Finally I made up my mind I must make some sort of an effort because the whole body of my Sioux was growing restless. I picked out three hundred men, took Three Buck Elk along as a second in command, and, after dark on a black, moonless night, we cut across the prairie. The Pawnees, it was said, were about twenty miles from us, keeping small bodies, of course, constantly flung in our direction. I made a forced march of five miles straight to the rear, and then we rode straight across the prairies for three hours at a stiff pace. In that time I felt that we must have covered a full twenty-five miles. Whereas the Pawnees expected us to be on the south, I hoped that we had marched around them and now lay about five miles north of them and a little more to the east.
Here I dismounted the entire body. I ordered them to wrap their rifles so that the steel might not strike against steel. We left fifty men to watch the horses. Then we started southeast. I kept two small parties of young braves scattered ahead of my main body to bring in intelligence, and at the end of two hours three messengers came back to state that they had seen the Pawnee encampment plainly under the stars.
How my heart leaped then. If God were willing, I was ready to do a thing now that would make the first black mark on the Pawnee record since Bald Eagle had taken command of their wars. If they kept many sentinels close to their camp, we had small chance of surprising them, but I felt that they would be more apt to send out their scouts to a considerable distance toward the south to guard against a surprise from that direction. And that was exactly what they had done.
When we came in view of them, we could make them out only dimly by the starlight, but here and there in the faintly silhouetted mass there were red eyes where the last embers of their small campfires were dying slowly. At least there was enough light for our purposes. I divided the men into three bodies of about eighty each. I sent them upon all three sides of the camp except the south, and I ordered them to wait until a gun was discharged. Not a man was to advance until firing was opened by that signal. My idea was that the southerly direction would be the last toward which they would flee.
With the blood thundering in my temples almost as much as though Bald Eagle himself were among those huddled shadows, I watched my men deploy. How silently they worked themselves along the ground, for here was a stroke of war they could perfectly execute. Only they would have preferred to follow their instincts and rush at once upon the sleepers.
Still, I kept them waiting while the night died and the day began to be born. I was breathless. Every moment now increased our chances of shooting straight, for the day was coming swiftly, and still not so much as a whisper from my waiting Sioux. Then a brave beside me touched my shoulder. Against the southern horizon I made out a dozen forms of horsemen swiftly approaching - scouts from the Pawnee advance parties to report what they had seen - perhaps to report that a large body of the Sioux were away and on mischief bent. There was no use waiting longer. I drew my revolver and fired it in the air.
That my lessons had not been given in vain I learned by the answering roar. Every Sioux, during the wait, had chosen a target and had been nursing his aim upon it. The answer to my shot was one instantaneous rush of fire from three sides of the circle, and the frightened shouts as the Pawnees wakened to find death in their midst were mingled with the death-scream of a score of warriors.
There was a brief interval of silence from my lines as the men, lying still, reloaded. The Pawnee camp was a scene of the wildest confusion, but, before they could surge away to their horses, the second volley crashed among them. The effect was terrible. My Sioux had before them standing targets, huddled in a thick mass and at point-blank range. I was too excited to handle my own gun. I merely stood up and watched the shock of the second volley sweep down what seemed to me half of the Pawnees.
Now they were at their horses, but right into the face of my line they stormed off to the north. It was a trying moment to me. I knew that my Sioux were by no means sure of themselves on foot. I had sworn to them a thousand times that no cavalry could ride down fast-firing infantry, but I could not tell how my assurances would weigh with them. So, holding my breath with a groan, I watched and waited. On went those rushing Pawnees, screaming like frightened demons, but the Dakotas lay still and finished the rapid reloading. Then up went their guns into a flashing line. The fire spurted in jets and broad masses. The Pawnee charge staggered, swayed, and then rushed away to the south. Ah, to have had only fifty horsemen to throw on their flank on the rear at that moment. How I cursed the stupidity that had kept me from bringing up even a handful of mounted men and keeping them in the distance until the moment when the fighting began. However, enough was done. Out of that deathtrap some four score Pawnees rushed away to the south. When we poured through the camp, we found and counted a hundred and sixty-five dead. It was frightful work for such a short combat. I say dead advisedly. Not all died under the rifle, but the rest were finished by the knives of the scalpers. I could not check them. I turned away from the horrible business and went off to a little distance, for I knew that there would be no holding back the Dakotas. It had been too long since they had really fleshed themselves thoroughly in a slaughter. Now their yells of victory were more terrible than the shouts of the Pawnees as the remnant fled over the horizon of the dawn. Horses and rifles and bows and arrows were the booty we carried back with us. As for trinkets, I ordered them piled in one heap and set fire to the lot. I did not want my army encumbered with useless baggage.
Considering that we had every advantage of surprise and discipline, training and weapons on our side, it was not a battle at all. It was simply a massacre that might as well have been of women and children. Even the rush of the Pawnees toward our lines had been the flight of desperate fugitives rather than a charge. I was glad of one thing, at least - that my men had seen how rifle fire will blow a cavalry charge to nothingness. As for the Sioux themselves, they rejoined their comrades of the main body as though they came back from conquering the world, and they were received like so many heroes. It does not take a great deal to depress Indian warriors, neither does it take a great deal to raise them to the skies. They started that campaign fairly confident they were a formidable lot, but pretty certain, in their hearts of hearts, that Bald Eagle and the Pawnees would be too much for them. That single surprise attack was enough to convince them they were invincible. From that moment my thousand were willing to attack ten thousand, if I gave the word for it. This was all very well. I was glad to have their courage redoubled, but I was wondering how long it would take Bald Eagle to sweat the confidence out of them.
Every day I kept them at their books. In the morning they practiced their maneuvers and handled their guns. In the afternoon they proceeded with the march. On the twelfth day after the surprise of the Pawnees, I received word for which I had been waiting. It did not come in the way of a prisoner's confession. It was a Pawnee herald who took his life in his hands by risking himself among my cutthroats. He was a battered elder with a face that would have served in the worst nightmare that ever frightened a child. He came up to me and looked me over haughtily. Then he informed me that Bald Eagle was weary of seeing fish hawks in his lands and had come to take scalps. However, he was a gentle and a kindly chief. If we would abandon all our horses and half of our rifles, he would allow us to retreat safely from his presence. Otherwise he would fall upon us and cut us to bits.
It was the plainest sort of bluff, delivered in a loud voice for the purpose of overawing my men. But I was not raw enough to let such stuff pass. I pulled myself straight on the back of White Smoke, who was sniffing noses with the Pawnee's stallion and telling him in the very plainest sort of horse talk that he was aching to get at him and knock him to bits.
I said: "Go back to your chief and tell him that a carrion crow may hide in a cloud and make the Pawnees think that he is an eagle, but the Sioux are men, not children. They have come to show the Pawnees they are children and fools."
This was rather strong, and the Pawnee glared
at me like an incarnate devil for a moment. Then he wheeled his horse and darted away.
ON BALD EAGLE'S TRAIL
I knew Bald Eagle was no gullible young fool who would fly into a blind rage. But I felt that my message might make his gorge rise a bit. I had talked like a boaster, but I was also determined to act like a coward to lead him on. Frankly I felt that in a real campaign I should never have a chance to win against this Napoleon of the prairies. I wanted to encourage him to a headlong attack. So that very hour I ordered my little host to wheel about and start a retreat. I had them dismount from the tired and worn ponies that had carried them up to this time and mount, instead, the fresh animals that had been herded at our heels by the boys. I sent the horse herd toward home as fast as they could jump. I followed with the army at a brisk gait.
It was a hard thing to do. The Sioux glared at me as though I had turned into a mangy dog, and Standing Bear came to me almost trembling with impatience. I explained to him the real truth. We were out to take vengeance on Bald Eagle. The minute he felt that we were shaking cowards, he would swarm after us as fast as he could. Otherwise we might have to attack him behind entrenchments. The Sioux could recall what had happened the last time they besieged that warrior. This was enough for Standing Bear. He spread the word along the line - it was only a ruse - this was a false flight and was conducted merely to lure the great Bald Eagle toward us. Then we would turn and strike him down.
That was enough. They marched on again as happily as children bound for a picnic ground. For me it was a fearfully anxious week that followed until, at length, the scouts to the rear announced they had sighted the van of the Pawnees, swarming hotly over the prairie. There might still be other stratagems working in the cunning brain of Bald Eagle, but it seemed that he was at least preparing to close with me at once, and this was all that I couid ask. While my men felt the invincibility, and before a bit of maneuvering had revealed me as the very foolish young general that I was, I wanted to come to grips with the warrior. To this extent he was playing into my hands.
When I asked my scouts how many Pawnees were following me, they said they thought about six hundred and fifty men. Again my heart jumped with relief. This being a true history, and not a foolish story, I have to admit that I was not at all anxious to meet Bald Eagle on even terms. I had a slight advantage over him, and I felt that this was just about what I should need. He had thrashed five times his number of Sioux in the open field, for that matter. Now he prepared to swallow me alive. There was no faltering, no pausing to skirmish or to recruit his tired men. He brought them straight on at me while I drew up my Dakotas. He was dismounting his fellows almost as soon as I was dismounting mine.
It was the same sort of tactics on both sides. The Indians were off horseback and ready to engage on foot - by preference. While their horses were herded to the rear, I arranged my fine fellows in two lines - exactly as my enemy did. In the first line was Three Buck Elk, a wild and headlong fighter, as I well knew. In the second line was Standing Bear, far brainier and more apt to act with caution, though every whit as well qualified to maintain a resolutely fierce front against the enemy. Where was the chief who commanded the army, whose almost legendary duty it was to stand in the forefront of the host? Well, I should like to say that I was in the very van, standing like a hero, or riding along the line to encourage the men, but as a matter of fact the post I chose for myself was in the rear with a guard of fifty men around me. There were a hundred more, but they were stationed among the horses and directed to keep themselves out of sight until they heard from me. Then they were to come, and come mounted. My idea was partly, I confess, to keep away from death, and partly I wanted to be where I could overlook the whole battlefield and see the point where I might be most needed. To that point I intended to march and strike with my hundred and fifty men of the reserve as hard as we might, with the greater ease because we would be mounted and, though our fighting might be less effective, our shock would be the greater. In the two main battle lines I had eight hundred men that I thought ample to hold in check the six hundred and fifty of Bald Eagle - or at least throw their attack into confusion until I could strike the decisive blow with my horsemen.
It seemed to me a neat plan. It still seems a clever one to me as I look back from a distance. Still, I was not at ease. I knew that I had no ordinary man opposed to me. Yet the attack started exactly as though Bald Eagle were a bloodthirsty madman. I still feel that his many successes had turned his head a little. He knew that the Sioux dreaded him like an incarnate devil, and that they felt he was more than half invincible. What he could not estimate was the value of the lessons we had recently been learning and, above all, the moral effect of that night stroke at the Pawnees.
At any rate, he dismounted his men the instant they were at long range. A select number fell back with the horses, which they brought up close and kept in good order - a measure I envied at once. The Pawnees then came steadily on at a jog trot, and many men in motion seem to have thrice the velocity of a few. Though each man was only jogging easily, the whole mass of the Pawnees seemed to be rushing upon us at great speed. I had ordered the Sioux to hold their fire and to remain lying down. But, when they saw their enemies coming at them, it was too much for their control. A rifle exploded at the right of the first line. A scattering fire then ran along, and every man discharged his piece. I groaned when I saw the effect of that random volley. The Pawnees were still too far away, and the skill I had drilled into the Sioux seemed to have been wiped away from them. Only a very few of Bald Eagle's men dropped from the line, not enough by any means to answer the number of bullets that had gone whirring toward them. I saw Bald Eagle wave a hand above his head and laugh.
He was instantly conspicuous. While I remained to the rear, that bold chieftain advanced to the very head of his men, brandishing a long rifle like a feather in his hands. He looked more than human in his stature. His hair was not trimmed to form the scalp lock but blew about his shoulders in long black streams. His height was made greater by a cluster of feathers plaited into his hair, and it waved above his head.
After our first fire he set his men the example of rushing forward at full speed. They swept suddenly upon us, yet I was not afraid of the consequences, for I knew that the Sioux had time to load before they received the charge. What maddened me was to see them rise almost en masse to meet the rush of the Pawnees. But no headlong charge was in the mind of the great chief. Some thirty paces from our line a thundering shout left his lips, and his men dropped instantly to the ground. How marvelously he had brought those wild Pawnees into the hollow hand of his discipline. They fell flat, couched their rifles, and at another word from him they loosed a solid volley.
I have heard men talk of the days of wooden ships and the effect of the first close-delivered broadside - how it keeled the vessel over and filled it with the thunder of crashing, splintering, falling timbers. Like a broadside was that volley of the Pawnees. The imbecile Sioux, who had stood up almost to a man, were perfect targets. And I saw my first line literally blown to pieces. As a fighting machine that section of my army was broken to bits. They ran here and there, yelling, lamenting. Some started for the rear. Others stood still and screamed an hysterical defiance at the Pawnees. And the Pawnees were still lying fiat on the ground!
Vastly tempting as that confusion in our ranks must have been to those savages, they obeyed the discipline they had learned and remained in their places, loading their rifles as rapidly as they could. The instant that was done, they lunged to their feet and leaped in at us.
We were in a frightful condition. Our first line, as I have said, was hopelessly disintegrated. Our second line could hardly fire effectively because of the confusion of the first. Only the onrush of the Pawnees forced the broken first line to squeeze through the second. Standing Bear, in the meantime, had forced that second line to kneel, and from that kneeling position, with the Pawnees straight before them, they poured in their fire. The effect was ghastly, o
f course. But Bald Eagle's men were already very close. Some, in their death agonies, leaped in to deliver their dying strokes. The others, with the immense voice of Bald Eagle flooding their ears, halted for a single instant and then poured in from their recharged guns a fire almost as effective as that of my kneeling second line. Then they closed.
I had not the slightest doubt what the outcome would be. I had, altogether, about eight hundred men in those two lines, and there were a few less than seven hundred Pawnees, but the impact of their charge was irresistible. I saw them drop their rifles and begin to swing their hatchets. Here, there, and again they burst through the line. I saw Bald Eagle, transformed into a giant fiend, catch up a Sioux warrior and swing him before him like a club. I have never seen such a show of sheer might of hand and arm. He himself scorned to use a hatchet. He was armed, a moment later, with a heavy clubbed rifle, which was a toy in his hand, and every blow crushed a skull like an eggshell.
The Sioux were beaten, but still they did not fly. I cannot say how my heart rose as I saw, at last, the magic result of my patient work. Their line was shattered, but, as their leaders yelled the gathering signal, group by group and clan by clan garnered to itself, and, forming in rough circles, kinsman at the side of kinsman, they kept a formidable face to the raging wolves of Bald Eagle.
Where were the horsemen of my reserve? All of this had occurred in a single rush, but, as I saw the Pawnees break through the line, I felt that I could not wait to gather the hundred men who were now extricating themselves from the mass of the horses and beginning to form behind me. I took the fifty who were immediately at my side and headed straight for Bald Eagle. To this moment it seems incredible. He had around him only wild savages, who were on the point of gaining a great victory, who were maddened by the lust for blood and scalps. Yet at the thunder of his call a full hundred of the braves banded together and faced my charge - faced it, loading their rifles with a wonderful rapidity.
Brand, Max - 1925 Page 18
