Among these war-parties, ten of the Sioux warriors made a raid into the Snake country.  They were led by the son of a prominent Ogallalla chief, called the Whirlwind.  When they reached the Laramie Plains they were met by a superior number of their enemies, and every warrior killed to a man.  The Snakes having accomplished this, they became greatly alarmed at what they had done, dreading the revenge of the Dakotas, which they knew would be inevitable; so, desiring to signify their wish for peace, they sent the scalp of one of their victims, with a small piece of tobacco attached, to his relations.  The Snakes induced one of the Indian traders to act as their messenger on this mission of peace, and the scalp was hung up in a room at Fort Laramie, but Whirlwind, the father of the dead warrior who had led the unfortunate band, was inexorable.  He hated the Snakes with his whole soul, and long before the scalp had arrived he had consummated his preparations for revenge.  He despatched runners loaded with presents of tobacco and other trinkets to all the Dakotas within three hundred miles of his village.  They were to propose a grand combination for the purpose of war, and to determine upon a place and time for the meeting of the warriors.  Ever ready for war, as is the normal attitude of the average North American savage, the Whirlwind’s plan was readily acceded to, and a camp on the Platte, known as Labonte’s, was the point designated as the rendezvous.  At that place their war-like ceremonies were to be celebrated with great dignity and solemnity; a thousand warriors, it is declared, were to be sent out into the enemy’s country; but the thing ended in smoke.  True, a great many Indians gathered there, but they went on a big buffalo hunt instead of fighting the Snakes.

The Sioux are noted for their individual bravery, and whole chapters might be written of their prowess, but the following incident will suffice to show the character of their daring.  In 1846 a celebrated warrior performed a notable exploit at the Pawnee village on the Loup Fork of the Platte.  He arrived there all alone, late one dark night, and climbing up the outside of one of the lodges, quietly gazed for a few moments, through the round hole for the escape of smoke at the top, at the unsuspecting inmates sleeping peacefully under their buffalo-robes around the expiring fire.  Dropping himself lightly through the opening, he noiselessly unsheathed his knife, and, stirring the embers, stood for a moment as if selecting his victims, then one by one he stabbed and scalped them.  Just as he had wrenched the reeking locks from the last victim, a child suddenly sat up and began to scream violently, upon which the warrior rushed out of the door of the lodge uttering the terrible Sioux war-cry.  Then shouting his own name in triumph and defiance, he darted out upon the dark prairie, leaving the whole village behind him in a tumult with the howling of a hundred dogs, the screams of the women, and the yells of the enraged Pawnee braves.