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rations were cut down； and there was general hardship and dissatisfaction。
Crazy Horse was long since dead； Spotted Tail had fallen at the hands of
one of his own tribe； Red Cloud had become a feeble old man； and the
disaffected among the Sioux began once more to look to Sitting Bull for
leadership。
At this crisis a strange thing happened。 A half…breed Indian in
Nevada promulgated the news that the Messiah had appeared to him upon
a peak in the Rockies； dressed in rabbit skins； and bringing a message to
the red race。 The message was to the effect that since his first coming
had been in vain； since the white people had doubted and reviled him； had
nailed him to the cross； and trampled upon his doctrines； he had come
again in pity to save the Indian。 He declared that he would cause the
earth to shake and to overthrow the cities of the whites and destroy them；
that the buffalo would return； and the land belong to the red race forever！
These events were to come to pass within two years； and meanwhile they
were to prepare for his coming by the ceremonies and dances which he
commanded。
This curious story spread like wildfire and met with eager acceptance
among the suffering and discontented people。 The teachings of Christian
missionaries had prepared them to believe in a Messiah； and the prescribed
ceremonial was much more in accord with their traditions than the
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conventional worship of the churches。 Chiefs of many tribes sent
delegations to the Indian prophet； Short Bull； Kicking Bear； and others
went from among the Sioux； and on their return all inaugurated the dances
at once。 There was an attempt at first to keep the matter secret； but it
soon became generally known and seriously disconcerted the Indian
agents and others； who were quick to suspect a hostile conspiracy under
all this religious enthusiasm。 As a matter of fact； there was no thought of
an uprising； the dancing was innocent enough； and pathetic enough their
despairing hope in a pitiful Saviour who should overwhelm their
oppressors and bring back their golden age。
When the Indians refused to give up the 〃Ghost Dance〃 at the bidding
of the authorities； the growing suspicion and alarm focused upon Sitting
Bull； who in spirit had never been any too submissive； and it was
determined to order his arrest。 At the special request of Major
McLaughlin； agent at Standing Rock； forty of his Indian police were sent
out to Sitting Bull's home on Grand River to secure his person （followed at
some little distance by a body of United States troops for reinforcement； in
case of trouble）。 These police are enlisted from among the tribesmen at
each agency； and have proved uniformly brave and faithful。 They
entered the cabin at daybreak； aroused the chief from a sound slumber；
helped him to dress； and led him unresisting from the house； but when he
came out in the gray dawn of that December morning in 1890； to find his
cabin surrounded by armed men and himself led away to he knew not
what fate； he cried out loudly：
〃They have taken me： what say you to it？〃
Men poured out of the neighboring houses； and in a few minutes the
police were themselves surrounded with an excited and rapidly increasing
throng。 They harangued the crowd in vain； Sitting Bull's blood was up；
and he again appealed to his men。 His adopted brother； the Assiniboine
captive whose life he had saved so many years before； was the first to fire。
His shot killed Lieutenant Bull Head； who held Sitting Bull by the arm。
Then there was a short but sharp conflict； in which Sitting Bull and six of
his defenders and six of the Indian police were slain； with many more
wounded。 The chief's young son； Crow Foot； and his devoted 〃brother〃
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died with him。 When all was over； and the terrified people had fled
precipitately across the river； the soldiers appeared upon the brow of the
long hill and fired their Hotchkiss guns into the deserted camp。
Thus ended the life of a natural strategist of no mean courage and
ability。 The great chief was buried without honors outside the cemetery
at the post； and for some years the grave was marked by a mere board at
its head。 Recently some women have built a cairn of rocks there in token
of respect and remembrance。
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RAIN…IN…THE…FACE
The noted Sioux warrior； Rain…in…the…Face； whose name once carried
terror to every part of the frontier； died at his home on the Standing Rock
reserve in North Dakota on September 14； 1905。 About two months
before his death I went to see him for the last time； where he lay upon the
bed of sickness from which he never rose again； and drew from him his
life…history。
It had been my experience that you cannot induce an Indian to tell a
story； or even his own name； by asking him directly。
〃Friend；〃 I said； 〃even if a man is on a hot trail； he stops for a smoke！
In the good old days； before the charge there was a smoke。 At home； by
the fireside； when the old men were asked to tell their brave deeds； again
the pipe was passed。 So come； let us smoke now to the memory of the
old days！〃
He took of my tobacco and filled his long pipe； and we smoked。
Then I told an old mirthful story to get him in the humor of relating his
own history。
The old man lay upon an iron bedstead； covered by a red blanket； in a
corner of the little log cabin。 He was all alone that day； only an old dog
lay silent and watchful at his master's feet。
Finally he looked up and said with a pleasant smile：
〃True； friend； it is the old custom to retrace one's trail before leaving it
forever！ I know that I am at the door of the spirit home。
〃I was born near the forks of the Cheyenne River； about seventy years
ago。 My father was not a chief； my grandfather was not a chief； but a
good hunter and a feast…maker。 On my mother's side I had some noted