confusion and
a general shout of "Hurry up with them! Kill them all!" I saw American
Horse walk out of the agent's office and calmly face the excited mob.

"What are you going to do?" he asked. "Stop, men, stop and think before
you act! Will you murder your children, your women, yes, destroy your
nation to-day?" He stood before them like a statue and the men who held
the two policemen helpless paused for an instant. He went on: "You are
brave to-day because you outnumber the white men, but what will you do
to-morrow? There are railroads on all sides of you. The soldiers will
pour in from every direction by thousands and surround you. You have
little food or ammunition. It will be the end of your people. Stop, I
say, stop now!"

Jack Red Cloud, son of the old chief rushed up to him and thrust a
revolver almost in his face. "It is you and men like you," he shouted,
"who have reduced our race to slavery and starvation!" American Horse
did not flinch but deliberately reentered the office, followed by Jack
still flourishing the pistol. But his timely appearance and eloquence
had saved the day. Others of the police force had time to reach the
spot, and with a large crowd of friendly Indians had taken command of
the situation.

When I went into the office I found him alone but apparently quite calm.
"Where are the agent and the clerks?" I asked. "They fled by the back
door," he replied, smiling. "I think they are in the cellar. These fools
outside had almost caught us asleep, but I think it is over now."

American Horse was one of the earliest advocates of education for
the Indian, and his son Samuel and nephew Robert were among the first
students at Carlisle. I think one or two of his daughters were the
handsomest Indian girls of full blood that I ever saw. His record as
a councilor of his people and his policy in the new situation that
confronted them was manly and consistent.

DULL KNIFE

The life of Dull Knife, the Cheyenne, is a true hero tale. Simple,
child-like yet manful, and devoid of selfish aims, or love of gain, he
is a pattern for heroes of any race.

Dull Knife was a chief of the old school. Among all the Indians of the
plains, nothing counts save proven worth. A man's caliber is measured
by his courage, unselfishness and intelligence. Many writers confuse
history with fiction, but in Indian history their women and old men and
even children witness the main events, and not being absorbed in daily