Clustered rather closely together upon the island, and standing out clearly in the bright sunlight, were seventy white circular lodges, each tapering gracefully to a point, and appearing from far away like a crest of fringe; at the top of each lodge, were the lodge poles, with their small ends crossed at the apex. Around and among the tents, was a scene of animation in which warriors, squaws, and children confusedly intermingled like a legion of busy red ants in a city of ant hills, each forming a moving dot of bright color. All this striking and beautiful scene, as more clearly discerned through the field glass, resembled rather a motion picture than a scene in real life, for not a sound reached us through the still air from that cluster of Indian tepees. As the Sioux lodges average about ten occupants each, it appeared safe to estimate the population of the village at about 700. They were men of the western twilight, as fantastically named by Karl G. Carus.
Having surveyed rather carefully the general landscape, our party proceeded observantly until we lined up in front of Baker's ranch. We, who were on horseback, alighted, and passing unmolested by a dozen athletic red warriors, we entered the open door. To our surprise we found the floor nearly covered with Indians reclining in various postures. Stepping over two or three of these recumbent forms, an act that did not make them move a hair's breadth, we picked our way toward the corner of the room, where we met the valiant Lew Baker, then in the prime of his young manhood. The counter extended along the east side of the building, after the fashion of many country stores, and behind it stood its owner.
A little woman, the wife of Baker, was also seated behind the same counter near a window at the front of the room, somewhat protected and concealed by a desk upon that end of the counter, and was therefore not readily observed by persons entering. In her arms was their only child, Elma, then four months old. Baker introduced us to his wife, with whom I exchanged a few words. Johnny Baker, the famous crack shot and for many years a star feature as sharpshooter in Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show, was a later scion of this stock. While careful not to betray any interest concerning the red visitors in the ranch, we embraced the first opportunity to obtain from Baker all information possible regarding the situation. We asked if he believed that any of the Indians present would understand our conversation. He gave it as his opinion that they would not, though as we all well understand, our manner and tone of voice might suggest much to them.
Baker, continuing, and turning his eyes toward the ceiling as if conversing on some general topic, said, "Those Indians you see lying around you on the floor, entered the room this morning almost at the break of day, taking very nearly their present positions on the floor, and not one of them since their arrival seems to have spoken a word; they have scarcely moved." Nor had there been any expressions upon any one of their faces, except the same unchanged sullenness that we could then observe. During our interview neither one of us appeared to notice the subjects of our conversation.
As is well known, there is a certain peculiar strain clearly marked in the character of most Indians of the warlike tribes. If they become offended, it is not their practice to remove their outer garments if they should happen to be wearing a blanket, and like an impetuous Irishman, at once rush to the front with clenched fists, or like a volatile Frenchman, pour out a volley of sacres, to indicate their self confidence, nor are apologies considered an adequate satisfaction for any injury. They are not loquacious at any time. They are more disposed to nourish their wrath in silence and like a sulky child refuse to communicate with their enemy, until the opportunity comes when they may strike an unexpected blow under conditions favorable to themselves. The Sioux, indeed, at the time of which we are writing, had ample grounds for resentment, and although the ranch-man was powerless to right their wrongs, they regarded all whites as common parties to the controversy yet unsettled. Baker well understood their temper, but did not know when the storm might burst. He had placed his little wife and child where he could best shield them, relying chiefly upon himself for protection; his quick eye was ready at all times to detect the faintest hostile movement; and he declared himself determined to defend his little wife and baby to the utmost.
It was a remarkable feature of the demonstration that occurred while we were in Baker's ranch, that at intervals of but a few minutes one Indian after another, usually in pairs, silently entered the opened door, and with a soft, noiseless tread of moccasined feet, moved across the room, among or across the impassive warriors, who lay stretched out upon the floor apparently unnoticed, with whom as far as we could discern they exchanged no word or sign whatever. On reaching Baker, some offered a trifling article in exchange for others of much greater value, preferably for a side of bacon or a bag of flour, which were taken without comment, and the articles so taken were at once carried away. In some cases an Indian would actually take possession of a coveted article without any payment in return, and at once leave the building with the property; but during all this time the Red Men on the floor lay in silence, utterly indifferent to all that was taking place.
We offered Mr. Baker any assistance that our small party could afford, and urged him in any event to abandon his ranch and seek safety for himself and family with some armed train. He finally replied that he would endeavor to hold the situation until some outfit should arrive, bound eastward, but such trains were now far apart. In the meantime, his stock of merchandise was being rapidly depleted. Although his ranch for that day was spared by the band which was then investing it, it was twice attacked and destroyed by the Indians within the ensuing eighteen months, the particulars of which attacks were furnished me by Johnny Baker as matters of family history, although he himself was too young then to have personal recollections of the stirring events.
As we could be of little service to the beleaguered young rancher and his little family, for which we felt great solicitude, and as he would not go westward at that time, we pushed onward a mile beyond, to a point near the river bank, for our luncheon. Instead of picketing our horses in the usual manner, we tied them to the wagon wheels and compelled them to forego their noon grazing until we could get our bearings. While the meal was being prepared, three of the boys, Ben and Fred being two of the number, had the temerity to ford the river and visit the Indian village. What the purpose of such a proceeding might have been cannot now be imagined. Curiosity certainly got the better of good sense. Ben was usually to be relied upon as sane and sensible.
It proved easy for them to ford the comparatively shallow but rather wide channel of the river flowing between the mainland and the island where the Indian lodges were rather closely grouped together. The Indians evidently had selected this island for their temporary abode, on account of the grass with which portions of it were covered, the mainland being very dry and furnishing but little forage for stock.
Our estimate of the number of their horses and ponies was about 600. These were wandering about on the island, many standing in the water's edge, switching the flies with their tails. The lodges, as was the custom of the plains at that time, were made of dressed buffalo skins, which in the distance looked comparatively white. They were well made and the skins were firmly sewed together. On a closer approach the color was seen to be slightly tawny.