“Yes,” said the soldier, with a half smile. “They are all good except those that escape in battle.”
“But tell me, love, how long will this Indian war last?”
“As long as the Sioux hold out,” said the soldier.
At eleven o’clock the young Lieutenant said good-by to his girl-wife and went away.
This was in the ’60’s. The scouts were stationed near Julesburg, which was then the terminus of the Union Pacific track. The special engine and car that brought Lieutenant Murie from Omaha, arrived at noon, the next day after its departure from the banks of the muddy Missouri.
Murie had been married less than six months. For many moons the love-letters that came to camp from his sweetheart’s hand had been the sunshine of his life, and now they were married and all the days of doubt and danger were passed.
An hour after the arrival of the special, a scout came into camp to say that a large band of hostile Sioux had come down from the foot-hills and were at that moment standing, as if waiting—even inviting an attack, and not a thousand yards away. If we except the officers, the scouts were nearly all Pawnee Indians, who, at the sight or scent of a Sioux, were as restless as caged tigers. They had made a treaty with this hostile tribe once, and were cruelly murdered by the Sioux. This crime was never forgotten, and when the Government asked the Pawnees to join the scouts they did so.
The scouts did not keep the warriors waiting long. In less than an hour, Lieutenant Murie was riding in the direction of the Sioux, with Lieutenant Creede second in command, followed by two hundred Pawnee scouts, who were spoiling for trouble. The Sioux, as usual, outnumbered the Government forces, but, as usual, the dash of the daring scouts was too much for the hostiles and they were forced from the field.
Early in the exercises, Murie and Creede were surrounded by a party of Sioux and completely cut off from the rest of the command. From these embarrassing environments they escaped almost miraculously. All through the fight, which lasted twenty minutes or more, Creede noticed that Murie acted very strangely. He would yell and rave like a mad man—dashing here and there, in the face of the greatest danger. At times he would battle single-handed, with a half dozen of the fiercest of the foe, and his very frenzy seemed to fill them with fear.