Soon they were forced to abandon their spare horses and all
the equipment they had brought along. Despite the imminent risk of
encountering thousands of other Indians at the Agency, we drove our
late adversaries directly into it. No one in our command had any
assurance that the Indians gathered there had not gone on the warpath,
but little difference that made to us. The Fifth Cavalry, on the
warpath itself, would stop at nothing. It was dark when we entered the
reservation. All about us we could see the huddling forms of
Indians--thousands of them--enough, in fact, to have consummated
another Custer massacre. But they showed no disposition to fight.
While at the Agency I learned that the Indian I had killed in the
morning was none other than Yellow Hand, a son of old Cut Nose, who was
a leading chief of the Cheyennes. The old man learned from the members
of Yellow Hand's party that I had killed his son, and sent a white
interpreter to me offering four mules in exchange for the young chief's
war-bonnet. This request I was obliged to refuse, as I wanted it as a
trophy of the first expedition to avenge the death of Custer and his
men.
The next morning we started to join the command of General Crook, which
was encamped at the foot of Cloud Peak in the Big Horn Mountains. They
had decided to await the arrival of the Fifth Cavalry before proceeding
against the Sioux, who were somewhere near the head of the Big Horn
River, in a country that was as nearly inaccessible as any of the
Western fastnesses.
Pages:
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271