White Otter

by Elmer Russell Gregor

"My people, I must tell you that my heart is heavy," said Wolf Robe, as the light slowly faded from the plain. "I have looked for something, but it has not come. I have listened for something, but I have not heard it. Curly Horse and his warriors are not here. Pretty soon it will be dark. I feel bad about it. Some of our bravest men are dead. Some are hurt and cannot fight. We have used many arrows. The Pawnees are very strong. They are like mad wolves. Their medicine-men will talk to them. They will tell them to do great things. When it is dark I believe they will rush ahead to fight us. Perhaps they will leave their ponies and crawl close to the lodges. We must watch with the eyes of the great war bird, and listen with the ears of the deer. But if they get into the camp, then we must fight until we die. Our women and children are in those lodges. I will ask you to keep thinking about it. Perhaps something has happened to High Eagle. The Minneconjoux have not come. I do not know about that. I have finished."

When Wolf Robe had ceased speaking, several famous warriors ran to the center of the camp and called out in a loud tone so that all might hear. They urged their comrades to be brave, and declared that the odds against them were not sufficient to cause defeat. They reminded their listeners that having successfully repulsed every attack of their foes, there was no reason to believe that they would not be equally successful in the final assault. They declared that they had no doubt that a great Minneconjoux war party was racing to their aid. They recalled many desperate battles with these same hated foes in which they had turned apparent defeat into victory. In this way these stout-hearted men infused their own heroic confidence into the hearts of their tribesmen, and roused them from the depths of gloom to the highest pitch of enthusiasm.

"My brothers, I have listened to the words of those brave men," cried old Crying Wolf. "I am a very old man. My arms are weak. My eyes do not travel far. I am like a crooked stick. But those great words have made me strong. Yes, I am anxious to fight the Pawnees. I cannot send my arrows far, but if any of those people rush into the village I will count another coup before I die. My people, listen to the words of a very old man. Well, I must tell you what is in my heart. I believe that White Otter will do another great thing. Yes, I believe he will bring the great chief, Curly Horse, and his people to help us. I do not believe I will come out of this battle. But I will tell you that I am not afraid. No, I have been in many fights. I have killed many enemies. I have lived a long time. It is enough. Now I will do the best I can. I have finished."

The simple heroism of this famous old warrior found a ready sympathy in the hearts of his people. As he tottered toward the edge of the camp to take his place in the fighting line, his loyal self-sacrifice fired the resolution of the warriors and filled them with a determination to uphold the splendid traditions for which this aged veteran was willing to die.

As the evening shadows gradually closed in about the camp the Pawnees showed sudden signs of renewed activity. They approached nearer to the village, as if they feared that the Sioux might attempt to send away scouts under cover of the dusk. Then riders began to race about the plain, apparently carrying instructions to the various war companies. This maneuver made the Ogalalas believe that their foes had become impatient, and intended to attack them without further delay.

"Those riders are telling the war leaders the words of the great war chief," said Wolf Robe. "Pretty soon they will rush ahead to fight us. Curly Horse and his people are not here. We must make this great fight alone."

A few moments afterward the Pawnees faded from sight in the gathering gloom, and the Sioux increased their vigilance. The thought of what might happen before the dawn of another day filled them with many disturbing misgivings. Still they knew that it would be fatal to give way to those dismal premonitions. Therefore, they fought down their doubts and fortified themselves with the determination to administer a final, crushing defeat to their foes.

During the day Wolf Robe had ordered the women to collect the supply of fire-wood and distribute it in a number of piles along the edge of the camp. Now, as darkness closed down, he appointed a lad, with a buffalo horn containing tinder and several glowing embers, to stand beside each pile of fuel. In the event of the Pawnees dismounting and attempting to steal into the camp under cover of the night, the crafty Ogalala chief planned to ignite his beacons and flood the village and the surrounding plain with light.

Wolf Robe's precaution was a timely one, for the wily Pawnees did exactly what he feared they might attempt. Dismounting some distance from the village, they left their ponies under a strong guard and advanced noiselessly on foot. They were within bow-shot of the camp before the Sioux discovered them. Then, as they heard the alarm, they rushed forward, yelling at the top of their voices to confuse their enemies.

However, the Sioux had already called to the boys with the embers, and before the Pawnees actually reached the edge of the village the dry fuel was blazing fiercely, and the camp was flooded with light. The unexpected illumination completely surprised the invaders, and for a moment they hesitated in bewilderment. The Sioux took advantage of the opportunity, and delivered a furious volley of arrows at short range. Attacked at the very moment when they were attempting to rally from their sudden surprise, the Pawnees fell back in dismay. Then, as the arrows of the Sioux continued to thin their ranks, they recovered from their bewilderment and rushed recklessly to the border of the camp. A desperate struggle immediately followed, as the opposing forces met in a deadly hand-to-hand encounter. Warrior grappled with warrior, and the fight became a series of personal combats. The Sioux were greatly handicapped by the odds against them, but the terrorized cries of the women and children in the lodges gave them courage, and they fought with a strength and courage that astounded their foes. The old men and the boys fought as heroically as the warriors. For a time their gallant efforts seemed of little avail, for the Pawnees were determined to enter the village. In spite of their superior numbers, however, they were unable to fight their way between the valiant Ogalalas. The latter were resolved to die rather than yield a foot of ground, and their indomitable courage made them invincible. At last their heroic struggle was crowned with success, for the Pawnees began to give way. Fearing a trap, Wolf Robe called out and warned his people against leaving the camp to follow them. There was one, however, for whom the caution had no meaning. It was old Crying Wolf. He seemed to have suddenly gone mad from excitement. Whooping shrilly, the aged warrior left the village and hobbled boldly after the retreating Pawnees. As several Ogalalas rushed to his rescue he fell, a bow-shot from the camp, with a Pawnee arrow through his heart.