Brave Boys, They
PlNE Ridge Agkncy, S. D., Jan. 33.- The thousands of Sioux had the opportunitj yesterday to see the strength and discipline oí the ünited States army, for the end of the ghost dance rebellion was tnarked by a review of all the soldiers who have taken part in crashing the Indian rebellion. The day was one of the most disagreeable of the carnpaign. A furious wind blew from the nortu, driving t!ie Band and snow over the valley in bliuding and choking sheets. The camp of soldiera was two miles from the agency. The tents ran in a long line through a great ravine, the sides of which were still flecked with snow from the early morning storm. The Reds Still Susplcious. Through the stifling gale of sand Gen. Miles and his staff rode in a ragged group, the wind tossing the taüs of their horsea over their flanks. It was after 10 o'clock when all preparations were made for the review. The summits of the buttes to the north were fringed with Sioux warriors, who were closely wrapped in their blankets and staring stolidly at the long line of cavalrymen and infantrymen whicb stretched away to the south until they were lost in the flying sand. The redskins were a strange group of spectators. They looked like Arabs as they are sometimes seen in paintings, squatting on the ground or inounted on ponies on the top of the knolls when the sun is sinking. Stretching in a long, ghostly line on the ridges of buttes to the north were their pickets, ready to give the word that would send the redskins flying in case the soldiers should advance upon them. The Sounds of the Bugles. Finally there carne through the gale the shrill notes of the bugle. They were so faint that they were almost lost in the storm. Then one by one the trumpeters took up the cali and the great parade ol the regular army, began to pass in review. Gen. Brooke, muffled up in a wolf skin overcoat, grimy from the sand that swirled about his norse, and followed by his staff, led the crocession. First came the great detachment of Sioux scouts with Capt. Taylor, his sword at a salute, at their head. Sergt. Red Shirt, the handsomest Indian in the Sioux nation, was at the extreme right, his long hair tossing in tangled masses over his shoulders. Yankton Charley, who saved the revolvers of poor Lieut. Casey, rode at the lef t of the line, his overcoat buttoned so closely about him that the war feathers on his breast were concealed. The Gnns Come Into "View. The shrill blasts of a dozen bugles were next heard. Behind the trumpeters tramped the Second infantry, of Omaha, in blue overcoats and brown leggings, with Maj. Butler at their head. Then came the Seventeenth infantry, swinging along with the jauntiness it displayed when it marched through the blizzard and sand along the Cheyenne river. There wasarumbling back of the infantrymen. The mules, with patient-looking faces, andstatuesque ears, weredragging the machine cannon, those guns the Indians declare shoot to-day and kill tc-morrow. The noise carne from a battery of Gatliog and Hotchkiss guns, with mules plodding along at their sides, with cartridges packed in white canvas bags on their backs. Behind these machine cannon was Capt. Capron's battery of threeinchrifled guns, with soldiers holding carbines sittlng on the caissons. The Glorious Sixth Cavalry. Behind the artillery was Gen. Carr, astride a bay horse and leading the Sixth cavalry, which had cut its way through the southwest from the Indian uation to the Rio Grande. More Hotchkiss guns followed. Then came the Leavenworth battalion, a mixed regiment commanded by Col. Sanford. Behind these troops was still another battery of grim Hotchkiss guns, the carriages of which still bore evidence of the furious storm of shot that raged for an hour at Wounded Knee. A leau, shruuken-faced man, with his overcoat buttoned tightly around his throat andmountedon a splendid horse, followed the cannon. It was Col. Guy V. Henry, who was shot through the face in the battle with the Sioux in 1876, and who led his flying negro troopers of the Ninth in an all night ride of eighty miles to save the Seventh cavalry, which was treatened with Custer's i'ate less than tour weeks ago. A Line of Iï kiek Héroes. Behind him were long lines of black faces peeping from fur caps and the high collars of bulïalo overcoats. The red and white guidons fluttered before each company. The negro cavalry came in unbroken colums, with its world-famed and decorated héroes of the Thornburgh massacre riding at the extreme left, their carbines at a salute. Every man in the Ninth cavalry was in that long ebony wave of faces, and as it swept in front of Gen. Miles the famous Indian fighter dipped his hat again and again. There was another battery of machine guns and then came in long column front the most celebrated regiment in the western army. It was preceded by a bugle corps mounted on white horses and from the glittering instruments there came a shrill blast, that even the screaming of the storm could not drown. The troopers of the Seventh savalry, a regiment that has been torn and leveled by the silent ghost dancers on the buttes, was approaching. The musicians from California began to play "Garry Owen," a stirring, rolhcking melody, wliich Custer said was fit niusic for any soldier's death. Nearly Four Thousand Men. The only one who was not killed or wounded in that terrible fight, and the only one to lead B troop was a second lieuteuant with a bandage about his head, but the gallant troopers who remained rode with proud beariug, their rifles being held over the heads of their horses. Behind the caïalry came the hospital and supply traint and pack mules. The column was an hour passing Gen. Miles, there being nearly 4,000 soldiers and 3,700 horsea and mules in line. Mmiy negro families in Alabama are moving to Oklahoma.