The Indian Dispossessed
But the cry of gold had gone up, and the white man's progress was not to be stayed by an Indian refusal. The horde of gold-seekers came up from the Union Pacific railroad and the overland wagon routes on the south, as far as the southern line of the Sioux reservation. And there they stopped. Directly in this natural gateway to the Black Hills were some fourteen thousand Sioux, under Spotted Tail, the most diplomatic Indian politician of his time, and Red Cloud, an acknowledged leader in the great Sioux nation.
"No passing through," said they; "until another bargain is made with the Great Father, this is Indian country." Then the cry of the Vociferous Few went up to Washington,—the old, old cry for Indian removal,—and again the Government heard "the voice of the people."
The Black Hills must be cleared of Indians; so must the gateway on the south. But how propitiate the untamed Sioux?
The Indian ring sought eagerly for some especially favored spot for the powerful chiefs, Spotted Tail and Red Cloud; something to serve up to them as a token of kindly regard.
There, at the southeast corner of the great reserve, was the land of the Poncas,—a prize for any Indian chief. And why not? One hundred and fifty houses, five hundred acres of growing crops,—just the place to teach the astute Spotted Tail, or Red
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