The Arapaho band of Black Bear had planted a circle of teepees immediately south of Dull Knife’s lodges. Before the hunt a counsel was held and the pipe smoked. There was much talk of the encroaching Wasichus, of the gold they had found in the Black Hills, and word had come that soldiers were building a fort inside Indian land sixty miles south of Crazy Woman’s Fork, near the Powder River, land that was by treaty with the Great Father to remain Indian territory as long as grass grew green. Chief Red Cloud had allowed a wagon train escorted by the Army to pass but had demanded tribute to reaffirm Indian sovereignty over the land.

Sitting Bull of the Hunkpapas had been alerted.

“When the White Man comes to my country he leaves a trail of blood behind him. There are two great mountains in that country: the Black Hills and the Big Horn Mountains. I want the Great Father to make no roads between them. I have spoken this three times and I now speak this again."

This had been the message to the Great Chief of the Wasichus sent by Mahpiua Luta (Red Cloud), Chief of the Oglala nation. There was grave trouble brewing, they all knew it. Some spoke of caution and of pursuing peace. Others voiced their anger at the wanton slaughter of tatanka, the bison, in Cheyenne and Arapaho hunting grounds. If the Wasichus were allowed further into the Sioux Nations’ lands, they would keep killing until hunger would bring an end to their free way of life.

Dancing Horse, as a young brave, listened silently, his heart beating faster in rising anger at the realization that his people must live in fear on their own sacred land. He had only one war raid to his credit and had proudly told of his coup against the treacherous Pawnees, the Indian mercenaries of the Wasichus, who had attacked their Cheyenne brothers by leading the Pale Faces deep into Indian country. He had gained an honored first feather.

After the powwow as he walked to his lodge to make ready for the coming hunt, he saw the beautiful maiden for the first time as she was carrying water to her family's teepee. The river was a distance from the camp. The young warrior felt his heart leap, but he had to make ready for the chase. A man must be great in the hunt before he would deserve the joy of a woman, so he pretended not to have seen her. She quickly glanced his way. He was already a hunter and a warrior, and it was licit for him to think of having his own wife and his own lodge. The thought was fleeting because of the excitement of the coming chase where he would gain even more honor.

In the early morning the hunters gathered five hundred strong on their fastest horses, bareback, and near naked except for their feathers, a loin raw hide, a bow, and a quiver full of arrows. A few carried muzzle loaders. Fewer still had .44 Army rifles.

Dancing Horse had his strongest bow. He knew how deadly it was to ride close to a great tatanka, how the arrow would go in clear to the feathers, cutting the inside as the great beast ran until it dropped.

After fording the river and a ride of some five miles, the hunting party sighted the buffalo. No one must go off by himself and risk disturbing the scattered game. The ground was broken by several round topped buttes on which was a growth of bushes breaking the sea of grass. The hunters dismounted behind one of these that screened them from notice of the watchful sentry bulls. Prayers were offered to Wakan Tanka, the Great Mysterious One, for protection.

The hunters were too many to approach the grazing herd as a single body. After a brief counsel, one third rode off to circle to the east. Another third rode to the west to close in from the south and chase the buffalo north. Riding behind them, the rest would come out of their hiding place and flank the herd until it would likely turn at the river banks. Dancing Horse stayed with the last group and was sent by the older hunters with two other youth to the top of the butte to give the signal when the herd was on the move.

After nearly one hour Dancing Horse saw the dust rising like smoke. The southern portion of herd begin to move, pushing the other ones into action. He jumped on War Wind and remained still for a brief time, half concealed by the bushes. The nearest buffalo were four hundred yards away. Some were still feeding and some were laying down. An army of the rust-colored calves was playing while a solitary old bull, head low, pawed the ground. The thunder of hoofs rose as a tide from a half mile away until they were all taking off to the north. The near buffalo became alarmed, formed into a compact herd, and headed north. Dancing Horse signaled the hunters below to mount their horses. The trained horses became eager and, as the bison passed the ridge, were given free rein, laying their ears flat they dashed after the fleeing animals.

The hunters fanned out. Those with the faster horses pressed in the midst of the pack. The danger was great, but the excitement greater. Riders and bison were moving at the same speed, not more than a few feet from each other. Dancing Horse was surrounded on all sides by a waving sea of dark brown humpbacks, sharp horns, and shining black eyes. To fall would be instant death. Holding on with gripping legs to the bare back of War Wind, Dancing Horse used his bow and arrow repeatedly, seeking the fattest ones. By the time the chase had reached the river, the herd began to swing east. One by one the hunters moved out, letting the living stream of great beasts pass them. Only one hunter, Running Elk, almost lost his life. His muzzle loader had backfired and nearly thrown him off his mount. He had abandoned his weapon and grabbed his pony’s mane just in time.

The rest of the day was spent in skinning, carving, cutting, and dragging the carcasses in great pieces on travois across the river to the vast camp now studded with more than fifteen hundred teepees and more than five thousand people. The Tetons and Hunkpapas had not yet arrived.