He greeted us with a low word and shook hands. We all sat about in the lodge. Few people were stirring.
“Tell the chief I have come to talk with him about this dance,” began the agent.
I told the chief, and he said: “Speak on, my ears are open.”
“Tell him I hear he is dancing this foolish dance almost every day, making his people tired, so that they neglect their cattle and have taken their children from school. Tell him that all the people are getting excited. Therefore, Washington says the dance must stop!” continued the agent.
I told the chief this. His face did not change, but his eyes fired a little. “Are the white people afraid of this new religion? Why do they wish to stop it?” he scornfully asked, in answer.
“Say to him that I do not fear the dance—I consider it foolish—but I do not want him wasting the energies of the people. He must stop it at once!”
To this the chief replied: “I am a reasonable man and a peacemaker. I do not seek trouble, but my people take comfort in this dance. They have lost many dear ones and in this dance they see them again. Whether it is true or not I have not yet made up my mind, but my people believe in it and I see no harm in it.” Here he paused for a moment. “I have a proposition to make to you,” he said firmly. “This new religion came to me from the Brulé Reservation; they got it from the west. The Mato and Kios claim to have seen the Messiah. Let us two, you and I, set forth together with intent to trail down this story of the Messiah. If, when we reach the last tribe in the land where the story originated, they cannot show us the Messiah or give us satisfactory proof, then we will return and I will tell my people that they have been too credulous. This report will end the dance forever. It will not do to order my people to stop; that will make them sure the dance is true magic.”
The chief was very serious in this offer. He knew that he could not, by merely ordering it, stop the dance; but if he should go on this journey with the agent and make diligent inquiry, then he could on his return speak with authority. He made this offer as one reasonable man to another, and, had the agent met him halfway or even permitted him to send my father or Slohan, the final tragedy might have been averted, but the agent was too angry now to parley. His answer was contemptuous.
“Tell him I refuse to consider that. It is as crazy as the dance. It would only be a waste of time.”
I urged him to accept, for in the months to follow the excitement would die out, but he would not listen.