After waiting a year for the Government to fulfill the treaty made by the Peace Commissioners in 1867, for the settlement of all Indian difficulties, starvation staring them in the face, some dissatisfied Cheyennes, in the fall of 1868, went upon the war-path, committing outrages against the whites on the Saline River. This was the opportunity that General Sheridan, who then commanded in that quarter, desired, and he at once prepared for a vigorous winter campaign. "Experience," said he, "has taught us the lesson, that the Indian, mounted on his hardy pony and familiar with the country, is almost as hard to find while the grass lasts as the Alabama  on the ocean." The Indians were supposed to be on the head-waters of the Red River, immediately south of the Antelope hills.

On the morning of November 23rd, Lieutenant-colonel George A. Custer, with the Seventh Cavalry, moved in this direction, through the falling snow, from his camp on the North Canadian River, and on the evening of the 26th struck the trail of a war-party, which proved to be Black Kettle's band of Cheyennes. Corralling his wagons, and leaving a small escort with them, Custer followed the trail, and before daylight carne upon Black kettle's village.

It was this chief who, at a council held at Fort Ellsworth, Kansas, in the winter of 1866-67, had with great eloquence entreated the Great Father—for such is the title by which they know the President—to stop the building of the iron road, which would soon drive away the buffalo and leave his red children without food.

Mo-ka-ta-va-ta., or Black Kettle, was described at this time as a fine-looking man, of middle age, with heavy features and frame. He possessed great influence with his tribe, and by his wise counsels had more than once averted war. His dress was simple, with the exception of a massive necklace of crescent-shaped silver plates, from the front of which depended a heavy silver medal bearing the profile in relief of Washington. It had been presented long ago to one of Black Kettle's ancestors, and was worn with evident pride. This friendly chief—for such he was known to be—narrowly escaped with his life at the Chivington massacre in 1834, and was a victim in that we are about to describe.

Custer divided his command into four parties, one of which remained with him; the others were stationed on three sides of the village, completely surrounding the Indians. At dawn the bugle sounded the charge, and the entire command dashed rapidly into the village. The Indians were completely surprised, but realizing their danger they quickly seized their rifles, bows, and arrows, and springing behind the nearest trees, or leaping into the stream and using the bank as a rifle-pit, began a vigorous and determined resistance. Mingled with the exultant cheers of the whites could be heard the defiant warwhoop of the warriors, who, from the first, fought with a desperation and courage which no race of men could surpass.

At the first onset a number of the Indians rushed through the lines. Many had sought shelter behind logs and trees, and under the banks of the stream which flowed through the centre of the village, and to dislodge them it was necessary for the cavalry to fight on foot in the Indian style. Slowly but surely the Indians were driven out of these defences, and were either shot down or pushed beyond the scene of action. The women and children remained within the lodges and became prisoners. The village was burned and eight hundred horses slaughtered. One hundred and three warriors, including the chief, Black Kettle, were killed, and fifty three women and children captured.

For fifteen miles along the Washita, the lodges of the Arapahoes, under Little Raven, the Kiowas, under Satanta and Lone Wolf, and numerous bands of Cheyennes, Comanches, and Apaches extended. At the news of Custer's onslaught they collected and attacked him in turn, but were repulsed, and at nightfall Custer withdrew. His loss was twenty-one killed, including Major Elliot and Captain Hamilton, and eleven wounded.

This was a hard blow, and, according to General Sheridan, it fell upon the guiltiest of all the bands, that of Black Kettle. "It was this band," says he, "that without provocation had massacred the settlers on the Saline and Solomon, and perpetrated cruelties too fiendish for recital." On the other hand, Indian Agent Wynkoop says: "I know that Black Kettle had proceeded to the point at which he was killed, with the understanding that it was the locality where those Indians that were friendly disposed should assemble. In regard to the charge that Black Kettle was engaged in the depredations committed on the Saline and Solomon during the summer of 1865, I know the same to be utterly false, as he was at that time camped near my agency on the Pawnee Fork." In the language of Superintendent Murphy, of the Osage Agency, "Black Kettle was one of the best and truest friends the whites ever had among the Indians of the plains."

One of the actions of this war furnishes a remarkable instance of heroism and endurance. Brevet-colonel George A. Forsyth, with fifty men, while on a scouting expedition, had camped, on the night of September 16th, on the Arickaree Ford of the Republican River. There were a few inches of running water only in this stream. A small island directly behind the bivouac was fringed with willows, and bore a few stunted trees.

At daybreak a party of Indians rushed upon the camp, but were driven back. Forsyth, seeing their overwhelming numbers, and realizing at once the advantage of the cover, slight as it was, afforded by the island, and the disadvantage to the Indians of having to charge over the sandy bed of the stream, decided to take position on the sand island, which was separated from the mainland by a mere thread of water. The movement was effected, and the men, distributed in a circle, were ordered to lie down, and as soon as possible to dig rifle-pits for themselves in the sand. While this was being done, an annoying fire was kept up by the Indians, by which Forsyth was twice wounded, three men killed, and a number of others hit. Under their leader's direction the best shots were keeping the Indians at bay, while the others were digging for life, using the bodies of their slain horses as a parapet.

About nine o'clock a charge was made, with unearthly yells, by three hundred mounted warriors. A heavy skirmish line pressed closer and closer, with so galling a fire that not a man could expose a hand or an arm to return it. Everything was, however, put in readiness, the guns of the dead and wounded were loaded and placed near the best shots on the threatened side. When the Indians were within thirty yards of the rifle-pits, and their skirmish fire had ceased, for fear of hitting their friends, the intrenchment so silent hitherto suddenly became alive.

"Now !" shouted Forsyth, and a rapid and effective fire tumbled the leaders from their ponies. Still they pressed on, yelling and whooping, and down they went under the deadly fire of the brave defenders of the island. Roman Nose, their gigantic war chief, and Medicine Chief, another of their leaders, both fell close to the intrenchment. The assailants wavered; a ringing cheer and another well-directed volley from the soldiers and they turned and fled, vanquished and demoralized. Two other charges were made and repelled during the day, and at nightfall a heavy rain set in. Every horse and mule had been killed by the enemy's fire. Lieutenant Beecher and five others had been killed or mortally wounded, and seventeen were wounded severely.

Fort Wallace, the nearest point from which succor could arrive, was one hundred miles away. Forsyth's men were without provisions, and surrounded by nine hundred well-armed warriors. A well was dug, the dead animals' flesh was cut into strips for food, the line was strengthened with saddles and dead animals, and two men were despatched at nightfall through the enemy's lines to Fort Wallace. Day after day the heroic band sustained the steady fire of the Indians, but by the fifth day the suffering from hunger, as the meat could no longer be eaten, was intense. By this time the Indians began to disappear, and by the seventh day all had left, but the beleaguered force was too weak to move. At last, on the morning of the ninth day, succor arrived.

The Indians encountered were Northern Cheyennes, Brulé and Ogalalla Sioux, and "Dog Soldiers," the banditti of the plains. Their loss is said to have been thirty-five killed and one hundred wounded.

Notwithstanding the provisions of the treaty made with the Sioux and the Northern Cheyennes by the Peace Commissioners in 1868, securing to them the right of limiting on their old territory, these Indians were ordered by General Sheridan to give up their hunting-grounds and to go upon a reservation. They stood upon their rights and resisted, and another Sioux war was the result.

Three columns of troops, under Generals Crook, Terry, and Custer, were sent against them in May, 1Si6. Crook, after an indecisive action with the Sioux, fell back to the Tongue River. Sitting Bull, their leader, was at this time between the head-waters of the Rosebud and the Big Horn, the main tributary of the latter being known as the Little Big Horn. It was at this place that the gallant Custer fought his last battle.

Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse were chiefs of bands who were implacably hostile, and to their villages drifted all the discontented Indians from various quarters. They occupied a singularly advantageous position near the head of the Yellow stone, surrounded by the "bad lands," which prevented the whites from near approach, and centrally situated with regard to the Indian agencies, from which they were annually supplied with the best of arms and ammunition by the United States Government, in accordance with treaty stipulations.

Sitting Bull is described as a heavily built Indian, with a massive head and brown hair—a most unusual color for an Indian. His totem is a buffalo bull sitting on his haunches. He possesses much force of mind, with a genius for war, and a stubborn heroism, admirable in the champion of a race. He was born in 1537, near old Fort George, on Willow Creek, below the mouth of the Cheyenne River, and was the son of Chief Jumping Bull. The order requiring him to go on a reservation was in violation of his treaty rights, and the attempt to enforce it was a national disgrace.

"I want peace," said the chief to General Miles, in an interview with that officer soon after the battle with General Crook, "but if the troops come out to me I will fight them. I want to hunt buffalo and to trade. I don't want rations nor annuities. I want to live as an Indian."

A village of the Northern Cheyennes was surprised by General Mackenzie, and their entire stock of provisions for winter, their buffalo robes, and all their property burned. It was winter, and those who escaped were utterly destitute. In the following spring their chief, Hump, with some of his followers, surrendered to General Miles. Handing his belt and gun to the general, he said, "Take these; I am no longer chief or warrior."

When asked why he had put himself in opposition to the Government, he replied, "I never went to war with the whites. The soldiers began chasing me about, for what cause I do not know to this day. I dodged as long as I could, and hid my village away, but at last they found it, and I had no alternative but to fight or perish."

The battle of the Rosebud is a good illustration of Indian warfare on the plains. When a charge is made upon them, those in front of the charging force break and give way, while those on the sides close in to attack and harass the flanks and rear of the attacking force. If the latter should unfortunately be carried too far by the excitement of the chase, its destruction is almost certain. The Indian is a superb horseman, his pony quick and wiry, and, avoiding a direct attack, the retreating warriors wheel, collect again, fall upon the flank and rear of their assailants, overwhelm them, and then withdraw with lightning rapidity to repeat the manœuvre with others.

General Crook advanced upon the enemy's position, with his cavalry on the left, his infantry and his Indian allies on the right. The cavalry charged, only to find the enemy already withdrawn, and taking another strong position beyond. A second and a third charge, with a similar result, left the cavalry far in advance and in danger of being overwhelmed. General Crook sent an aid to recall it. In the attempt to fall back it found itself completely surrounded. The Indians had poured in upon them from all quarters— front, flank, and rear. With perfect steadiness the troops moved on, and after a brief but fierce hand-to-hand encounter the environing mass was rent asunder, and the troops regained their position. Their courage and discipline had saved them from destruction.

On the 23d of June, General Custer, with the Seventh Cavalry, was ordered up the Rosebud to follow the Indian trail. After a night-march the command found itself, on the morning of the 25th, in the valley of one of the branches of the Little Big Born, and in the vicinity of the Indians. The command was divided into three detachments—one led by Custer, one by Major Reno, and a third by Captain Benteen. Reno was to take the village at the upper end, Custer at the lower extremity. Reno attacked, but so feebly that he was easily driven back. Both detachments failed to support Custer, and he, with only five companies, was compelled, single-handed, to sustain the encounter with the entire Indian force. His orders were, "not to let the Indians escape," and in obedience to these he flung himself upon them in full confidence that, with the co-operation of the other detachments of his force, he should inflict a severe punishment upon them.

Moving rapidly down the river to the ford, Custer was met by the Sioux about six hundred yards east of the river. They were surprised and in confusion, but seeing the small force in front of them, surrounded and attacked it, with confidence in their overwhelming numbers. Hundreds of Indians on foot and on ponies poured over the river, and filled the ravine on each side of Custer's men. They drove the troops back up the hill, Custer all the while making successive stands on the higher ground. They then made a circuit to the right around the hill, and drove off and captured most of the horses, the cavalry being dismounted and fighting on foot. The troops made a final stand at the lower end of the hill, and there they were all killed, the fight lasting from two o'clock till sunset.

Not a man of the five companies was left alive. The Indian force was estimated at from two thousand five hundred to three thousand warriors.

A subsequent examination of the ground revealed the fact that, about three-quarters of a mile from the river, Captain Calhoun's company were all slain. A mile beyond, on the ridge parallel to the stream, fell Keogh's company, his right resting on the bill where Custer fell, held also by Yates's company. On the most prominent point of this ridge Custer made. his last desperate stand, and here he went down, fighting heroically to the last. On the line of a ravine nearer the river were found the bodies of Captains Smith's and Custer's companies, their situation indicating that they had made a desperate effort to make a stand or to gain the woods. Sitting Bull and his warriors are now (1883) prisoners at Fort Randall, Dakota, having voluntarily surrendered to the United States authorities.

Some time before this battle, a council had been held with a number of chiefs at Fort Dodge, Kansas. Extravagant promises of future good conduct were made by all, but especially by the "peculiarly savage and insolent Satanta." So effective and convincing was the oratorical effort of Satanta, that at the close of his address he was presented with the coat and hat of a major-general Within a few weeks, Satanta returned the compliment by attacking the post where this council was held, arrayed in his new uniform.

The great rival of Red Cloud was Spotted Tail, who had long been head chief of the Ernie band of Sioux. He was the earnest friend and coadjutor of the white man in the work of pacification. He was large and commanding in figure, and possessed great oratorical and executive abilities. A feud existed between him and a chief named Crow Dog. They met near the Rosebud Agency, August 6, 1881, and the latter shot Spotted Tail dead.