“Just then there was shooting up river where the Hunkpapas were--like ripping a big blanket by jerks; and a big noise of yelling grew yonder. “I ran into my cousin who was bringing in some horses, and one of them was mine; so I took it, and rode towards where the big noise came from. But it was spreading all along the valley now. Women and children and old people were running down the river towards me. Women were screaming, men were shouting and running for their horses. Some were riding or running on foot towards the attackers yonder. It was so crowded at first where I was that I could not ride fast. So I turned out to the right into the prairie, and the whole flat along the stream was covered with the big mixed, singing noise that floated above the people. “Just then I ran into Red Feather, a young fellow like me, and he was bringing some horses. They were rearing and pulling at the lariats, and he was having a hard time with them, because they were excited too. One of them was my best horse, big and a good runner. Not Whirlwind; he was wolf-meat long before that. This one was a roan with a crooked white patch around his left eye and nearly over to his left ear. He had a white look in that eye when he was excited, and he never got tame. Sometimes he ran away with me, but he never got tired. So I got on this horse and gave the other to a man who was running on foot towards the attackers. “I rode on the run towards where the big excitement was. There was an old Hunkpapa woman pointing a gun at a man on the ground. He was a Hunkpapa too and he was sitting holding himself up with his hands back of him. I stopped my horse to see what the old woman was doing to the Hunkpapa. His breast was all bloody. The woman pointed the gun at his head, and it snapped but did not go off. The man said, ‘Don’t kill me, Grandmother; I will be dead soon anyway.’ The woman screamed at him and said, ‘You sneaking dog! Why did you come with the soldiers to kill your relatives?’ Then the gun went off and the man fell over. “I could see that horseback soldiers were running away up stream. They were strung out along the river bank, and they were not fighting much, just running away, with many, many Lakotas swarming against them and pushing them towards the water that was running deeper than a horse’s belly. I rode into the crowd and began knocking soldiers off their horses with the butt of my gun. It was easy to do. It was easier than shooting, for it was not like a fight. It was more like hunting cows. There was a Lakota on a white horse and he was killing soldiers with a sword he got in the Rosebud fight.