“Then there were cries away off yonder and the sound of singing. Some of our warriors over there were galloping in single file down a hill towards the Little Piney where the Wasichu camp was, and I tried hard to see if my father was one of them, but they were too far away. Gun smoke puffed from the brush and it was a cloud before the boom came. Some Wasichus began running out of the trees towards the ring of wagon boxes in the middle of the prairie. They would stop to shoot, and run again. There were not many and they looked very small. The big Cheyenne jumped up and all the others did too, shouting to each other and running back to their horses; and I ran with them. “The people were all mixed up, and I could not see my mother and grandfather, but I was not afraid. I felt big inside of me and all over me, with horses crowding and squealing, and men mounting and shouting to each other. Then they were swarming over the hill, all singing together, and I sang too as loud as I could sing. Everybody crowded up the hill, and I crawled through the people’s legs to see. “It is still down there now. Some of our warriors are coming up out of the Little Piney. Our men have stopped down there by the Big Piney below us. I wonder what they are waiting for. Away off yonder some of our people are chasing mules. In the little ring of wagon boxes a few Wasichus are standing and looking around. On the hill over towards the sun there are many of our people waiting too. They say that is where Red Cloud was. “Looking glasses are flashing over by the Little Piney. They are singing again below us. Some of the warriors break away from the crowd and gallop out on the prairie. Over by the Little Piney others are galloping. They circle around the ring of boxes, hanging on the sides of their horses, getting closer and shooting arrows from under the horses’ necks. One is very brave and he is closer than the others. There is a puff of smoke from the ring, and his horse turns into a dust cloud before the boom comes. “Then the singing and the shouting and the sound of horses’ hoofs are like a big wind coming up all at once and thunder in the wind. They are coming from over by the sun; they are coming from the Little Piney; our men are swarming up out of the creek valley below us. There is dust, dust, and thunder in it and singing over it like a high wind blowing. The horses and men are floating in it. It is closing in over the prairie, but the ring of boxes looks empty and is still. “No! It is not empty and still. It puffs smoke all around and goes out in a cloud and a roar. The cloud gets higher and does not go away. The roaring does not stop. It is like a great blanket ripping. There is smoke whirling all around it, and horses’ heads and men’s heads and war bonnets are flying in it. “They are trying to ride over the boxes. The horses will not go.