The next day began the distributing of the goods. It would take the pen of a Mark Twain to describe the scenes that took place. Two days were required to get through this distribution, and the goods that remained and were to be issued to half-breeds were put in my charge, for distribution when the breeds had all arrived.

The next morning the commissioners paid me out of the Indian goods for feeding the Indians and for my trip across the country, and I had Jack paid for his time, also from the goods. The commissioners then left for Helena with Agent Gad. E. Upson. He knew as much about an Indian as I did about the inhabitants of Jupiter.

About ten A. M., one hour after the commissioners had left, Little Dog, chief of the South Piegans, came into town and found us. This man was one of the noblest and bravest chiefs living at that day. He was a friend to the whites, and had killed four of the under chiefs of his tribe for warring against the whites. He could muster about two hundred and fifty warriors. When he found me, he told me that the North Piegans, under Mountain Chief, the Bloods, and the Blackfeet, had secured some whiskey and were getting ugly and singing their war-songs. Little Dog advised the whites to remain in their houses. He believed that these northern people would attack the Gros Ventres camp, and might also shoot at the whites. Some Indian women had warned us of the situation just before Little Dog came in. Now the agent had a twelve-pound brass cannon. We put this in a “doby” building which was used as a warehouse, and through the wall knocked a hole about twelve inches in diameter for the muzzle, as well as several portholes for rifles. There was no one present who knew much about cannons, but we loaded the piece with six pounds of powder rammed tight, twenty pounds of one-ounce balls, and some smaller bullets, for we were determined to have it double-shotted. J. V. Cochran, who lives in Billings, Montana, had charge of the cannon. He was, and is, as game as a war eagle, and if called upon, would have fired the cannon if it had burst in a thousand pieces.

We had rifle-pits dug at different points of vantage, and there were forty-five white men to defend them. At the fort, the Northwest Fur Company had twelve men, all of them in the fort, with the gates locked. No assistance could be expected from them.

I mounted Dick and, with Little Dog and Jack, paid a visit to the Gros Ventres. They had already been warned, had their lodges pitched in a circle, their ponies corralled, and rifle-pits dug all around the village. All the warriors were stripped to the breech-clout, and many of them were painted as demons are supposed to paint. Famasi and Star Robe, the chiefs, met us outside. Little Dog informed them that he would try to prevent the hostiles from attacking them, and advised them not to shoot first if the hostiles came. He declared that he and his people would be their friends, and bidding them good-by, we returned. After looking over the ground and seeing that everything was in order for defence in the town, I went with Little Dog and Jack to the village of the South Piegans. The young men were busy putting their arms in order for action, for they expected a fight. It must be remembered that at this time bad blood existed between many of the North Piegans and the South Piegans, and though things were outwardly peaceful enough, a war between them could easily have been precipitated. Leaving the South Piegans, I rode around to the other villages and notified all the chiefs that they must control their young men, must not permit them to commit any overt act, and must keep them away from the Gros Ventres village, or half of their warriors would be killed. Jack confirmed my assertion, adding much more to it. The chiefs used their utmost endeavor to control their young men, and they partially succeeded with many.

The day after the Indians left the boys joked me about forty-five men going to kill half of fifteen hundred warriors, saying: “Bill had more gall than the devil, and could out-bluff six.”

About eleven o’clock five hundred naked warriors in their war regalia, painted and mounted on their best ponies, which were also painted, went down the bottom toward the Gros Ventres village, yelling and uttering their war-cries. The ground fairly trembled under the horses’ feet. Every one expected that the fight was on. Little Dog had sixty warriors at the upper end of the town. I remained with him, and we carefully watched the proceedings below, expecting every moment to hear shots. The Indians rode around the Gros Ventres camp, some two hundred yards distant from it. If one shot had been fired by either party, a bloody fight would have followed, as those Indians who were now held back by their chiefs would then have joined their friends. The whites could not have left the town to give assistance to the Gros Ventres, nor could the Gros Ventres leave their village to help the whites. I think that if it had come to the point, Little Dog would have joined the whites. It was believed by many experienced Indian men present that our visit to the Gros Ventres village prevented what might have been a massacre, or at least would have been a hard fight. There were many hot-headed and brave young Gros Ventres, and it may have been that our warning kept them from some rash acts.

Little Dog notified all the hostile bands that if they attacked the whites they would have him to fight. They were all of them afraid of him, and I know that his stand had a moral effect.

The hostiles rode around the Gros Ventres village many times, yelling, calling names, and sending forth challenges to the Gros Ventres to come out and fight; but the Gros Ventres remained quiet in their rifle-pits. I learned afterward that it was all their chiefs could do to keep their young men from accepting the hostiles’ challenges to fight. After a great deal of this verbal defiance, the hostiles rode back to their camp on a run, firing off their guns in the air. When opposite the town they halted and formed a half circle and began to sing their war-songs. After the songs a few approached within two hundred yards of the agency building, calling the whites dogs and women, names which were understood. The interpreters were directed to tell the Indians to stop their talk or we would kill them, and presently they rode back to their company, gave a yell of defiance, and left for their villages.

This lull gave us all an opportunity to eat dinner. I took Little Dog, Jack, and three other chiefs with me to dinner, and just as we had finished eating a fearful yell was heard. The chiefs jumped up and mounted quickly, making signs to the whites to remain in the houses. I mounted Dick and went with the chiefs, though many of the men called out to me: “Don’t go, sheriff.” I had decided what I should do in case of a fight. If the hostiles attacked the town, and Little Dog attacked the hostiles, I would remain with him, for there I would be of more benefit to the town than I would be in the building. If, on the other hand, Little Dog failed to act, I could return to the town.

The yell was given by some one thousand two hundred painted savages, each of whom had tied from five to twenty yards of calico to his horse’s tail and started out on a run all over the bottom. Calico of many colors was flying in all directions, and each Indian was trying to make his pony step on the calico tied to the horse next in advance. They were yelling and firing off their guns in every direction. It was a wild orgy, such as neither I nor any one else had ever beheld, and we had witnessed many a wild scene. It was something for a Rembrandt or a Remington to paint; the first scene of the kind, and, I believe, the last, ever seen in the United States.

[A scene somewhat similar to the one described took place in southern Nebraska in the year 1867 when the Cheyennes ditched a freight train on the railroad then being constructed across the continent. The Indians who took part in the wrecking of this train have told me how the freight cars were broken open, the goods taken from them and scattered over the prairie, and how the young men in sport knotted the ends of bolts of calico to their horses’ tails and then galloped wildly in all directions, the cloth streaming behind them in the wind.]

That night the Gros Ventres, like the Arabs, silently moved their village, without being discovered by their enemies. The next morning all the Indians except Little Dog’s band left for the north, to go to their own country. Before they left two war parties had been organized to raid upon the miners and ranchmen in different sections of the Territory. Such was the result of this great treaty.

Before they moved out a few of us visited the Indian villages. As many Indians were dissatisfied with the treaty, they looked on us with distrust, and hatred was plainly visible in their faces and their actions. We assumed the authority to notify the chiefs that they must control their young men and keep them from stealing from the whites, or war on them by the whites would continue. In part the treaty was successful. As a whole it was a failure, for a chronic state of warfare continued for years.