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Intelligent Entrepreneur

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.
hundred thousand buffalo that were killed near Dodge City, Kansas.
Only the saddles were used for food. The same report says: “It is
known that south of the Arkansas River, west of Wichita, there were
from one to two thousand men killing buffalo for hides alone.” At
one place on the south forks of the Republican River in 1874, there
were six thousand and five hundred carcases from which the hides
had been stripped.

Towers for religious purposes, or medicine lodges, were built by

the Indians with the horns of buffalo, antelope, and deer. Some of
these towers were so high that they could be seen for many miles.
Father De Smet speaks of seeing one of them from the Missouri
River as he made his way westward in the year 1846. As a result of
this enormous destruction of the herds, the hide markets became so
glutted that the skins of bulls brought only one dollar, and the hides
of cows and calves from forty to sixty cents each.

Just outside of the city of Fort Benton there was pointed out to
Brother Van a famous cliff about one hundred and twenty feet high
and rising sheer from the river. There the Indians were in the habit
of killing buffalo by a method that is interesting if brutal. A fleet,
active young man of the tribe would disguise himself as a buffalo by
wearing a buffalo skin with the head attached. He was possessed
also of a “Iuis Kini” (i uis-ki ni) or buffalo stone, which gave power to
call buffalo. Before a run to a “falling place,” he spent the night
invoking the aid of the gods by burning sweet grass and sweet pine
to draw the spirits. He purified himself by passing through the
smoke of this fire.

When all was ready the buffalo hunter would attract the attention
of the herd by strange antics, and then begin to call: “Hoo-hoo-hoo-
ini-uh-ini-uh.” Men and women concealed behind rocks began to
yell; and the buffalo, terrified, ran with ever increasing speed toward
the decoy, who led them toward the precipice. The herd, which
might vary in number from one hundred and fifty to ten thousand,
would rush blindly forward and plunge over the wall to death in the
shallow water beneath. The decoy would dodge into a crevice
previously chosen in the edge of the cliff.

Brother Van had arrived in this interesting country of Indian

exploits just before an eventful day, the Fourth of July. He was
invited to the Fort as a guest of the non-commissioned officers. The
Stars and Stripes fluttered over the rude barracks every day, but in
the town the flag was displayed to show that it was a holiday. Wild
scenes were enacted in the saloons, and Indians, who were waiting
with their hard-earned furs, learned of the white man’s “fire-water,”
which was used freely in the celebration.

Out in the stockade of the fort a feast was spread. The boat had
brought bread and dried fruit, both of which were great delicacies.
These, combined with the usual western fare, made a sumptuous
repast. The western fare consisted of “jerked buffalo,” which is
simply dried buffalo meat, fresh antelope meat, a great delicacy
even to the westerner, and the best dish of all, dried buffalo tongue.

Speeches were made and weird stories told of the warfare with
the Indians. The eastern youth listened and wondered, and on that
day he pondered over the subject of the red man’s condition. Later
he decided the matter in his own mind; he knew that the Indian had
been more sinned against than sinning, and that the original
American had been greatly misunderstood.

Those days of tarrying were fruitful days for William Van Orsdel.
Not only were the cowboys and freighters won to friendship by his
sympathy, but the Indians’ confidence was gained. Friends, whose
helpfulness was to last through his busy lifetime, became interested
in him. Young Tatton, a tall, vigorous, fighting scout, a member of
Company B of the Seventh Infantry, was one of the men who
became one of Brother Van’s fast friends in those days. He knew the
West and understood its joys and privations thoroughly. He had
noticed the new preacher as he faced the motley crowd that first
day in Fort Benton. Though Tatton was a Roman Catholic, he
admired the zeal which had found a way and a place for religious
services on the very day on which the missionary had set foot on the
new soil. With leveled eyes the soldier scout had watched the crowd
as they listened to that first earnest sermon of the eager newcomer,
and to Brother Van he gave his support and a loyal and lasting
friendship.
 CHAPTER VI
A BROTHER TO THE BLACKFOOT

T
HE first strenuous days in Fort Benton, and the welcome he
received there, might have convinced Brother Van that he
had found a good place in which to settle. It was plain that
his ministry was much needed and the prospects for a growing and
useful work were bright. But he never forgot for a moment that he
had taken the long journey from his Gettysburg home for the sake of
serving among the Indians. Hence it is not surprising that within a
week from that exciting morning when he had begun his Montana
preaching career in the crowded barroom, we find him pushing on
toward one of the agencies where he could more readily get in touch
with the tribes. Again his attractive manner and his earnestness of
purpose won for him a lift on his way, only this time he was to jolt
over the rough prairie roads in a heavy wagon, instead of gliding
smoothly along the Missouri.

The Regimental Adjutant from Fort Shaw had brought his wife
into Fort Benton so that she might take passage on the return trip of
the Far West. The Adjutant had met Brother Van, and learning of the
missionary’s desire to continue his journey to the West, had invited
him to share the army wagon for the ride back to the post. The
eager young traveler grasped this opportunity without delay. It did
not take him long to stow away his baggage in the army
conveyance, for his scanty wardrobe made only a small bundle. He
took his place beside the Adjutant, and soon they were rumbling
over the prairie toward Sun River settlement and Fort Shaw.

The gumbo was still sticky and tough from the rains of the
previous days, and it was apparent from the first that there was to
be a hard journey ahead. The five army mules drawing the wagon
objected to the heavy traveling of the unbroken roads, and caused
delays by their “objections.” The driver’s patience at last was
exhausted, and in true western style he spoke to the errant beasts.
Then he remembered that there was a preacher in the wagon, and
apologized for the language he had used. Brother Van showed
himself to be a very human missionary, for he laughingly replied,
“Why, bless your soul, you express my sentiments exactly, though
I can’t approve of your language.”

Before dark a severe thunderstorm overtook the travelers, and

the only shelter they could find was a lonely, deserted cabin. Here
they spent the night, making the best of such comforts as were
found in the government wagon. The coyotes sang a lonely song,
and the prairie-dogs, their only neighbors, made vigorous protests
against the intruders. This was the initiation of the tenderfoot
preacher into the joys of overland journeying.

On the next day they reached Sun River where no church or

schoolhouse existed; so again a place for Sunday service was
sought, and a Christian home was found which was opened gladly
for this unaccustomed use. Riders were sent out to all the
settlements within reach, with the result that on the following day a
fine congregation gathered in the frontier cabin. Carelessness about
habits of prayer and worship was common among these lonely
people of the opening West. Brother Van’s tender songs and warning
words brought a genuine response from them.
 After the service the travelers pushed on so that they might
reach Fort Shaw by evening. At this place also, Brother Van
immediately set about making arrangements to preach; and within a
short time he had the soldiers of the garrison gathered about him,
talking to them in a manly, helpful way that won their interest and
their respect.

Tarrying but a day at Fort Shaw, he traveled with several

companions north to the town of Chouteau, which was on the Teton
River, and fifteen miles from the base of the Rocky Mountains. He
hastened then to the Indian agency near there where the Blackfeet
were settled. This tribe had migrated from Canada to the prairies of
Montana, and it is interesting to know that they had been first called
“Blackfeet” by the Flatheads and Shoshones, for when they had
come to the end of their long journey, their moccasins were travel-
stained and black.

On arriving at the agency, the missionary first made himself

known to the officials and clerks and spoke to a group of them. They
received him cordially and from the beginning of his stay he was
given fresh confidence for his new work by the good will that they
showed him. In his first meetings with the Indians the Blackfeet
tribesmen listened to him stolidly and were apparently unmoved; but
they caught the spirit of brotherhood in this paleface preacher, and
they soon began to show signs of their approval of him. Brother Van
was happy indeed in the new opportunities opening before him, and
in the increasing evidence that the Indians gave of their affection for
him. He was fascinated by the strange life and mysterious customs
which he found all about him. During his stay with the Blackfeet, and
through later years, the missionary loved to study their ceremonies
and legends.

One of the oldest institutions of the tribe was the building of the
medicine lodge, a celebration which Brother Van followed with the
keenest interest. It took place at the time of the ripening of berries
in the summer, and lasted through four days and nights. The lodge
was always erected in fulfilment of a vow made by some woman of
the tribe who was in trouble and who wished the help of the gods,
perhaps to bring back in safety a husband or son away at war, or to
restore a sick child to health. Her pledge was made publicly, so that
all the tribe would know that she would build the lodge in case her
prayer was granted. At the proper time the whole tribe would
assemble and set up their lodges in a circle in the middle of which
the medicine lodge was erected. The woman who had made the vow
neither ate nor drank throughout the four days, except once only,
and that in sacrifice. The other members of the tribe gave
themselves over to visiting and feasting with their friends, and, also,
to a strange kind of worship in which they tried to prove the sincerity
of their prayers by torturing themselves in various painful ways.

The lodge was built in accordance with a plan which the Sun
himself was supposed to have given to one of the young men of the
tribe in ancient times. It represented the world, and was made by
placing small trees of uniform size in a circle, and bending the
branches toward the center to form the roof. One half of it was
painted red for the Sun, and the other half black to represent night.
In recent years the medicine lodge is seldom used owing to the
effect of modern education in destroying the superstitious beliefs of
the Indians, and within another generation the ceremony will
probably be extinct.
 Board of Home Missions and Church Extension Methodist Episcopal Church.

BROTHER VAN VISITING A MEDICINE LODGE ERECTED AS A TRIBAL

CEREMONY BY THE BLACKFEET INDIANS

Brother Van also discovered that the tribal dances were not as
simple as they had appeared to be, but that they were filled with
hidden meanings, and that each had a history of its own. The story
of the Pigeon Dance, which was one of those witnessed by the new
missionary, shows the background of folk tales, dreams, and of the
imitation of animal and bird life from which these dances grew. It is
believed by the people that all of their dances originated in the
dream of a seer of the tribe many generations ago. The custom was
for some old man to go off into absolute seclusion out of sound of
any human voice. He then subjected himself to various ceremonials,
and becoming at last exhausted sought sleep and dreams. The
process was continued until something new and unheard of was
dreamed. The seeker for “something new under the sun” would then
come back to the waiting tribe, and patiently wait and watch for his
dream to come true. Not until he saw it in reality could he call the
tribe together and proclaim the glad news.
 Once upon a time an old man went away to a quiet spot and
after the proper ceremonials fell asleep and the much desired dream
came to him. He saw a flock of beautiful, many-colored pigeons and
as they circled and whirled, he perceived that they were in truth
executing a rythmic dance. With grace and perfection of motion they
performed wonderful and intricate figures. Their soft cooing made a
weird and strange music which added to the charm of the mystical
dances. The old man had dreamed the dream for which he longed.
He came back to the tribe and said nothing, but he watched for the
realization of the vision.

Eagerly he sought the nesting and feeding places of pigeons.

One day he actually saw the birds dancing as he had seen them in
his dream. Immediately runners were sent forth to call the people
together. A great feast was prepared at which the seer announced
the vision that he had seen, and the manner in which the dance was
conducted. On the American nation’s birthday in the year 1917, this
strange but beautiful dance was a part of the celebration at the
Blackfeet Indian agency, and Brother Van, so long a friend of the
Indians, was the guest of honor.

The missionary found that through their love of beauty and

heroism the Indians had a peculiar understanding and appreciation
of Bible history. There was much in their simple, wandering life that
made them feel a close kinship with those shepherds, hunters, and
warriors of the ancient East. They had passed through the same
great human experiences, and they shared many of the same
beliefs. In their crude and faltering way they, too, looked up to a
Great Spirit who made all things and upon whose bounty all men
depend. As they told Brother Van their tribal legends, he was struck
by the remarkable resemblance which many of these bore to some
of the stories of the Bible. The Blackfeet story of the forming of the
world is peculiarly interesting because it shows the belief which they
have in a Creator.
 “In the beginning there was water everywhere. A raft was
floating on which Old Man (the Sun) and all the animals were
gathered. Old Man wished to make land. He sent the beaver to the
bottom of the water to bring up mud. The beaver never reached the
bottom. The loon was tried and he failed. The otter made the
perilous journey and failed. At last the muskrat was sent down. He
was gone so long that Old Man thought he was drowned. Finally he
came up and floated almost dead. He was pulled on top of the raft,
and as they looked at his paws, they found a little mud on them. Old
Man dried this mud and scattered it over the water, and land was
formed.

“Old Man then began to make the earth to suit him. He marked
places for rivers to run. Sometimes the rivers ran smoothly and
sometimes with falls. He made mountains, prairies, and timber. He
carried a lot of rocks around with him, and of these he made
mountains. He caused grass to grow on the plains for the animals to
feed upon. He marked certain pieces of land where berries should
grow; others where camas should grow; others for wild carrots and
turnips, and others for service-berries, bull-berries, and rosebuds.

“He made the Big Horn sheep and put it on the prairie, but it was
awkward and slow; so he put it on the rough hills, and it skipped
about. While Old Man was in the mountains he made the antelope.
It ran so fast that it hurt itself; so he put it on the plains and said,
‘This is the place that will suit you.’

“At last he decided to make a woman and a child. He modeled

clay in human shape and laid the forms on the ground and said, ‘You
shall be people.’ After four days they were changed and he said,
‘Stand up and walk.’ They walked to the river and the woman said,
‘Shall we live forever?’ Old Man said, ‘I had not thought of that. We
must decide. I’ll throw this buffalo chip in the water. If it floats,
people shall live after being dead for four days. If it sinks, that shall
be the end of them.’
 “He threw the chip. It floated. The woman said, ‘No, I will throw
this stone into the water. If it floats, we shall live always; if it sinks,
people must die.’ The rock sank. Old Man said, ‘You have chosen.
That will be an end to them.’ By and by the child died and the
woman wanted to change the law, but Old Man answered, ‘What is
made law must be law.’

“At first people had claws like bears so that they might gather
roots and berries. There were buffalo which killed and ate people.
Old Man said, ‘I’ll change this. From this day on the people shall eat
buffalo.’ So he cut some service-berry shoots and peeled them; then
he took a flat piece of wood and tied strips of green hide to it and
made a bow. On one end of each light, straight shoot, he tied a chip
of hard stone, and on the other end he put a feather. He gave them
to the men, saying, ‘Take these the next time you go among buffalo.
Shoot as I have taught you.’

“When the arrows first struck the buffalo, it called out, ‘Oh, my
friends, a great fly is biting me.’ After the buffalo had been killed,
Old Man saw his people eat the raw flesh. ‘I will show you
something better,’ said he. He gathered soft, dried, rotten wood. He
took another piece of wood and rapidly drilled a hole in it with an
arrow-head. A tiny flame soon sprang up from which he kindled a
big fire and showed his children how to roast the meat.”

The history of the forming of the Blackfeet Indian tribe is also

very quaint, and it could not but have an especial appeal to Brother
Van, for from his early youth his life had been one to encourage
clean living. The story tells how one brave looked with disfavor upon
the tribal vices and misdemeanors, and strove to bring the members
into a finer, cleaner way of living. His own life was pure and good,
and his people recognized this, but they would not heed his
pleadings. Finally, he went off into the silence of the plains to
communicate with the Great Spirit. He told of his desire for his
people: that they should all be pure and strong; that the maidens
should be contented; that they should dwell in a land where game
abounded, and where wars should never come. From this great
spiritual leader the Blackfeet tribe was said to have descended.

As Brother Van pursued his work among his beloved Indians,

they became more and more attached to him. Like the white
residents, they, too, accepted their kind-hearted visitor as a brother.
This tie deepened with the years in which he was known to them,
and in time a great honor came to him. He was adopted into the
tribe, and with a picturesque ceremony he was received into their
circle and given a new name, Amahk-Us-Ki-Tsi-Pahk-Pa, which means
“Great Heart” or “Big Heart.” There was a tribute in the meaning of
those queer syllables which any man might be proud to win—
especially from people of a different race. At the same time he
received a gift of a new and beautiful tribal costume from them. It is
Brother Van’s custom to visit the Blackfeet every year on the Fourth
of July when he wears his Indian costume and celebrates the
nation’s birthday with his Indian brothers.
 Board of Home Missions and Church Extension Methodist Episcopal Church.

THE PICTURESQUE CEREMONY OF ADOPTION INTO THE BLACKFEET

TRIBE

With the progress of his work on the agency, Brother Van’s

indignation was aroused by the injustice and oppression dealt to the
red man. As he witnessed the system of trading, he came to see
with ever increasing clearness, that the Indians would never have
the necessary opportunities for progress and development unless the
white man, and the white man’s government, could be brought to
deal fairly and justly with these original inhabitants of the plains. The
very future of the Indian race he saw to be at stake. “What is the
use,” he asked himself, “of teaching and training these people when
diseases caused by contact with the white man’s civilization are
threatening their existence, and when their living is being taken from
them by the settlement of their lands?”

The problem which confronted the missionary has been put

briefly in a more recent time by Commissioner of Indian Affairs, the
Hon. Cato Sells, who says, “Before you educate the Indian you must
save his life.” As Brother Van faced the misery, the disease, and the
ignorance among them, he decided that even to save the Indians’
lives, to say nothing of winning them to Christ, it would be necessary
to lead the white people to change their ways. How could he
continue to try to convert and educate the Indians, when the Indians
could see very plainly that the white preacher’s brothers were very
much in need of the same kind of teaching?

Gradually Brother Van’s resolution was formed—he must give his

first attention to establishing churches in the new towns that the
white settlers were building. It meant giving up the life among the
people he had come to serve, and who already had shown many
encouraging signs of response to his preaching. His decision led him
away from his new friends and back among his own race, but he
continued to come into contact with the Indians from time to time.
His sympathy with them and his understanding of their habits helped
him to teach them successfully. Through the years he proved himself
to be “Great Heart,” a brother to the Blackfoot.
 CHAPTER VII
THE GOSPEL TEAM

T
HE unfriendly conditions which Brother Van found growing
between the Indians and the whites led later to the Custer
Massacre. While in the missionary’s mind there was no
expectation of such a serious climax, yet he saw that the idea of a
real brotherhood of man must be given as quickly as possible to the
traders, miners, ranchmen, and settlers. Through their better
understanding of Christ’s religion the Indian through example would
be led to know the white man’s God.

It was a fresh quest that made Brother Van set out for Helena,
which was then a comparatively large settlement. The town was in
the proximity of the gold mine called Last Chance Gulch. This mine
has an interesting history. Prospectors had been for long, weary
months at Silver Creek, which was twelve or thirteen miles from
where Helena now stands. Luck had been against them, and they
packed their horses and came down the trail disheartened and
“broke.” They resolved to give up the search and go home. Coming
into Helena in the evening, they made camp close to the tiny town,
intending to leave early on the following day.
 On the next morning the horses were loaded, and everything was
in readiness for the start, when the unquenchable faith of the
prospector moved John Cowan to take up a pick and to make one
more attempt to find ore.

“Well, boys, here’s our last chance,” he said, carelessly, as he

drove his pick into the ground.

He struck gold. From that mine fifty to eighty million dollars’

worth of gold was taken. The words of the lucky prospector always
stuck to the section, and it was called Last Chance Gulch. The mine
was five miles long and the vein two hundred feet wide. One nugget
was free from quartz, and was worth two thousand and seventy-
three dollars. Last Chance Gulch has a thrilling record. Scenes of
adventure and death took place there. Men made vast fortunes.
Other men lost all that they had and went away broken in spirit.
Gamblers won and lost; prospectors failed; but always Last Chance
paid in gold.

Entering Helena to-day, you will find a thriving, bustling city,

proud of one of the finest hotels in the Northwest. The hotel stands
on the spot where the miner stuck in his pick. Enough gold was
found in the soil to pay for the excavation, and this was taken from
the “tailings,” or discarded earth handled by the early miners. But
Helena was a typical mining town when the Eastern tenderfoot
came. He was at the mercy of the hard element. Only the rare good
judgment and a sense of the fitness of things saved the preacher
and made his ministrations possible.

Brother Van made a short stay there, and then, as a missionary

to “everywhere,” he pressed on to Bozeman. There he found the
only Methodist Church building in Montana Territory. It was a brick
church and it had been built through the enterprise of the
Rev. Thomas C. Iliff. This missionary was a great force in the new
West. He brought a dainty, cultured, Eastern bride to the unsettled
territory. Through the inspiration of her companionship and tactful
assistance, together with his own natural courage and ability, he
became a notable power for good in the development of the West.

Dr. Iliff had come to Helena in Eastern finery, and appeared on

the streets adorned with an immaculate linen frock coat, fancy vest,
striped trousers, and silk hat. As he came along the streets, cries of
“Fresh fish! Fresh fish!” greeted him. The silk hat seemed particularly
to annoy the deriding miners who closed in around the preacher. His
fighting blood was up, and the new preacher continued his way,
apparently undaunted by the jeers of the crowd. But early next
morning he stole forth to a hatter’s and purchased a wide-brimmed
hat, which style of hat, by the way, he wore to the day of his death.
With the aid of the obliging haberdasher, the silk hat was wrapped to
resemble a joint of stove-pipe and it afterward became a relic of by-
gone splendor. Brother Van and the hero of the tall hat story became
fast friends, and had many an adventure together in the years of
roughing it that followed.

A pony had been given to Brother Van during his visit at Helena.
He was now in reality a circuit-rider, and as he became familiar on
the plains, he and his steed began to be known everywhere as the
“Gospel Team.” They traveled through a large section of the state
and when the anniversary of Brother Van’s arrival in Montana came,
it was an experienced preacher who celebrated it. Such a wonderful
year it had been! Hardships were forgotten in the triumphs, for
many “first services” had been conducted, and scores of “first
members” had been received. The year had brought friends, and his
faithful pony seemed to be a real partner in service. Into the
preacher’s pocketbook had gone exactly seventy-five dollars as the
year’s salary, but there was no thought of quitting because of the
lack of stipend. The West had called him and had claimed him.

On the day that marked the end of his first year in Montana,
Brother Van received from the Conference an appointment as Junior
Preacher to the Rev. F. A. Riggin. The appointment read: “To Beaver
Head and Jefferson District.”
 Virginia City in the southwest corner of the state was the center
of this circuit. Beaver Head, Madison River, and Salmon City, one
hundred and fifty miles away, were its three points. Montana had
been set off from Idaho and erected into a separate territory in May,
1864. Brother Van’s circuit, therefore, extended across the Rocky
Mountains into Idaho as far as Salmon City. The region provided
variety in its characteristics. There were lonely trails to travel over
for the pony and Brother Van, and for his co-worker, Mr. Riggin.
There were only eighteen members of the church in all that large
region. The junior and senior preachers so arranged their work that
one man took care of the regular appointments while the other did
the evangelistic work. By this plan a continuous series of evangelistic
meetings was held for seven months. At the end of their first year in
the district, seven new societies had been organized, and one
hundred and fifty new members received into the church.

Among the long rides which the Gospel Team took was one to
the town of Butte. In describing the occasion Brother Van remarked
dryly: “We had all but ten of the whole town in our congregation on
that first night.” This would be a remarkable statement if it were
made to-day; but at that time the population of Butte was exactly
fifty people. The city is now the most important railway center in the
state. It has been called the “greatest mining camp in the world.”
Brother Van’s visit was at the very beginning of the history of what is
now a city of great interest to America.

When the snow cleared away the Gospel Team penetrated to the
National Park, and one day on coming into the Upper Yellowstone
Valley, Brother Van found a large congregation waiting. One man
said: “If a herd of wild buffalo had run through the streets of
St. Louis it could not have caused more comment than that a
preacher had come to the Yellowstone.” The National Park was then
but a year old, and the grandeur of the “Wonderland of America”
was beginning to be appreciated. It was in the famous place of
geysers, deep canyons, and waterfalls, where nature had combined
many influences to produce the beauty of the surrounding scene,
that Brother Van conducted the first Protestant religious service held
in the new park. The missionary continued to go about steadily from
section to section and at the close of his five years of work in
Montana as missionary to everywhere, he received the appointment
of local deacon. It was just about the date of this recognition, that
the trouble brewing between the Indians and the white men
developed into the Indian wars.

The settlers lived in small isolated communities. Some of the

pioneers had seized the opportunity to return east to visit their old
homes while the Centennial Exhibition was in progress in
Philadelphia in the year 1876. In the spring of that year gold had
been discovered in the Black Hills of Dakota, an almost unknown
region girt around by what is known as Bad Lands, or “Medicine
Country,” as the Indians called it. At once there was a rush of miners
out of Montana to the new fields. This move helped to reduce the
white population. A spirit of rebellion had been steadily rising in the
minds of the red men until it reached the open hostility soon to give
to American history the fearful story of the Custer Massacre.
 Copyright, W. T. Ridgely Calendar Co. Painting by Charles M. Russell.

INDIANS WERE EVERYWHERE STEALING HORSES AND TERRIFYING

SETTLERS

The Indians objected so strongly to the intrusion of prospectors

and others into their territory, that they sent Red Cloud and Spotted
Tail to Washington to protest, because the coming of the white men
into that region was a clear violation of existing treaties. The
government promised to keep prospectors out, but failed to do so.
The Indians then demanded payment for their lands. The
government sent a commission which reported that force would be
the only way to settle the dispute. The Indians also decided that this
was their only method of protest. It had been seen that the first
meetings worked no advantage to either side, but served only to
anger both Indians and whites. A message was sent by the United
States government to Sitting Bull, who had gathered all the warriors
around him in the Big Horn country. He was ordered to return to the
Reservation, or the United States would make war on his people. He
sent this reply: “When you come for me you need bring no guides.
You will easily find me. I shall be right here. I shall not run away.”