Crazy Horse- A Sacred Hero

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 [Lakota.]  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.
Crazy Horse, Sacred Warrior
Crazy Horse, Sacred Warrior
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.

Crazy Horse – A Sacred Hero

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.
Native American Photographic Prints
Native American Photographic Prints
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, and 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.
General George Crook
General George Crook
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 withCuster’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!

Crazy Horse – A Sacred Hero

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.
George A. Custer
George A. Custer
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 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 Cheyenne 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.
Sioux Indians
Sioux Indians
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 entrenched 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 Cheyenne’s wandered about, comparatively undisturbed, during the rest of that year, until in the winter the army surprised the Cheyenne, 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.

Crazy Horse – A Sacred Hero

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!”
Crazy Horse leads his band in surrender
Crazy Horse leads his band in surrender
“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.
~~~~~~~~~
Though Charles A. Eastman (Ohiyesa) doesn’t specifically say so, Crazy Horse was a member of the Ogallala Lakota tribe, a band of the Sioux. He died on September 5, 1877.
Compiled and edited by Kathy Weiser/Legends of America, updated June, 2017.
Excerpted from the book Indian Heroes and Great Chieftains, by Charles A. Eastman, 1918. The text as it appears here; however, is not verbatim as it has been edited for clarity and ease of the modern reader. Charles A. Eastman earned a medical degree from Boston University School of Medicine in 1890, and then began working for the Office of Indian Affairs later that year. He worked at the Pine Ridge Agency, South Dakota, and was an eyewitness to both events leading up to and following the Wounded Knee Massacre of December 29, 1890. Himself part-Sioux, he knew many of the people about whom he wrote.

Pictured-Sioux

Butterflies

Now, one day the Creator was sitting and watching the children play. He saw the joy and the youthfulness they displayed. He saw the beauty of their surroundings, and the fresh fragrance of the Trees and the Flowers. He heard the happy songs of the Birds, and saw the blue of the Sky. He saw the women as they ground cornmeal. He saw their beauty, and the sunlight as it shone from their hair. These were wonderful things. But then Creator realized that all of these things would change. He knew that these children would all grow old and gray, and their skin would wrinkle. The beautiful women would someday grow fat and ugly, and their beautiful black hair will turn gray. The leaves would turn brown and die, and the beautiful flowers that smelled so fresh would fade. Creator's heart grew sad and troubled. It was Autumn, and Creator knew that the wild game would be scarce soon. The green leaves would be gone, and times would be hard. As Creator watched the women grind cornmeal, He decided to do something which would capture some of these wonderful things which He saw. He decided that He must make
something that everyone could enjoy, that would lift their hearts and spirits. So, He took out His bag of Creation and began to gather some things together.
He took some blue from the Sky, and some whiteness from the cornmeal. He gathered some spots of Sunlight, and the blackness of a beautiful woman's hair. He took the yellow of the falling leaves, and the green of the Pine needles. He gathered the red, the purple, and the orange from the flowers. As He gathered these things, He put them into His bag. And, last, He put the songs of the song birds in the bag.
When He had finished gathering these things together, He called the children together. He told them to open the bag and there would be a surprise for them. So they opened the bag, and out flew hundreds of beautiful Butterflies! They flew all around the gleeful children, and lit on their heads. They fluttered around, and sipped the nectar from the many flowers. The hearts of the children and the adults soared. Never before had they seen such wonderful, happy things. They began to sing their songs as they flew.
But a jealous song bird lit on Creator's Shoulder and scolded Him. He said, "It is not right to give our songs to these pretty things! You told us when you made us that each bird would have his own song. These pretty things have all of the colors of the rainbow already. Must they take our songs, too?"
Creator said, "You are right. I made one song for each bird, and I must not give them away to any other."
So butterflies were made silent, and they are still silent to this day. But their beauty brightens the day of all People, and brings out songs from their hearts.

The First Moccasins

There was once a great chief of the Plans who had very tender feet.
Other mighty chiefs laughed at him; little chiefs only smiled as he
hobbled past; and though they did not dare to smile, the people of the
tribe also enjoyed the big chief's discomfort. All of them were in the
same canoe, having no horses and only bare feet, but luckily very few of
them had tender feet. The unhappily medicine man who was advisor to the
Chief-of-the- Tender-Feet was afraid and troubled. Each time he was called
before the chief he was asked, 'What are you going to do about it?"
The 'it' meant the chief's tender feet.

Forced by fear, the medicine man at last hit upon a plan.
Though he knew that it was not the real answer to the chief's foot problem,
nevertheless it was a good makeshift. The medicine man had some women
of the tribe weave a long, narrow mat of reeds, and when the big chief had
to go anywhere, four braves unrolled the mat in front of him so that he walked
in comfort. One day, the braves were worn out from seeing that the chief's feet
were not worn out. They carelessly unrolled the mat over a place where flint
arrowheads had been chipped. The arrowheads had long ago taken flight,
but the needle-sharp chips remained. When the big Chief's tender feet were
wounded by these chips, he uttered a series of whoops which made the
nearby aspen tree leaves quiver so hard that they have been trembling ever since.
That night the poor medicine man was given an impossible task by the angry chief:
'Cover the whole earth with mats so thick that my feet will not suffer.
If you fail, you will die when the moon is round.'
The frightened maker of magic crept back to his lodge. He did not wish to
be put to death on the night of the full moon, but he could think of no way
to avoid it. Suddenly he saw the hide of an Elk which he had killed pegged
to the ground, with two women busily scraping the hair from the hide,
an idea flashed into his groping mind. He sent out many hunters; many
women were busy for many days; many braves with hunting knives cut,
and women sewed with bone needles and rawhide sinews.
On the day before the moon was round, the medicine man went to the chief
and told him that he had covered as much of the earth as was possible in so
short a time. When the chief looked from the door of his lodge, he saw many
paths of skin stretching as far as he could see.
Long strips which could be moved from place to place connected the
main leather paths. Even the chief thought that this time the magic of the
medicine man had solved tenderfoot transportation for all time - but this was
not to be !

One day, as the big chief was walking along one of his smooth,
tough leather paths, he saw a pretty maiden of the tribe gliding ahead
of him, walking on the hard earth on one side of the chief's pathway.
She glanced back when she heard the pitter- patter of his feet on the elk
hide pathway and seemed to smile. The chief set off on the run to catch up
with her, his eyes fixed on the back of She-Who-Smiled, and so his feet
strayed from the narrow path and landed in a bunch of needle-sharp thorns!
The girl ran for her life when she heard the hideous howls of the chief, and
Indians in the distant village thought that they were being attacked by wildcats.
Two suns later, when the chief was calm enough to speak again, he had his
medicine man brought before him and told the unhappy man that next day,
when the sun was high, he would be sent with all speed to the land of shadows.
That night, the medicine man climbed to the top of a high hill in search of
advice from friendly spirits on how to cover the entire earth with leather.
He slept, and in a dream vision he was shown the answer to his problem.
Amid vivid flashes of lightning, he tore down the steep hillside, howling
louder than the big chief at times, as jagged rocks wounded his bare feet and legs.
He did not stop until he was safely inside his lodge. He worked all night and
until the warriors who were to send him on the shadow trail came for him,
just before noon the next day. He was surrounded by the war-club armed guards.
He was clutching close to his heart something tightly rolled in a piece of deerskin.
His cheerful smile surprised those who saw him pass. 'Wah, he is brave!' said the
men of the tribe. 'He is very brave!' said the women of the tribe.
The big chief was waiting just outside his lodge. He gave the guards swift,
stern orders. Before the maker of magic could be led away, he asked leave to
say a few words to the chief. 'Speak!' said the chief, sorry to lose a clever
medicine man who was very good at most kinds of magic. Even the chief
knew that covering the entire earth with leather was an impossible task.
The medicine man quickly knelt beside the chief, unrolled the two objects which
he took from his bundle and slipped one of them on each foot of the chief.
The chief seemed to be wearing a pair of bear's hairless feet, instead of bare feet,
and he was puzzled at first as he looked at the elk hide handcraft of his medicine
man. 'Big chief,' the medicine man exclaimed joyfully, 'I have found the way to
cover the earth with leather! For you, O chief, from now on the earth will always
be covered with leather.' And so it was.

The Bear Man-Cherokee

One springtime morning a Cherokee named Whirlwind told his wife goodbye and left his village to go up in the Smoky Mountains to hunt for wild game. In the forest he saw a black bear and wounded it with an arrow. The bear turned and started to run away, but the hunter followed, shooting one arrow after another into the animal without bringing it down. Whirlwind did not know that this bear possessed secret powers, and could talk and read the thoughts of people.
At last the black bear stopped and pulled the arrows out of his body and gave them to Whirlwind. "It is of no use for you to shoot at me," he said. "You can't kill me. Come with me and I will show you how bears live."
"This bear may kill me," Whirlwind said to himself, but the bear read his thoughts and said, "No, I will not hurt you."
"How can I get anything to eat if I go with this bear," Whirlwind thought, and again the bear knew what the hunter was thinking, and said, "I have plenty of food."
Whirlwind decided to go with the bear. They walked until they came to a cave in the side of a mountain, and the bear said, "This is not where I live, but we are holding a council here and you can see what we do." They entered the cave, which widened as they went farther in until it was as large as a Cherokee long house. It was filled with bears, old and young, brown and black, and one large white bear, who was the chief. Whirlwind sat down in a corner beside the black bear who had brought him inside, but soon the other bears scented his presence.
"What is that bad smell of a man?" one asked, but the bear chief answered, "Don't talk so. It is only a stranger come to see us. Let him alone."
The bears began to talk among themselves, and Whirlwind was astonished that he could understand what they were saying. They were discussing the scarcity of food of all kinds in the mountains, and were trying to decide what to do about it. They had sent messengers in all directions, and two of them had returned to report on what they had found. In a valley to the south, they said, was a large stand of chestnuts and oaks, and the ground beneath them was covered with mast. Pleased at this news, a huge black bear named Long Hams announced he would lead them in a dance.
While they were dancing, the bears noticed Whirlwind's bow and arrows, and Long Hams stopped and said, "This is what men use to kill us. Let us see if we can use them. Maybe we can fight them with their own weapons."
Long Hams took the bow and arrows from Whirlwind. He fitted an arrow and drew back the sinew string, but when he let go, the string caught in his long claws and the arrow fell to the ground. He saw that he could not use the bow and arrows and gave them back to Whirlwind. By this time, the bears had finished their dance, and were leaving the cave to go to their separate homes.
Whirlwind went out with the black bear who had brought him there, and after a long walk they came to a smaller cave in the side of the mountain. "This is where I live," the bear said, and led the way inside. Whirlwind could see no food anywhere in the cave, and wondered how he was going to get something to satisfy his hunger. Reading his thoughts, the bear sat up on his hind legs and made a movement with his forepaws. When he held his paws out to Whirlwind they were filled with chestnuts. He repeated this magic and his paws were filled with huckleberries which he gave to Whirlwind. He then presented him with blackberries, and finally some acorns.
"I cannot eat acorns," Whirlwind said. "Besides, you have given me enough to eat already."
For many moons, through the summer and winter, Whirlwind lived in the cave with the bear. After a while he noticed that his hair was growing all over his body like that of a bear. He learned to eat acorns and act like a bear, but he still walked upright like a man.
On the first warm day of spring the bear told Whirlwind that he had dreamed of the Cherokee village down in the valley. In the dream he heard the Cherokees talking of a big hunt in the mountains.
"Is my wife still waiting there for me?" Whirlwind asked.
"She awaits your return," the bear replied. "But you have become a bear man. If you return you must shut yourself out of sight of your people for seven days without food or drink. At the end of that time you will become like a man again."
A few days later a party of Cherokee hunters came up into the mountains. The black bear and Whirlwind hid themselves in the cave, but the hunters' dogs found the entrance and began to bark furiously.
"I have lost my power against arrows," the bear said. "Your people will kill me and take my skin from me, but they will not harm you. They will take you home with them. Remember what I told you, if you wish to lose your bear nature and become a man again." The Cherokee hunters began throwing lighted pine knots inside the cave.
"They will kill me and drag me outside and cut me in pieces," the bear said. "Afterwards you must cover my blood with leaves. When they are taking you away, if you look back you will see something."
As the bear had foretold, the hunters killed him with arrows and dragged his body outside and took the skin from it and cut the meat into quarters to carry back to their village. Fearing that they might mistake him for another bear, Whirlwind remained in the cave, but the dogs continued barking at him. When the hunters looked inside, they saw a hairy man standing upright, and one of them recognized Whirlwind.
Believing that he had been a prisoner of the bear, they asked him if he would like to go home with them and try to rid himself of his bear nature. Whirlwind replied that he would go with them, but explained that he would have to stay alone in a house for seven days without food or water in order to become as a man again.
While the hunters were loading the meat on their backs, Whirlwind piled leaves over the place where they had killed the bear, carefully covering the drops of blood. After they had walked a short distance down the mountain, Whirlwind looked behind him. He saw a bear rise up out of the leaves, shake himself, and go back into the cave.
When the hunters reached their village, they took Whirlwind to an empty house, and obeying his wishes, barred the entrance door. Although he asked them to say nothing to anyone of his hairiness and his bear nature, one of the hunters must have told of his presence in the village because the very next morning Whirlwind's wife heard that he was there.
She hurried to see the hunters and begged them to let her see her long missing husband.
"You must wait for seven days," the hunters told her. "Come back after seven days, and Whirlwind will return to you as he was when he left the village twelve moons ago."
Bitterly disappointed, the woman went away, but she returned to the hunters each day, pleading with them to let her see her husband. She begged so hard that on the fifth day they took her to the house, unfastened the door, and told Whirlwind to come outside and let his wife see him.
Although he was still hairy and walked like a bear on hind legs, Whirlwind's wife was so pleased to see him again that she insisted he come home with her. Whirlwind went with her, but a few days later he died, and the Cherokees knew that the bears had claimed him because he still had a bear's nature and could not live like a man. If they had kept him shut up in the house without food until the end of the seven days he would have become like a man again. And that is why in that village on the first warm and misty nights of springtime, the ghosts of two bears -- one walking on all fours, the other walking upright -- are still seen to this day.

Sitting Bull's body was taken to Fort Yates and was buried in an Army wooden coffin. In 1953 Lakota family members exhumed what was believed to be his remains, to be reinterred near Mobridge, South Dakota, his birthplace.

Tribe: Hunkpapa Lakota
Born: c. 1831 -
Grand River, South Dakota
Native name: Tȟatȟáŋka Íyotȟake (born Hoka Psice)
Known for: Battle of Little Big Horn, resistance to USA
Died: December 15, 1890 (aged 58–59) at the
Grand River, South Dakota, Standing Rock Indian Reservation
Cause of death: Shot by Indian Police
Resting place: Mobridge, South Dakota
Religious beliefs: Lakota
Spouses: Light Hair, Four Robes, Snow-on-Her, Seen-by-her-Nation, and Scarlet Woman.
Children: One Bull (adopted son),

Crow Foot (son),

Many Horses (daughter), and

Walks Looking (daughter).

Parents: Jumping Bull (father) and
Her-Holy-Door (mother)
Relatives: Big Foot (half brother) and
White Bull (nephew)

1891 Account of Sitting Bull
Shortly after his Death
 by W. FLETCHER JOHNSON

The fragmentary and often contradictory narratives rehearsed in the foregoing chapter contain much fiction and some fact. The general consensus of opinion now is that Sitting Bull was born at a camp on Willow Creek, near the mouth of the Cheyenne River, and near old Fort George, about 1830. He was the son of Jumping Bull, a Sioux chief, and a nephew of Four Horns and Hunting His Lodge, who were also chiefs. His father was, for an Indian, a wealthy man, and was " the owner of a great many ponies in four colors." Although not destined to be a warrior, Sitting Bull, who was at first called Sacred Standshot, soon became a famous hunter. At ten years old he was famous all through the tribe as a killer of buffalo calves. As his father was rich and did not need the meat, the boy gave away all the game he killed to the poorer members of the tribe, and thus gained great popularity. When he was thirteen years old his father died, and he thereupon " killed buffaloes and fed his people." The next year he fought with and killed a young Indian a few years older than himself, and his name was then changed to Lame Bull or Sitting Bull, on account of a wound which he then received, which made him permanently lame.

Before he reached his fifteenth year Sitting Bull began to develop those traits which afterward made him a terror to the white settlers of the frontier. He is described by an old Western scout as a boy of rather stocky appearance, not " straight as an arrow" like the traditional Indian. He was fearless under all circumstances, a magnificent rider, an accurate shot, and capable of enduring an extraordinary amount of fatigue.

He was three times married, one of his wives dying soon after the wedding. The other two wives were named She That Was Seen by the Nation, and She That Had Four Robes. They bore in all nine children, including a pair of twins—a most unusual thing among Indians. When, after the Custer massacre, Sitting Bull at last surrendered at Fort Buford, one of his sons, a young man of 18, was at school in Chicago. Another, a boy of six years, was with the chief, and at the formal pow-wow the chief put his heavy rifle in the little fellow's hands and ordered him to give it to Major Brotherton, saying :

" I surrender this rifle to you through my young son, whom I now desire to teach in this way that he has become a friend of the whites. I wish him to live as the whites do and be taught in their schools. I wish to be remembered as the last man of my tribe who gave up his rifle. This boy has now given it to you, and he wants to know how he is going to make a living."

Sitting Bull is commonly thought of as a warrior. In point of fact he was not. He was a " medicine man;" which means that he included within himself the three professions of the priesthood, medicine and law. He inherited from his father the chieftanship of a part of the Sioux tribe. But his remarkable ascendancy over the whole tribe or nation was due to his miracle-working and to his talents as a politician. He played upon the credulity of the Sioux with his " medicine " or "miracles", until they believed him to possess supernatural powers, and were ready to follow his lead in everything.

Some other chiefs inherited wider authority, such as Red Cloud and Crazy Horse, and some minor chiefs were inclined now and then to dispute his sway, such as Gall, Rain-in-the-face, and Broad Trail. But when Sitting Bull made an appeal to the religious fanaticism of the people, there was no withstanding him. To the day of his death he was the principal chief of all the Sioux and leader of 6,000 braves, who at all times were ready at his command.

Tȟatȟáŋka Íyotake autographed photo "Sitting Bull"

Tȟatȟáŋka Íyotake

(Tatanka Iyotaka)
By: ~Anonymous Lakota
Saturday, December 15th, 2002 was the 112th Memorial anniversary of the assassination of Tatanka Iyotaka, more commonly known as Sitting Bull. This inspirational leader was murdered deep within Lakota Nation territory, a vast area encompassing much of the central and northern Great Plains. Tatanka Iyotaka in his day was one of the most influential leaders on the prairie. Today, he is the most recognizable Indian in the world.

Tatanka Iyotaka was not impressed by white society and their version of civilization. He was shocked and saddened to see the number of homeless people living on the streets of American cities. He gave money to hungry white people many times when he was in the large cities.

He counseled his people to be wary of what they accept from white culture. He saw some things which might benefit his people; but cautioned Indian people to accept only those things that were useful to us, and to leave everything else alone. Tatanka Iyotaka was a man of clear vision and pure motivation.

Sitting Bull autograph dated on card's reverse June 12th 1889.

As is often the case with extraordinary people, Tatanka Iyotaka was murdered by his own people. The colonial force set the weak of his own race against him. A tactic they continue to use. Indian police today carry on the tradition started by the assassins of Tatanka Iyotaka and Tasunke Witko. Indian police harassing, arresting, even killing other Indian people keeps the colony in control. Seeing that their paychecks, just like those of the elected tribal/band councilors, come from the colonial government points to that quite clearly.

The unrelenting love for his land and his people caused the enemies of the Lakota to fear Tatanka Iyotaka. The Hunkpapa Oyate and the Titonwan Lakota had many powerful leaders, but Tatanka Iyotaka will forever remain the icon of traditional, full-blood strength and dignity.

THE DEATH OF SITTING BULL, AND
A TRAGEDY AT WOUNDED KNEE
by Warren K. Morehead 1914
Edited by Stanley L. Klos 1999

It seems that the Indian police brought Major McLaughlin information as to the intentions of the famous medicine man. The Major became convinced that Sitting Bull must be arrested and confined, and he therefore sent a squad of police under Lieutenant Bull Head. Among the thirtynine Indian policemen who made the arrest were four relatives. Aside from the officer in charge, Bull Head, Red Tomahawk and Shave Head seem to have been the most prominent.

Sitting Bull's settlement consisted of a number of houses stretched on the banks of the Grand River for a distance of four or five miles. The group surrounding Sitting Bull's cabin was comprised of half a dozen log cabins and a corral.

The police entered upon their mission in the night and arrived at daylight. " Many of the houses were deserted, the Indians having been engaged in dancing the greater part of the previous night. The entrance of the policemen awakened the camp, but they saw no one, as Bull Head wheeled his men between the Sitting Bull houses and ordered them to dismount. Ten policemen, headed by Bull Head and Shave Head, entered one of the houses, eight policemen the other. In the house entered by Bull Head's party they found the old medicine man, his two wives, and Crow Foot his son, a youth of seventeen years.

"The women were very much frightened and began to cry. Sitting Bull sat up and asked what was the matter.

'You are under arrest and must go to the agency,' said Bull Head.

" 'Very well,' said Sitting Bull, 'I will go with you.' And he told one of his wives to go to the other house and bring him his best clothes. He showed no concern at his arrest, but evidently wanted to make a good impression and dressed himself with some care. He had also asked that his best horse, a gray one, be saddled, and an Indian policeman had the animal at the door by the time Sitting Bull was dressed and ready to leave.

"There had been no trouble in the house, and the police, when they walked out, were surprised at the extent of the demonstration. They came out of the building in a little knot, Bull Head on one side of Sitting Bull, Shave Head on the other, and Red Tomahawk directly behind. They had been twenty minutes or more in Sitting Bull's house, and it was in the gray of the morning when they came out. They stepped out into a mass of greatly excited Ghost dancers, nearly all armed and crowding about the main body of the police, who had held the way clear at the door. As Sitting Bull stepped out with his captors he walked directly toward the horse, with the evident intention of mounting and accompanying the police. He was some distance from the door when his son, Crow Foot, seeing that the old man intended to make no resistance, began to revile him: —

" 'You call yourself a brave man and you have declared that you would never surrender to a blue-coat, and now you give yourself up to Indians in blue uniforms,' the young man shouted.

"The taunt hit Sitting Bull hard. He looked into the mass of dark, excited faces, and commenced to talk volubly and shrilly, and there was a menacing movement in the crowd.

"The last moment of Sitting Bull's life showed him in a better light, so far as physical courage goes, than all the rest of it. He looked about him and saw his faithful adherents — about 160 crazed Ghost dancers— who would have gone through fire at his bidding; to submit to arrest meant the end of his power and his probable imprisonment; he had sure news from Pine Ridge that he, only, was needed to head the hostiles there in a war of extermination against the white settlers. He made up his mind to take his chance, and screamed out an order to his people to attack the police.

"Instantly Catch-the-Bear and Strikes-the-Kettle, who were in the front rank of the crowd, fired at point-blank range, Catch-the-Bear mortally wounding First Lieutenant Bull Head, and Strikes-the-Kettle shooting First Sergeant Shave Head in the abdomen. Lieutenant Bull Head was a few yards to the left and front of Sitting Bull when hit, and immediately wheeling, he shot Sitting Bull through the body, and at the same instant Second Sergeant Red Tomahawk, who with revolver in hand was rearguard, shot him in the right cheek, killing him instantly; the lieutenant, the first sergeant, and Sitting Bull falling together.

"Sitting Bull's medicine had not saved him, and the shot that killed him put a stop forever to the domination of the ancient regime among the Sioux of the Standing Rock reservation.

"The tale of the bloody fight that ensued has been told, and the world knows how those thirty-nine Indian policemen, with four of their relatives who volunteered to accompany them,— a total of forty-three in all — fought off 160 Ghost dancers, eight of whom were killed and five wounded; how Second Sergeant Red Tomahawk, after the two higher ranking police officers had been mortally wounded, took command and drove the Indians to the timber; how Hawk Man No. 1 ran through a hail of bullets to get the news to the cavalry detachment, and how six faithful friends of the Whites, policemen of the Standing Rock reservation, laid down their lives in doing their duty that morning. Two days later, on December 17, 1890, we buried Shave Head and four other Indian policemen with military honors in the cemetery at Standing Rock, and, while Captain Miner's entire company of the Twenty-Second U. S. Infantry fired three volleys over the graves of these red heroes, and a great concourse of the Sioux of the reservation stood in the chill bright sunlight of a fair winter's day, mourning aloud for their dead, I quietly left the enclosure and joined a little burial-party in the military cemetery at Fort Yates, situated about five hundred yards south of the agency cemetery. Four military prisoners dug the grave, and in the presence of A. R. Chapin, Assistant Surgeon, U. S. A., H. M. Deeble, Acting Assistant Surgeon, U. S. A., Lieutenant P. G. Wood, U. S. A., Post Quartermaster, now Brigadier General, retired, and myself, the body of Sitting Bull, wrapped in canvas and placed in a coffin, was lowered into the grave."*

Naturally the death of Sitting Bull caused great commotion and many Indians joined the Ghost dancers. In spite of promises to the contrary, they imagined that all those who had incurred the ill will of the authorities were to be killed.

About this time Major Brooke sent out American Horse with Two Strike and others to persuade the rest of the Ghost dancers to come in. There were a number of skirmishes in which a few persons were killed on each side.

On December 28th, Major Whitside in charge of the Seventh Cavalry came up with Big Foot's band. This same Indian, Big Foot, and his people were traveling toward Pine Ridge agency. According to Mooney's account, Whitside demanded unconditional surrender which was at once given. The Indians and the soldiers went into camp twenty miles northeast of Pine Ridge agency. All of this was communicated to Major Brooke, who sent Colonel Forsythe with four companies of the Seventh Cavalry to join Whitside. This gave Whitside a total of 470 men as against 106 warriors and a number of women and children, frequently estimated from 200 to 250. The other Ghost dancers under Kicking Bear and Short Bull had been persuaded by American Horse and Little Wound to come in to the agency and were encamped at the Catholic mission, five miles out. December 29th (the next day) the officers ordered the Indians to be disarmed. In the center of the camp of the Indians a white flag had been erected. Early in the morning a battery of four Hotchkiss guns had been posted,and these were trained on the Indian camp. The cavalry was placed in squads at various angles, almost entirely surrounding the Indians, or at least on the flank. Chief Big Foot was ill with pneumonia, and the troops had provided him with a tent warmed by a camp stove. About eight o'clock in the morning the men were ordered to give up their guns. Following Mooney's account further, twenty of them came out with only two guns. The Indians seemed unwilling to give them up, and some of the soldiers were ordered to go into the tents and secure them. Mooney says that this search consumed time and created excitement. My information is to the effect that the soldiers threw things about in the tents and took guns away from those who had them; many children were badly frightened and began to cry, and the Indians were now told by the shaman, Yellow Bird, that they were to be disarmed and then killed. I was told that the medicine man threw dust high in the air and it broke like a little cloud and then the massacre began. Mooney presents the same idea, in a little different form.

While this searching had continued, a large part of the soldiers had been ordered up to within ten yards of the Indians, which further added to their terror and convinced them that Yellow Bird spoke the truth, that they were all to be shot down.

RUDOLF CRONAU (1855-1939), graphite and ink wash on paper of Tatanka Iyotake, Sitting Bull, signed, dated and inscribed 'Rud. Cronau - 1881 Fort Randall S. Dac.' and inscribed 'Sitting Bull' 15½ x 12¼ inches

One or two Indians drew revolvers or rifles and fired upon the soldiers, who returned the fire, killing almost half the warriors at the first discharge of their guns Many sticks were afterwards set up at this place by the Indians. The survivors sprang to their feet, seized knives, clubs or the few remaining guns, and fought desperately.

While this was going on, other troops operated the Hotchkiss guns and sent a storm of shells and bullets among the women and children standing or running about the tipis. Mooney says "the guns poured in two-pound explosive shells at the rate of fifty per minute, mowing down everything alive.

" The terrible effect may be judged from the fact that one woman survivor, Blue Whirlwind, with whom the author conversed, received fourteen wounds, while each of her two little boys were also wounded by her side. In a few minutes 200 Indian men, women and children, with sixty soldiers, were lying dead and wounded on the ground, the tipis had been torn down by the shells and some of them were burning above the helpless wounded, and the surviving handful of Indians were flying in wild panic to the shelter of the ravine, pursued by hundreds of maddened soldiers and followed up by a raking fire from the Hotchkiss guns, which had been moved into position to sweep the ravine.

"There can be no question that the pursuit was simply a massacre, where fleeing women, with infants in their arms, were shot down after resistance had ceased and when almost every warrior was stretched dead or dying on the ground. On this point such a careful writer as Herbert Welsh says: 'From the fact that so many women and children were killed, and that their bodies were found far from the scene of action, and as though they were shot down while flying, it would look as though blind rage had been at work, in striking contrast to the moderation of the Indian police at the Sitting Bull fight when they were assailed by women.' The testimony of American Horse and other friendlies is strong in the same direction. Commissioner Morgan in his official report says that 'Most of the men, including Big Foot, were killed around his tent, where he lay sick. The bodies of the women and children were scattered along a distance of two miles from the scene of the encounter'."

I agree with Mooney, that a man should not criticize the soldiers of his own country. As for the shooting of armed warriors, we will all give assent. As to the murder of women and children, whose only thought was to escape with their lives, one may not trust himself to write in moderation. The Indians told me that many of the Seventh Cavalry troops cried out, "Remember Custer," as they pursued little boys and girls and destroyed them. We might as well draw the veil of charity over the concluding scene — the pursuit and the butchery.

There was one heroic character, Father Kraft, of the Catholic mission, Pine Ridge. He spoke Sioux fluently and endeavored to stop the fight. He was stabbed through the lungs, yet with bullets flying about him, he administered the last rites of the church to the dying until he fell unconscious. Mooney pays him a deserved tribute. The Indians were so excited that they did not recognize him, claiming that he had on a soldier's overcoat because of the cold. Mooney affirms this is not correct, but that he wore his priestly robes.

The immediate result of the massacre of Wounded Knee was the stampeding of all the Indians into the hills. They believed that they were to be murdered.

General Miles adopted harsh measures against the Indians and they soon surrendered all their guns and came in to the agency.

Doctor McGillicuddy, the former Agent at Pine Ridge, who was entirely familiar with the events, stated to Mooney on January 15, 1891, "Up to date there has been neither a Sioux outbreak nor war. No citizen in Nebraska or Dakota has been killed, molested, or can show the scratch of a pin, and no property has been destroyed off the reservation. Only a single non-combatant was killed by the Indians, and that was close to the agency. The entire time occupied by the campaign, from the killing of Sitting Bull to the surrender at Pine Ridge, was only thirty-two days. The late hostiles were returned to their homes as speedily as possible."

The Indians quit, but the white people did not. On January llth, some white people led by three brothers named Culbertson,* pursued an aged Oglala, who was a very friendly Indian, for many miles. His name was Few Tails, and he was accompanied by his wife, another Indian named One Feather, his wife and two children. They had been hunting in the Black Hills and had a pass from the agency. They were returning in two wagons loaded with meat. The Culbertson brothers and these other white men fired on Few Tails, killing that Indian and both ponies attached to that wagon. His wife jumped out and received two bullets, bringing her down. Mooney says that the murderers then attacked the other wagon shooting the wife of One Feather, but as she was not badly hurt, she drove away as rapidly as possible and the Indian leaped upon one of the spare ponies and held off the white men for eight or ten miles. They again came up, and he turned and fought them off while his wife drove ahead with the wagon.

Cabinet photograph signed "Sitting Bull" in Sitting Bull's square hand in lower portion of the mount. Circa 1882

The senseless panic had seized upon all settlers in the country because of the Ghost dance and the Wounded Knee fight. This is illustrated by Mooney's concluding description of the first part of the fight.

"As they drove they passed near a house, from which several other shots were fired at the flying mother, when her husband again rode up and kept off the whole party until the wagon could get ahead. Finally, as the ponies were tired out, this heroic man abandoned the wagon and put the two children on one of the spare ponies and his wounded wife and himself upon another and continued to retreat until the Whites gave up the pursuit. He finally reached the agency with the wife and children."

To give readers an adequate conception of what has too frequently occurred in the West, I desire to state that while One Feather and his family escaped, wounded, the wife of the other Indian, Few Tails, was shot twice, and lay helpless on the ground all night. In the morning she found one of the ponies alive, and mounted it and reached a settler's house fifteen miles away.

"Instead of meeting help and sympathy, however, she was driven off by the two men there with loaded rifles, and leaving her horse in her fright, she hurried away as well as she could with a bullet in her leg and another in her breast, passing by the trail of One Feather's wagon with the tracks of his pursuers fresh behind it, until she came near a trader's store about twenty miles farther south. Afraid to go near it on account of her last experience, the poor woman circled around it, and continued, wounded, cold, and starving as she was, to travel by night and hide by day until she reached the Bad Lands. The rest may be told in her own words:

" 'After that I traveled every night, resting daytime, until I got here at the beef corral. Then I was very tired, and was near the military camp, and early in the morning a soldier came out and he shouted something back, and in a few minutes fifty men were there, and they got a blanket and took me to a tent. I had no blanket and my feet were swelled, and I was about ready to die. After I got to the tent a doctor came in—a soldier doctor, because he had straps on his shoulders — and washed me and treated me well."

"A few of the soldiers camped near the scene of the attack had joined in the pursuit at the beginning, on the representations of some of the murderers, but abandoned it as soon as they found their mistake. According to all the testimony, the killing was a wanton, unprovoked, and deliberate murder, yet the criminals were acquitted in the local courts. The apathy displayed by the authorities of Meade county, South Dakota, in which the murder was committed, called forth some vigorous protests. Colonel Shafter, in his statement of the case, concludes, referring to the recent killing of Lieutenant Casey: 'So long as Indians are being arrested and held for killing armed men under conditions of war, it seems to me that the white murderers of a part of a band of peaceful Indians should not be permitted to escape punishment.' The Indians took the same view of the case, and when General Miles demanded of Young-man-afraid-ofhis-horses the surrender of the slayers of Casey and the herder Miller, the old chief indignantly replied: 'No; I will not surrender them, but if you will bring the white men who killed Few Tails, I will bring the Indians who killed the white soldier and the herder; and right out here in front of your tipi I will have my young men shoot the Indians and you have your so'diers shoot the white men, and we will be done with the whole business."

"In regard to the heroic conduct of One Feather, the officer then in charge of the agency says: 'The determination and genuine courage, as well as the generalship he manifested in keeping at a distance the six men who were pursuing him, and the devotion he showed toward his family, risking his life against great odds, designate him as entitled to a place on the list of heroes'."

I present as an illustration in this book, the little monument erected on the Wounded Knee battlefield by the Sioux themselves some years after the massacre. It was dedicated in the presence of a great concourse of Indians. The inscription is given in Sioux on one side of the shaft, in English on the other. The War Department rather objected to it, so I was told, but it still stands as a monument typifying our treatment of the Indian in these modern days.

Some of the Sioux are still backward, and there are quite a number who do not attend the Protestant or Catholic missions. If one will talk with these so-called "non-progressives," one may hear them say, "We have not forgotten Wounded Knee."

A few brief concluding statements are in order. A perusal of this long narrative indicates that at the first the dance was a purely religious ceremony. The Sioux were deadly in earnest, they were sincere. They danced day and night until they dropped from exhaustion. There was nothing like it, so far as I can ascertain, in recent times in North America. They were in a frenzy. Yet there was no thought of war. Revivals among Protestant denominations in this country (especially in remote districts) frequently develop religious mania. Many older persons remember the "Camp Meetings" of the West and South in which people "got religion." The interference of police or troops at such a gathering would bring on a riot among the white Christians participating in the services.

Negroes of the South have been known to become insensible for hours — to enter a cataleptic state — and to relate visions on recovering. Hysteria at religious gatherings in the South is common among Negroes. In view of these facts, a religious mania is not surprising among Indians, who sought, as we have seen, salvation out of troubles. In fact the craze was induced by their wretched condition.

There was no danger at any time at Pine Ridge. What we did, not once, but on many nights, is proof of the assertion. There were a number of newspaper men in the little log hotel at Pine Ridge, and they sent many sensational accounts to the Eastern papers. Not one of them ever left the agency, until the battle of Wounded Knee had occurred, when a few went out to look over the field. Mr. Bartlett, who spoke Sioux quite well, and myself, were the only men to my knowledge who left the agency and visited the camps in the valley, one or two miles distant. The fact that we were able to do so, is sufficient refutation of the statement that the Indians desired to fight, or were savages. Both of us would have been killed were this statement true. We never experienced the slightest trouble, but on the contrary were afforded every facility. We often felt guns and revolvers under the blankets on which we reclined in the tipis. Force caused Wounded Knee. Humanity would have prevented it.

-- The American Indian in the United States 1850-1914, A Plea For Justice, Andover Press: 1914 by Warren K. Morehead 1914 and Edited by Stanley L. Klos 1999

http://www.sittingbull.org/

Artist Unknown
Red Road Ethic 12
Take What You Need,
Leave the Rest Be
There is nothing placed upon this
Earth that deserves to be destroyed
or wasted for the purpose of human
convenience. To destroy trees and leave
them unused simply because they
blocked the view of the garden, or to
kill animals only for their fur, is not a
rightful way to share the world with
another. To waste and discard some-
thing due to your own selfishness is an
act that goes against the Creator, and
strays you from the Red Road.
Now tell me this one little thing, if thou
hast any sense: Which of these two is
the wisest and happiest--he who
labours without ceasing and only
obtains, and that with great trouble,
enough to live on, or he who rests in
comfort and finds all that he needs in
the pleasure of hunting and fishing?
-GASPESIAN CHIEF

DECEMBER

DECEMBER ANISHINAABE MOON:
SMALL SPIRITS MOON
Winter--known as Wicta in Yuchi--
is upon us
-GASPESIAN CHIEF
December 1
A long time ago the Creator came to
Turtle Island and said to the Red
People, You will be the keepers of the
Mother Earth. Among you I will give
the wisdom about Nature, about the
interconnectedness of all things, about
balance and about living in harmony.
You Red People will see the secrets of
Nature. You will live in hardship and
the blessing of this is you will stay close
to the Creator. The day will come
when you will need to share the
secrets with other people of the earth
because they will stray from their
Spiritual ways. The time to start
sharing is today.
-DON COYHIS
MOHICAN
By: Terri Jean