the old men, the women and
children herded on the reservation under the rifles of the army and the
young men scattered or slain, there was nothing left for the
hard-fighting, proud-spirited lords of the Hills--Ogalalla, Brule and
Minneconjou--but sullen acceptance of the great father's terms; and in
this wise came Silver Hill to the heart of the fair valley, nestling
under the screen of the Sagamore and its eastward spurs and the shield
of Uncle Sam, who sliced off for military purposes a block from the
Minneconjou reserve, and by way of compliment and consolation named the
cantonment therein established after the tribe thereof dispossessed. All
went swimmingly for the emigrant, the miner, the settler and the
subsequent supremacy of the white man until in course of time a big post
had to be built to replace the old log barracks, and from motives of
economy, in order to reduce to a minimum the expense of hauling supplies
and materials of the quartermaster's department, the new buildings were
planted at the extreme eastern edge of the reservation, and before the
first coat of paint was dry on the lintels the opposite bank of the
stream, a short pistol shot from the line, was planted thick with
shacks, shanties and saloons, and every known device of the devil to
prey upon the soldier.

In the five years that followed, that particular quarter section of what
soon became South Dakota was a storm center of villainy, especially when
the bi-monthly payday came round. By scores the soldiers were drugged
and robbed, by dozens they were beaten and bullied. By twos and threes
they were set upon, slugged and not infrequently someone was murdered.
No jury could be found in those days to convict a civilian of any crime
against the life or property of a servant of Uncle Sam. There came a
time when two of the best men of the garrison, veteran sergeants, having
been shot to death in cold blood by a brace of desperadoes in front of
Skidmore's saloon, the garrison turned out almost to a man. The
murderers fled to town on the horses of their victims; fifty troopers
followed, while over fifty tore Skidmore's to shreds. Silver Hill had a
riot that night, in which two deputy marshals bit the dust; so did two
or three troopers, but that didn't matter. The majesty of the law that
turned the original murderers loose had been violated by a brutal and
ungovernable soldiery, six of whom were later surrendered to be tried
for their crimes by a jury