The Indians were not satisfied with the result of this engagement; they naturally would not be. They claimed that the best of their young men were off hunting for our troops in another direction, and they should at once call them in and give battle again.
The last six days had been very exciting, and was a nervous strain on the soldiers. One hundred and seventy-five miles had been made, a battle of eight hours had been fought, and the camp of Indians destroyed.
The march to the west was resumed over the prairie, with the Knife Mountains to the north and the Black Hills to the south, looming up in the distance like great sentinels, standing to contest the approach of civilization and defying the elements of ages.
In the immediate front, off towards the horizon, was what seemed to be a level plain,—it was level, but for a little distance, and then broke to your view what might have inspired a Dante to write a more recent edition of Inferno; for, as far as the eye could reach, north and south and for forty miles to the west, the body of the earth had been rent and torn asunder, as though giant demons, in their infuriated defeat, had sought to disembowel the earth.
General Sully said of it: “It is hell with the fires put out.”
We are now in the Bad Lands, and it is Sunday,—the Lord’s day, and in such a region,—where devils had fought. White men’s eyes had probably never before seen this region, and the Indians were afraid of it; they looked upon this region as the abode of evil spirits, and that the great gorges and buttes and yawning chasms were but the product of their wrath.
The Sunday passed quietly until after noon, when a reconnoitering party returned and said they had been fired upon by Indians.
About five o’clock on this Sunday General Sully changed the position of the camp and went four miles farther up the river, in order to be in better position to prevent a surprise or repel an attack.
The Indians were interested observers, for while this move was being made 1,000 of them were quietly sitting on their horses on the surrounding hills, observing.
General Sully, being sick in his tent at this time, the command devolved upon Colonel Thomas, of the Eighth Minnesota, and to him he gave orders to “have everything ready to move at six o’clock in the morning, in perfect fighting order; put one of your most active field officers in charge of a strong advance guard, and you will meet them at the head of the ravine, and have the biggest Indian fight that ever will happen on this continent; and let me further say that under no circumstances must any man turn his back on a live Indian.”