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

by Sir William Francis Butler

The eyes of Tashota glistened as they looked at these weapons, and in his mind he resolved that they should be his.

Calling in one of his braves he ordered his band of horses to be driven in. Meantime his wife had been busily engaged in preparing dinner for us strangers. A plentiful supply of the best bits of the buffalo were put to boil over the replenished fire, and a meal was soon ready, to which the memory of the long fast so recently endured caused ample justice to be done.

A lodge had been pitched for us, and when dinner was over we withdrew to it for the night, to await the arrival of the horses on the following morning.

But Red Cloud well knew that our position was anything but secure; there were other dangers threatening him besides those that lay in the expected arrival of the Blackfeet or of the Sircies. He reckoned that at least a week must elapse ere that portion of the Sircies which had attacked the hut at the Forks could reach the Cypress hills; so far as they were concerned he was safe. But the stray rumours he had caught of war between the Ogahalla branch of his own race and the Bloods were ominous of trouble to him.

If the Bloods had suffered at the hands of his race, they would not hesitate to revenge their injuries or their losses upon him. One thing was certain, and that was that the sooner he got away from his present position the better.

These thoughts gave him ample material for reflection during the night. Early next morning the horses had been driven in, and word came to the hut where we were lodged that Tashota was ready to do a trade.

It was not long before the Sioux had selected five horses from the band. The terms of barter were quickly settled, and the chosen horses having been caught, were duly handed over to their new owner, whose rifles, revolvers, and ammunition passed over to the Blood chief.

By this time it was mid-day. The camp was quiet, but the mind of the Sioux was not easy. Things seemed to him to have run too smoothly in their exchange. His quick eye had detected what he considered to be faint indications of an intention to take back, if possible, the horses now bartered. In the camp he knew he was safe; the laws of hospitality forbade a guest, once received, being ill-treated; but once outside the last lodge he would have all his tact and watchfulness put to the test—so at least he surmised, and we shall soon see how true were his fears.

It was necessary for him, however, to hide completely from our hosts all tokens of suspicion. If our escape was to be effected it must be done soon, and before the Bloods could have taken steps to secure our capture. He determined, however, to make no secret of his intention to depart, judging truly that it would have been impossible to have got away unnoticed, and that it was better to maintain a show of confidence in the good faith and loyalty of the Bloods until the moment of any hostile act of theirs had actually arrived.

His plan was to leave the camp two hours before nightfall, so that our movements might be fully visible to the Bloods, and that they might see the direction we had chosen to take; for the rest, his real intention would be developed only when night had fallen.