The storms were al-
ready at hand, and that winter was more severe
than any that the old men could recall in their
traditions. The braves killed all the small
game for a wide circuit around the camp, but
the buffalo had now crossed the river, and that
country was not favorable for deer. The more
enterprising young men organized hunting ex-
peditions to various parts of the open prairie,
but each time they returned with empty hands.
The "Moon of Sore Eyes," or March, had
come at last, and Wazeah, the God of Storm,
was still angry. Their scant provision of dried
meat had held out wonderfully, but it was now
all but consumed. The Sioux had but little am-
munition, and the snow was still so deep that
it was impossible for them to move away to
any other region in search of game. The worst
was feared; indeed, some of the children and
feeble old people had already succumbed.
White Lodge again called his men together
in council, and it was determined to send a mes-
senger to Fort Ellis to ask for relief.
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