The war
authorities always insist that they must not fire the first shot under
any circumstances, and such were the orders at this time. The Crows
on the hill-top showed a sullen and threatening front, and the troops
advanced slowly towards them and then halted for a parley. Meanwhile a
mass of black thunderclouds gathering on the horizon threatened one of
those cloudbursts of extreme severity and suddenness so characteristic
of the plains country. While still trying to make arrangements for a
parley, a horseman started out of the Crow ranks and galloped headlong
down towards the troops. It was the medicine chief, Sword-Bearer. He
was painted and in his battle-dress, wearing his war-bonnet of floating,
trailing eagle feathers, while the plumes of the same bird were braided
in the mane and tail of his fiery little horse. On he came at a gallop
almost up to the troops and then began to circle around them, calling
and singing and throwing his crimson sword into the air, catching it by
the hilt as it fell.
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