boys, then nine or ten years old. Strange to say, the request was
granted, and the condemned man sent home under escort of the deputy
sheriff, who remained at the Indian agency, merely telling his
prisoner to report there on the following day. When he did not
appear at the time set, the sheriff dispatched the Indian police
after him. They did not find him, and his wife simply said
that Crow Dog had desired to ride alone to the prison, and would
reach there on the day appointed. All doubt was removed next day
by a telegram from Rapid City, two hundred miles distant, saying:
"Crow Dog has just reported here."

The incident drew public attention to the Indian murderer,
with the unexpected result that the case was reopened, and Crow Dog
acquitted. He still lives, a well-preserved man of about
seventy-five years, and is much respected among his own people.

It is said that, in the very early days, lying was a
capital offense among us. Believing that the deliberate liar is
capable of committing any crime behind the screen of cowardly
untruth and double-dealing, the destroyer of mutual confidence was
summarily put to death, that the evil might go no further.

Even the worst enemies of the Indian, those who accuse him of
treachery, blood-thirstiness, cruelty, and lust, have not denied
his courage, but in their minds it is a courage that is ignorant,
brutal, and fantastic. His own conception of bravery makes of it
a high moral virtue, for to him it consists not so much in
aggressive self-assertion as in absolute self-control. The
truly brave man, we contend, yields neither to fear nor anger,
desire nor agony; he is at all times master of himself; his courage