Last week’s column told of the low morale of the Sioux people in 1882 at the Standing Rock agency and Major James McLaughlin’s effort to improve the morale by instigating a buffalo hunt on the western edge of the Standing Rock. The following is a continuation of how that great hunt went.

During a traditional prehunt ceremony, Shave Head, a tribal policeman who was killed in 1890 during the arrest and subsequent death of Sitting Bull, let it be known among the hunters that McLaughlin was desirous of having a buffalo calf. On the morning following the first day’s hunt, McLaughlin found 22 buffalo calves tethered outside his tent. But that wasn’t the only kindness directed at McLaughlin. After fattening and conditioning his finest horse for the hunt, Crow King gave the horse to McLaughlin as a gift. McLaughlin was obviously held in high esteem.

The actual hunt was hazardous. It demanded that the hunters ride full speed through the herd of stampeding buffalo, and then pull up beside the targeted buffalo and fire a shot or shots into the ribs just behind the front shoulder. It was every man for himself as those injured were left to lie until the day’s hunt was over. During the hunt McLaughlin personally attended to some of the injured and called their location to their family’s attention so they could receive aid at night. McLaughlin knew the hunters personally, and he knew their families. Other than assisting the fallen, McLaughlin, an able horseman, joined in the hunt and personally shot six buffalo. He was joined by his son, Harry, who also participated in the hunt.

2000 buffalo went down by the end of the first day, and by the hunts end, 5000 buffalo were killed. On the night of the first day’s hunt, with many voracious appetites to satisfy, McLaughlin was astonished by the capacity of the hunter’s stomachs. The humps and other delicacies were eaten first. Skinned sides and quarters were brought back to camp in wagons, and nothing was wasted as the meat was jerked and dried or made into pemmican. Many years later, when McLaughlin would visit his old home, elders would gather at his door and exchange stories about the great hunt of 1882.

As mentioned in last week’s column, the story of this hunt was gleaned from the pages of McLaughlin’s book, My Friend the Indian, first published in April 1910.

About fifty years ago I attended a seminar in Montana on the history of the Northern Plains Indian. At the time it was my perception that little history had been accurately recorded by the Sioux. The Sioux had “Winter Count,” a pictorial history, as well as verbal accounts that had been handed down from generation to generation, but they had no written alphabet. Some of this void in documented history has been filled by the journals of educated white men who spent time living with the Indian people.

At the time of the Montana seminar, I saw McLaughlin’s book as the definitive source of Sioux history. I was surprised to discover that the native scholars attending the seminar viewed McLaughlin’s work with contempt. From time to time I have pondered this attitude, and it has prompted me to reread McLaughlin’s work. This time I would attempt to view the book through the eyes of a Sioux Indian.

McLaughlin saw the Sioux as uncivilized. The sun dance was brutal, and women who had lost a spouse or son frequently cut the little finger from their left hand in mourning. Polygamy was another problem. He wanted the Indian to adopt the ways of the white man, and his solution was to make farmers of the men. In McLaughlin’s defense, farming was what the men of the westward movement did. It was all he knew other than soldiering, but it wasn’t going to work. The Sioux male was a warrior/hunter, not a farmer.

McLaughlin also wanted to send the Indian children to boarding school. Sioux family ties were strong, and McLaughlin sought too much too fast. After many hours of persuasive discussion, Crow King finally agreed to send his daughter to boarding school. McLaughlin also tried to convinced the tribal leaders that Sitting Bull’s medicine was bad. At the time Sitting Bull and his followers had been incarcerated at Fort Randall.

To McLaughlin’s credit, he was a caring humanitarian who tirelessly worked at bringing happiness to his people. Fortunately for us he could write. He spent countless hours with them, and he captured the personalities of the great Sioux leaders, Sitting Bull included, in the pages of his book.

I cannot speak for all Sioux scholars, but during the past fifty years I have become aware of a greater appreciation for McLaughlin’s My Friend the Indian.