Indians as well as whites believe in a coming Messiah. In 1890 a frenzy swept over the northwest, inspiring the Indians to believe that the Messiah, who was no less than Hiawatha himself, and who was to sweep the white people off the face of the earth, would soon arrive. Dakota was the meeting ground of the tribes. Sitting Bull, a Sioux chief, told them in assembly that he had seen the wonderful Messiah while hunting in the mountains. He told them that having lost his way, he followed a star which led him to a wonderful valley, where he saw throngs of chiefs long dead, as they appeared in a spirit dance. Christ was there, too, and showed him the nail wounds in his hands and feet and the place where the spear pierced his side. Then the old rogue returned to his people and taught them the ghost dance, which caused the whites so much trouble.
Dakota is a beautiful state. The land along the route of the Great Northern railway lies more level than in Minnesota. The crops are looking well in this region. There seems to be but one drawback to farming here and that is the famous Russian thistle imported a few years ago. The principal crops are oats, barley and wheat. Rye bread is plenty and good, too. Out there on the broad cheek of the Dakota prairie the weeds are holding high revelry. Some of the same old weeds we have at home and many which are new to the writer. Wild ducks build their nests in the tall grass of the ponds just as they did in Illinois thirty years ago.
At Minot, Dakota, we set our watches to Mountain time, turning them back one hour. We arrived at Minot at 11:10 P. M., remained fifteen minutes and left at 10:25. At 9:15 o’clock the sun was just sinking in the west. It does not get dark here, only twilight. At 10 o’clock the moon came up and we bade good night to Saturday.
Sunday we spent in the Bad Lands of Montana. “Hell with the fires out” is the popular name given to the Bad Lands in the wild, fearless nomenclature of the west. It is an ancient sea bottom. The lower strata is clay and the one above it is sand. They are wild and rugged beyond description. The action of the air, wind and storm have worn them into towers, citadels and fantastic peaks.
The highly colored scoria rocks crop out here and there, adding a beauty of their own. Summer and winter, long before the advent of the white man the coal mines in this region were burning. Looking down into the fiery furnace one may see the white-hot glow of the coal and the heated rocks glowing with a white heat. Rattlesnakes wriggle through the short grass. Quails and grouse fly up and away.
There is a banshee in the Bad Lands whose cries chill your blood if you happen to hear her, which I did not. She is most frequently seen on a hill south of Watch Dog Butte, in Dakota, her flowing hair and her long arms tossing in wild gestures, make a weird picture in the moonlight. Cattle will not remain near the butte and cowboys fear the banshee and her companion, a skeleton that walks about and haunts the camps in the vicinity. Leave a violin lying near and he will seize it and away, playing the most weird music, but you must not follow him, for he will lead you into pits and foot falls. The explanation of all this is the phosphorus found in this vicinity, which glows in the night air.
Standing Rock agency is the best known of our frontier posts. The rock from which the post takes its name is only about three feet high and two feet in width. This rock was once a beautiful Indian bride who starved herself to death upon her husband marrying a second wife. After her death the Great Manitou turned her to stone, and here she stands to this day.
Glasgow, Montana, lies in the midst of the Sioux reservation. Like the Spartans of old, these warriors of the plains dwell in tents during a part of every year. Just beyond the town tepees now dot the landscape where for a brief space the red man forgets the things taught him by his white brother and resumes his old wild ways, but at the approach of winter he abandons his tent and returns to his log cabin and to civilization.
The Indian costume is a mixture of savage and civilized dress, looking more like that of the Raggedy Man than any other.
Blackfoot is a village in the heart of the Blackfeet reservation, lying just west of that of the Sioux. These people, like the ancient Greeks, reverence the butterfly.