Black Hills (S.D. and Wyo.) -- History -- 19th century -- Fiction; Frontier and pioneer life -- United States -- Fiction
It seems that the personnel of Custer's former expedition to the
Yellowstone included two civilians, a Dr. Honzinger and a Mr. Baliran.
These men were not, of course, subject to the full rigor of military
discipline, and so were accustomed to depart from, and return to, the
main line of march at will. When they did not reappear in due time
from one of these little trips, search was made; and they were found
killed with arrows. Dr. Honzinger's skull was crushed in, but neither
man was scalped, for the doctor was bald and the other wore his hair
clipped short. Some time later, knowledge of the murderer's identity
came to light, through information stumbled upon by one of Custer's own
scouts.
At that period, rations and ammunition were distributed regularly at
the various agencies. In return the savages promised to be good
Indians and to submit to the white men's laws. This promise they kept
faithfully enough, but according to their own standards. At the times
of distribution, when inevitably a great many of the Indians were
gathered together, the occasion was signalized by feasting and ghost
dances. The latter are uncouth exhibitions enough, consisting
decoratively of much cheap body-paint, many eagle feathers, and trashy
jewelry; musically of most unmusical pounding and screaming; and
physically of a crouching posture and a solemnly bounding progression
from one foot to the other around a circle. They are accompanied by a
recital of valorous deeds.
Such a dance was organized at the Standing Rock Agency, below Fort
Lincoln, in the winter of 1875. As usual, besides the gathering of old
warriors and squaws, assembled to watch the dance, the audience
included a number of white men, present on business or pleasure. Among
them was Charley Reynolds, one of Custer's scouts. This man stood
exchanging idle comment and chaff with another scout, and throwing an
occasional glance in the direction of the vortex of dancers, swirling
about in gaudy confusion, like a whirlwind of autumn leaves. Suddenly
he closed his mouth with a snap and leaned forward at keen attention.
He had caught a few words that interested him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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