This was disputed territory between the Sioux and Crow Indians, who were ever bitter enemies, and the entrance of one tribe or the other into this valley meant hostilities, which only ended with the extermination of one band or the other.

It was in the early sixties -- no one can ascertain the exact date, but as the Indian will tell you, "many moons ago," long before Red Cloud agency occupied this same ground -- that two bands of Indians met here and fought unceasingly for hours and hours, until both sides were reduced to less than half their number. Such open fighting, such carnage had never before been witnessed in tribal warfare. At eventide, on the third day of conflict, the Crows recognized their disadvantage and ultimate defeat and, under cover of darkness, withdrew to the summit of this butte, with the intention of using it as a fortification. The Sioux knew well there was no escape for the Crows, except by a narrow path, by which they had gained the top.

Accordingly, they put a strong guard across this path and fell back onto the creek, to care for their sick and wounded.

For a time it looked as if the Crows were doomed to starvation. The chiefs and wise men were called in council to devise means of escape. It was decided that a few old men among them, who had outlived their usefulness, should be sacrificed that the others might live.

The old men were stationed on the side of the butte where they would be in plain view of the Sioux guard and instructed to chant their weird songs, so that the Sioux might not suspicion their undertaking. The rest of the band were, meanwhile, busily engaged in tearing in twain their blankets, which they tied together and subsequently used as a means of escape over the north precipice of Crow Butte, a distance of 100 feet.