“How did you kill them?” inquired the foremost Indian warrior.
“You see,” said Springer, who, being part Sioux, spoke the language perfectly, “we were coming down from the Neobarrah,[61] and going over to the Republican to see Spotted Tail and our friends, the Ogallallas, when some soldiers fired on us here, and seeing there were but four of them, we attacked and killed them all. They are now lying dead inside; come, get down and help dance their scalps.”
Two of the warriors immediately dismounted, giving their ponies to a third one to hold, who remained mounted. Springer seemed to take no notice of this, but leading the warriors up to the dance, joined in with them, the other Indians making room in the circle for the newcomers.
When the dance was ended, Springer said, “Come, let us bring out the scalps,” and turning to the two Indians, inquired, “Will you look at the bodies?” About half the Indians had already gone into the ranch, under pretence of getting the scalps, and the two Sioux walked in with Springer, apparently without suspicion that anything was wrong.
As soon as they had crossed the threshold the door was closed behind them, and two burly Omahas placed their backs against it. It was entirely dark in the ranch, and Springer proceeded to strike a light. When the blaze of the dry grass flared up it revealed everything in the room, and there stood the two Sioux, surrounded by the Omahas, and a dozen revolvers levelled at their heads.
Never shall I forget the yell of rage and terror they set up, when they found they were entrapped. The Sioux warrior outside, who was holding the ponies, heard it, and plunging his heels into the sides of his pony, made off as fast as he could. Notwithstanding my men fired a dozen shots at him, he got off safely, and carried away with him all of the three ponies.
The two Sioux in the ranch were bound hand and foot, and laid in one corner of the room; then my Indians returned to the telegraph pole to finish their dance. Feeling tired, I lay down and fell asleep.
Next morning I was awakened by most unearthly yells, and looking out, saw my Indians leaping and dancing and yelling around the telegraph pole, where they now had a large fire burning. Presently Springer came in and said the Indians wanted the prisoners. I told him they could not have them, and that in the morning I would send them to Colonel Brown, at McPherson, as was my duty. Springer, who was a non-commissioned officer, communicated this message to the Indians, when the yelling and howling redoubled. In a short time, Springer came in again, and said he could do nothing with the Indians, and that they were determined to have the prisoners, at the same time advising me to give them up. I again refused, when the Indians rushed into the ranch, and, seizing the prisoners, dragged them out. Seeing they were frenzied I made no resistance, but followed them closely, keeping concealed, however.
They took the Sioux to an island on the Platte, below the ranch, and there, tying them to a tree, gathered a pile of wood and set it on fire.
Here follows a description of the unspeakable tortures which the unfortunate prisoners suffered, and which are too horrible to be told in these pages.