Red Cloud, the Solitary Sioux: A Story of the Great Prairie

by Sir William Francis Butler

The Sioux made it his first care to ascertain what damage had befallen his friend. I had half risen from the ground; but the violence of the shock had been so great that it was some little time before I fully understood what was passing around. As soon as Red Cloud had ascertained that I had sustained no greater injury than the concussion the fall had given me, he turned his attention to the Assineboine, whose aid, at the most critical moment, had completely turned the fortunes of the day. It was in his own noble nature to comprehend the change which had worked upon our late prisoner and made him a staunch and firm friend; he took the hand of the Assineboine, and shook it warmly. “I owe you much for this day,” he said; “I shall begin to repay it from this moment. Help me to draw my horse from yonder swamp, and then we shall see to our prizes.”

So saying, but first securing the pack animals, and giving the lariat which held them into my hands, the Sioux, Donogh, and the Assineboine turned to rescue the horse from the swamp where he had lain, sinking gradually deeper, since that disastrous moment when first breaking through the spongy soil he had so nearly ended for ever the career of his rider.

By dint of great exertions, working with leather lines passed around the neck and quarters of the horse, they at length succeeded in drawing him from the morass. The Sioux was overjoyed at once more recovering his long-tried horse; for a moment he half forgot the bitterness of having lost his enemy, in the pleasure of finding himself still the owner of this faithful friend.

But the full importance of the victory just gained only burst upon our little party when we came to examine the goods that had fallen to us as victors. The two pack-horses had only been partly loaded, and many of the parcels and bags still lay in loose heaps upon the ground; they were all dripping with water, having been only recently brought from out of the lake, where they had lain since the alarm of fire on the previous night; but a careful examination showed that they had sustained little damage from the water. It is well known that flour lying closely packed in a sack resists for a great time the action of damp, the portion nearest to the sack becomes a soft sort of cement, which prevents the water from penetrating more than a couple of inches further in. Thus, the three sacks of fine Red River flour formed a most precious treasure to men whose winter hut was to be built still farther among the vast solitudes than the spot they were now on. A small barrel of gunpowder, coppered on the inside, was of course perfectly water-tight; a case of knives, with some axe-heads and saws, only required to be dried and cleaned to be again in perfect order; a few hours’ exposure to sun and wind would suffice to dry the blankets and flour; the tea, most precious article, was to a great extent saved by being made up in tin canisters—only that portion of it which was in lead paper had suffered injury; and the sugar, though the wet had quite penetrated through the bag, could still be run down by the action of fire to the consistency of hard cakes, which would be quite serviceable for use in that state. Two bags of salt, though wet, were also serviceable.

Of course such things as shot, bullets, and a few hardware articles, had suffered no injury whatever.

Thus as, one by one, all these things were unpacked and laid out upon the ground, we realized how fortunate had been the chance that had thrown so many valuable essentials of prairie life into the possession of our party.

“We are now,” said the Sioux, “quite independent of every one. We have here supplies which will last us for the entire winter and far into next year. You, my friend,” he said to the Assineboine, “will continue with us, and share all these things; they are as much yours as they are ours. If you decide to join us, even for a while, you will live as we do. We are on our way far west, to hunt and roam the plains; we will winter many days’ journey from here. If it should be your wish to go and rejoin your people, one of these horses and a third of these things shall be yours to take away with you; but if you remain with us, you will share our camp, our fire, our food.”

The Assineboine did not ponder long upon his decision; to return to his people would have been to open many causes of quarrel with them or with the trader or his agents. The new life offered everything that an Indian could covet. Red Cloud was a chief of the Sioux—a people who had ever been as cousins to his people—whose language closely resembled his own. “Yes he would go west with these men, even to where the sun set.”

The Assineboine—who in future shall bear the name by which he was first known to us, of the scout—had possessed himself of the half-breed’s gun, which that worthy had dropped at the moment he received the arrow wound. His steed, a thoroughly serviceable Indian pony, had both speed and endurance, and was therefore suited for any emergency which war or the chase might call forth. My horse had been the only loss in the affair; but in his place there had been a gain of two good steeds, and there were spare goods in the packs sufficient to purchase a dozen horses from any Indian camp the party might reach.

While the Sioux and the scout were busily engaged in looking through the trader’s captured stores, I sat revolving in my mind every incident of the recent struggle. On the whole I felt well-pleased; it was my first brush with an enemy, and I had not flinched from fire or charge.