There remained, then, in the field practically but one band of sixty lodges,[[106]] under Lame Deer and Iron Star, who refused positively to surrender. The indefatigable and brilliantly successful Miles pursued this band, overtook it, surprised it one morning in May, captured the village, dispersed the greater portion of the Indians, and succeeded in isolating and surrounding Lame Deer and Iron Star, with half a dozen principal warriors. Miles was very desirous of taking them alive. He advanced with some of his officers toward the desperate little body of Indians who had been cut off from the fleeing mass of savages, making peace signs and crying peace words.
The Indians were tremendously excited and remained on guard, but committed no act of hostility. Miles rode up, and leaning over the saddle, extended his hand to Lame Deer. The intrepid chieftain, who was quivering with emotion under his Indian stoicism, grasped the general’s hand and clung to it tightly. Iron Star took Baldwin’s hand. The other Indians came forward, reluctantly, with hands extended, and all was going well.
At this juncture one of the white scouts, not knowing what was going on, dashed up to the group, and possibly under a misapprehension that the life of the commanding officer was threatened, covered Lame Deer with his rifle. The Indian, probably thinking that he was to be killed in any event, resolved to die fighting. Miles strove to hold him and to reassure him, but by a powerful wrench he freed himself, lifting his rifle as he did so, and pointing it straight at the general.
Miles had been in many battles, but he was never nearer death than at that moment. His quickness and resource did not desert him. Just as the Indian’s finger pressed the trigger he dug his spurs into his horse and swung the animal aside in a powerful swerve. Lame Deer’s bullet, which missed him by a hair’s breadth, struck one of the escort and instantly killed him. Iron Star also drew away from Baldwin and raised his rifle, as the other Indian had done. None of them were so quick, however, as Lame Deer had been. The soldiers closing in had seen Lame Deer’s motion, and before any further damage was done by the Indians they were overwhelmed by a rapid fire, which stretched them all dead upon the ground. The fighting had been short, but exceedingly sharp. The troops lost four killed and seven wounded, the Sioux fourteen killed and a large number wounded. The band was completely broken up, and most of the Indians surrendered soon after.[[107]]
Of all the Indians who had borne prominent parts in this greatest of our Indian wars with the savage tribes, there remained at large only the indomitable Sitting Bull, and he had escaped capture because, with a wretched band of starving but resolute followers, he succeeded in crossing the British Columbia boundary line.
Crook’s persistence, Mills’ bold stroke, Mackenzie’s desperate dash up Willow Creek Cañon, Miles’ splendid campaigning, his hard fighting at Cedar Creek and Wolf Mountain, his pursuit of Lame Deer, his policy and skill in dealing with the critical situations which had arisen, at last brought peace to the blood-drenched land. The most important work ever done by the United States Army outside of the greater wars of the nation had been successfully and brilliantly accomplished.
IV. Farewell to a Great Chief and His Hopes
A note of the fate of the two chief antagonists of the United States may fittingly close this chapter. Sitting Bull returned to the United States, and surrendered to the army a few years later. Ever a malcontent, he was one of the moving spirits in the Ghost Dance uprising, which culminated in the battle of Wounded Knee in 1890, and he was killed by the Indian police while resisting arrest.[[108]]
The end of Crazy Horse came sooner, in a mêlée in a guard-house on the 7th of September, 1877. He was stabbed in the abdomen, and died from the effects of the wound. He was dissatisfied always, in spite of his surrender, and had been conspiring to take the war-path again. Believing that his intentions had become known and that he would be rigorously dealt with on account of the discovery, he started to run amuck, with a knife of which he had become possessed by some means, in the guard-house. When the fracas was over, he was found on the ground, with a desperate wound in the abdomen. Whether the wound was given by the bayonet of the sentry at the door, whether the blow was delivered by some of the Indians who threw themselves upon him, and with whom he struggled, is a matter which cannot be determined. However it was come by, it was enough, for from the effects he died in a short time.
So that was the melancholy end of Crazy Horse, the protagonist of these tales, and one of the most famous Indians that ever lived. Captain Bourke[[109]] thus describes him: