L.R.298.b.2, 4(146)

Half-length full-face portrait of Sitting Elk, an Apsaroke. His biography is given in volume 4 of The North American Indian, p.204: 'Born about 1828-1830. River Crow of the Never Shoots, Packs Game clan, and Fox organization, which he joined at about thirty, having been chosen to take the place of a friend who had been killed. He never fasted. "I cannot help it," he remarked; "it is the truth." But when he was six years of age he was taking part in a sham fight with mud balls thrown from sticks. A ball that had not been rolled in the sparks of the fire and consequently could not be seen as it came, struck him in the eye, which soon swelled shut. The next evening the boys were playing again, and a woman relative said chidingly, "Foolish boy, go and get your eye hurt again!" He went, but stood at the end, and was the last to charge and the first in the retreat. Soon a mud ball struck the same eye, and it seemed as if his "brains would fall out." A sister-in-law cared for him that night. Toward morning he fell asleep and dreamed. He saw the sham fight continued; gradually it changed, and he suddenly saw two opposing war-parties contending. A man with a lance decorated with hawk-feathers stood forth, sang three songs, and charged among the enemy. As he entered their ranks he became a chickadee. Soon he reappeared without a scratch on his body. Having had a vision and obtained songs, Sitting Elk felt that it would do no good to fast; yet with some doubt, fearing that it might have been merely a dream, he said nothing about his medicine. At forty he began to feel certain that it had been a real vision from the spirits, and thereafter used the songs and made his medicine known. He accompanied his first war-party in his eighteenth year, but though he went many times on the war-path, for one reason or another he participated in no fighting until he was thirty-three, when in an engagement he counted a second coup. On this occasion he was scouting in advance of the party when the deed was done and consequently gained a distinct honor, though not one of the four regular coups. Counted one dakshe, and captured two guns and one tethered horse. The last honor he does not count, because during the night retreat it was discovered that the animal was a mare, hence the capture could not count as an honor. When a companion informed him of the fact he threw the rope from her neck in disgust and turned her loose; and though others at once pursued her, she could not be retaken. Sitting Elk never saw any spirit that gave him power to lead war-parties. Six times he turned back alone, dismounted, and checked the enemy while his companions retreated, a deed which he performed three times in one fight with the Piegan. North of the Yellowstone, a little above the mouth of Tullock's fork, a hunting party was suddenly attacked by Flatheads. Sitting Elk dismounted. His friends not only retreated, but deserted him, and he was completely surrounded. He charged upon the enemy, one of whom, also on foot, was shooting at him from under his horse's neck. As the Apsaroke rushed at him he abandoned his horse and ran; Sitting Elk seized the bridle, just as another Flathead dashed up and shot as he passed. The bullet struck his shoulder, but did not enter the flesh. The Apsaroke leaped upon the horse and charged among the Flatheads, who scattered, and as he passed between them they mounted and pursued. One was gaining rapidly, kicking his horse and holding his gun in air. Sitting Elk turned suddenly; the Flathead shot, and the bullet passed through the horse's shoulder into the rider's leg. In the resulting collision both men were hurled to the ground. The Flathead leaped to his feet and ran, but not before Sitting Elk had secured his gun in the melee. With two guns in his hands he gave chase; the Flathead turned and shot with his revolver, the bullet striking the Apsaroke in the elbow as he instinctively threw up his arms. Another of the enemy rode close and struck him with a lance. He was now completely hemmed in, and the enemy paused to reload. Not knowing who they were, he called out, "Piegans, stop! Let us talk!" They made no reply. Then, "Nez Percés," he cried, "let us talk! " Still there was no answer. In anger he shouted: "Why are you keeping silent? You cannot kill me this day. You are women and would better go home!" Then they rushed him again, shooting, but still he was not seriously wounded. "My body was full of bullets, and I was wild," says Sitting Elk. "The sun was low and I was anxious to die and be done with it." He put out his hand toward them, sang, and charged madly upon them; they broke and ran. Again they rallied and charged back at him, and so they continued fighting, running hither and thither, backward and forward. Suddenly a horseman appeared on the crest of a hill and dashed down to the scene of the fray. It was Little Crane. The Flatheads began to scatter, and the fight was over. Sitting Elk gave his rescuer a gun, the one he had captured, and was taken up on the horse, and thus they rode toward the hill where his tribesmen were waiting. Sitting Elk roundly upbraided them for not having come to his assistance. All the Apsaroke know of this single-handed fight, and all maintain that it lasted for what we would call several hours. Sitting Elk married at thirty-four and has had eleven wives, ten of whom he has "thrown away." He is the father of four children.'