sent out to negotiate treaties, and in
case of failure it often happened that a delegation of leading men of
the tribe were invited to Washington. At that period, these visiting
chiefs, attired in all the splendor of their costumes of ceremony, were
treated like ambassadors from foreign countries.

One winter in the late eighteen-fifties, a major general of the army
gave a dinner to the Indian chiefs then in the city, and on this
occasion Little Crow was appointed toastmaster. There were present a
number of Senators and members of Congress, as well as judges of the
Supreme Court, cabinet officers, and other distinguished citizens. When
all the guests were seated, the Sioux arose and addressed them with much
dignity as follows:

"Warriors and friends: I am informed that the great white war chief who
of his generosity and comradeship has given us this feast, has expressed
the wish that we may follow to-night the usages and customs of my
people. In other words, this is a warriors' feast, a braves' meal.
I call upon the Ojibway chief, the Hole-in-the-Day, to give the lone
wolf's hunger call, after which we will join him in our usual manner."

The tall and handsome Ojibway now rose and straightened his superb form
to utter one of the clearest and longest wolf howls that was ever heard
in Washington, and at its close came a tremendous burst of war whoops
that fairly rent the air, and no doubt electrified the officials there
present.

On one occasion Little Crow was invited by the commander of Fort
Ridgeley, Minnesota, to call at the fort. On his way back, in company
with a half-breed named Ross and the interpreter Mitchell, he was
ambushed by a party of Ojibways, and again wounded in the same arm that
had been broken in his attempted assassination. His companion Ross was
killed, but he managed to hold the war party at bay until help came and
thus saved his life.

More and more as time passed, this naturally brave and ambitious man
became a prey to the selfish interests of the traders and politicians.
The immediate causes of the Sioux outbreak of 1862 came in quick
succession to inflame to desperate action an outraged people. The two
bands on the so-called "lower reservations" in Minnesota were Indians
for whom nature had provided most abundantly in their free existence.
After one hundred and fifty years of friendly intercourse first with
the French, then the English, and finally the Americans, they found
themselves cut