They had perhaps
five thousand men in their villages when they met Custer in this,
the most historic and most ghastly battle of the Plains. It would
be bootless to revive any of the old discussions regarding Custer
and his rash courage. Whether in error or in wisdom, he died, and
gallantly. He and his men helped clear the frontier for those who
were to follow, and the task took its toll. Thus, slowly but
steadily, even though handicapped by a vacillating governmental
policy regarding the Indians, we muddled through these great
Indian wars of the frontier, our soldiers doing their work
splendidly and uncomplainingly, such work as no other body of
civilized troops has ever been asked to do or could have done if
asked. At the close of the Civil War we ourselves were a nation
of fighting men. We were fit and we were prepared. The average of
our warlike qualities never has been so high as then. The
frontier produced its own pathfinders, its own saviors, its own
fighting men.
So now the frontier lay ready, waiting for the man with the
plough. The dawn of that last day was at hand.
Chapter VIII.
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