| Sitting
Bull was a
famous warrier and chief of the Hunkpapa
Sioux. I remember, when a
small boy, my father telling me
that he and Sitting Bull were the same age; both born in 1834 [Sitting
Bull was actually born in 1831, but John Wesley Powell,
explorer & geologist in 1869 - 1871 of the
nearby Grand
Canyon of Colorado, was
born in 1834. George, Sr. here ses the term, "Indians," in
referring to native Americans; "American
Indians," and "Native Americans," have since come into use to replace
Columbus's mis-identification of the first people he saw in America
- George, III]. |
| In the early
Spring of 1887, my Uncle, Victor Robertson, went somewhere in South
Dakota on a business trip, and he took me along with him. I was
only 11 years old then, and I cannot recall just where we went, but it
was near an Indian camp, where Sitting Bull happened to be.
Sitting Bull, or those around him, had photographs of him for sale,
also various Indian-made objects of deerskin, ornamented with porcupine
quills. The famous chieftain was gaudily clad in frilled and
beaded deerskin, and his head bore a huge crown of feathers. His
face reminded me of an old woman's, being entirely devoid of handle-bar
mustache or chin-whiskers. Such was the man who had, eleven years
before, commanded the 2,500 or more Indians in the Battle of the
Little Bighorn, in Montana, surrounding the U.S. Cavalry General, George C. Custer with
his 264 men, and killing
every one of them. My uncle Victor had told me about this;
and my mother had painted vivid pictures of destitute and wounded
refugees streaming into Saint Paul, Minnesota during the Indian
uprising at Spirit Lake, not far distant. And so, when I
entered Sitting Bull's presence, I was considerably scared. I
don't remember that he even looked at me. No doubt small boys
were beneath his dignity and to be regarded only as pests. |
| The chieftain's
photograph did not interest me, and I am sorry now that I did not get
one. However, a stone-headed club or mallet caught my eye, and my
uncle Victor bought me that. I still have it today [Alas, not any
more
- George, III]. The
impression left upon my mind by that visit
was that Sitting Bull ruled over all Indians and would run off his
reservation and start another war if he saw his chance. "Running
off the reservation" was a term I heard several times, and it made a
deep impression on my mind. Indians were given homes on allotted
lands where the U.S. Army could keep an eye on them. If the
Indians left their homes in any considerable numbers, they were
probably on the warpath, and massacres of white people were to be
expected. |
| A year later, my
mother took my brother Will and myself to Rock
Springs, Wyoming, for a visit with "Uncle Henry" and his
family. "Uncle Henry," then Major Freeman, later retired as
Brigadier General
Henry B. Freeman, was in command of the U.S. Army post. There
had been trouble
in the coal mine at Rock Springs between white miners and Chinese
laborers. The troops were there to preserve order. I
had lived in Denver, Colorado, until 1886, but this was my first visit
to the Wild West as I then understood it, with its cowboys, sage-hens,
coyotes, and herds of pronghorn antelope. I happened to mention
to Uncle Henry that I had met, or rather seen, Sitting Bull, the Sioux
chieftain, a year or two before. I then learned quite a bit more
on that subject. |
| I knew that Uncle Henry had fought in
the Civil War, but I knew little of his part
in the western Indian wars. He knew a lot about Sitting Bull and
had been near the Battle of Little Bighorn in June, 1876. He was
a part of the U.S. Army contingent that attempted to relieve General
Custer but got there too late. They found Custer and his 264 men
scalped, mutilated, and shot full of arrows. He had been in other
campaigns which were not pleasant, "Sitting Bull was always and
still is the White Man's bitter enemy," he said. "Perhaps he will
make more trouble." |
| An outing was
arranged for us at Rock Springs. We were to go out into the wilds
for a week. Our camp was to be on a mountain stream 30 miles or
so distant. This was in August, and water was scarce. It
was the main consideration in our selection of a camping site. |
| There were five
of us; a grizzled army cook; a sergeant, Uncle
Henry's sun Luther, my brother Will and myself. We two last
named were mere kids. Luther was a young man, familiar with the
West and a good shot. We had rifles, shotguns, and plenty of
ammunition. Will and I were provided with 20-bore shotguns.
The 12-bore were too much for us. Even the 20-bore nearly knocked
my arm off whever I fired it. An Army wagon, drawn by two mules,
carried our supplies. Luther and the sergeant rode horses, the
Army cook drove the wagon, and Will and I rode in that. We
started at dawn, with the understanding that we could not reach our
selected campsite before 6PM. I discovered later that there was
no drinking water to be had between Rock Springs and our
destination. The weather was extremely hot, and water was
important. |
| We saw prairie
dogs galore, sage hens, jackrabbits, and occasionally a coyote.
When we passed exposed rock layers, I got out of the wagon and walked
along looking for rattlesnakes. I found none. We stopped at
noon to have lunch. The sun was blazing hot, and there was no
shade. We drank frequently as we resumed our journey. Our
water was all used up by the middle of the afternoon, and we were all
eager to get where we expected to have plenty of it. Then, having
as yet seen no human being on our trip, we saw a man riding toward
us. He turned out to be a rancher, cowboy, or something like
that,
as he came up to us. |
| "Were we headed
to the creek ?" There were a lot of Indians there, running off the
reservation on a hunting and fishing trip. No danger probably,
but our visitor was taking no chances. He was on his way to Rock
Springs; and away he went. |
| Our three men
discussed the matter briefly and decided to go on. However, they
first looked to the rifles and shotguns and saw to it that they were
loaded. Will and I changed our 20-bore loads to shells with big
shot; then we went on. |
| "Indians running
off the reservation;" I had heard that only a short time before; and
just when I least expected anything suggesting Indians, here they were,
right under our noses. I thought of Sitting Bull and wondered if
he was mixed up in it. I must have been scared stiff; don't
remember exactly if I showed what I felt, but whatever it was, the
others did not notice it, or at least they made no comment. The
older men laughed and joked among themselves, and we small fry took our
cue from that. But as we kept on, all soon relapsed into silence,
and the tension increased as we caught sight of and drew nearer to our
destination. Trees and verdure marked a stream, and we caught the
gleam of naked bodies of men and horses among the trees. "Couple
of hundred or more," so our grizzled cook appraised them. "If we
don't watch out, they'll steal everything we've got." |
| Some of the
Indians came toward us. None walked; all rode small, light brown
horses. None of them were armed. They raised their hands
above their heads, and Luther and the sergeant waved back at
them. The cook turned to Will and myself, "Jump out if you want,"
he directed. "Those fellows are all right, but don't get too
fresh." |
| So we got out of
the wagon, and at once drew attention to ourselves. The Indians
pointed to our legs and jabbered. "Kids in short pants," was what
they were probably saying to one another. However, we did not get
fresh. We were too awed and still somewhat apprehensive. |
| Well, we were
not massacred or anything like that. We had run into a party of
Utes, 200 or more of them, including some women and children.
They had been hunting deer and were trying to shoot fish with bows and
arrows. They left the next morning and left us our fill of cool
water and good fishing for delicious salmon trout. And having
satisfied myself that these Ute Indians had nothing to do with Sitting
Bull and probably would not know him if they saw him, I can now pass
over the remaining portion of our camping trip and visit to Rock
Springs, Wyoming, and get back to St. Paul, Minnesota, where we came
from. |
| Fort
Snelling was about 6 miles from St. Paul, although the latter has
by this time come to occupy about all of the space between the two
places. The U.S. Government was trying to make soldiers out of
the Indians, and I went out to the fort occasionally to watch them at
drill. I believe that the experiment was soon given up, but some
at least were retained to serve as military police. |
| In 1890 Sitting Bull again made the headlines. He posed as a Messiah destined to free the Indians from White Man's domination. There were "ghost dances" or warming-up exercises for the purpose of getting the young men into a warlike state of mind. Indian police were sent to the Standing Rock Agency to arrest Sitting Bull. There was a fight, sometimes called the Battle of Wounded Knee, and Sitting Bull was killed. Some of the Indian police were killed too. I went up to Fort Snelling and saw them brought back and buried with military honors. That was the end of serious Indian uprisings in this country. |