Black Elk Speaks
The End of the Dream
After the soldiers marched away, Red Crow and I started back toward
Pine Ridge together, and I took the little baby that I told you
about. Red Crow had one too.
We were going back to Pine Ridge, because we thought there was
peace back home; but it was not so. While we were gone, there was
a fight around the Agency, and our people had all gone away. They
had gone away so fast that they left all the tepees standing.
It was nearly dark when we passed north of Pine Ridge where the
hospital is now, and some soldiers shot at us, but did not hit us.
We rode into the camp, and it was all empty. We were very hungry
because we had not eaten anything since early morning, so we peeped
into the tepees until we saw where there was a pot with papa [dried
meat] cooked in it. We sat down in there and began to eat. While
we were doing this, the soldiers shot at the tepee, and a bullet
struck right between Red Crow and me. It threw dust in the soup,
but we kept right on eating until we had our fill. Then we took
the babies and got on our horses and rode away. If that bullet had
only killed me, then I could have died with papa in my mouth.
The people had fled down Clay Creek, and we followed their trail.
It was dark now, and late in the night we came to where they were
camped without any tepees. They were just sitting by little fires,
and the snow was beginning to blow. We rode in among them and I
heard my mother's voice. She was singing a death song for me, because
she felt sure I had died over there. She was so glad to see me that
she cried and cried.
Women who had milk fed the little babies that Red Crow and I brought
with us.
I think nobody but the little children slept any that night. The
snow blew and we had no tepees.
When it was getting light, a war party went out and I went along;
but this time I took a gun with me. When I started out the day before
to Wounded Knee, I took only my sacred bow, which was not made to
shoot with; because I was a little in doubt about the Wanekia religion
at that time, and I did not really want to kill anybody because
of it.
But I did not feel like that any more. After what I had seen over
there, I wanted revenge; I wanted to kill.
We crossed White Clay Creek and followed it up, keeping on the
west side. Soon we could hear many guns going off. So we struck
west, following a ridge to where the fight was. It was close to
the Mission, and there are many bullets in the Mission yet.
From this ridge we could see that the Lakotas were on both sides
of the creek and were shooting at soldiers who were coming down
the creek. As we looked down, we saw a little ravine, and across
this was a big hill. We crossed and rode up the hillside.
They were fighting right there, and a Lakota cried to me: "Black
Elk, this is the kind of a day in which to do something great!"
I answered: "How!"
Then I got off my horse and rubbed earth on myself, to show the
Powers that I was nothing without their help. Then I took my rifle,
got on my horse and galloped up to the top of the hill. Right below
me the soldiers were shooting, and my people called out to me not
to go down there; that there were some good shots among the soldiers
and I should get killed for nothing.
But I remembered my great vision, the part where the geese of the
north appeared. I depended upon their power. Stretching out my arms
with my gun in the right hand, like a goose soaring when it flies
low to turn in a change of weather, I made the sound the geese make--br-r-r-p,
br-r-r-p, br-r-r-p; and, doing this, I charged. The soldiers saw,
and began shooting fast at me. I kept right on with my buckskin
running, shot in their faces when I was near, then swung wide and
rode back up the hill.
All this time the bullets were buzzing around me and I was not
touched. I was not even afraid. It was like being in a dream about
shooting. But just as I had reached the very top of the hill, suddenly
it was like waking up, and I was afraid. I dropped my arms and quit
making the goose cry. Just as I did this, I felt something strike
my belt as though some one had hit me there with the back of an
ax. I nearly fell out of my saddle, but I managed to hold on, and
rode over the hill.
An old man by the name of Protector was there, and he ran up and
held me, for now I was falling off my horse. I will show you where
the bullet struck me sidewise across the belly here [showing a long
deep scar on the abdomen]. My insides were coming out. Protector
tore up a blanket in strips and bound it around me so that my insides
would stay in. By now I was crazy to kill, and I said to Protector:
"Help me on my horse! Let me go over there. It is a good day
to die, so I will go over there!" But Protector said: "No,
young nephew! You must not die to-day. That would be foolish. Your
people need you. There may be a better day to die." He lifted
me into my saddle and led my horse away down hill. Then I began
to feel very sick.
By now it looked as though the soldiers would be wiped out, and
the Lakotas were fighting harder; but I heard that, after I left,
the black Wasichu soldiers came, and the Lakotas had to retreat.
There were many of our children in the Mission, and the sisters
and priests were taking care of them. I heard there were sisters
and priests right in the battle helping wounded people and praying.
There was a man by the name of Little Soldier who took charge of
me and brought me to where our people were camped. While we were
over at the Mission Fight, they had fled to the O-ona-gazhee2 and
were camped on top of it where the women and children would be safe
from soldiers. Old Hollow Horn was there. He was a very powerful
bear medicine man, and he came over to heal my wound. In three days
I could walk, but I kept a piece of blanket tied around my belly.
It was now nearly the middle of the Moon of Frost in the Tepee
[January]. We heard that soldiers were on Smoky Earth River and
were coming to attack us in the O-ona-gazhee. They were near Black
Feather's place. So a party of about sixty of us started on the
war-path to find them. My mother tried to keep me at home, because,
although I could walk and ride a horse, my wound was not all healed
yet. But I would not stay; for, after what I had seen at Wounded
Knee, I wanted a chance to kill soldiers.
We rode down Grass Creek to Smoky Earth, and crossed, riding down
stream. Soon from the top of a little hill we saw wagons and cavalry
guarding them. The soldiers were making a corral of their wagons
and getting ready to fight. We got off our horses and went behind
some hills to a little knoll, where we crept up to look at the camp.
Some soldiers were bringing harnessed horses down to a little creek
to water, and I said to the others: "If you will stay here
and shoot at the soldiers, I will charge over there and get some
good horses." They knew of my power, so they did this, and
I charged on my buckskin while the others kept shooting. I got seven
of the horses; but when I started back with these, all the soldiers
saw me and began shooting. They killed two of my horses, but I brought
five back safe and was not hit. When I was out of range, I caught
up a fine bald-faced bay and turned my buckskin loose. Then I drove
the others back to our party.
By now more cavalry were coming up the river, a big bunch of them,
and there was some hard fighting for a while, because there were
not enough of us. We were fighting and retreating, and all at once
I saw Red Willow on foot running. He called to me: "Cousin,
my horse is killed!" So I caught up a soldier's horse that
was dragging a rope and brought it to Red Willow while the soldiers
were shooting fast at me. Just then, for a little while, I was a
wanekia myself. In this fight Long Bear and another man, whose name
I have forgotten, were badly wounded; but we saved them and carried
them along with us. The soldiers did not follow us far into the
Badlands, and when it was night we rode back with our wounded to
the O-ona-gazhee.
We wanted a much bigger war-party so that we could meet the soldiers
and get revenge. But this was hard, because the people were not
all of the same mind, and they were hungry and cold. We had a meeting
there, and were all ready to go out with more warriors, when Afraid-of-His-Horses
came over from Pine Ridge to make peace with Red Cloud, who was
with us there.
Our party wanted to go out and fight anyway, but Red Cloud made
a speech to us something like this: "Brothers, this is a very
hard winter. The women and children are starving and freezing. If
this were summer, I would say to keep on fighting to the end. But
we cannot do this. We must think of the women and children and that
it is very bad for them. So we must make peace, and I will see that
nobody is hurt by the soldiers."
The people agreed to this, for it was true. So we broke camp next
day and went down from the O-ona-gazhee to Pine Ridge, and many,
many Lakotas were already there. Also, there were many, many soldiers.
They stood in two lines with their guns held in front of them as
we went through to where we camped.
And so it was all over.
I did not know then how much was ended. When I look back now from
this high hill of my old age, I can still see the butchered women
and children lying heaped and scattered all along the crooked gulch
as plain as when I saw them with eyes still young. And I can see
that something else died there in the bloody mud, and was buried
in the blizzard. A people's dream died there. It was a beautiful
dream.
And I, to whom so great a vision was given in my youth, - you see
me now a pitiful old man who has done nothing, for the nation's
hoop is broken and scattered. There is no center any longer, and
the sacred tree is dead.
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Native American Legends A-B