The weekly standard., 1870-06-22

Dashed to Death.EighteenI Indians Car
ried Over the Falls of the Yellow.
A correspondent of the Helena (Montann)
Herald thus describes thrilling sceue on
the Yellowstone river:
After nearly three hours sharp riding we
came upon the band, and in such manner
as to cause US some surprise, about midway
in the stream, where could be seen o hastily
constructed raft, composed of drift wood
joined together by thongs made of buck
skin and buffalo robes. Upon this strange
craft were seen in the centre thirteen braves,
while five squaws were cssaying to paddle
the unwietdy craft to the opposite shore,
with pieces of bark as substitutes for pad.
dies ON pack-horses We're in the river US
also werc the Indian ponies Four of the
latter reached the opposite shore. ~.
This strange sight bursting upon our view
rendered us, for the time being, incapable
of action. At u glauce we could see that
they were gradually going down stream, de-
spite the efforts of the squaws, and although
our senses for the moment forsook US, the
sharp crack of a rifle and the yell of a
"Sheep-eater," told us that the equanimity
Of our Crow guide was well preserved. At
this juncture Pierre Bernard shouted out,
For Gods sake, boys, don't murder them !;
they arc bound to go over the falls.n We
looked, and sight met our gaze which was
learfully impressive.
The raft having been caught in an eddy,
not q vestige of it was to be seen, it having
sunk several inches below the surface, and
the Indians seemed to he like 80 many
weird spirits floating on the rushing waters.
One of the Indians rose, and bending his
bow, shot our Crow through the arm. The
shot was returned, and again well of pain
was heard proceeding from q "Shoep Ca
ter Bernard then told the Crow, in his
own dialect, TO stop firing, but he paid no
attention to the command. Again he raised
his rifle, but a lariat skillfully thrown by
Pierre held him fast. The scene now pre-
sented was one which those who witnessed
will not forget to their dying day.
The mid.channel in which they were now
swiftly gliding down seemed to be clear of
distractions, while on either side Jagged
rocks pecred out from the foaming water
When about fifty yards below where we
were standing, un old Indian arose and
stood erect in the centre of circle of
braves. He spoke few words, turned his
face towards the sun, and seemingly bade it
farewell; then wrapping his robe around
him, he sat down. The squaws immedi-
ately flung their pieces of bark into the
river, threw themselves on the submerged
raft, and commenced pulling out their long
tresses, in the meantime screaming and
bowling more like demons than human
beings.
Indians seated in tile circle shook hands,
and then commenced wailing their always
mournful death-song. Nearer, nearer they
approached the fearful abyss; still not
movement was perceptible on the part of
the braves They sat as immovable as
statues, and did not quake with fear at the
near approach of the King of Terrors.
As they shot swiftly down the stream, our
party instinctiyely raised our hats while
looking at them, and doubt if there was
one, except the Crow, who did not show
signs of visible emotion.
How singular, was it not? Before US
were our enemies. who but short time ago
we would have gladly killed in fight, but
now whose near approach 10 death touches
our very hearts with mingled fcclings of
tenderness, sorrow and pity. A few mo-
mcnts, and wonderful to state, the raft,
without losing a single piece, goes intact,
with its freight of life, over the awful brink
and into the mouth of death.
We turn from the spot with indescribable
feelings. AS we take our last look at the
treacherous stream, where eighteen mortals
parsed from life to death, we discern hover
ing over the fatal precipice two large eagles,
whose screams resound above the noise of
the waters. The roar of the cataract and
the eagles screams-what a fit requiem for
those depart ed red children