However, the Government considered that it, also, had a grievance. Out there in the Powder River and Big Horn country, off the reservation, were Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse. The treaty said that this fine region of northeastern Wyoming and southeastern Montana from the Dakota and Nebraska lines to the Big Horn Mountains was all Indian property, to be Sioux hunting-grounds as long as there was anything to hunt. Here were ranging the free bands of Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse; but the whites of Wyoming and of Montana looked upon these rovers as dangerous, and the Crows, who were trying to live peaceably on their reservation to the west of the hunting-grounds, declared that the hunter Sioux stole their horses. “When these Sioux change from hunting buffalo to hunting scalps or horses, if they can’t find them one place they will another,” complained the whites—some of whom rather coveted the Powder River country for themselves. “We might just as well go out and fight like we used to,” complained the Crows, “instead of being good Indians, for we don’t gain anything by it if other Indians are allowed to steal from us.” It was becoming a popular custom among the Sioux for their young men to slip away from the reservation limits, join the free bands, and have a good time until they decided to come into the agencies for supplies. All in all, matters between the Sioux nation and the nation of the United States were not satisfactory. Before the middle of December it was known at Fort Lincoln that the Government had ordered Sitting Bull and the other bands to come in upon the reservation before the end of January, or to suffer the consequences. “Huh!” grunted Odell, as the news reached Fort Lincoln, on its way to the various agencies. “That means war.” “Yes, and likely a winter campaign, too,” chipped in Sergeant Butler of Ned’s company. “Another Washita for the Seventh!” “Won’t Sitting Bull or Crazy Horse come in, you think?” queried Ned, anxiously. “Charley says they won’t,” quoth Sergeant Butler, nodding toward the scout. Charley was sitting in the barracks room, taking things easy, by the stove. “No, they won’t,” he asserted, calmly. “Why should they? They’re on their own grounds, guaranteed to them by the Government, where they can live and hunt. What’s more, half the Sioux nation will be joining ’em. I’ve got a heap o’ respect for Sitting Bull. He’s the biggest power in the Sioux nation to-day, though he isn’t a chief.” “Do you know him, Charley?” asked Ned.