The Saint Paul globe. (St. Paul, Minn.) 1896-1905, 1903-06-14

PINE RIDGE INDIAN RESERVA-
TION, S. D., June 13.-Five thousand
Sioux Indians gathered around a little
knoll in the lonely valley of Wounded
Knee, on the apex of which in one
huge grave lie buried hundreds Of red
warriors. It was May %, the anniver-
sary Of the battle Of Wounded Knee
and the remnant of the Sioux tribe
had gathered to dedicate a monument
to their dead. 1t was the first celebra-
ton of it's kind in this country, and an
indication of the civilizing processes
among the Indians, where they adopt
ed the customs of the white man and
erected monument of granite to mark
as sacred the ground where their dead
are buried. Following the example Of
the whites, who called the battle of the
Little Big Horn the Custer massacre"
the Sioux have called the battle of
Wounded Knee ''the Big Foot massa-
Gre" because Big Foot was the chief
underneath whom they fought in that
last and most disastrous effort of the
Indians to resist the march of civiliza-
ton. Many Of those warriors who rode
in the whirlwind of death which en-
quilted Clusters men at the Little Big
Horn went to their death at Wounded
memory.
Where these children of the plain.
the DakOtas, got their dramatic in
stinct can only be surmised, but it
was master dramatist who arranged
the opening details of these exercises
and the effect produced on these half
wild people of savage instinct cannot
be described.
A Remarkable Scene.
The little knoll, 100 feet high, by the
side Of and overlooking the battlefield,
was covered on all sides by gaudily
dressed Indians. The green of the sur
rounding hills formed a splendid back
ground to the gayly bedecked Indians,
who silently watched the monument as
piece by piece it reared it's head un-
der the hands of the workmen.
A large band of squaws had pushed
themselves nearest to the little iron
fence which inclosed the one huge
grave, and stood with stolid faces gaz-
ing at the mound.
Suddenly, as the last stone of the
monument was put in place, up from
the battlefield in the distance came a
strange, shrill, mourning cry. Not an
Indian moved a muscle, but a few of
the whites present looked with interest
in the direction from whence the cry
came, and saw an old squaw, bent with
age, dressed in the prOverbial colored
blanket, slowly emerge from Bloody
Gulch, where SO many women and chill
dren were killed during the battle, and
slowly climb the side Of the hill to-
ward the grave.
During the ten minutes required for
the ancient squaw to mount the knoll
her weird cry continued to ring out
the cry of the Dakotas, mourning for
the dead.
Arriving at the apex the mourning
squaw took her stand at the head of
the grave, wherein lay her father, hus-
band, brothers and sons, and continued
her lament for the dead, representing
IN her person century of resistance
and death Of the one-time powerful
owners of the entire Northwest. whose
possessions are now reduced to a few
square miles of territory, from whence
they must not wander; people whose
bones whiten on every square mile
of land in the West.
The Funeral Dirge.
Standing at the foot of the grave
throwing her arms from side to side
the old woman shrieked aloud her
weird song. The surrounding suuaws
became excited. Here and there one
Joined in the song for a moment and
then ceased, as though afraid. Then
one summoned courage to continue
and another - and still others. And
then the whole assembly broke into the
most weird, blood-curdling song mag
Unable. But through the whole awful
noises the sobbing of the women could
be heard with distinctiveness.
While the lamentations were at their
height, from few braves the old war
cry broke out-but only for a moment
The resentment against the whites
which the memories might have arous-
ed remained unshoWn.
Gradually the shrieking of the wom-