Indian Heroes and Great Cheiftians
Chapter 1 RED CLOUD
EVERY age, every race, has its leaders and heroes. There were
over sixty distinct tribes of Indians on this continent, each of
which boasted its notable men. The names and deeds of some of
these men will live in American history, yet in the true sense
they are unknown, because misunderstood. I should like to
present some of the greatest chiefs of modern times in the light
of the native character and ideals, believing that the American
people will gladly do them tardy justice.
It is matter of history that the Sioux nation, to which I
belong, was originally friendly to the Caucasian peoples which
it met in succession-first, to the south the Spaniards; then the
French, on the Mississippi River and along the Great Lakes;
later the English, and finally the Americans. Their usages and
government united the various bands more closely than was the
case with many of the neighboring tribes.
During the early part of the nineteenth century, chiefs such as
Wabashaw, Redwing, and Little Six among the eastern Sioux,
Conquering Bear, Man-Afraid-of-His-Horse, and Hump of the
western bands, were the last of the old type. After these, we
have a coterie of new leaders, products of the new conditions
brought about by close contact with the conquering race.
This distinction must be borne in mind -- that while the early
chiefs were spokesmen and leaders in the simplest sense,
possessing no real authority, those who headed their tribes
during the transition period were more or less rulers and more
or less politicians. It is a singular fact that many of the
"chiefs", well known as such to the American public, were not
chiefs at all according to the accepted usages of their
tribesmen. Their prominence was simply the result of an abnormal
situation, in which representatives of the United States
Government made use of them for a definite purpose. In a few
cases, where a chief met with a violent death, some ambitious
man has taken advantage of the confusion to thrust himself upon
the tribe and, perhaps with outside help, has succeeded in
usurping the leadership.
Red Cloud was born about 1820 near the forks of the Platte
River. He was one of a family of nine children whose father, an
able and respected warrior, reared his son under the old Spartan
regime. The young Red Cloud is said to have been a fine
horseman, able to swim across the Missouri and Yellowstone
rivers, of high bearing and unquestionable courage, yet
invariably gentle and courteous in everyday life. This last
trait, together with a singularly musical and agreeable voice,
has always been characteristic of the man.
When he was about six years old, his father gave him a spirited
colt, and said to him:
"My son, when you are able to sit quietly upon the back of this
colt without saddle or bridle, I shall be glad, for the boy who
can win a wild creature and learn to use it will as a man be
able to win and rule men."
The little fellow, instead of going for advice and help to his
grandfather, as most Indian boys would have done, began quietly
to practice throwing the lariat. In a little while he was able
to lasso the colt. He was dragged off his feet at once, but hung
on, and finally managed to picket him near the teepee. When the
big boys drove the herd of ponies to water, he drove his colt
with the rest. Presently the pony became used to him and allowed
himself to be handled. The boy began to ride him bareback; he
was thrown many times, but persisted until he could ride without
even a lariat, sitting with arms folded and guiding the animal
by the movements of his body. From that time on he told me that
he broke all his own ponies, and before long his father's as
well.
The old men, his contemporaries, have often related to me how
Red Cloud was always successful in the hunt because his horses
were so well broken. At the age of nine, he began to ride his
father's pack pony upon the buffalo hunt. He was twelve years
old, he told me, when he was first permitted to take part in the
chase, and found to his great mortification that none of his
arrows penetrated more than a few inches. Excited to
recklessness, he whipped his horse nearer the fleeing buffalo,
and before his father knew what he was about, he had seized one
of the protruding arrows and tried to push it deeper. The
furious animal tossed his massive head sidewise, and boy and
horse were whirled into the air. Fortunately, the boy was thrown
on the farther side of his pony, which received the full force
of the second attack. The thundering hoofs of the stampeded herd
soon passed them by, but the wounded and maddened buffalo
refused to move, and some critical moments passed before Red
Cloud's father succeeded in attracting its attention so that the
boy might spring to his feet and run for his life.
I once asked Red Cloud if he could recall having ever been
afraid, and in reply he told me this story. He was about sixteen
years old and had already been once or twice upon the warpath,
when one fall his people were hunting in the Big Horn country,
where they might expect trouble at any moment with the hostile
Crows or Shoshones. Red Cloud had followed a single buffalo bull
into the Bad Lands and was out of sight and hearing of his
companions. When he had brought down his game, he noted
carefully every feature of his surroundings so that he might at
once detect anything unusual, and tied his horse with a long
lariat to the horn of the dead bison, while skinning and cutting
up the meat so as to pack it to camp. Every few minutes he
paused in his work to scrutinize the landscape, for he had a
feeling that danger was not far off.
Suddenly, almost over his head, as it seemed, he heard a
tremendous war whoop, and glancing sidewise, thought he beheld
the charge of an overwhelming number of warriors. He tried
desperately to give the usual undaunted war whoop in reply, but
instead a yell of terror burst from his lips, his legs gave way
under him, and he fell in a heap. When he realized, the next
instant, that the war whoop was merely the sudden loud whinnying
of his own horse, and the charging army a band of fleeing elk,
he was so ashamed of himself that he never forgot the incident,
although up to that time he had never mentioned it. His
subsequent career would indicate that the lesson was well
learned.
The future leader was still a very young man when he joined a
war party against the Utes. Having pushed eagerly forward on the
trail, he found himself far in advance of his companions as
night came on, and at the same time rain began to fall heavily.
Among the scattered scrub pines, the lone warrior found a
natural cave, and after a hasty examination, he decided to
shelter there for the night.
Scarcely had he rolled himself in his blanket when he heard a
slight rustling at the entrance, as if some creature were
preparing to share his retreat. It was pitch dark. He could see
nothing, but judged that it must be either a man or a grizzly.
There was not room to draw a bow. It must be between knife and
knife, or between knife and claws, he said to himself.
The intruder made no search but quietly lay down in the opposite
corner of the cave. Red Cloud remained perfectly still, scarcely
breathing, his hand upon his knife. Hour after hour he lay broad
awake, while many thoughts passed through his brain. Suddenly,
without warning, he sneezed, and instantly a strong man sprang
to a sitting posture opposite. The first gray of morning was
creeping into their rocky den, and behold! a Ute hunter sat
before him.
Desperate as the situation appeared, it was not without a grim
humor. Neither could afford to take his eyes from the other's;
the tension was great, till at last a smile wavered over the
expressionless face of the Ute. Red Cloud answered the smile,
and in that instant a treaty of peace was born between them.
"Put your knife in its sheath. I shall do so also, and we will
smoke together," signed Red Cloud. The other assented gladly,
and they ratified thus the truce, which assured to each a safe
return to his friends. Having finished their smoke, they shook
hands and separated. Neither had given the other any
information. Red Cloud returned to his party and told his story,
adding that he had divulged nothing and had nothing to report.
Some were inclined to censure him for not fighting, but he was
sustained by a majority of the warriors, who commended his
self-restraint. In a day or two they discovered the main camp of
the enemy and fought a remarkable battle, in which Red Cloud
especially distinguished himself
The Sioux were now entering upon the most stormy period of their
history. The old things were fast giving place to new. The young
men, for the first time engaging in serious and destructive
warfare with the neighboring tribes, armed with the deadly
weapons furnished by the white man, began to realize that they
must soon enter upon a desperate struggle for their ancestral
hunting grounds. The old men had been innocently cultivating the
friendship of the stranger, saying among themselves, "Surely
there is land enough for all!"
Red Cloud was a modest and little known man of about
twenty-eight years, when General Harney called all the western
bands of Sioux together at Fort Laramie, Wyoming, for the
purpose of securing an agreement and right of way through their
territory. The Ogallalas held aloof from this proposal, but Bear
Bull, an Ogallala chief, after having been plied with whisky,
undertook to dictate submission to the rest of the clan. Enraged
by failure, he fired upon a group of his own tribesmen, and Red
Cloud's father and brother fell dead. According to Indian
custom, it fell to him to avenge the deed. Calmly, without
uttering a word, he faced old Bear Bull and his son, who
attempted to defend his father, and shot them both. He did what
he believed to be his duty, and the whole band sustained him.
Indeed, the tragedy gave the young man at once a certain
standing, as one who not only defended his people against
enemies from without, but against injustice and aggression
within the tribe. From this time on he was a recognized leader.
Man-Afraid-of-His-Horse, then head chief of the Ogallalas, took
council with Red Cloud in all important matters, and the young
warrior rapidly advanced in authority and influence. In 1854,
when he was barely thirty-five years old, the various bands were
again encamped near Fort Laramie. A Mormon emigrant train,
moving westward, left a footsore cow behind, and the young men
killed her for food. The next day, to their astonishment, an
officer with thirty men appeared at the Indian camp and demanded
of old Conquering Bear that they be given up. The chief in vain
protested that it was all a mistake and offered to make
reparation. It would seem that either the officer was under the
influence of liquor, or else had a mind to bully the Indians,
for he would accept neither explanation nor payment, but
demanded point-blank that the young men who had killed the cow
be delivered up to summary punishment. The old chief refused to
be intimidated and was shot dead on the spot. Not one soldier
ever reached the gate of Fort Laramie! Here Red Cloud led the
young Ogallalas, and so intense was the feeling that they even
killed the half-breed interpreter.
Curiously enough, there was no attempt at retaliation on the
part of the army, and no serious break until 1860, when the
Sioux were involved in troubles with the Cheyennes and
Arapahoes. In 1862, a grave outbreak was precipitated by the
eastern Sioux in Minnesota under Little Crow, in which the
western bands took no part. Yet this event ushered in a new
period for their race. The surveyors of the Union Pacific were
laying out the proposed road through the heart of the southern
buffalo country, the rendezvous of Ogallalas, Brules, Arapahoes,
Comanches, and Pawnees, who followed the buffalo as a means of
livelihood. To be sure, most of these tribes were at war with
one another, yet during the summer months they met often to
proclaim a truce and hold joint councils and festivities, which
were now largely turned into discussions of the common enemy. It
became evident, however, that some of the smaller and weaker
tribes were inclined to welcome the new order of things,
recognizing that it was the policy of the government to put an
end to tribal warfare.
Red Cloud's position was uncompromisingly against submission. He
made some noted speeches in this line, one of which was repeated
to me by an old man who had heard and remembered it with the
remarkable verbal memory of an Indian.
"Friends," said Red Cloud, "it has been our misfortune to
welcome the white man. We have been deceived. He brought with
him some shining things that pleased our eyes; he brought
weapons more effective than our own: above all, he brought the
spirit water that makes one forget for a time old age, weakness,
and sorrow. But I wish to say to you that if you would possess
these things for yourselves, you must begin anew and put away
the wisdom of your fathers. You must lay up food, and forget the
hungry. When your house is built, your storeroom filled, then
look around for a neighbor whom you can take at a disadvantage,
and seize all that he has! Give away only what you do not want;
or rather, do not part with any of your possessions unless in
exchange for another's.
"My countrymen, shall the glittering trinkets of this rich man,
his deceitful drink that overcomes the mind, shall these things
tempt us to give up our homes, our hunting grounds, and the
honorable teaching of our old men? Shall we permit ourselves to
be driven to and fro -- to be herded like the cattle of the
white man?"