There were many Sioux about, for it was ration time, and from their village ten miles down-river they were gathering to get their beef and other supplies.
Now was it reported through the camp that the expedition had been made for the purpose of capturing some Sioux who had killed a white man on the Red River of the North, the summer before. That would seem correct; for after breakfast forty of the troopers were led off, south, to the village, where, rumor said, the murderers might be. This appeared rather a foolish piece of work by Captain Yates and Lieutenant Tom. Of course the other Sioux would see the soldiers arrive and would warn the murderers to hide.
However, “Boots and Saddles” was it, for all the camp. After the detachment had trotted away, Captain Yates took the remainder of the company to the agency. They were halted a short distance from the post store.
It was full of Indians, trading. In and out they stalked, wrapped all in buffalo robes or Government blankets of red, blue and gray. Scarcely a face was to be seen. Lieutenant Tom dismounted, and beckoning to five of his soldiers leisurely entered. He stayed inside, as if chatting with the trader.
“At ease,” ordered Captain Yates, to the sergeant of the troop outside. So the remainder of the column might dismount, and stretch legs, and swing arms, and watch curiously the many shrouded Indians. Even this was poky work. Yet something was in the air. Evidently Captain Yates and Lieutenant Tom had a scheme up their sleeves.
Three hours passed—and now on a sudden arose a great commotion. From the store issued quick scuffle of feet, and sharp commands. High swelled angry voices, in guttural Sioux; Indians outside began to run.
“Comp’ny—’ten’shun! Mount!” shouted Captain Yates. “Right into line—march! For’r’d—march! Trot—march! Comp’ny—halt!”
In line they had drawn up before the agency door. An Indian within was loudly speaking, as if calling to arms. At least five hundred Indians came running, with their rifles; and out through the doorway was being hustled between two of the soldiers another Indian, arms bound behind him, blanket fallen from his proud, handsome, stolid face. Only his eyes flashed defiance. Two soldiers opened the way; Lieutenant Tom and the fifth soldier followed.
“Rain-in-the-Face!” aside said somebody, in the ranks; and the name traveled right and left. That was Rain-in-the-Face, a prominent Unkpapa warrior, who had been arrested by Lieutenant Tom.
“Advance—carbines!” shouted Captain Yates, above the tumult; and butts of carbines were promptly placed upon thigh, muzzles up. This was a “ready,” for quick action.