The Bozeman courier., 1927-06-17

arose a vision of this valley Of the Lit
tie Big Horn in the days when the last
remnants of mighty red nations fought
tenaciOusly to protect their home against
an inevitable white invasion.
On the Little Big Horn
Scorched and yellow under the burn
ing sun lay the endless stretches Of roll
ing, grass covered plains of the Big Horn
valley In one direction the rounded
swells rise and fall like the heaving bill
lows of an ocean after storm has
passed: in another the ragged, raVlne-
scanned soil rears sharp crests like break
ers in the wake of a storms fury.
Through this and bOrdered by the wind
ing snake-like groves Of cottonwood and
willows Wends the treacherouS Little Big
Horn river, soon to lose itself in the
mother stream as both roll on to swell
the Yellowstone.
Thick along the level bottomlands
stand the cone shaped dwellings Of the
hunted nomads-the buffalO-skin lodges,
hundreds of them-nOW the scene Of
great cOmmotiOn as tribesmen prepare
for a speedy departure. To the right is
the famous little hill where Death an
hour or two ago held reckless and wan
ton revelry, relentless and all unneces-
sary.
Scattered over the lower prairies, thick
upon this little rise, in coulee and thick
et lie SCARED and gruesome the evi-
dence of a terrific battle. Soldier and
warrior alike tell in silent horror Of a
terrible combat.
After the Battle
The dust has Just cleared following the
Battle of the Little Big Horn and the
great silence unbroken save for the walls
of mOurners, finds in lonely sector If
this SCARED scene a youth bent in griet
of soul beside all that remains of his
father who had seen fit to take up the
fight of the Sioux and Cheyenne. His
father had sacrificed his life to a cause
TO him most just, but this Crow lad is
bereft of his greatest living image, al
because the onward sweep OF a white
mans civilization, blinded by its OWL
desires, could not permit itself to recog-
nize the rights of the redman.
Is it to wonder then, that this youth
heart is bad; that he is filled with re-
venge and revolt? He beats his chest
to take up the wierd death dirge, voice
from out Of the air strikes him to silence
The Spirit Talks
MY sonl 1t is I, your father, whC
speaks. You have seen the battle, anC
terrible it was. 1t is good that you arr
stJl unharmed. Yes, 1 go to the Shadow
Land; but that, my son, is not as bad a
other things might be. 1 could not b'
a coward and weakling when Sioux
Cheyenne, Arapahoe and Crow alike mus
fight for a chance to live.
I'VE were successful today, boy Yes
But I fear that what you have seen
but the beginning of the end. 1t is no
so many summers ago that this grea
game country south Of Elk river, wa
ours (the CrowsO undisputed save 70
the activity Of our always enemies, tn
Uncpapa Sioux and the Piegans w
lived We thrived or suffered just as on
medicine decreed; but this country an
what it afforded we held as our hom
until the white man came.
Il recall it all now, my son. and wheth
er or not it could have been prevented
I cannot say. But, at first, when the
came in small numbers-one, two {
four-to buy our furs in trade, man
times for trinkets which we, in our ig
norance, thought were Of value, we we
comed them and treated them kindl,
Many times when some of them woul
have starved or frozen, we gladly gay
them food and shelter.