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. They accomplished this dangerous task during the night, having the old men on top to chant their songs.

It was several hours before the Sioux learned of the ruse. They at once decided to place a guard around the entire butte and starve to death the remaining few. Several days passed and still the chanting of the old men was wafted down on the breeze from the pines on the hillside. One moon elapsed and the chantings ceased, and the majestic butte was enveloped in a mist.

In the evening tide, as the autumnal sun sank slowly behind distant western hills, the mist was lighted in a blaze of glory and the guards beheld three beautiful Indian maidens floating in the distance, and finally the maidens, bearing the old men who had been left on the butte, and surrounded by a strange light -- according to the legends of the Indians -- floated into the heavens, upon the wings of great birds of pure white.

The Sioux chiefs were gathered in council

HISTORY OF WESTERN NEBRASKA