eople
greeted the very savages who, not six months before, were hacking out
the last flutter of life, drinking the heart's blood, revelling in the
dying moan of beloved husband or father. Verily, we're a nation of odd
contradictions.

And, just as a sojourn in Washington seems to turn many a white
brother's head, so did this, though with better reason, send the savage
homeward with boastful heart. He and his were welcomed back to the fold,
lavishly provided for, all manner of requests and demands hitherto
denied now smilingly honored. They came back lords of the soil, monarchs
of all they surveyed, scornful of all who were not with them in the
warfare of the summer gone by, and of these was the household of Spotted
Tail. Long time chief of the Brules, he had kept faith with the whites,
his kith and kin were loyal to their obligations, and in so far as
example and influence could go they had held their tribe, all but the
more turbulent young men, out of the fight. There was a band that for
years had never "drawn a bead" on white man,--settler or soldier,--a
band that had furnished scouts and runners and trailers and had done
yeoman's work upon the reservations. These were now, as was to be
expected, of no more consequence in council lodge or tribal dance.
Snubbed by the war chiefs, sneered at by the young men, slighted by the
maidens, it was bad enough that they should have lost caste among their
own people, it was worse, and what made it infinitely worse that it was
so utterly characteristic, that these faithful allies and servants
should now find themselves neglected by the very government which they
had so earnestly supported. Back from the war-path, day after day, came
dozens of grinning, hand-shaking warriors lately in rebellion, and to
them, their squaws and children, with lavish hand the agency dealt out
blankets and calicoes, bacon and beef, coffee, flour, and sugar. Such
redoubtables as Red Dog, Little Big Man, Prowling Wolf, and Kills Asleep
were swaggering about, as were their young men, in plethora of savage
adornment and "store clothes." Their squaws and children were warm and
fat and garbed in attractive motley. Even their dogs were in better
fettle than the social exiles of the Spotted Tail school, now in rags
and dependent for their daily bread on what the agent would give them.
Three times it happened on ration days that Red Dog and Kills Asleep,
swaggering about the corral, told their followers to pick