By the 1880’s the U.S. government had managed to confine almost all of the Indians on reservations, usually on land so poor that the white man could conceive of no use for it themselves. The rations and supplies that had been guaranteed them by the treaties were of poor quality, if they arrived at all. Graft and corruption were rampant in the Indian Bureau. In an attempt to stem this problem, a move was made to recruit Quakers to take the positions as Indian agents, however not nearly enough Quakers responded to the call for volunteers. This call, however, opened the door to other denominations setting up shop on the reservations. An attempt was made to convert the Indians to Christianity with mixed results.

However, by 1890 conditions were so bad on the reservations, nationwide, with starvation conditions existing in many places, that the situation was ripe for a major movement to rise among the Indians. This movement found its origin in a Paiute Indian named Wovoka, who announced that he was the messiah come to earth to prepare the Indians for their salvation. Representatives from tribes all over the nation came to Nevada to meet with Wovoka and learn to dance the Ghost Dance and to sing Ghost Dance songs.

In early October of 1890, Kicking Bear, a Minneconjou, visited Sitting Bull at Standing Rock. He told him of the visit he and his brother-in-law, Short Bull, had made to Nevada to visit Wovoka. They told him of the great number of other Indians who were there as well. They referred to Wovoka as the Christ and told of the Ghost Dance that they had learned and the way that the Christ had flown over them on their horseback ride back to the railroad tracks, teaching them Ghost Dance songs. And they told him of the prophecy that, next spring, when the grass was high, the earth would be covered with new soil, burying all the white men. The new soil would be covered with sweet grass, running water and trees; the great herds of buffalo and wild horses would return. All Indians who danced the Ghost Dance would be taken up into the air and suspended there while the new earth was being laid down. Then they would be replaced there, with the ghosts of their ancestors, on the new earth. Only Indians would live there then.

This new religion was being taught at all of the Sioux reservations now. Big Foot’s band, which consisted mostly of women who had lost their husbands and/or other male relatives in battles with Custer, Miles and Crook, would dance until they collapsed, hoping to guarantee the return of their dead warriors. Sitting Bull greatly doubted that the dead would be brought back to life. He had no personal objections to people dancing the Ghost Dance; however he had heard that the agents were getting nervous about all of the dancing and were calling in the soldiers on some reservations. He did not want the soldiers to return to kill more of his people. Kicking Bear assured him that, if the dancers wore their Ghost Dance shirts, painted with magic symbols, the soldiers bullets would not strike them. Sitting Bull consented to Kicking Bear remaining at Standing Rock and teaching the Ghost Dance. This began a chain of events that lead to his death on December 15.

As the number of people involved in the Ghost Dance movement increased, the panic and hysteria of the Indian agents increased with it. Agent McLaughlin had Kicking Bear removed from Standing Rock, but this did not stop the movement there. McLaughlin telegraphed Washington, asking for troops and blaming Sitting Bull as the power behind this “pernicious system of religion.” The whites stumbled over each other in their attempts to quell this movement. Panicky messages about Indians dancing in the snow, wild and crazy, were sent to Washington. One voice of sanity, the former agent, Valentine McGillycuddy, recommended allowing the dances to continue.

“The coming of the troops has frightened the Indians. If the Seventh-Day Adventists prepare the ascension robes for the Second Coming of the Savior, the United States Army is not put in motion to prevent them. Why should not the Indians have the same privilege? If the troops remain, trouble is sure to come” Nonetheless, on December 12, the order was received to arrest Sitting Bull. On December 15, 43 Indian police surrounded Sitting Bull’s cabin before dawn. Three miles away they were backed up by a squadron of cavalry. When Lieutenant Bull Head entered the cabin, Sitting Bull was asleep. Upon awakening, he agreed to come with the police and asked that his horse be saddled while he dressed. When they left the cabin, a large group of Ghost Dancers, much larger than the police force, had assembled and challenged the police. One dancer, Catch-the-Bear, pulled out a rifle and shot Lieutenant Bull Head in the side. In an attempt to shoot back at his assailant, Bull Head instead accidentally shot Sitting Bull. Then another policeman, Red Tomahawk, shot Sitting Bull in the head. Many Indian policemen died that day before the cavalry arrived to quell the fighting.

This event then precipitated the events that were to follow at Wounded Knee.

“I was right”, according to this explanation, which came from a Lakota

site.

There once lived a chief’s daughter who had many relations. All the young men in the village wanted to have her for wife, and were all eager to fill her skin bucket when she went to the brook for water.

There was a young man in the village who was industrious and a good hunter; but he was poor and of a mean family. He loved the maiden and when she went for water, he threw his robe over her head while he whispered in her ear, “Be my wife. I have little but I am young and strong. I will treat you well, for I love you.”

For a long time the maiden did not answer, but one day she whispered back. “Yes, you may ask my father’s leave to marry me. But first you must do something noble. I belong to a great family and have many relations. You must go on a war party and bring back the scalp of an enemy.”

The young man answered modestly, “I will try to do as you bid me. I am only a hunter, not a warrior. Whether I shall be brave or not I do not know. But I will try to take a scalp for your sake.”

So he made a war party of seven, himself and six other young men. They wandered through the enemy’s country, hoping to get a chance to strike a blow. But none came, for they found no one of the enemy.

“Our medicine is unfavorable,” said their leader at last. “We shall have to return home.”

Before they started they sat down to smoke and rest beside a beautiful lake at the foot of a green knoll that rose from its shore. The knoll was covered with green grass and somehow, as they looked at it, they had a feeling that there was something about it that was mysterious or uncanny.

But there was a young man in the party named the jester, for he was venturesome and full of fun. Gazing at the knoll he said, “Let’s and jump on its top.”

“No,” said the young lover, “it looks mysterious. Sit still and finish your smoke.

“Oh, come on, who’s afraid,” said the jester, laughing. “Come on you– come on!” and springing to his feet he ran up the side of the knoll. Four of the young men followed. Having reached the top of the knoll all five began to jump and stamp about in sport, calling, “Come on, come on,” to the others.

Suddenly they stopped–the knoll had begun to move toward the water. It was a gigantic turtle. The five men cried out in alarm and tried to run–too late! Their feet by some power were held fast to the monster’s back.

“Help us–drag us away,” they cried; but the others could do nothing. In a few moments the waves had closed over them. The other two men, the lover and his friend, went on, but with heavy hearts, for they had forebodings of evil. After some days, they came to a river. Worn with fatigue the lover threw himself down on the bank.

“I will sleep awhile,” he said, “for I am wearied and worn out.” “And I will go down to the water and see if I can chance upon a dead fish. At this time of the year the high water may have left one stranded on the seashore,” said his friend And as he had said, he found a fish which he cleaned, and then called to the lover.

“Come and eat the fish with me. I have cleaned it and made a fire and it is now cooking.” “No, you eat it; let me rest,” said the lover. “Oh, come on,” said the friend. “No, let me rest,” the lover answered. “But you are my friend. I will not eat unless you share it with me,” the friend said.

“Very well,” said the lover, “I will eat the fish with you, but you must first make me a promise. If I eat the fish, you must promise, pledge yourself, to fetch me all the water that I can drink.”

“I promise,” said the other, and the two ate the fish out of their war-kettle. For there had been but one kettle for the party. When they had eaten, the kettle was rinsed out and the lover’s friend brought it back full of water. This the lover drank at a draught. “Bring me more,” he said. Again his friend filled the kettle at the river and again the lover drank it dry. “More!” he cried. “Oh, I am tired. Can’t you go to the river and drink your fill from the stream?” asked his friend.

“Remember your promise.” he said. “Yes, but I am weary. Go now and drink,” said the friend. “Ek-hey, I feared it would be so. Now trouble is coming upon us,” said the lover sadly. He walked to the river, sprang in, and lying down in the water with his head toward land, drank greedily. By and by he called to his friend. “Come hither, you who have been my sworn friend. See what comes of your broken promise.”

The friend came and was amazed to see that the lover was now a fish from his feet to his middle. Sick at heart he ran off a little way and threw himself upon the ground in grief. By and by he returned. The lover was now a fish to his neck. “Cannot I cut off the part and restore you by a sweat bath?” the friend asked.

“No, it is too late. But tell the chief’s daughter that I loved her to the last and that I die for her sake. Take this belt and give it to her. She gave it to me as a pledge of her love for me,” and he being then turned to a great fish, swam to the middle of the river and there remained, only his great fin remaining above the water.

The friend went home and told his story. There was great mourning over the death of the five young men, and for the lost lover. In the river the great fish remained, its fin just above the surface, and was called by the Indians “Fish that Bars,” because it barred navigation.

Canoes had to be portaged at great labor around the obstruction. The chief’s daughter mourned for her lover as for a husband, nor would she be comforted. “He was lost for love of me, and I shall remain as his widow,” she wailed. In her mother’s tepee she sat, with her head covered with her robe, silent, working, working.

“What is my daughter doing,” her mother asked. But the maiden did not reply. The days lengthened into moons until a year had passed. And then the maiden arose. In her hands were beautiful articles of clothing, enough for three men. There were three pairs of moccasins, three pairs of leggings, three belts, three shirts, three head dresses with beautiful feathers, and sweet smelling tobacco.

“Make a new canoe of bark,” she said, which was made for her. Into the canoe she stepped and floated slowly down the river toward the great fish. “Come back my daughter,” her mother cried in agony. “The great fish will eat you.” She answered nothing. Her canoe came to the place where the great fin arose and stopped, its prow grating on the monster’s back. The maiden stepped out  boldly. One by one she laid her presents on the fish’s back, scattering the feathers and tobacco over his broad spine.

“Oh, fish,” she cried, “Oh, fish, you who were my lover, I shall not forget you. Because you were lost for love of me, I shall never marry. All my life I shall remain a widow. Take these presents. And now leave the river, and let the waters run free, so my people may once more descend in their canoes.”

She stepped into her canoe and waited. Slowly the great fish sank, his broad fin disappeared, and the waters of the St. Croix (Stillwater) were free.

As retold by Marie L. McLaughlin in “Myths and Legends of the Sioux”

in 1913

Long ago when the world was young, an old Lakota spiritual leader was on a high mountain and had a vision. In his vision, Iktomi, the great trickster and searcher of wisdom, appeared in the form of a spider. Iktomi spoke to him in a sacred language. As he spoke, Iktomi the spider picked up the elder’s willow hoop which had feathers, horsehair, beads and offerings on it, and began to spin a web. He spoke to the elder about the cycles of life, how we begin our lives as infants, move on through childhood and on to adulthood. Finally we go to old age where we must be taken care of as infants, completing the cycle.

“But”, Iktomi said as he continued to spin his web, “in each time of life there are many forces, some good and some bad. If you listen to the good forces, they will steer you in the right direction. But, if you listen to the bad forces, they’ll steer you in the wrong direction and may hurt you. So these forces can help, or can interfere with the harmony of Nature. While the spider spoke, he continued to weave his web.

When Iktomi finished speaking, he gave the elder the web and said, “The web is a perfect circle with a hole in the center. Use the web to help your people reach their goals, making good use of their ideas, dreams and visions. If you believe in the great spirit, the web will catch your good ideas and the bad ones will go through the hole.”

The elder passed on his vision onto the people and now many Indian people have a dream catcher above their bed to sift their dreams and visions. The good is captured in the web of life and carried with the people, but the evil in their dreams drops through the hole in the web and are no longer a part of their lives. It is said the dream catcher holds the destiny of the future.

IT was night upon the prairie. Overhead the stars were twinkling bright their red and yellow lights. The moon was young. A silvery thread among the stars, it soon drifted low beneath the horizon.

Upon the ground the land was pitchy black. There are night people on the plain who love the dark. Amid the black level land they meet to frolic under the stars. Then when their sharp ears hear any strange footfalls nigh they scamper away into the deep shadows of night. There they are safely hid from all dangers, they think.

Thus it was that one very black night, afar off from the edge of the level land, out of the wooded river bottom glided forth two balls of fire. They came farther and farther into the level land. They grew larger and brighter. The dark hid the body of the creature with those fiery eyes. They came on and on, just over the tops of the prairie grass. It might have been a wildcat prowling low on soft, stealthy feet. Slowly but surely the terrible eyes drew nearer and nearer to the heart of the level land.

There in a huge old buffalo skull was a gay feast and dance! Tiny little field mice were singing and dancing in a circle to the boom-boom of a wee, wee drum. They were laughing and talking among themselves while their chosen singers sang loud a merry tune.

They built a small open fire within the center of their queer dance house. The light streamed out of the buffalo skull through all the curious sockets and holes.

A light on the plain in the middle of the night was an unusual thing. But so merry were the mice they did not hear the “king, king” of sleepy birds, disturbed by the unaccustomed fire.

A pack of wolves, fearing to come nigh this night fire, stood together a little distance away, and, turning their pointed noses to the stars, howled and yelped most dismally. Even the cry of the wolves was unheeded by the mice within the lighted buffalo skull.

They were feasting and dancing; they were singing and laughing — those funny little furry fellows.

All the while across the dark from out the low river bottom came that pair of fiery eyes.

Now closer and more swift, now fiercer and glaring, the eyes moved toward the buffalo skull. All unconscious of those fearful eyes, the happy mice nibbled dried roots and venison. The singers had started another song. The drummers beat the time, turning their heads from side to side in rhythm. In a ring around the fire hopped the mice, each bouncing hard on his two hind feet. Some carried their tails over their arms, while others trailed them proudly along.

Ah, very near are those round yellow eyes! Very low to the ground they seem to creep — creep toward the buffalo skull. All of a sudden they slide into the eye- sockets of the old skull.

“Spirit of the buffalo!” squeaked a frightened mouse as he jumped out from a hole in the back part of the skull.

“A cat! a cat!” cried other mice as they scrambled out of holes both large and snug. Noiseless they ran away into the dark.

Old Indian Legends by Zitkala-Sa [1901] and is now in the public domain.

Sichanghu (‘burnt thighs’) A band of the Brulé Teton Sioux.

Brulé (‘burned,’ the French translation of, Sichángχu, `burnt thighs,’ their own name, of indefinite origin). A subtribe of the Teton division of the great Dakota tribe. They are mentioned by Lewis and Clark (1804) as the Tetons of the Burnt Woods, numbering about 300 men, “who rove on both sides of the Missouri, White, and Teton rivers.” In 1806 they were on the east side of the Missouri from the mouth of the White to Teton river. Hayden (Ethnog. and Philol. 1fo. Valley, 372, 1862) describes the country inhabited by them in 1850 as on the headwaters of the White and Niobrara, extending down these rivers about, half their length, Teton river forming the north limit. He also says they were for a number of years heaed by a chief named Makozaza, very friendly to the whites, who by uniformly good management and just government kept his people in order, regulated their hunts, and usually avoided placing them in the starving situations incident to hands led by less judicious chiefs. They were good hunters, usually well clothed and supplied with meat, and had comfortable lodges and a large number of horses. They varied their occupations by hunting buffalo, catching wild horses, and snaking war expeditions against the Arikara, then stationed on the Platte, or the Pawnee, lower down on that river. Every summer excursions were made by the young men into the Platte and Arkansas country in quest of wild horses, which abounded there at that time. After emigrants to California and Oregon began to pass through the Dakota country, the Brulé suffered more from diseases introduced by them than any other division of the tribe, being nearest to the trail. The treaty of Apr. 29, 1868, between the Sioux bands and the Government was in a large degree brought about through the exertions of Swift Bear, a Brulé chief. Nevertheless, it was about this time or shortly after that a band of Brulé took part in the attack on Maj. Forsyth on Republican river. Hayden gives 150 as the number of their lodges in 1856. In 1890 the Upper Brulé on Rosebud reservation, South Dakota, numbered 3,245; the Lower Brulé at Crowcreek and Lower Brulé agency, South Dakota, 1,026. Their present number as distinct from the other Teton is not given.

The group is divided geographically into the Kheyatawichasha or Upper Brulé, the Kutawichasha or Lower Brulé, and the Brulé of the Platte.
The subdivisions are given by different authorities as follows:

Lewis and Clark (Discov., 34, 1806):
1 Esahateaketarpar (Isanyati?),
2 Warchinktarhe,
3 Choketartowomb (Chokatowela),
4 Ozash (see Wazhazha),
5 Menesharne (see Minisala).

In 1880 Tatankawakan, a Brulé, gave to J. O. Dorsey the names of 13 bands of the Brulé, Upper and Lower:
1 Iyakoza
2 Chokatowela
3 Shiyolanka
4 Homna
5 Shiyosubula
6 Kanghiyuha,
7 Pispizawichasha,
S Waleghaunwohan,
9 Wacheunpa,
10 Shawala,
11 Ihanktonwan,
12 Nakhpakhpa,
13 Apewantanka.

Rev. W. J. Cleveland (MS. list, 1884) enumerates the modern divisions as:
1 Sichanghu,
2 Kakeglia,
3
(a) Hinhanshunwapa,
(b) Shunkahanapin,
4 Hihakanhanhanwin,
5 Hunkuwanicha,
6Miniskuyakichun,
7
(a) Kiyuksa,
(b) Tiglabu,
8 Wacheunpa,
9 Waglukhe,
10 Isanyati,
11 Wagmezayuha,
12
(a) Waleghaonwohan,
(b) Wakhna,
13 Oglalaichichagha,
14 Tiyochesli,
15 Wazhazha,
16 Ieskachincha,
17 Ohenonpa,
18 Okaghawichasha.

The Brulé of the Platte, not included in the above lists, are a part of the Brulé (Stanley in Poole, Among the Sioux, 232, 1881) formerly connected with Whetstone

Handbook of American Indians, 1906