General Dodge being hauled off in an army wagon, badly wounded, at Pea Ridge, at which place was first invented the American battle theory of fighting three days without stopping, contrary to the traditions of the 'Fifteen Decisive Battles of the World' which had theretofore happened, and which were generally fought in a few hours each.
General Dodge had placed Colonel H. E. Maynadier in charge of the sub-district at Laramie. The Indian troubles had slackened up, but there were at the post about six hundred men, including everybody there. A year and a half had elapsed, and the writer was still in the military volunteer service.
Let us now visit Powder River, far north of Laramie. It was a cold and dismal day in February, about the 23d, 1866. Ah-ho-appa was stricken with consumption, and was living in a chilly and lonesome tepee among the pines on the west bank of the river. She had not seen a white person since her visit to Laramie in August, 1864. During this time there had been a continuous state of war along the routes. Most of the Indians were involved in hostilities that seemed
unlikely to ever end, except with the extermination of one party or the other. But Shan-tag-a-lisk kept out of it as much as he could. His camp had been moved backwards and forwards all over the Big Horn, Rose Bud, and Tongue River country, and was again on the Powder River not far from where the three hundred horses of the Seventh Iowa cavalry perished in a September snow-storm. Ah-ho-appa's heart was broken. She could not stand up against her surroundings. In vain her father had urged her to accept the conditions as they were, to be happy and contented and not worry about things out of her reach. But she could not. The object of her life was beyond her reach. She had an ambition, – a vague one; but her hopes were gone. Shortly before her death a runner from Laramie announced to the Indians on Powder River that commissioners would come with the grass, who would bring the words of the Great Father to his Indian children. Shan-tag-a-lisk was urged to send runners to all the bands south and west of the Missouri River, and to meet at Laramie as soon as their ponies could live on the grass. Ah-ho-appa heard the news, but it came too late. It did not revive her. She told her father that she wanted to go, but she would be dead; that it was her wish to be buried in the cemetery at Fort Laramie, where the soldiers were buried, up on the hill, near the grave of 'Old Smoke,' a distant relative and a great chief among the Sioux in former years. This her relatives promised her.
When her death took place, after great lamentations among the band, the skin of a deer freshly killed was held over the fire and thoroughly permeated and creosoted with smoke. Ah-ho-appa was wrapped in it and it was tightly bound
around her with thongs so that she was temporarily embalmed. Shan-tag-a-lisk sent a runner to announce that he was coming, in advance of the commissioners, to bury his daughter at Laramie. It was a distance of two hundred and sixty miles.
The landscape was bleak and frozenly arid, the streams were covered with ice, and the hills speckled with snow. The trail was rough and mountainous. The two white ponies of Ah-ho-appa were tied together, side by side, and the body placed upon them. Shan-tag-a-lisk, with a party of his principal warriors and a number of the women, started off on the sad journey. When they camped at night the cottonwood and willow trees were cut down and the ponies browsed on the tops of the trees and gnawed the wood and bark. For nearly a week of the trip there was a continual sleet. The journey lasted for fifteen days, and was monotonous with lamentation.
When within fifteen miles of Fort Laramie at camp, a runner announced to Col. Maynadier the approach of the procession. Col. Maynadier was a natural prince, a good soldier, and a judge of Indian character. He was Colonel of the First U. S. Volunteers. The post commander was Major Geo. M. O'Brien, a graduate of Dublin University, afterwards brevetted to the rank of General. His honored grave is now in the beautiful cemetery at Omaha.
A consultation was held among the officers, and an ambulance dispatched, guarded by a company of cavalry in full uniform, followed by two twelve-pound mountain howitzers, with postilions in red chevrons. The body was placed in the ambulance, and behind it were led the girl's two white ponies.
When the cavalcade had reached the river, a couple of miles from the post, the garrison turned out, and with Col. Maynadier at the head, met and escorted them into the post, and the party were assigned quarters. The next day a scaffold was erected near the grave of 'Old Smoke.' It was made of tent-poles twelve feet long imbedded in the ground, and fastened with thongs, over which a buffalo-robe was laid, and on which the coffin was to be placed. To the poles of
the scaffold were nailed the heads and tails of the two white ponies, so that Ah-ho-appa could ride through the fair hunting-grounds of the skies. A coffin was made and lavishly decorated. The body was not unbound from its deerskin
shroud, but was wrapped in a bright red blanket and placed in the coffin mounted on the wheels of an artillery caisson. After the coffin came a twelve-pound howitzer, and the whole was followed to the cemetery by the entire garrison in full uniform. The tempestuous and chilling weather moderated somewhat. The Rev. Mr. Wright, who was the post Chaplain, suggested an elaborate burial service. Shan-tag-a-lisk was consulted. He wanted his daughter buried Indian fashion, so that she would go not where the white people went, but where the red people went. Every request of Shan-tag-a-lisk was met by Colonel Maynadier with a hearty and satisfactory 'Yes.' Shan-tag-a-lisk was silent for a long while, then he gave to the Chaplain, Mr. Wright, the 'parfleche' which contained the little book that General Harney had given to her mother many years before. It was a small Episcopal prayer-book, such as was used in the regular army. The mother could not read it, but considered it a talisman. Mr. Wright then deposited it in the coffin. Then Colonel Maynadier stepped forward and deposited a pair of white kid gauntlet cavalry gloves to keep her hands warm while she was making the journey. The soldiers formed a large hollow square, within which the Indians formed a large ring around the coffin. Within the Indian ring, and on the four sides of the coffin, stood Colonel Maynadier, Major O'Brien, Shan-tag-a-lisk, and the Chaplain. The Chaplain was at the foot, and read the burial service, while, on either side, Colonel Maynadier and Major O'Brien made responses. Shan-tag-a-lisk stood at the head, looking into the coffin, the personification of blank grief. When the reading service closed Major O'Brien placed in the coffin a new crisp one-dollar bill, so that Ah-ho-appa might buy what she wanted on the journey. Then each of the Indian women came up, one at a time, and talked to Ah-ho-appa: some of them whispered to her long and earnestly as if they were by her sending some hopeful message to a lost child. Each one put some little remembrance in the coffin; one put a little looking-glass, another a string of colored beads, another a pine cone with some sort of an embroidery of sinew in it. Then the lid was fastened on and the women took the coffin and raised it and placed it on the scaffold. The Indian men stood mutely and stolidly around looking on, and none of them moved a muscle or tendered any help. A fresh buffalo-skin was laid over the coffin and bound down to the sides of the scaffold with thongs. The scaffold was within the military square, as was also the twelve-pound howitzer. The sky was leaden and stormy, and it began to sleet and grow dark. At the word of command the soldiers faced outward and discharged three volleys in rapid succession. They and their visitors then marched back to their post. The howitzer squad remained and built a large fire of pine wood, and fired the gun every half-hour all night, through the sleet, until daybreak.
In the morning a conference was had at post headquarters, which was decorated with flags; speeches were made, and the evils and misfortunes of the last five years were gone over. Col. Maynadier told of the expected coming of the commissioners, and made a speech. He said: 'There is room enough for all of us in this broad country.' Pointing to the silk flag of the Eleventh Ohio Cavalry, hanging from the wall, Col. Maynadier said: 'My Indian brother, look at those stripes. Some of them are red, and some of them are white. They remain peacefully side by side – the red and the white – for there is room for each.'
After this there was a brief interval of peace. A full account of this funeral may be found in the St. Louis newspapers of March, 1866.
With the grass came the commissioners. Then came the Union Pacific Railroad. Then came Indian resistance. Then war again. Then the decadence of the Sioux nation.
The daughter of Shan-tag-a-lisk was an individual of a type found in all lands, at all times, and among all peoples: she was misplaced.
Her story is the story of the persistent melancholy of the human race; of kings born in hovels, and dying there; of geniuses born where genius is a crime; of heroes born before their age, and dying unsung; of beauty born where its gift was fatal; of mercy born among wolves, and fighting for life; of statesmen born to find society not yet ripe for their labors to begin, and bidding the world adieu from the scaffold.
We all of us know what it is to feel that at times we are out of tune with the world, but ever and anon we strike a node and come back into temporary harmony; but there are those who are never in tune. They are not alone the weak; they are the strong and the weak; they are the ambitious and as well also the loving, the tender, the true,
