And, running to the place where the guns were stacked, Short Bull grasped his gun and, followed by many of his young men, surrounded Shangraux. Louis’s situation was desperate. He knew these furious men might kill him at the slightest resistance, so he laughed as good-naturedly as possible under the circumstances and told them to put up their guns, as he was their friend instead of their enemy. “No, do not let the friendlies return,” cried the young men; “kill them, or compel them to remain with us. They will tell the Agent all they have seen and the soldiers will know how to enter our camp.” With clubbed guns many of the desperate youths rushed upon the friendlies and scouts, others cocked their Winchesters, and for a few moments it looked as if poor Louis and No Neck, Two Strike and Crow Dog, would lose their lives. Crow Dog sat upon the ground and drew his blanket over his head. The wiser counsel prevailed, however, and after a great hubbub, in which several young men were knocked down, order was restored. One of the horses and several of the dogs of the friendlies were shot during the melee. When the 145 lodges started from the camp another difficulty arose. It was during this trouble that Crow Dog made his famous, though brief speech: “I am going back to White Clay (the location of the agency); you can kill me if you want to, now, and prevent my starting. The Agent’s words are true, and it is better to return than to stay here. I am not afraid to die.” So, they started for home. Imagine the surprise of the friendlies when, upon looking back from the top of a ridge two miles distant, they saw the 117 lodges of hostiles coming after them. They halted to wait for Short Bull to catch up, and then the entire outfit moved toward the agency, all happy in the prospect of peace and forgiveness. But the hopes of the friendlies were short-lived, for Short Bull became scared after having proceeded four miles farther, and together with his band, left the rear of the column and returned to the Bad Lands. Sunday and Monday morning the Indians moved along the trail, reaching Red Cloud’s camp, in sight of the agency headquarters just before noon, Monday. Louis and the scouts had ridden ahead and reached the general’s presence as narrated in the forepart of this chapter. These friendlies, added to the large number already in camp near the agency buildings, led all of us to hope the trouble was over. But during all the Pine Ridge excitement, up on the Missouri river, at Standing Rock, Sitting Bull was in evidence, with some 150 followers.