signifies "The young men [of the enemy] fear his
horses." Whenever that man attacks, the enemy knows there will be a
determined charge.

The name Tashunkewitko, or Crazy Horse, is a poetic simile. This leader
was likened to an untrained or untouched horse, wild, ignorant of
domestic uses, splendid in action, and unconscious of danger.

The name of Two Strike is a deed name. In a battle with the Utes this
man knocked two enemies from the back of a war horse. The true rendering
of the name Nomkahpa would be, "He knocked off two."

I was well acquainted with Two Strike and spent many pleasant hours
with him, both at Washington, D. C., and in his home on the Rosebud
reservation. What I have written is not all taken from his own mouth,
because he was modest in talking about himself, but I had him vouch for
the truth of the stories. He said that he was born near the Republican
River about 1832. His earliest recollection was of an attack by the
Shoshones upon their camp on the Little Piney. The first white men he
ever met were traders who visited his people when he was very young.
The incident was still vividly with him, because, he said, "They made
my father crazy," [drunk]. This made a deep impression upon him, he
told me, so that from that day he was always afraid of the white man's
"mysterious water."

Two Strike was not a large man, but he was very supple and alert in
motion, as agile as an antelope. His face was mobile and intelligent.
Although he had the usual somber visage of an Indian, his expression
brightened up wonderfully when he talked. In some ways wily and shrewd
in intellect, he was not deceitful nor mean. He had a high sense of duty
and honor. Patriotism was his ideal and goal of life.

As a young man he was modest and even shy, although both his father
and grandfather were well-known chiefs. I could find few noteworthy
incidents in his early life, save that he was an expert rider of wild
horses. At one time I was pressing him to give me some interesting
incident of his boyhood. He replied to the effect that there was plenty
of excitement but "not much in it." There was a delegation of Sioux
chiefs visiting Washington, and we were spending an evening together in
their hotel. Hollow Horn Bear spoke up and said:

"Why don't you tell him how you and a buffalo cow together held your
poor father up and froze him almost to death?"

Everybody laughed, and another man remarked: "I think he had better tell
the