Adventure Magazine, December 10, 1924 — page 107: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

The Homesteaders started for the ferry, a fourth of a mile away. Murray tried to call out to the woman that the Indian spoke the truth and nearly strangled in the attempt. Mrs. De Camp did not see him. That she did not believe the warning was shown by_ her deliberation in returning to the house. The Sioux drove the wagon to Murray and lifted him in but did. not remove the rope that was half-choking him. They mounted a hill, and Killing Ghost halted the wagon while he enjoyed the panorama revealed from the height. Murray man- aged to raise his head above the side of the cart for a moment. The agency buildings were in flames. The warehouses were burning fiercely, and hundreds of Indians were dancing around them. There were many people at the ferry. Mrs. De Camp, carrying a sick child and followed by her two boys, one of four and one of nine years, came up the hill and learned the truth at a glance. Lucy, the kitchen girl, gave one look and ran away. Wacouta’s mother ran up, screaming in Sioux: “Run, run! squaw!”’ And she swung the four-year-old boy over her shoulder and started for Wapasha’s village a mile away. Killing Ghost suddenly desired to travel away from the scene. He whipped up the horses and started for Wapasha’s village, perhaps because the Indian woman had taken that direction. Murray’s choking and groaning finally attracted the Sioux’s attention, and he reined in long enough to lean back and release the noose. Murray tried to get his guard to pick up the De Camps and Wacouta’s mother; but the man only whipped the horses and traveled the faster. A short distance from the hill they met a large number of Indians, all in war paint and armed with guns and clubs, bows and arrows. Wapasha was leading them, riding his big white horse. He had on his headdress of red flannel with its bullock horns and eagle-feathers and was wearing new thigh leggings of fringed buckskin. Besides an excellent rifle he had two revolvers. After making his peace talk at Little Crow’s village he had returned home to find his men eager for war. Little Crow had sent word to his men to kill him if he refused to lead them. Now he was on his They will kill you, white 35 way to fight the whites, although he had preferred peace. Runners had met his band and told them that the agency people had been killed and the stores and warehouses looted. As an earnest of their success some alcohol taken from Dr. Humphrey’s medical stores was produced and passed among Wapasha’s men. Those who consumed it were quickly affected and acted like madmen. One who discovered Murray in the cart began screaming and prancing around in a small circle. Suddenly, before his purpose was guessed, he ran toward the cart, holding a percussion-cap revolver in both hands. He pointed it at the prisoner and pulled the trigger. All the chambers discharged as one, the flames flashing back into the man’s face and sending him groveling in the dirt. Murray knew that the revolver had been loaded with bullets that were a bit too small. He had seen a revolving rifle behave in the same eccentric and dangerous fashion. Wapasha jumped his horse for- ward and loudly cried: “No bullet can hurt the man who wears the medicine crow of Chetan Wakan Mani. See what happens when a foolish man makes the medicine angry.” And he pointed dramatically at the un- harmed prisoner and then at the groaning Indian, face down on the ground. Killing Ghost got his wagen in motion and would have lashed the horses into a gallop if it had not been for the carts and wagons streaming from the village to get a share of the plunder. By this time the first loaded wagons began arriving from the agency. Many of the latter were in the care of the squaws, who scolded and quar- reled at the top of their voices. The loaded vehicles became entangled with the stream of empty carts. Wapasha’s men crowded about the former and acted with the irresponsibility of little children. Much food was thrown away and spoiled. Shouts of laughter were caused when feather beds were ripped open and the morning air was filled with the swirling contents. Along with the loaded wagons were a score of Indians who had looted Dr. Hum- phrey’s office and were anxious to withdraw from the fighting tong enough to get drunk. These had not only brought ‘‘white whisky”’ —alcohol—but everything else found in bottles. Several were soon stretched on cComicbhook © 5}