The old scout compressed his lips and shook his head.
"I have been in a good many scrimmages under Generals Crook and Miles, but that was the hottest half-hour I ever spent."
"How was it, Nick?"
"You know that the hostiles have been gathering in the Bad Lands ever since this trouble began. We have them pretty well surrounded, but there must be a big fight before we wind up this serious business. Two days before Christmas word reached us that three thousand Indians, including six hundred bucks, were there. You can understand how much relief it was, therefore, to learn that Big Foot, with a lot of Sitting Bull's fugitives on Cherry Creek Reservation, had surrendered to Colonel Sumner.
"That was all well enough, but while conducting the band of two hundred to the Missouri, the next day, the whole lot escaped and hurried south to join Kicking Bear and the rest of the hostiles. Then the trouble began.
"Four days later Little Bat, one of our Indian scouts, discovered Big Foot and his band eight miles north of Major Whiteside's camp on Wounded Knee Creek, and four troops of the Seventh Cavalry started for them, with me among 'em.
"As the hostiles spied us they formed a long battle line, all with guns and knives, the knives being in their cartridge belts outside their blankets.
"I tell you, Brint, things looked squally. We could see the gleam of their black eyes, and the way they scowled and glared at us showed that nothing would suit 'em better than to drive their knives to the hilts into every one of us.
"But Major Whiteside meant business. He drew us up, too, in battle line. Just then Big Foot was seen coming forward on foot. The major dropped down from his saddle and went forward to meet him.
"'Me ill,' said Big Foot, 'me want peace—my people want peace——'