On October 18th., a wagon load of supplies from Glendive, Montana, was attacked by the Sioux, and, after the hostiles had been driven off, the troops who escorted the train moved to a place called Clear Creek. The Indians followed, and, during a lull in the hostilities, a messenger rode out from their lines, waving a paper, which he left upon a hill, stuck between two forks of a stick. When it was picked up, it read:
"Yellowstone.
I want to know what you are doing travelling on this road. You scare all the buffalo away. I want to hunt in this place. I want you to turn back from here. If you don't, I'll fight you again. I want you to leave what you have got here, and turn back from here.
I am your friend,
Sitting Bull.
I mean all the rations you have got and some powder. Wish you would write me as soon as you can."
Several days later General Miles, with nearly four hundred troopers, overtook Sitting Bull on Clear Creek. There were one thousand warriors with him of the Miniconjous, San Arcs, Brulés and Unkpapas, together with their wives and children. A meeting was arranged with the old chief, but the wily Sioux refused to come into the Reservation. He became engaged, as he talked, and his manner seemed more that of a wild beast than a human being. "He finally gave an exhibition of wild frenzy. His face assumed a furious expression. His jaws were tightly closed, his lips were compressed, and you could see his eyes glisten with the fire of savage hatred."
A young warrior stole out of the Indian lines, as the conversation progressed, and slipped a carbine beneath his blanket. Several others followed him, and gathered around Sitting Bull as if they meant treachery. Miles, who had only a revolver, ordered these savages to retire, and, obeying reluctantly, they withdrew. Sitting Bull argued like a conqueror; he would not come into the reservation; he wanted the troops to leave the country. He spoke this way in two conferences, and, seeing that nothing could be accomplished by further parley, Miles told the chief to prepare for fighting, for he intended to attack immediately—in five minutes. Taking his watch in his hand, he counted off the time; while the savages, shouting defiance, galloped back to their own lines.
Suddenly, smoke ascended from the Indian camp. The Sioux had fired the prairie grass. In the midst of clouds of flame and smoke the troops pressed home the attack upon the hostiles. Although Sitting Bull's warriors far outnumbered the whites, they were driven away from their camp. Under the leadership of Gall and other warriors, they charged wildly upon the Government troops. Sitting Bull—as at the Custer massacre—did not appear upon the firing line, but remained in the rear, giving directions. He was a better talker than fighter and believed in allowing the young bloods to do the actual campaigning. They fought hard, too, and at one time pressed the whites so closely that—like Wellington's men at Waterloo—they were forced to form in hollow squares. The Indians were driven for forty miles.
Seeing that they could do nothing with the troops, many of the Sioux broke into small bands and scattered. Two thousand of them, however, came in on the third day and surrendered. Sitting Bull refused to think of such a measure, and, making for the Canadian boundary line, rode off into British territory. His depleted and starving camp was subsequently attacked, in mid-winter, by a detachment under Lieutenant Baldwin, and was still further crippled. Game to the last, he threw himself upon the protection of England, crossed the Canadian line, and lived for some years in peaceful security.
At last, realizing that he would be better off in his old hunting grounds, he returned to the United States and surrendered to the army. A large territory was assigned to the Sioux as a reservation, and an Indian agency established at Pine Ridge, in South Dakota. This place became the rallying point for the scattered bands of Sioux who still looked to Sitting Bull for counsel. Supported in idleness by the Government, and occasionally exhibiting himself with Buffalo Bill's "Wild West Show," the noted chief lived for some time in great contentment. But within him slumbered a deep dislike and distrust of the whites. He was one of the prime movers of the Ghost Dance uprising in 1890, and, while resisting arrest, was killed by an Indian policeman. Peace to the aged counsellor and sachem of the Sioux!
Crazy Horse had still one more fight in him before he, too, was forced to capitulate.