In the meantime overtures of peace had been made by General Miles to the hostiles, most of whose leaders he knew personally, having received their surrender on the Yellowstone ten years before, at the close of the Custer war. On the urgent representations of himself and others Congress had also appropriated the necessary funds for carrying out the terms of the late treaty, by the disregard of which most of the trouble had been caused, so that the commander was now able to assure the Indians that their rights and necessities would receive attention. They were urged to come in and surrender, with a guaranty that the general himself would represent their case with the government. At the same time they were informed that retreat was cut off and that further resistance would be unavailing. As an additional step toward regaining their confidence, the civilian agents were removed from the several disturbed agencies, which were then put in charge of military officers well known and respected by the Indians. Cheyenne River agency was assigned to Captain J. H. Hurst, and Rosebud agency to Captain J. M. Lee, while Royer, at Pine Ridge, was superseded on January 8 by Captain. F. E. Pierce. The last-named officer was afterward relieved by Captain Charles G. Penney, who is now in charge. (War, 22; Comr., 38; G. D., 45.)

The friendly overtures made by General Miles, with evidences that the government desired to remedy their grievances, and that longer resistance was hopeless, had their effect on the hostiles. Little Wound, Young-man-afraid-of-his-horses (more properly, “Young-man-of-whose-horses-they-are-afraid”), Big Road, and other friendly chiefs, also used their persuasions with such good effect that by January 12 the whole body of nearly 4,000 Indians had moved in to within sight of the agency and expressed their desire for peace. The troops closed in around them, and on the 16th of January, 1891, the hostiles surrendered, and the outbreak was at an end. They complied with every order and direction given by the commander, and gave up nearly 200 rifles, which, with other arms already surrendered, made a total of between 600 and 700 guns, more than had ever before been surrendered by the Sioux at one time. As a further guaranty of good faith, the commander demanded the surrender of Kicking Bear and Short Bull, the principal leaders, with about twenty other prominent warriors, as hostages. The demand was readily complied with, and the men designated came forward voluntarily and gave themselves up as sureties for the good conduct of their people. They were sent to Fort Sheridan, Illinois, near Chicago, where they were kept until there was no further apprehension, and were then returned to their homes. (War, 23; Colby, 8.) After the surrender the late hostiles pitched their camp, numbering in all 742 tipis, in the bottom along White Clay creek, just west of the agency, where General Miles had supplies of beef, coffee, and sugar issued to them from the commissary department, and that night they enjoyed the first full meal they had known in several weeks.

Thus ended the so-called Sioux outbreak of 1890–91. It might be better designated, however, as a Sioux panic and stampede, for, to quote the expressive letter of McGillycuddy, writing under date of January 15, 1891, “Up to date there has been neither a Sioux outbreak or war. No citizen in Nebraska or Dakota has been killed, molested, or can show the scratch of a pin, and no property has been destroyed off the reservation.” (Colby, 9.) Only a single noncombatant was killed by the Indians, and that was close to the agency. The entire time occupied by the campaign, from the killing of Sitting Bull to the surrender at Pine Ridge, was only thirty-two days. The late hostiles were returned to their homes as speedily as possible. The Brulé of Rosebud, regarded as the most turbulent of the hostiles, were taken back to the agency by Captain Lee, for whom they had respect, founded on an acquaintance of several years’ standing, without escort and during the most intense cold of winter, but without any trouble or dissatisfaction whatever. The military were returned to their usual stations, and within a few weeks after the surrender affairs at the various agencies were moving again in the usual channel.

An unfortunate event occurred just before the surrender in the killing of Lieutenant E. W. Casey of the Twenty-second infantry by Plenty Horses, a young Brulé, on January 7. Lieutenant Casey was in command of a troop of Cheyenne scouts, and was stationed at the mouth of White Clay creek, charged with the special duty of watching the hostile camp, which was located 8 miles farther up the creek at No Water’s place. On the day before his death several of the hostiles had visited him and held a friendly conference. The next morning, in company with two scouts, he went out avowedly for the purpose of observing the hostile camp more closely. He rode up to within a short distance of the camp, meeting and talking with several of the Indians on the way, and had stopped to talk with a half-blood relative of Red Cloud, when Plenty Horses, a short distance away, deliberately shot him through the head, and he fell from his horse dead. His body was not disturbed by the Indians, but was brought in by some of the Cheyenne scouts soon after. Plenty Horses was arraigned before a United States court, but was acquitted on the ground that as the Sioux were then at war and the officer was practically a spy upon the Indian camp, the act was not murder in the legal sense of the word. Lieutenant Casey had been for a year in charge of the Cheyenne scouts and had taken great interest in their welfare and proficiency, and his death was greatly deplored by the Indians as the insane act of a boy overcome by the excitement of the times. (War, 24; Comr., 39; Colby, 10; G. D., 46.)

On January 11 an unprovoked murder was committed on a small party of peaceable Indians on Belle Fourche, or North fork of Cheyenne river, by which the Indians who had come in to surrender were once more thrown into such alarm that for a time it seemed as if serious trouble might result. A party of Ogalala from Pine Ridge, consisting of Few Tails, a kindly, peaceable old man, with his wife, an old woman, and One Feather, with his wife and two children—one a girl about 13 years of age and the other an infant—had been hunting in the Black Hills under a pass from the agency. They had had a successful hunt, and were returning with their two wagons well loaded with meat, when they camped for the night at the mouth of Alkali creek. During the evening they were visited by some soldiers stopping at a ranch a few miles distant, who examined their pass and pronounced it all right. In the morning, after breakfast, the Indians started on again toward the agency, but had gone only a few hundred yards when they were fired upon by a party of white men concealed near the road. The leaders of the whites were three brothers named Culbertson, one of whom had but recently returned from the penitentiary. One of the murderers had visited the Indians in their camp the night before, and even that very morning. At the first fire Few Tails was killed, together with both ponies attached to the wagon. His wife jumped out and received two bullets, which brought her to the ground. The murderers rode past her, however, to get at the other Indian, who was coming up behind in the other wagon with his wife and two children. As soon as he saw his companion killed, One Feather turned his wagon in the other direction, and, telling his wife, who had also been shot, to drive on as fast as she could to save the children, he jumped upon one of the spare ponies and held off the murderers until his family had had time to make some distance. He then turned and joined his family and drove on for some 8 or 10 miles until the pursuers came up again, when he again turned and fought them off, while his wife went ahead with the wagon and the children. The wounded woman bravely drove on, while the two little children lay down in the wagon with their heads covered up in the blankets. As they drove they passed near a house, from which several other shots were fired at the flying mother, when her husband again rode up and kept off the whole party until the wagon could get ahead. Finally, as the ponies were tired out, this heroic man abandoned the wagon and put the two children on one of the spare ponies and his wounded wife and himself upon another and continued to retreat until the whites gave up the pursuit. He finally reached the agency with the wife and children.

The wife of Few Tails, after falling wounded by two bullets beside the wagon in which was her dead husband, lay helpless and probably unconscious upon the ground through all the long winter night until morning, when she revived, and finding one of the horses still alive, mounted it and managed by night to reach a settler’s house about 15 miles away. Instead of meeting help and sympathy, however, she was driven off by the two men there with loaded rifles, and leaving her horse in her fright, she hurried away as well as she could with a bullet in her leg and another in her breast, passing by the trail of One Feather’s wagon with the tracks of his pursuers fresh behind it, until she came near a trader’s store about 20 miles farther south. Afraid to go near it on account of her last experience, the poor woman circled around it, and continued, wounded, cold, and starving as she was, to travel by night and hide by day until she reached the Bad Lands. The rest may be told in her own words:

After that I traveled every night, resting daytime, until I got here at the beef corral. Then I was very tired, and was near the military camp, and early in the morning a soldier came out and he shouted something back, and in a few minutes fifty men were there, and they got a blanket and took me to a tent. I had no blanket and my feet were swelled, and I was about ready to die. After I got to the tent a doctor came in—a soldier doctor, because he had straps on his shoulders—and washed me and treated me well.

A few of the soldiers camped near the scene of the attack had joined in the pursuit at the beginning, on the representations of some of the murderers, but abandoned it as soon as they found their mistake. According to all the testimony, the killing was a wanton, unprovoked, and deliberate murder, yet the criminals were acquitted in the local courts. The apathy displayed by the authorities of Meade county, South Dakota, in which the murder was committed, called forth some vigorous protests. Colonel Shafter, in his statement of the case, concludes, referring to the recent killing of Lieutenant Casey: “So long as Indians are being arrested and held for killing armed men under conditions of war, it seems to me that the white murderers of a part of a band of peaceful Indians should not be permitted to escape punishment.” The Indians took the same view of the case, and when General Miles demanded of Young-man-afraid-of-his-horses the surrender of the slayers of Casey and the herder Miller, the old chief indignantly replied: “No; I will not surrender them, but if you will bring the white men who killed Few Tails, I will bring the Indians who killed the white soldier and the herder; and right out here in front of your tipi I will have my young men shoot the Indians and you have your soldiers shoot the white men, and then we will be done with the whole business.”

In regard to the heroic conduct of One Feather, the officer then in charge of the agency says: “The determination and genuine courage, as well as the generalship he manifested in keeping at a distance the six men who were pursuing him, and the devotion he showed toward his family, risking his life against great odds, designate him as entitled to a place on the list of heroes.” (War, 25; Comr., 40; G. D., 47.)

On the recommendation of General Miles, a large delegation of the principal leaders of both friendly and hostile parties among the Sioux was allowed to visit Washington in February, 1891, to present their grievances and suggest remedies for dissatisfaction in the future. Among the principal speakers were: From Pine Ridge, American Horse, Captain George Sword, Big Road, and He Dog; from Rosebud, White Bird and Turning Hawk; from Cheyenne River, Little No Heart and Straight Head; from Standing Rock, John Grass and Mad Bear. The interpreters were Reverend C. S. Cook, David Zephier, Louis Primeau, Louis Richard, Clarence Three Stars, and Louis Shangreau. Their visit was eminently satisfactory and resulted in the inauguration of a more efficient administration of Sioux affairs for the future. Steps were taken to reimburse those whose ponies had been confiscated at the time of the Custer war in 1876, and additional appropriations were made for rations, so that before the end of the year the Indians were receiving half as much more as before the outbreak. (War, 26.) On returning to their homes the Indians of the various Sioux agencies went to work in good faith putting in their crops and caring for their stock, and in a short time all further apprehension was at an end.

The discussion of Indian affairs in connection with the outbreak led to the passage by Congress of a bill which enacted that all future vacancies in the office of Indian agent should be filled by military officers selected by the Indian office and detailed for the purpose from the army. At the same time a plan was originated to enlist Indians as a component part of the regular army. Small parties from various tribes had long been attached to various posts and commands in an irregular capacity as scouts. These bodies of scouts were now reduced in number or disbanded altogether, and in their stead were organized Indian troops or companies to be regularly attached to the different cavalry or infantry regiments. In the spring of 1891 officers were sent out to various western reservations, and succeeded in thus recruiting a number of regular troops from among the most warlike of the tribes, a considerable part of these coming from the late hostile Sioux.

Although the campaign lasted only about a month the destruction of life was great, for an Indian war, and the money loss to the government and to individuals was something enormous. Three officers and 28 privates were killed or mortally wounded during the campaign, and 4 officers and 38 privates were less seriously wounded, several of these dying later on. (War, 27.) The Indian loss can not be stated exactly. In the arrest of Sitting Bull there were killed or mortally wounded 8 of Sitting Bull’s party and 6 police, a total of 14. Those killed in the Wounded Knee fight, or who afterward died of wounds or exposure, numbered, according to the best estimates, at least 250. Those afterward killed in the various small skirmishes, including the Few Tails affair, may have numbered 20 or 30. In all, the campaign cost the lives of 49 whites and others on the government side and about 300 or more Indians.

The direct or incidental expenses of the campaign were as follows: Expenses of the Department of Justice for defending Plenty Horses and prosecuting the murderers of Few Tails, unknown; appropriation by Congress to reimburse Nebraska national guard for expense of service during the campaign, $43,000; paid out under act of Congress to reimburse friendly Indians and other legal residents on the reservations for property destroyed by hostiles, $97,646.85 (Comr., 41); extra expense of Commissary department of the army, $37,764.69; extra expense of the Medical department of the army, $1,164, besides extra supplies purchased by individuals; extra expenses of Ordnance department of the army, for ammunition, not accounted for; total extra expense of Quartermaster’s department of the army, $915,078.81, including $120,634.17 for transportation of troops over bonded railroads. (A. G. O., 8.) The total expense, public or private, was probably but little short of $1,200,000, or nearly $40,000 per day, a significant commentary on the bad policy of breaking faith with Indians.

According to the report of the agency farmer sent out after the trouble to learn the extent of property of the friendly Indians destroyed by the hostiles on Pine Ridge agency, there were burned 53 Indian dwellings, 1 church, 2 schoolhouses, and a bridge, all on White Clay creek, while nearly every remaining house along the creek had the windows broken out. A great deal of farming machinery and nearly all of the hay were burned, while stoves were broken to pieces and stock killed. A few of the friendly Indians had been so overcome by the excitement that they had burned their own houses and run their machinery down high hills into the river, where it was found frozen in the ice several months later. (G. D., 48.)

In view of the fact that only one noncombatant was killed and no depredations were committed off the reservation, the panic among the frontier settlers of both Dakotas, Nebraska, and Iowa was something ludicrous. The inhabitants worked themselves into such a high panic that ranches and even whole villages were temporarily abandoned and the people flocked into the railroad cities with vivid stories of murder, scalping, and desolation that had no foundation whatever in fact. A reliable authority who was on the ground shortly after the scare had subsided gives this characteristic instance among others:

In another city, a place of 3,000 inhabitants, 75 miles from any Indians and 150 miles from any hostiles, word came about 2 o’clock Sunday morning for the militia to be in readiness. The company promptly assembled, were instructed and drilled. In an evening church service one of the pastors broke out in prayer: “O Lord, prepare us for what awaits us. We have just been listening to the sweet sounds of praise, but ere the morning sun we may hear the war whoop of the red man.” The effect on children and nervous persons may be imagined. The legislature was in session and the impression upon that body was such as to lead it to make an appropriation for the benefit of the state militia at the expense of one to the state agricultural fair. (Comr., 42.)

The crisis produced the usual crop of patriots, all ready to serve their country—usually for a consideration. Among these was a lady of Utica, New York, claiming to be of the renowned Iroquois blood, and styling herself the “Doctor Princess Viroqua,” who, with her sister “Wynima,” wrote to the Indian Office for a commission to go out to try the effect of moral suasion on the belligerent Sioux, representing that by virtue of her descent from a long line of aboriginal princes she would be welcomed with enthusiasm and accomplish her mission of peace. (G. D., 49.) As a matter of fact, neither of the names Viroqua or Wynima could be pronounced by a genuine Iroquois knowing only his own tongue, and the second one, Wynima, is borrowed from Meacham’s sensational history of the Modoc war in California.

The proprietor of a “wild west” show in New York, signing himself Texas Ben, wrote also volunteering his services and submitting as credentials his museum letter-head, stating that he had served with Quantrell, and had the written indorsement of Cole Younger. An old veteran of the Iowa soldiers’ home wrote to Secretary Noble, with a redundance of capitals and much bad spelling, offering his help against the hostiles, saying that he had been “RAZeD” among them and could “ToLK The TUN” and was ready to “Do eneThin FoR mY CuntRY.” (G. D., 50.)

A band of patriots in Minnesota, whose early education appears to have been somewhat neglected, wrote to the Secretary of the Interior offering to organize a company of 50 men to put down the outbreak, provided the government would look after a few items which they enumerated: “The government to Furnish us with Two good Horses Each a good Winchester Rifle, Two good Cotes Revolvers and give us $300.00 Bounty and say a Salary of Fifty Per Month, Each and our own judgment and we will settel this Indian question For Ever, and Rations and Ammunition. We Should Have in addition to this say Five dollars a Head.” (G. D., 51.)

A man named Albert Hopkins appeared at Pine Ridge in December, 1890, wearing a blanket and claiming to be the Indian messiah, and announced his intention of going alone into the Bad Lands to the Indians, who were expecting his arrival, with the “Pansy Banner of Peace.” His claims were ridiculed by Red Cloud and others, and he was promptly arrested and put off the reservation. However, he was not dead, but only sleeping, and on March, 1893, having come to Washington, he addressed an urgent letter to Secretary Noble requesting official authority to visit the Sioux reservations and to preach to the Indians, stating that “with the help of the Pansy and its motto and manifest teaching, ‘Union, Culture, and Peace,’ and the star-pansy banner, of which I inclose an illustration, I hope to establish the permanent peace of the border.” He signs himself “Albert C. Hopkins, Pres. Pro. tem. The Pansy Society of America.”

The letter was referred to the Indian Office, which refused permission. This brought a reply from Hopkins, who this time signs himself “The Indian Messiah,” in which he states that as the Indians were expecting the messiah in the spring, “in accordance with the prophecy of Sitting Bull,” it was necessary that he should go to them at once, so that they might “accept the teaching of the pansy and its motto, which now they only partially or very doubtfully accept.”

Receiving no answer, he wrote again about the end of March, both to the Secretary and to the Indian Commissioner, stating that messiahs, being human, were subject to human limitations, of which fact the Indians were well aware, but warning these officials that if these limitations were set by the government it would be held responsible for his nonappearance to the Indians, as he had promised, “before the native pansies blossom on the prairies.” He ends by stating that he would leave on Easter Sunday for the Sioux country, but as nothing was heard of him later, it is presumed that he succumbed to the limitations. (G. D., 52.)

The first direct knowledge of the messiah and the Ghost dance came to the northern Arapaho in Wyoming, through Nakash, “Sage,” who, with several Shoshoni, visited the messiah in the early spring of 1889, and on his return brought back to his people the first songs of the dance, these being probably some of the original Paiute songs of the messiah himself. The Ghost dance was at once inaugurated among the Shoshoni and northern Arapaho. In the summer of the same year the first rumors of the new redeemer reached the southern Arapaho and Cheyenne in Oklahoma, through the medium of letters written by returned pupils of eastern government schools.

Fresh reports of wonderful things beyond the mountains were constantly coming to the northern prairie tribes, and the excitement grew until the close of the year 1889, when a large delegation, including Sioux, northern Cheyenne, and northern Arapaho, crossed the mountains to the Paiute country to see and talk with the messiah. Among the Sioux delegates were Short Bull, Fire Thunder, and Kicking Bear, as already stated. Among the Cheyenne were Porcupine and several others, including one woman. The Arapaho representatives were Sitting Bull (Hänä′chä-thi′ăk) and Friday. The delegates from the different tribes met at Wind River reservation, in Wyoming, which they left about Christmas, and after stopping a short time among the Bannock and Shoshoni at Fort Hall, went on to Walker lake, in Nevada. They were gone some time and returned to Wyoming in March of 1890, the Sioux and Cheyenne continuing on to their homes farther east. According to the statement of Nakash they had a five days’ conference with the messiah, who at one time went into a trance, but his visitors did not.

Before their return the southern Arapaho, in Oklahoma, had sent up Wa′tän-ga′a, “Black Coyote,” an officer of the Indian police, and Washee, a scout at Fort Reno, to their relatives in Wyoming to learn definitely as to the truth or falsity of the rumors. Washee went on to Fort Hall, where his faith failed him, and he came back with the report that the messiah was only a half-blood. This was not correct, but Washee himself afterward acknowledged that he had based his report on hearsay. Black Coyote remained until the other delegates returned from the Paiute country with the announcement that all that had been said of the messiah and the advent of a new earth was true. He listened eagerly to all they had to tell, took part with the rest in the dance, learned the songs, and returned in April, 1890, and inaugurated the first Ghost dance in the south among the Arapaho.

The Cheyenne, being skeptical by nature, were unwilling to trust entirely to the report of Black Coyote and so sent up two delegates of their own, Little Chief and Bark, to investigate the story in the north. Somewhat later White Shield, another Cheyenne, went up alone on the same errand. Their report being favorable, the Cheyenne also took up the Ghost dance in the summer of 1890. They never went into it with the same fervor, however, and although they had their separate dance with songs in their own language, they more commonly danced together with the Arapaho and sang with them the Arapaho songs. For several years the old Indian dances had been nearly obsolete with these tribes, but as the new religion meant a revival of the Indian idea they soon became common again, with the exception of the war dance and others of that kind which were strictly prohibited by the messiah.

From this time the Ghost dance grew in fervor and frequency among the Arapaho and Cheyenne. In almost every camp the dance would be held two or three times a week, beginning about sunset and often continuing until daylight. The excitement reached fever heat in September, 1890, when Sitting Bull came down from the northern Arapaho to instruct the southern tribes in the doctrine and ceremony.

At a great Ghost dance held on South Canadian river, about 2 miles below the agency at Darlington, Oklahoma, it was estimated that 3,000 Indians were present, including nearly all of the Arapaho and Cheyenne, with a number of Caddo, Wichita, Kiowa, and others. The first trances of the Ghost dance among the southern tribes occurred at this time through the medium of Sitting Bull. One informant states that a leader named Howling Bull had produced trances at a dance on the Washita some time before, but the statement lacks confirmation.

As Sitting Bull was the great apostle of the Ghost dance among the southern tribes, being regarded almost in the same light as the messiah himself, he merits special notice. He is now about 42 years of age and at the beginning of his apostleship in 1890 was but 36. He is a full-blood Arapaho, although rather light in complexion and color of eyes, and speaks only his native language, but converses with ease in the universal sign language of the plains. It was chiefly by means of this sign language that he instructed his disciples among the Caddo, Wichita, and Kiowa. He is about 5 feet 8 inches tall, dignified but plain in his bearing, and with a particularly winning smile. His power over those with whom he comes in contact is evident from the report of Lieutenant (now Captain) Scott, who had been ordered by the War Department to investigate the Ghost dance, and who for weeks had been denouncing him as a humbug, but who, on finally meeting him for the first time, declares that the opinion formed before seeing him began to change in his favor almost immediately. (G. D., 53.) In conversation with the author Sitting Bull stated that he was originally a southern Arapaho, but went up to live with the northern branch of the tribe, in Wyoming, about 1876. When a boy in the south he was known as Bítäye, “Captor,” but on reaching manhood his name was changed, in conformity with a common Indian custom, to Hänä′chä-thi′ăk, “Sitting Bull.” On returning to the south, after having visited the messiah, he found his brother known under the same name, and to avoid confusion the brother then adopted the name of Scabby Bull, by which he is now known. It should be mentioned that an Indian “brother” may be only a cousin, as no distinction is made in the Indian system. On removing to the south he fixed his abode near Cantonment, Oklahoma, where he now resides.

With regard to the reverence in which he was held by his disciples at this time, and of his own sincerity, Captain Scott says:

It was very difficult to get an opportunity to talk with him quietly on account of the persistent manner in which he was followed about. All sorts of people wanted to touch him, men and women would come in, rub their hands on him, and cry, which demonstration he received with a patient fortitude that was rather ludicrous at times. While he by no means told us everything he knew, it was easy to believe that he was not the rank impostor that I had before considered him. He makes no demands for presents while at these camps. This trip entailed a ride of 200 miles in the winter season, at the request of the Wichitas, for which I understand they paid him $50 before starting, but everything that was given him while at this camp was a voluntary gift, prompted entirely by the good wishes of the giver. He took but little property away when he left, and I saw but one horse that I thought he had not brought down with him.

Upon being asked concerning his religion, he said that all I had heard must not be attributed to him, as some of it was false; that he does not believe that he saw the veritable “Jesus” alive in the north, but he did see a man there whom “Jesus” had helped or inspired. This person told him that if he persevered in the dance it would cause sickness and death to disappear. He avoided some of the questions about the coming of the buffalo, etc., and under the circumstances it was not possible to draw him out further, and the subject of religion was then dropped, with the intention of taking it up at a more favorable time, but this time never came. A great many of the doings seen at these dances are the afterthoughts of all kinds of people. I have seen some of them arise and have watched their growth. These are not the teachings of Sitting Bull, although he refrains from interfering with them through policy. He took no part in the humbuggery going on, but danced and sang like the humblest individual there. These things, taken in connection with Äpiatañ’s letter, would make it seem that Sitting Bull has been a dupe himself partly, and there is a possibility that he is largely sincere in his teachings. There is this to be said in his favor, that he has given these people a better religion than they ever had before, taught them precepts which if faithfully carried out will bring them into better accord with their white neighbors, and has prepared the way for their final Christianization. For this he is entitled to no little credit. (G. D., 54.)

He made no claim to be a regular medicine-man, and so far as known never went into a trance himself. Since the failure of his predictions, especially with regard to the recovery of the ceded reservation, he has fallen from his high estate. Truth compels us also to state that, in spite of his apostolic character, he is about as uncertain in his movements as the average Indian.

After Sitting Bull, the principal leader of the Ghost dance among the southern Arapaho is Wa′tän-ga′a or Black Coyote, from whom the town of Watonga, in Canadian county, derives its name. Black Coyote is a man of considerable importance both in his tribe and in his own estimation, and aspires to be a leader in anything that concerns his people. With a natural predisposition to religions things, it is the dream of his life to be a great priest and medicine-man. At the same time he keeps a sharp lookout for his temporal affairs, and has managed to accumulate considerable property in wagons and livestock, including three wives. Although still a young man, being but little more than 40 years of age, he has had his share of the world’s honors, being not only a leader in the Ghost dance and other Indian ceremonies, tribal delegate to Washington, and captain of the Indian police, but also, in his new character of an American citizen, deputy sheriff of Canadian county. He is a good-natured fellow, and vain of his possessions and titles, but at the same time thoroughly loyal and reliable in the discharge of his duties, and always ready to execute his orders at whatever personal risk. His priestly ambition led him to make the journey to the north, in which he brought back the first songs of the Ghost dance, and thus became a leader, and a year later he headed a delegation from Oklahoma to the messiah of Walker lake. He has repeatedly asked me to get for him a permanent license from the government to enable him to visit the various reservations at will as a general evangel of Indian medicine and ceremony. Black Coyote in full uniform, with official badge, a Harrison medal, and an immense police overcoat, which he procured in Washington, and riding with his three wives in his own double-seated coach, is a spectacle magnificent and impressive. Black Coyote in breechcloth, paint, and feathers, leading the Ghost dance, or sitting flat on the ground and beating the earth with his hand in excess of religious fervor, is equally impressive. It was this combination of vanity of leadership and sense of duty as a government officer that made him my first and most willing informant on the Ghost dance, and enabled me through him to do so much with the Arapaho.

In his portrait (plate cv) a number of scars will be noticed on his chest and arms. The full number of these scars is seventy, arranged in various patterns of lines, circles, crosses, etc., with a long figure of the sacred pipe on one arm. According to his own statement they were made in obedience to a dream as a sacrifice to save the lives of his children. Several of his children had died in rapid succession, and in accordance with Indian custom he undertook a fast of four days as an expiation to the overruling spirit. During this time, while lying on his bed, he heard a voice, somewhat resembling the cry of an owl or the subdued bark of a dog. The voice told him that if he wished to save his other children he must cut out seventy pieces of skin and offer them to the sun. He at once cut out seven pieces, held them out to the sun and prayed, and then buried them. But the sun was not satisfied, and soon after he was warned in a vision that the full number of seventy must be sacrificed if he would save his children. He then did as directed, cutting out the pieces of skin in the various patterns indicated, offering each in turn to the sun with a prayer for the health of his family, and then burying them. Since then there has been no death in his family. In cutting out the larger pieces, some of which were several inches long and nearly half an inch wide, the skin was first lifted up with an awl and then sliced away with a knife. This had to be done by an assistant, and Black Coyote was particular to show me by signs, sitting very erect and bracing himself firmly, that he had not flinched during the process.

As has been stated, the first trances in the southern Ghost dance occurred at the great dance held near the Cheyenne and Arapaho agency under the auspices of Sitting Bull in September, 1890. On this occasion Cheyenne and Arapaho, Caddo, Wichita, Kiowa, and Apache to the number of perhaps 3,000 assembled, and remained together for about two weeks, dancing every night until daylight. This was the largest Ghost dance ever held in the south. After dances had been held for two or three nights Sitting Bull announced that at the next one he would perform a great wonder in the sight of all the people, after which they would be able to make songs for themselves. He said no more, but dismissed them to their tipis, wondering what this miracle could be. On the next night he appeared wearing a wide-brim hat with a single eagle feather, the same hat in which he is generally seen. Nearly all of the two tribes of Cheyenne and Arapaho were present, and probably 600 or 800 were in the dance circle at one time. Nothing unusual occurred for several hours until the dancers had gradually worked themselves up to a high state of excitement, when Sitting Bull stepped into the circle, and going up close in front of a young Arapaho woman, he began to make hypnotic passes before her face with the eagle feather. In a few seconds she became rigid and then fell to the ground unconscious. Sitting Bull then turned his attention to another and another, and the same thing happened to each in turn until nearly a hundred were stretched out on the ground at once. As usual in the trances some lay thus for a long time, and others recovered sooner, but none were disturbed, as Sitting Bull told the dancers that these were now beholding happy visions of the spirit world. When next they came together those who had been in the trance related their experiences in the other world, how they had met and talked with their departed friends and joined in their oldtime amusements. Many of them embodied their visions in songs, which were sung that night and afterward in the dance, and from that time the Ghost dance was naturalized in the south and developed rapidly along new lines. Each succeeding dance resulted in other visions and new songs, and from time to time other hypnotists arose, until almost every camp had its own.

About this time a commission arrived to treat with the Cheyenne and Arapaho for the sale of their reservation. The Indians were much divided in opinion, the great majority opposing any sale whatsoever, even of their claim in the Cherokee strip, which they believed was all that the agreement was intended to cover. While the debate was in progress Left Hand, chief of the Arapaho, went to Sitting Bull and asked his opinion on the matter. Sitting Bull advised him to sell for what they could get, as they had need of the money, and in a short time the messiah would come and restore the land to them. On this advice Left Hand signed the agreement, in the face of threats from those opposed to it, and his example was followed by nearly all of his tribe. This incident shows how thoroughly Sitting Bull and the other Arapaho believed in the new doctrine. In view of the misery that has come on these tribes from the sale of their reservation, it is sad to think that they could have so deceived themselves by false hopes of divine interposition. A large party of the Cheyenne refused to have anything to do with the sale or to countenance the transaction by accepting their share of the purchase money, even after the whites had taken possession of the lands.

The troubles in the Sioux country now began to attract public attention, and there was suggestion of military interference. The newspaper liar has reached an abnormal development in Oklahoma, and dispatches from Guthrie, El Reno, and Oklahoma City were filled with vivid accounts of war dances, scalping parties, and imminent outbreaks, mingled with frantic appeals for troops. A specimen dispatch stated that a thousand Kickapoo were dancing, whereas in fact the whole tribe numbers only 325, very few of whom were in any way concerned with the Ghost dance. Indian Commissioner Morgan was at this time (November, 1890) on a tour of inspection among the western tribes of Oklahoma, and satisfied himself that all such sensational reports were false, and that there was no danger to be apprehended from the dance. (G. D., 55.) At the same time the War Department commissioned Lieutenant (now Captain) H. L. Scott, of the Seventh cavalry, then and now stationed at Fort Sill, Oklahoma, to investigate the meaning of the excitement and the possibility of an outbreak. Captain Scott was eminently fitted for the work by his intimate acquaintance with the Indians and his perfect knowledge of the sign language. In the course of December, 1890, and January and February, 1891, he visited the various camps of the western tribes of the territory, attended a number of dances, and talked with the leaders. His reports on the Ghost dance are most valuable, and confirmed the War Department in its previous opinion that no danger was to be apprehended, and that the true policy was one of noninterference.

The dance constantly gathered strength among the Arapaho and Cheyenne, in spite of the failure of the first prediction, and spread rapidly to the neighboring tribes, Sitting Bull himself being the high priest and chief propagandist. The adverse report brought back by Ä′piatañ, the Kiowa, in the spring of 1891 had no effect outside of his own tribe. In the early part of that year the Arapaho and Cheyenne sent a delegation, including one woman, to visit the messiah in Nevada and bring back the latest news from heaven. They were gone a considerable time and returned with some of the sacred medicine paint given them by Wovoka, after having taken part with the Paiute in a Ghost dance under his leadership at the regular dance ground near Mason valley. Tall Bull, captain of the Cheyenne police, was one of this party, and Arnold Woolworth, a Carlisle student, acted as interpreter.

In August, 1891, another delegation went out, consisting of Black Coyote, Little Raven, Red Wolf, Grant Left Hand, and Casper Edson (Arapaho), and Black Sharp Nose and Standing Bull (Cheyenne). Grant Left Hand and Casper Edson, Carlisle students, acted as interpreters, wrote down the words of the messiah, and delivered his message to their people on their return. This message, as written down at the time by Casper Edson, is given in the preceding chapter on the doctrine of the Ghost dance. In accord with the messiah’s instructions the two tribes now changed their manner of dancing from frequent small dances at each camp at irregular intervals to larger dances participated in by several camps together at regular intervals of six weeks, each dance continuing for five consecutive days. The Caddo and Wichita also adopted the new rule in agreement with instructions brought back by a delegation sent out about the same time. The change was opposed by Sitting Bull and some others, but the delegates, having the authority of the messiah for the innovation, succeeded in carrying their point, and thereafter assumed a leadership on equal terms with Sitting Bull, who from that time lost much of his interest in the dance. They were gone about two weeks, and brought back with them a quantity of the sacred paint and a large number of magpie feathers, the kind commonly worn by the Paiute in the Ghost dance. This started a demand for magpie feathers, and the shrewd traders soon turned the fact to their own advantage by importing selected crow feathers, which they sold to the unsuspecting Indians for the genuine article at the rate of two feathers for a quarter. While in the land of the Paiute the delegates took part in the Ghost dance at Mason valley, and were thrown into a trance by Wovoka, as related in chapter ix.

The Ghost dance practically superseded all other dances among the Cheyenne and Arapaho, and constantly developed new features, notably the auxiliary “crow dance,” which was organized by Grant Left Hand. This was claimed as a dance seen in a trance vision of the spirit world, but is really only a modification of the “Omaha dance,” common to the northern prairie tribes. The opening of the reservation and the influx of the whites served to intensify the religious fervor of the Indians, who were now more than ever made to feel their dependent and helpless condition. It was impossible, however, that the intense mental strain could endure forever, and after the failure of the predictions on the appointed dates the wild excitement gradually cooled and crystallized into a fixed but tranquil expectation of ultimate happiness under the old conditions in another world.

In October, 1892, another delegation, consisting of Sitting Bull and his wife, with Washee and two other Arapaho, and Edward Guerrier, a half-blood Cheyenne, visited the messiah. They brought back a very discouraging report, which was in substance that the messiah was tired of so many visitors and wanted them to go home and tell their tribes to stop dancing. Although the Indians generally refused to accept the message as genuine, the effect was naturally depressing. A year later, in October, 1893, Black Coyote and several others dictated through me a letter to Wovoka, asking him to send them some of the sacred paint or anything else that would make them think of him, with “some good words to help us and our children,” and requesting to know whether he had been truthfully reported by the delegates of the preceding year. To one who knows these people their simple religious faith is too touching to be a subject of amusement.

The messiah doctrine never gained many converts among the Comanche, excepting those of the Penätĕ′ka division and a few others living on the Little Washita and other streams on the northern boundary of the reservation, adjoining the tribes most interested in the Ghost dance. These Comanche held a few Ghost dances and made a few songs, but the body of the tribe would have nothing to do with it. This lack of interest was due partly to the general skeptical temperament of the Comanche, evinced in their carelessness in regard to ceremonial forms, and partly to their tribal pride, which forbade their following after the strange gods of another people, as they considered their own mescal rite sufficient to all their needs. Quanah Parker, their head chief, a shrewd half-blood, opposed the new doctrine and prevented its spread among his tribe.

The Ghost dance was brought to the Pawnee, Ponca, Oto, Missouri, Kansa, Iowa, Osage, and other tribes in central Oklahoma by delegates from the Arapaho and Cheyenne in the west. The doctrine made slow progress for some time, but by February, 1892, the majority of the Pawnee were dancing in confident expectation of the speedy coming of the messiah and the buffalo. Of all these tribes the Pawnee took most interest in the new doctrine, becoming as much devoted to the Ghost dance as the Arapaho themselves. The leader among the Pawnee was Frank White, and among the Oto was Buffalo Black. The agent in charge took stringent measures against the dance, and had the Oto prophet arrested and confined in the Wichita jail, threatening at the same time to cut off supplies from the tribe. As the confederated Oto and Missouri number only 362 in all, they were easily brought into subjection, and the dance was abandoned. The same method was pursued with the Pawnee prophet and his people, but as they are stronger in number than the Oto, they were proportionately harder to deal with, but the final result was the same. (Comr., 43.) The Osage gave but little heed to the story, perhaps from the fact that, as they are the wealthiest tribe in the country, they feel no such urgent need of a redeemer as their less fortunate brethren. The Sauk, Fox, Kickapoo, and Potawatomi engaged in the dance only to a limited extent, for the reason that a number of the natives of these tribes, particularly the Potawatomi, are under Catholic influences, while most of the others adhere to the doctrine of Känakûk, the Potawatomi prophet mentioned in chapter v.

The Ghost dance doctrine was communicated directly to the Caddo, Wichita, Kichai, Delaware, and Kiowa by the Arapaho and Cheyenne, their neighbors on the north. We shall speak now of the tribes first mentioned, leaving the Kiowa until the last. The Caddo, Wichita, Kichai, and several remnants of cognate tribes, with a small band of the Delaware, numbering in all about a thousand Indians, occupy a reservation between the Washita and the South Canadian in western Oklahoma, having the Arapaho and Cheyenne on the north and west, the Kiowa on the south, and the whites of Oklahoma and the Chickasaw nation on the east. The Caddo are the leading tribe, numbering more than half of the whole body. They were the first of these to take up the dance, and have manifested the greatest interest in it from the time it was introduced among them.

A number of Caddo first attended the great Ghost dance held by the Cheyenne and Arapaho on the South Canadian in the fall of 1890 on the occasion when Sitting Bull came down from the north and inaugurated the trances. On returning to their homes they started the Ghost dance, which they kept up, singing the Arapaho songs as they had heard them on the Canadian, until Sitting Bull came down about December, 1890, to give them further instruction in the doctrine and to “give the feather” to the seven persons selected to lead the ceremony. From this time the Caddo had songs and trances of their own, the chief priest and hypnotist of the dance being Nĭshkû′ntŭ, “Moon Head,” or John Wilson. The Caddo and the Delaware usually danced together on Boggy Creek. The Wichita and the Kichai, who took the doctrine from the Caddo, usually danced together on Sugar creek about 15 miles from the agency at Anadarko, but manifested less interest in the matter until Sitting Bull came down about the beginning of February, 1891, and “gave the feather” to the leaders. From this time all these tribes went into the dance heart and soul, on some occasions dancing for days and nights together from the middle of the afternoon until the sun was well up in the morning. The usual custom was to continue until about midnight. Cold weather had no deterrent effect, and they kept up the dance in the snow, the trance subjects sometimes lying unconscious in the snow for half an hour at a time. At this time it was confidently expected that the great change would occur in the spring, and as the time drew near the excitement became most intense. The return of the Kiowa delegate, Ä′piatañ, in the middle of February, 1891, with a report adverse to the messiah, produced no effect on the Caddo and their confederates, who refused to put any faith in his statements, claiming that he had not seen the real messiah or else had been bribed by the whites to make a false report.

About the time that Black Coyote and the others went out to see the messiah in the fall of 1891 the Caddo and their confederates sent out a delegation for the same purpose. The delegates were Billy Wilson and Squirrel (Caddo), Nashtowi and Lawrie Tatum (Wichita), and Jack Harry (Delaware). Tatum was a schoolboy and acted as interpreter for the party. Like the Arapaho they came back impressed with reverence for the messiah, and at once changed the time and method of the dancing, in accordance with his instructions, to periodical dances at intervals of six weeks, continuing for five consecutive days, the dance on the last night being kept up until daylight, when all the participants went down to bathe in the stream and then dispersed to their homes. They were dancing in this fashion when last visited in the fall of 1893.

The principal leader of the Ghost dance among the Caddo is Nĭshkû′ntŭ, “Moon Head,” known to the whites as John Wilson. Although considered a Caddo, and speaking only that language, he is very much of a mixture, being half Delaware, one-fourth Caddo, and one-fourth French. One of his grandfathers was a Frenchman. As the Caddo lived originally in Louisiana, there is a considerable mixture of French blood among them, which manifests itself in his case in a fairly heavy beard. He is about 50 years of age, rather tall and well built, and wears his hair at full length flowing loosely over his shoulders. With a good head and strong, intelligent features, he presents the appearance of a natural leader. He is also prominent in the mescal rite, which has recently come to his tribe from the Kiowa and Comanche. He was one of the first Caddo to go into a trance, the occasion being the great Ghost dance held by the Arapaho and Cheyenne near Darlington agency, at which Sitting Bull presided, in the fall of 1890. On his return to consciousness he had wonderful things to tell of his experiences in the spirit world, composed a new song, and from that time became the high priest of the Caddo dance. Since then his trances have been frequent, both in and out of the Ghost dance, and in addition to his leadership in this connection he assumes the occult powers and authority of a great medicine-man, all the powers claimed by him being freely conceded by his people.

When Captain Scott was investigating the Ghost dance among the Caddo and other tribes of that section, at the period of greatest excitement, in the winter of 1890–91, he met Wilson, of whom he has this to say:

John Wilson, a Caddo man of much prominence, was especially affected, performing a series of gyrations that were most remarkable. At all hours of the day and night his cry could be heard all over camp, and when found he would be dancing in the ring, possibly upon one foot, with his eyes closed and the forefinger of his right hand pointed upward, or in some other ridiculous posture. Upon being asked his reasons for assuming these attitudes he replied that he could not help it; that it came over him just like cramps.

Somewhat later Captain Scott says:

John Wilson had progressed finely, and was now a full-fledged doctor, a healer of diseases, and a finder of stolen property through supernatural means. One day, while we were in his tent, a Wichita woman entered, led by the spirit. It was explained to us that she did not even know who lived there, but some force she could not account for brought her. Having stated her case to John, he went off into a fit of the jerks, in which his spirit went up and saw “his father” [i. e., God], who directed him how to cure this woman. When he came to, he explained the cure to her, and sent her away rejoicing. Soon afterwards a Keechei man came in, who was blind of one eye, and who desired to have the vision restored. John again consulted his father, who informed him that nothing could be done for that eye because that man held aloof from the dance.

While the author was visiting the Caddo on Sugar creek in the fall of 1893, John Wilson came down from his own camp to explain his part in the Ghost dance. He wore a wide-brim hat, with his hair flowing down to his shoulders, and on his breast, suspended from a cord about his neck, was a curious amulet consisting of the polished end of a buffalo horn, surrounded by a circlet of downy red feathers, within another circle of badger and owl claws. He explained that this was the source of his prophetic and clairvoyant inspiration. The buffalo horn was “God’s heart,” the red feathers contained his own heart, and the circle of claws represented the world. When he prayed for help, his heart communed with “God’s heart,” and he learned what he wished to know. He had much to say also of the moon. Sometimes in his trances he went to the moon and the moon taught him secrets. It must be remembered that sun, moon, stars, and almost every other thing in nature are considered by the Indians as endowed with life and spirit. He claimed an intimate acquaintance with the other world and asserted positively that he could tell me “just what heaven is like.” Another man who accompanied him had a yellow sun with green rays painted on his forehead, with an elaborate rayed crescent in green, red, and yellow on his chin, and wore a necklace from which depended a crucifix and a brass clock-wheel, the latter, as he stated, representing the sun.

On entering the room where I sat awaiting him, Nĭshkû′ntŭ approached and performed mystic passes in front of my face with his hands, after the manner of the hypnotist priests in the Ghost dance, blowing upon me the while, as he afterward explained to blow evil things away from me before beginning to talk on religious subjects. He was good enough to state also that he had prayed for light before coming, and had found that my heart was good. Laying one hand on my head, and grasping my own hand with the other, he prayed silently for some time with bowed head, and then lifting his hand from my head, he passed it over my face, down my shoulder and arm to the hand, which he grasped and pressed slightly, and then released the fingers with a graceful upward sweep, as in the minuet. The first part of this—the laying of the hands upon the head, afterward drawing them down along the face and chest or arms—is the regular Indian form of blessing, reverential gratitude, or prayerful entreaty, and is of frequent occurrence in connection with the Ghost dance, when the believers ask help of the priests or beg the prayers of the older people. The next day about twenty or more Caddo came by on their way to the agency, all dressed and painted for a dance that was to be held that night. They stopped awhile to see us, and on entering the room where we were the whole company, men, women, and children, went through the same ceremony, with each one of the inmates in turn, beginning with Wilson and myself, and ending with the members of the family. The ceremony occupied a considerable time, and was at once beautiful and impressive. Not a word was said by either party during the while, excepting as someone in excess of devotion would utter prayerful exclamations aloud like the undertone of a litany. Every face wore a look of reverent solemnity, from the old men and women down to little children of 6 and 8 years. Several of them, the women especially, trembled while praying, as under the excitement of the Ghost dance. The religious greeting being over, the women of the family, with those of the party, went out to prepare the dinner, while the rest remained to listen to the doctrinal discussion.

The Kiowa were predisposed to accept the doctrine of the Ghost dance. No tribe had made more desperate resistance to the encroachments of the whites upon their hunting grounds, and even after the failure of the last effort of the confederated tribes in 1874–75, the Kiowa were slow to accept the verdict of defeat. The result of this unsuccessful struggle was to put an end to the boundless freedom of the prairie, where they had roamed unquestioned from Dakota almost to central Mexico, and henceforth the tribes were confined within the narrow limits of reservations. Within five years the great southern buffalo herd was extinct and the Indians found themselves at once prisoners and paupers. The change was so swift and terrible in its effects that they could not believe it real and final. It seemed to them like a dream of sorrow, a supernatural cloud of darkness to punish their derelictions, but which could be lifted from them by prayer and sacrifice. Their old men told of years when the buffalo was scarce or had gone a long way off, but never since the beginning of the world of a time when there was no buffalo. The buffalo still lived beyond their horizon or in caves under the earth, and with its return would come back prosperity and freedom. Before we wonder at their faith we must remember that the disappearance of these millions of buffalo in the space of a few years has no parallel in the annals of natural history.

In 1881 a young Kiowa named Da′tekañ, “Keeps-his-name-always,” began to “make medicine” to bring back the buffalo. He set up a sacred tipi, in front of which he erected a pole with a buffalo skin at the top, and made for himself a priestly robe of red color, trimmed with rows of eagle feathers. Then standing in front of his tipi he called the people around him and told them that he had been commanded and empowered in a dream to bring back the buffalo, and if they observed strictly the prayers and ceremonies which he enjoined the great herds would once more cover the prairie. His hearers believed his words, promised strict obedience, and gave freely of their blankets and other property to reward his efforts in their behalf. Da′tekañ retired to his sacred tipi, where, in his feathered robe of office, he continued to prophesy and make buffalo medicine for a year, when he died without seeing the realization of his hopes. The excitement caused by his predictions came to the notice of the agent then in charge, who mentions it in his annual report, without understanding the cause. On a Kiowa calendar obtained by the author the event is recorded in a pictograph which represents the medicine-man in his tipi, with his scarlet robe over his shoulders and a buffalo beneath his feet (figure 84).