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Show Original Data as to How Yellow Hand "Bit the Dust." SINCE the passing of the dime novel with which in the dear, dead juvenile days I was wont to while the time away, it has been my habit to poko around in search of historical works steeped in frontier lore, Injun fighting, bad man biographies, red handed gun players born to trouble and prepared to die with their boots on. Any literature perfumed by black powder, punctuated with the clash of bowie knives and the rattle of musketry popping in the Cottonwood was water on my wheel. Born in Nebraska, a crossroad for Sioux, Commanche, Cheyenne, Black Foot and Apache, soldiers, cattlemen and frontiersmen, I inhaled an atmosphere at-mosphere filtered and reflltered through the nostrils of men who wore cow-hide breeches and who took their sleep standing. I was seven years old when George Custer and his regiment were wiped out at the Little Big Horn massacre; heard white and red men pile up the terrible details, de-tails, listened to but did not fully comprehend the preparations for revenge. Via the grapevine telegraph tele-graph of the prairies I heard more than I should, more than my father, fa-ther, a missionary among the Sioux and Cheyenne, knew had reached my ears. Chief Gall, Raln-in-the-Face, Crazy Horse, Sitting Bull, Red Cloud passed in the flesh and in confusing rumors along the Mis-sourl, Mis-sourl, leaving me dumb with wonderment. won-derment. Meets Old Indian Fighter. I remember with crystal clarity the day Capt. Jack Crawford rode into the mission on a spent horse with the news that Buffalo Bill had met the Cheyenne chieftain, Yellow Hand, in mortal combat and killed and scalped him. The memory of that thrilling declaration remained with me for many a year, definite, reiterating, audible, like something alive. It became the outstanding memory of my boyhood. From Nebraska, Ne-braska, from which section I departed de-parted for the Far West with my folks in '77, I brought the vision of Bill Cody's victory over the red Indian. In-dian. It marched with me like, a living dream. In later life I heard repeatedly that the story of Cody's meeting with Yellow Hand was mere myth, a wild tale of the frontier, unsupported. unsup-ported. The reiterated denial from sources that seemed unimpeachable depressed me. All attempts at verification failed. Many versions, none of them in accord, appeared in books dealing with the Indian wars. Obsessed with the desire to find an eyewitness, I sought substantiation from any and all living soldiers and civilians associated as-sociated with that era who crossed my trail. Success crowned my perseverance. per-severance. In the city of Boston, August, 1929, at the invitation of a friend, I called upon Samuel Storrow Sumner, major-general of the United States army, retired, totally blind, in his seventy-eighth year and residing on Beacon street. We talked of the early days, the Indian uprisings and the opening of the vast and fertile country west of the Missouri. In the course of our conversation the general gen-eral mentioned Colonel Cody, the Buffalo Bill of my boyhood. Gets "Low Down" on Fight. Here perhaps was my long sought eyewitness. "Is the story of his killing Yellow Hand true?" I asked. The aged and blind soldier came suddenly to life, slapping his thighs with both hands. "Absolutely," he exclaimed, "I saw the fight. After the Custer massacre at Little Big Horn, Yellow Yel-low Hand, now chief of the Chey-ennes, Chey-ennes, came down to War Bonnet Creek to raid the wagons. Cody, who was there with a band of scouts, asked to go into action. Gen. Wesley Merritt, who was 'in command, com-mand, said he had no objection to Cody, who was not officially of the regular army, doing as he damned well pleased. Bill wheeled his horse and rode straight for Yellow Hand at a gallop. They came for each other head on, both opening with rifle fire at close range. "When almost knee to knee Bill shot Yellow Hand from his horse. The Indian was dead when he hit the ground. Bill dismounted, placed his foot on Yellow Hand's body and waved a signal that he was the victor. vic-tor. Gen. Charles King was also present. We were less than a hundred hun-dred yards from the scene of the battle. The dime novel writers lost no time making it appear that Bill scalped the Cheyenne and waved the bloody trophy aloft That is not true. But that Cody killed Yellow Hand in hand-to-hand conflict you need have no doubts whatever. Gen-i Gen-i eral Merritt General King and myself my-self witnessed the fight from start to finish." C Western Newspaper Union. |