On, on, went this indefatigable column; now subsisting upon mule and horse meat; now thankful for a few raw onions which grew in the hollows unbaked by the blinding sun. Finally, when the supply of rations was reduced to two and one-half days', Crook realized that his men would all die of starvation if forage and food were not at once secured. It was either food, or death in the wilderness.
One hundred and fifty of the best men, with the last of the mules and the best horses, were formed into an advance party under Captain Anson Mills, of the Third Cavalry, and sent to Deadwood City in the Black Hills to get provisions. They pushed on, little expecting to see Indians. But at a place called Slim Buttes, in the northwest corner of South Dakota, the scouts discovered a large village of forty or fifty lodges of the Sioux, pitched upon the banks of a small stream called Rabbit Creek. American Horse—a prominent chief—was here in command, and he was a good fighter. But Mills determined to attack the camp at once and made his dispositions with care.
The attack was a complete success, and the village was taken with but little loss. Some of the Sioux were killed and others were captured. Many escaped through the ravines to a plateau surrounding the valley, and, throwing up rifle pits, determined to sell their lives dear rather than to surrender. Several took refuge in a cave, and, when commanded to come out, replied with jeers and taunts, saying: "Crazy Horse will soon be here, and he will rescue us." American Horse was with these warriors, and he fought like an ancient Greek.
Courtesy of the Bureau of American Ethnology, Smithsonian Institute.
AMERICAN HORSE.
Mills promptly dispatched a courier to Crook, on the fleetest horse in his command, to ask for reinforcements at once. Then he vigorously assaulted the cave. The little band inside sold their lives dearly, and even the women used guns with good effect. But no one could have stood up against the rain of bullets that was showered into the cavern. American Horse surrendered, and when Crazy Horse—with some six hundred warriors—came galloping up to the ridge, where some of his followers had hidden, he was too late. Crook had joined with Mills. Imagining that only a few men were there before him, Crazy Horse charged upon the troopers, yelling his war song with all the fervor that had rung at the battles of the Rosebud and Little Big Horn. He was greatly astonished at the numbers of his antagonists, and, realizing his mistake, retired to the tops of some tall buttes with the soldiers after him.
Now occurred one of the most picturesque battles of the West. The Sioux were all around upon the buttes and were silhouetted against the sky. Steadily the soldiers advanced against them up the sides of the cliff. They scaled it under fire and reached the level plateau upon which Crazy Horse and his men were scattered. With a loud cheer they charged the redskins upon the run. The Sioux divided; fled; and left the field and camp to the troopers. In their camp were found many letters belonging to Custer's men which had been sealed, ready for mailing, when they had been annihilated at the Little Big Horn. There were also books, saddles and equipment of the "Fighting Seventh." Thus, that which had been lost came back to the men of the army and brought many tearful recollections of the gallant men who had been killed with Custer.
Sitting Bull was in Montana and still unfriendly. Troops were put in motion to bring him to terms, under General Nelson A. Miles. It was the winter of 1876-7 and a severe one, but the soldiers had fur boots, fur caps and clothing of the thickest texture. With such provision they could easily move and fight in the zero temperature of that northern land.