The book of the American Indian

by Hamlin Garland

The effect of this order cannot be overstated. The north wind was now keen, and the people had little meat and no meal. They were dependent on the agency issue for their daily food. They were forbidden to leave the reservation to hunt and there was very little game left anywhere. This order drew the line sharply between those who had faith in the dance and those who only pretended to sympathize with it. To remain was to starve and freeze; to go was to acknowledge the final supremacy of the white man and all he stood for. Such was the desolating decision thrust upon them.

When the order reached The Sitting Bull’s camp the dancers were thrown into confusion. A hurried council was called and the leaders were soon decided on the question of giving up the dance. Most of them at once said: “It is of no use. The Great Spirit has not heard us. There is but one thing to do. Let us obey the agent. To fight is foolish.”

There were others who said: “What does a few months of life in captivity matter? Let us dance, and if the white man comes to fight let us all die like braves.” And as they spoke the women began to sing old battle songs, urging resistance to the invaders. “We can starve and die, for when we die we go to the happy land. A little pain and all is over. Let us fight!”

As soon as the chief had thought the matter out he said: “So long as I have cattle or money you shall be fed,” but he had little left. He had already given all he had.

I do not know the mind of my chief at this point. I think that at times when his indignation mounted high he, too, said: “Let us fight to the death. The happy hunting grounds are near. They await us. Why do we continue in our hunger and despair?” And then, as some good man spoke to him, recalled to him the friends he had among the palefaces, he had a gleam of hope, and recalled his bitter words.

That he was not afraid I know. Death held nothing appalling. Life offered little. Why should he fear to die? He was fifty-six years old and his days were nearly done. Furthermore, he could not look into the future without pain, for he saw his people slaves or vagabonds among an alien race.

During these weeks fear and hate of him revived among the settlers in all the Western states and the papers were filled with demands for his death. The near-by white settlers called loudly for troops, and some of those to the north went so far as to patrol the borders of the reservation in order to meet the warriors of The Sitting Bull when they broke forth in war array. They were glad of an excuse to utter their charges against us as cumberers of the earth, which they desired. Feeling the millions of their fellows back of them and knowing that troops were near, they were very brave.

In spite of the agent’s cruel order, a large number of the sternest warriors of the Uncapappas remained at Rock Creek, and when he saw this he was afraid to carry out his plan for arresting the chief. With intent to league himself with cold and snow, he waited for winter to fall, keeping vigilant eye on the War Department, lest the Secretary should steal away the honor of arresting the chief. He was not anxious to invite interference on the part of the military. “I can take care of the reservation,” he repeated to the commander of the post.

The chief understood his feeling and said to my father: “I will obey the orders of the great war chief, but I will not be ordered about by this agent. He has used me like a dog. The Great Father at Washington said to me: ‘Sitting Bull, you are the head of the Sioux nation, and I hold you responsible for the conduct of your people. Keep the peace.’ I promised him that I would do this, but the agent has always turned his back to me or has thrown words at me that are like stones or mud. He has lied about me and his letters have made the settlers angry. He now wishes to shut me up merely that he can smile and say: ‘I am a great chief; I have conquered The Sitting Bull.’ This I will not permit him to do.”

Therefore, his armed sentries continued to ride the buttes surrounding the camp. No one could come within twenty miles of his camp without seeing shadowy horsemen appear and disappear on the high hills. Every blanket concealed a weapon, while the dance went on almost day and night, and one by one his cattle were killed and eaten, till at last all were gone.