory. In this way these stout-hearted men
infused their own heroic confidence into the hearts of their tribesmen,
and roused them from the depths of gloom to the highest pitch of
enthusiasm.
"My brothers, I have listened to the words of those brave men," cried
old Crying Wolf. "I am a very old man. My arms are weak. My eyes do not
travel far. I am like a crooked stick. But those great words have made
me strong. Yes, I am anxious to fight the Pawnees. I cannot send my
arrows far, but if any of those people rush into the village I will
count another coup before I die. My people, listen to the words of a
very old man. Well, I must tell you what is in my heart. I believe that
White Otter will do another great thing. Yes, I believe he will bring
the great chief, Curly Horse, and his people to help us. I do not
believe I will come out of this battle. But I will tell you that I am
not afraid. No, I have been in many fights. I have killed many enemies.
I have lived a long time. It is enough. Now I will do the best I can. I
have finished."
The simple heroism of this famous old warrior found a ready sympathy in
the hearts of his people. As he tottered toward the edge of the camp to
take his place in the fighting line, his loyal self-sacrifice fired the
resolution of the warriors and filled them with a determination to
uphold the splendid traditions for which this aged veteran was willing
to die.
As the evening shadows gradually closed in about the camp the Pawnees
showed sudden signs of renewed activity. They approached nearer to the
village, as if they feared that the Sioux might attempt to send away
scouts under cover of the dusk. Then riders began to race about the
plain, apparently carrying instructions to the various war companies.
This maneuver made the Ogalalas believe that their foes had become
impatient, and intended to attack them without further delay.
"Those riders are telling the war leaders the words of the great war
chief," said Wolf Robe. "Pretty soon they will rush ahead to fight us.
Curly Horse and his people are not here. We must make this great fight
alone."
A few moments afterward the Pawnees faded from sight in the gathering
gloom, and the Sioux increased their vigilance. The thought of what
might happen before the dawn of another day filled them with many
disturbing misgivings. Still they knew that it would be fatal to give
way to those dismal premonitions. Therefore, they fought down their
doubts and fortified themselves with the determination to administer a
final, crushing defeat to their foes.
During the day Wolf Robe had ordered the women to collect the supply of
fire-wood and distribute it in a number of piles along the edge of the
camp. Now, as darkness closed down, he appointed a lad, with a buffalo
horn containing tinder and several glowing embers, to stand beside each
pile of fuel. In the event of the Pawnees dismounting and attempting to
steal into the camp under cover of the night, the crafty Ogalala chief
planned to ignite his beacons and flood the village and the surrounding
plain with light.
Wolf Robe's precaution was a timely one, for the wily Pawnees did
exactly what he feared they might attempt. Dismounting some distance
from the village, they left their ponies under a strong guard and
advanced noiselessly on foot. They were within bow-shot of the camp
before the Sioux discovered them. Then, as they heard the alarm, they
rushed forward, yelling at the top of their voices to confuse their
enemies.
However, the Sioux had already called to the boys with the embers, and
before the Pawnees actually reached the edge of the village the dry fuel
was blazing fiercely, and the camp was flooded with light. The
unexpected illumination completely surprised the invaders, and for a
moment they hesitated in bewilderment. The Sioux took advantage of the
opportunity, and delivered a furious volley of arrows at short range.
Attacked at the very moment when they were attempting to rally from
their sudden surprise, the Pawnees fell back in dismay. Then, as the
arrows of the Sioux continued to thin their ranks, they recovered from
their bewilderment and rushed recklessly to the border of the camp. A
desperate struggle immediately followed, as the opposing forces met in a
deadly hand-to-hand encounter. Warrior grappled with warrior, and the
fight became a series of personal combats. The Sioux were greatly
handicapped by the odds against them, but the terrorized cries of the
women and children in the lodges gave them courage, and they fought with
a strength and courage that astounded their foes. The old men and the
boys fought as heroically as the warriors. For a time their gallant
efforts seemed of little avail, for the Pawnees were determined to enter
the village. In spite of their superior numbers, however, they were
unable to fight their way between the valiant Ogalalas. The latter were
resolved to die rather than yield a foot of ground, and their
indomitable courage made them invincible. At last their heroic struggle
was crowned with success, for the Pawnees began to give way. Fearing a
trap, Wolf Robe called out and warned his people against leaving the
camp to follow them. There was one, however, for whom the caution had no
meaning. It was old Crying Wolf. He seemed to have suddenly gone mad
from excitement. Whooping shrilly, the aged warrior left the village and
hobbled boldly after the retreating Pawnees. As several Ogalalas rushed
to his rescue he fell, a bow-shot from the camp, with a Pawnee arrow
through his heart.
When their foes had retreated into the night, the Sioux took account of
their loss. They found that the encounter had cost them dear, for many
prominent warriors had sacrificed themselves to keep the Pawnees from
the village. The death of old Crying Wolf filled them with gloom, and
they recalled his ominous prophecy on the eve of the battle.
"He was a great man," said Wolf Robe, who had survived the encounter
unharmed. "Crying Wolf did many things for his people. But he was very
old. He died like a warrior. I believe it is the thing he wanted to do.
Now he has gone on the Long Trail. Well, we will talk about him a long
time."
However, the Ogalalas found little time to either eulogize the dead or
attend the wounded, for it was not long before the night again rang with
excited whoops. It was evident that the Pawnees intended to make another
attempt to enter the camp. The Sioux threw fresh fuel on the fires, and
watched anxiously for their foes to appear within the great circle of
light that surrounded the village. The yells were quickly followed by
the thunder of hoofs, and the Ogalalas realized that the Pawnees were
again relying on their ponies to force their way into the village.
This time the fighting was even fiercer than in the preceding attacks.
The reckless bravery of the invaders soon made it evident that they were
staking everything on one great final assault. The thought nerved the
Sioux to fight as they had never fought before. In spite of their
heroism, however, some of the Pawnees found a weak spot in the line of
defense, and gained a foothold in the village. Before they could reach
the ponies, or the lodges which sheltered the women and children, Wolf
Robe led a picked company of warriors to attack them. They fought with a
wild fury that finally forced the invaders from the camp. In the
desperate encounter, however, Wolf Robe and Yellow Horse were separated
from their companions, and surrounded by their foes. The Pawnees
instantly recognized these two famous warriors, and, instead of killing
them, they made them prisoners, and carried them away before the
Ogalalas knew what had happened.
A few moments later word of the capture was carried through the entire
force of Pawnees. They immediately abandoned the attack on the camp, and
raced away, yelling in triumph. The unexpected maneuver caused wild
rejoicing among the Ogalalas, who were still ignorant of the desperate
plight of their unfortunate tribesmen.
The Pawnees had already ridden beyond hearing when the first inquiry for
Wolf Robe was made. Then, as they were searching for him among the
warriors at the edge of the camp, they suddenly missed Yellow Horse.
When they failed to find them, the Ogalalas were thrown into a frenzy of
despair. At first they believed that both these great men had been
killed, but when they did not find them among those who had fallen in
the fight, the truth suddenly flashed into their minds.
"Wolf Robe and Yellow Horse have been carried away by the Pawnees!"
When the terrible announcement rang through the camp, the Ogalalas were
stunned into silence. It was the crowning shock of the great disaster
which had befallen them, and they were unable to rally from the blow.
They realized the hopelessness of attempting an immediate rescue, and
they feared that to delay would mean certain death to their famous
tribesmen. While the principal men of the tribe were gathered in gloomy
council, attempting to determine the wisest plan of action, they were
roused by a joyous shout from the warriors along the west side of the
camp.
"We have heard the bark of the little gray fox!" they cried, excitedly.
"Yes, our people are coming. Listen, someone is leading ponies to the
camp."
"We must be cautious; perhaps they are Pawnees," warned Spotted Dog, a
famous war leader, who had assumed command.
"Well, pretty soon they will come into the light. Then we will see who
they are," declared the impatient watchers.