“Then the singing and the shouting and the sound of horses’ hoofs are like a big wind coming up all at once and thunder in the wind. They are coming from over by the sun; they are coming from the Little Piney; our men are swarming up out of the creek valley below us. There is dust, dust, and thunder in it and singing over it like a high wind blowing. The horses and men are floating in it. It is closing in over the prairie, but the ring of boxes looks empty and is still.
“No! It is not empty and still. It puffs smoke all around and goes out in a cloud and a roar. The cloud gets higher and does not go away. The roaring does not stop. It is like a great blanket ripping. There is smoke whirling all around it, and horses’ heads and men’s heads and war bonnets are flying in it.
“They are trying to ride over the boxes. The horses will not go.
“Now they are all coming out of the smoke and circling away from it towards the creek valley below us and the Little Piney yonder. Many of them are riding double.
“All at once it is still down there again. The smoke spreads and the sun shines in. Many horses are down and some are kicking and trying to get up, and some are dragging themselves along. When one of them screams, it is thin and far away, but it fills the big empty place because it is so still out there.
“Everything is holding its breath and looking.
“Now some warriors are going back with their horses on the run, and you can hear their death-songs. They are riding two and two and hanging low on their horses’ necks. They are going back for their dead and wounded brothers out there. A great high sound goes up from the women on the hills. They are making the tremolo and singing, for those are very brave men.
“There is shooting from the ring of boxes. Some horses go down and some are dragging their riders, but others go on at a run. Two and two the riders lean and lift the wounded ones, where arms are held up among the dead horses; two and two they lean and lift the dead, and gallop away. They are very brave, and the voices of the women are one great voice on the hills.
“Looking glasses are flashing over there. The warriors are singing again, and they are coming back. They are coming from the Little Piney and from over by the sun. They are galloping up out of the valley below us, whipping each other’s horses and riding fast. Hoka-hey! Hoka-hey! This time they will go over and the Wasichus will be rubbed out.
“The ring of boxes is a cloud of smoke with thunder ripping in it. It is the same as before. Dust and smoke and horses whirling in it, and a great noise floating high above it like a kind of cloud.