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WIGWAM MD WAR-PATH;

OR THE

ROYAL CHIEF IN CHAINS.

HON. A. B. MEACHi\3I, ^

XX-SUFERINTENDENT OF INDIAN AFFAIRS AND CHAIRMAN OF THE LATE MODOC

PEACE COMMISSION.

dllttstrahir bj) portraits of

THE AUTHOR, GEN. CANBY, 1)K. THOMAS, CAPT. JACK, SCIIONCHIK,
SCAR-FACED CHARLEY, BLACK JIM, BOSTON CHARLEY,
TOBEY AND RIDDLE, AND ELEVEN OTHER

SPIRITED AND LIFE-LIKE ENGRAVINGS

OF ACTUAL SCENES FROM MODOC INDIAN LIFE, AS
WITNESSED BY THE AUTHOR.

SECOXD AIV1> R£VISE» EMTIOX.

' BOSTON:^

JOHN P. DALE AND COMPANY,

27 BoTLBTON Street.

'' . ' _ r 1875. r

C.3

Entered according to act of Congress, In the year 1875, by

A. B. MKACIIAM,

In tho Office of the Librarian of Congress ut Wasbington.

J3t(S8 of
BOCKVELL AND C II t'ltC II ILIi,

£9 Arch Street, Itoatun.

PREFACE.

♦ ♦ ♦

The Hon. A. B. Meaciiam has committed to me the difllcult
and delicate, yet delightful task of revising the manuscript and
arranging the table of contents of the present work.

I have endeavored to review every page as an impartial critic,
and have, as far as possible, retained, in all its simplicity and
beaut}', the oingularl} eloquent and fascinating st3'le of the gifted
author. The changes which I have made have lieen, for the most
part, quite immaterial — no more nor greater than would be re-
quired in the manuscript of writers commonly called " learned."
In no case have I attempted (for the attempt would have been
vain) to give shape and tone to the writer's thoughts. His mind
was so full, both of the comedy and the tragedy of his thrilling
narrative, that it has flowed on like a mighty torrent, bidding
defiance to any attempt either to direct or control.

None, it seems to me, can peruse the work without being
charmed with the love of justice and the fidelity to truth which
pervade its every page, as well as the manl}' courage with which
the writer arraigns Power for the crime of crushing Weakness —
holding our Government to an awful accountabilitj' for the delays,
the ignorance, the fickleness and treacher}- of its subordinates in
dealing with a people whose very religion prompts them to wreak
vengeance for wrongs done them, even on the innocent.

173409

rUEFACE.

a'li

For the lover of romance and of tlirillin^ adventure, the work
possesses a eliarui scarcely equalled by the enchanting pages of
a Fenniniore Cooper ; and, to the reader who appreciates truth,
justice, and humanity, and delights to trace the outlines of such
a career as Providence seems to have marked out for the author,
as well as for the unfortunate tril)e8 whose history he has given
us, it will be a reliable, entertaining, and instructive companion.

Mr. Meacham's thirty years' experience among the Indian
tribes of the North-west, and his ofllcial career as Superintendent
of Indian affairs in Oregon, together with his participation in the
tragic events of the Lava lied, invest his words with an authority
which must outweigh that of every flippant politician in the land,
who, to secure the huzzas of the mob, will applaud the oppressor
and the tyrant one day, ar ^ • ver}' next day clamor mercilessly
for their blood.

D. L. emj:rson.

BosTOK, Oct. 1, 1874.

INTRODUCTION.

• *»

The chapter in our Nationul History whicli tdU our dcnlinj?s witli the Indian
tribes, froi-.i Plymouth to San Francisco, will be one of the darkest and nm-t
disgruceful in our annuls. Fraud and oppression, hypocrisy and violi'ncc,
open, high-handed robbery and sly cheating, the swindling agent and the
brutal soldier turned into a brigand, buying promotion by pandering to the hate
and fears of the settlers, avarice and indifference to human life, and lust for
territory, all play their parts in the drama. Except the negro, no race will
lift up, at the judgment-seat, such accusing hands against this nation as the
Indian. We have put him in charge f agents who have systematically
cheated him. We have made causeless war on him merely as a pretext to
steal his lands. Trampling under foot the rules of modern warfare, we have
made war on his women and children. AVc have cheated him out of one hunt-
ing-ground by compelling him to accept another, and have robbed liim of the
last by driving him to frenzy, and then punishing resistance with confiscation.
Meanwhile, neither pulpit nor press, nor political party, would listen to his
complaints. Congress has handed him over, gagged and helpless, to the hands
of ignorant, drunken and brutal soldiers. Neither on its floor, nor in any city
of the Union, could his advocate obtain a hearing. Money has been poured
out like water to feed and educate the Indian, of which one dollar in ten may
have found its way to supply liis needs, or pay the debts we owed him.

To show the folly of our method, examine the south side of the great lakes,
and you will find in every thirty miles between Plymouth and Omaha the
scene of an Indian massacre. And since 1789 we have spent about one thou-
sand million of dollars in dealing with the Indians. Meanwhile, under British
rule, on the north of tliose same lakes, there has been no Indian outbreak,
worth naming, for a hundred years, and hardly one hundred thousand dollars
have been spent directly on the Indians of Canada. What is the solution of
tliis astounding riddle? This, and none other. England gathers her Indian
tribes, like ordinary citizens, within the girth of her usuol laws. If injured,
they complain, like other men, to a justice of the peace, not to a camp cap-
tain. If offenders, they are arraigned before such a justice, or some superior
court. Complaint, indictment, evidence, trial, sentence, are all after the old
Saxon pattern. With us martial law, or no law at all, is their portion ; no
civil rights, no right to property that a white man is bound to respect. Of
course quarrel, war, expense, ojipression, robbery, resistance, like begetting
like, and degradation of the Indian even to the level of the frontiersman

INTRODCCTIOX.

who would plundor him, liavc been the result of fuch a methnd. If sucli a
rcHult wcri' hinKular, if our case stood alone, we *hould rcci-ivc tiic iiitiii'ss
cur.st'M of iiiiinkind. I)ut tlio same result lia« almost always followed the con-
tact of the civilized and the xuvagc nian.

General Grant's recommendation of a policT which would acknowledge tho
Indian as a citizen, is tho first step in our Intliao hbtory which gives us any
claim to be considered a Christian people. The hostility it has met shows tho
fearful demoralization of our press and political parties. Statesmanship,
good sense and justice, even from a chief ma^gtrate can k:^rdly obtain a
hearing when they relate to sucli lon^r-time victims of popular hate and pil-
lage as our Indian tribes. Some few men in times past hare tried to stem this
hideous current of national indiflerence and injustice. Some men do now try.
Prominent among these is the author of this rolumo. Thirty j'cars of practi-
cal experience in dealing with Indians while he represented the Government
in different offices ; long and familiar acquaintance with their genius, moods,
habits and capabilities, enable and entitle him to testify in tliis msc. T , hav-
ing suffered, at the hands of Indians, all that man can sufior and still live, ho
should yet lift up a voice, snatched almost miraculously from tho grave, to
claim for them, nevertheless, the treatment of rs^n^ of citizens, is a marvellous
instance of fidelity to conviction against ererj- temptation and injury. Bear-
ing all over his person the scars of nearly fatil wounds received from Indians,
he still advocates Grant's policy. FamilL'U' witli the Indian tribes, and per-
sonally acquainted with their chiefs, with the old and young, men and women,
their sports and faith, their history and aspirations, their education and capac-
ity, their songs, amusements, legends, business. lo«e8 and hates, liis descrip-
tions lack no element of a faithful portrait : while his lightest illustrations
have always beneath the surface a meaning which cannot fail to arrest the
attention of the American people, and enable them to understand this national
problem. Never before have we had just such a witness on the stand. Bril-
liant and grapliic in description, and exceedingly happy in his choice of topics,
he gives us pages startling and interesting as a ujreL Wliilc his appeals stir
tho heart like a clarion, ho still keeps cautiously to sober fact ; and every
statement, tho most seemingly incredible, is based on more than sufficient
evidence. 7 co'i.imend this book io the puUie — study it not only as accurate
and striking in its pictures of Indian life, but as profoundly interesting to
every student of human nature, — the picture of a race fast fading away and
melting into white men's ways. His contribution to the solution of one of the
most puzzling problems of American statesmanship is invaluable. Destined
no doubt to provoke bitter criticism, I feel sure his views and statements will
bear tho amplest investigation. His volume will contribute largely to vindi-
cate tho President's policy, and to enable, while it disposes, the American
people to understand and do justice to our natiTe tribes.

(Signed,)

WENDELL PHILLIPS.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

IIox. A. n. Mr.ACUAM

Cex. Cxyttr

Doctor Toomas

The Lose Ixoiax Sextixel

The RiLL-Doo Traur

Fareweli. to Oxeatta

The Bibth-flace of Indian T,

Graxd Uocxd AGEy-v

The Uobse Race

Capt. Jack

ToBET ASD Riddle

MODOCS ox the WAIt-l-ATII
Wl-XE-ILUI (ToBET) .
ASSASSIXATIOX SCEXE
BrIXGIX<> IX THE WOCXDED

Warm Sfrixg Ixdiax Pickets

SCHOXCHIX AXD JaCK IX C'lIAIXS

BosTox Charlet

Black Jim

SCAR-FACE ChAELET .

IJ8

r.vui.

Frnntisj'iece.

111
llli
195
203
017
401
445
403
529
5G9
.'.SO
(140
051
057

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.

EARLY REMINISCENCES-POW-E-SHIEK'S BAND.

The Author'8 Fears and Hopes — A Bit of Personal History — Two Great
Wrongs — Early Reflections — Removal of Pow-e-siiiek's Band in
1844 — The Lava Beds — Gen. Canby and Dr. Thomas referred
to — Even-handed Justice — Captain of an Ox Team — Sad Scene
Preparatory to Pow-e-shiek's Departure — The White Man Wanted
It — It is a Fair Business Transaction — A Gloomy Picture — Gov-
ernment Officials Move Slow — (The Lone Indian Sentinel) — A
Fright in Camp — The Welcome — Cupid's Antics — An Indian Maid-
en's Ball Dress — The Squaw's Duties — Tlie Indian'b Privileges —
End of the Journey — The Return -r- The Conscientious Church
Member — Throngs of Emigrants — A Great Contrast and a Glowing
Picture — Y xnkee Boys and Western Girls — A Strange Mixture —
The People of Iowa — The Nation's Perfidy towards the Savage

PAQB

CHAPTER II.

OVERLAND— BLOOD FOR BLOOD.

Pow-e-shiek Visits his Old Home — His Recognition of the Writer — He
Spends the Winter — His Character — The Ceremonial Smoke, and
the Writer's Mistake — Pow-e-shiek's Return — ** Van," the Indian
Pony — Crossing the Plains — Indian Depredations — What Pro-
vokes Them — The Murdered Indian — The Loaned Rifle — Arrest-
ing Indians on "General Principles" — They are Slain on "Gen-
eral Principles," also — The Butchery of Indian Women and Chil-
dren — The Bloody Deeds of White Men — The Indian's Revenge .

CHAPTER III.

INDIANS AND MINERS.

Two Letters — Why they are Introduced — Lee's Encampment — Gold
Fields of Idaho and Eastern Oregjn, in 18C3 — Tides of Adven-
turers — Means of Transportation — Umatilla City — The Saddle
Train — The "Kitchen Mule" — Walker's Lino — Novel Method
of Securing Ponies — Indians Hunting Lost Horses — Sublime
Mountain Scenery — Punch and Judy — A Stalwart Son of Erin —

vin

CONTENTS.

PAGE

lie Buys un Indian Pony — His Rich Experience Tiierewith — A
Scene Wortliy of the Pencil of a Bierstadt — " Riding a Bottle " —
Tlie Indian's Friends Denounced — Indian Integrity — Striking
Examples — Tin-tin-mit-si, the Rich Old Indian Chief— "Why
White Men are Fools"

CHAPTER IV.

DIAMOND-CUT-DIAMOND.

Treaty with the Government — The Annual Visits — Indians and Whis-
key — The White Man's Advantage, and the Indian's Privilege —
Punishment for Intoxication — Indian " Muck-a-muck " — Tho
Salmon and their Haunts — Ludicrous Scenes — Financial Re-
venge — The Oregon Lawyer's Horseback Ride — He is Sadly De-
moralized — His Scripture Quotations — Fourtli of July Celebra-
tion — Disappointed Spouters — Homli's Sarcastic Speech — His
Eloquence and His Resolve — A Real Change — Tiireo Tribes
Unite — A Fair Treaty — Umatilla Reservation — Gorgeous De-
scription of an Earthly Paradise — Homli's Return . . . .

CHAPTER V.

POLICIES ON TRIAL—" ONEATTA."

The Author Appointed Superintendent of Indian Affairs — Not a Politi-
cal Friend of President Johnson — An Indian "Agency" — De-
scription of a Hunting-Ground — Shipwrecks — Signal Fires — Why
they are Built — A Tradition — Perilous Adventure of Two Chief-
tains — A " Big Canoe " Saved from Wreck — They are Rewarded
with many Curious Gifts — Tiie Squaw's Surprise — The Pappoose's
Fears — The Chase — Squaws Disrobed — A Good Time Gen-
erally — The Chiefs Fright — He is Reassured — Comes Alongside
the Siiip — Love at First Sight — A Battle without the War-whoop —
The Chief Boards tlie Ship — The Scene on Deck — The Ciiief 's
Departure — The Lovers, Oneatta and Theodore — The Chief's
Consent — The Dance — The Lover's Conquest — Tlie Betrothal —
The Ship Ready to Depart — Tlie Marriage on Board — Farewell
to Oneatta 57

CHAPTER VI.

SENATORIAL BRAINS BEATEN BY SAVAGE MUSCLE — PLEAS-
ANT WAY OF PAYING PENALTIES.

The Legend in the Last Chapter — Why it is Introduced — Siletz
Agency — Oyster Beds and Timber Lands — The same " Old Story "

CONTENTS.

PAOB

PAOE

Rehearsed — The Boat Race — Indian vs. United States Senator —
The Horse Race — Congressional Avoirdupois — Crossing the Si-
letz River — Civilized Indians — A Rare Scene — Euclire Bill —
Biting off Heads — The Indian School— Too-toot-na— His "Wife
Jinncy — Her Financial Skill — Her Husband's Hope — Doomed
to Disappointment — Indian Court Day — Hickory Clubs vs. Black-
stone — The Attendants at Court — Tlio First Case — A "Woman's
Quarrel — Appropriating a Horse — "Wounded Honor — An Agree-
able Penalty — The Lone Chief — Indian Bashfulness — The Agent's
Fears — Old Joshua Speaks — Ilis Eloquence — His Request is
Granted — Religious Influences — A Language of One Hundred
Words — Christianity and Common Sense — The Dialogue — Logs
on Indian Graves — "Why Placed there — Religions of the Indians
Discussed Further On — Indian Agent Ben Simpson — His Re-
port — He Arraigns the Government — Joel Palner's Report —
The Political Preacher and the Christian Agent — The Treachery
of the Former — A Plea for the Silctz Indians — Case "White Men
and a Cruel Government — The Sad Story Repi atcd — A Ray of
Hope — Alsea Agency — The Alsea Indians — Their Character
Peaceable and therefore Neglected — Crime Rewarded by the Gov-
ernment — Virtue Punished — The Destiny of the Alsea Tribe — A
Stern Rebuke and a Prophecy

ell

CHAPTEE YII.

PHIL SHERIDAN'S OLD IIOJIE— WHAT A CABIN COST.

Grand Round Agency — Indian Houses — Cost of a Bo.ard — Gen. Phil
Sheridan — A Romance of a Young Chief — Tlie Family from Mis-
souri — The Red-skinned Archer and Pale-face Gunner — Their
Trial of Skill — Fight with the Grizzly — The Wounded Hunter —
The "Medicine Man" — Santiam and the Pale-faced Maiden —
The Disappointment — Faithful to Her "Vows — Description of the
Valley Resumed — The Writer's First Visit — The Indians Tliere —
Their Progress in Civilization — Ceremonious Hand-shaking — Tho
Writer's Remarks — Replies by Joe Ilutchins .and Louis Neposa —
A Peculiarity of Indian Eloquence — Speeches by Black Tom and
Solomon Riggs — The Writer's Speech — Its Effect — Wapto Davis's
Flain Talk — Joe Ilutchins' Sarcasm — Result of the Council . . 101

•LEAS-

CHAPTER Till.

STOPPING THE SURVEY— WHY.

Official Correspondence — What the Indians 7)Teed — Important Ques-
tions Asked — Commissioner Parker's Reply. (See Appendix) —

CONTENTS.

PAGIi

The Mills Built — Indian Laborers — A Misunderstanding — Tlie
Indian's Riglits — Tliey are Wronged — A Protest — Interesting
Letter Relating to Allotment of Lands. (See Appendix) — Singu-
lar Request — Reason for It — An Aet of Justice — Tlio Indian
Parade — Tlie Indian's Speech in Englisli — Tlio Writer's Reply —
Wapto Speaks — Catholics rs. Methodists — Father Waller — An
Episode — Leander and Lucy — Love and Law — Old and New —
The usual Course cf True Love — JIarriage Ceremony — No Ki'^s-
ing — The Dance — Tlie Methodist Pastor and the Priest — Tho
Catholics Liberal (?) — A Stupid Preacher — Common Sense in
Religion — ^ndian Comments — Defective Schools — Unwritten
History of Grand Round Agency — Old and Forsaken

120

CIIAPTEE IX.

THE AGED PAIR — BIRTHPLACE OF LEGENDS.
The Scene Changes — The River Steamer — Tho Railroad — The Bat-
tle Ground — Causes of War and Slaughter — A Legend of the
Cascades — Battles — Divine Interpositions — Soul-stirring Tra-
ditions — The AVaiting Dead — Sacrilegious Hunters — NcNulty,
the Noble Captain — Mount Tlood — Mount Adams — Sublime
Scenery — The Dalles — The Salmon Fishery — Its Value — Hab-
its of the Salmon — Commencement of tho Fishing Scenery — Indian
Superstition — Methods of Catching and Curing Salmon .

138

CHAPTER X.

DANGEROUS PLACE FOR SINNERS.

Warm Spring Agency — Indians in Treaty Council — Intimidated by
Government Troops — Pledges Unfulfilled — John Mission and
Billy Chinook — They become Converts to Christianity — Treachery
of the Government — AVhy? because the Indians are Peaceable —
Journey to the Agency Continued — Crossing the Stream — Fire
and Brimstone — A Perilous Descent — The Author's Report —
This Agency a Fraud — Climate of Warm Springs — Character of
the Indians Here — The Two Treaties — The Indians Declare they
were Deceived — A Great Injustice — Unfitness of the Warm
Spring Agency — Captain John Smith — His Character — His Com-
munication — A Careful Perusal Urged

150

CHAPTER XI.

THE PARSON BROWNLOW OF THE INDIAN SERVICE.

Captain Smith's Letter — His Opinion of Catholics — The Indian Coun-
cil—An Indian Leads in Prayer — Appearance of this Council — It

CONTEXTS.

was liko a Methodist Revival Scone — The Head Chiefs Speech —
lie abjures Polygamy — The Autlior's lleply — Marie wants to
Change liis Name — lie selects the Name of Jleacliam — Marks'
Second 'Wife, Matola — Her Speech — John Mission speaks —
Speech of Billy Chinoolc — Iland-shalvin^ anil Enrollinij Names —
Pi-a-noose — His Speech — Two Kinds of Indians on this Agency —
The Trial Policy of the Government

ICO

CHAPTER XII.

KO PLACE LIKE HOME — SQUAWS IN HOOPS AND CHIGNONS.

Umatilla Agency — The Council — Its Object — The Purchase by the
Government of the Eeservation — A. B. Meaehani's Speech —
Many Indian Speeches (See Appendix, Chap. XII.) — The Council
Fairly Conducted — Religion of the Umatilla Indians — AVealth a
Curse to Them — They Take the First Prizes — They are Haughty,
Proud and Intraci.vblo — "Susan," the ^yido^v — Her "Recep-
tions " — The Dance — "Women's Rights — Susan a Good Catholic. 181

CHAPTER XIII.

"IIOW-LISH-WAMPO," KING OF THE TURF

CRAWLS.

A DEAD THING

Indian Sportsman — Ilow-lish-wampo, tho Famous Horseman — Pat
and the Indians Once ilore — French Louie, the Confident Sport —
He is Beaten and Fleeced — Returns on Ponies Given in Charity —
Joe Crabb and Ilis Important Race-Horse — His Groomsmen and
Attendants — Skirmishing Preparatory to tho Great Race — Joe
Crabb is Shrewd — The Wild Indian is Shrewder — Indian Method
of Training Horses — Intense '' -est in the Race — Throngs of
Visitors — Holding the Stakes — Indian Honor — Indians not Always
Stoical — They are Enthusiastic Gamblers — Never Betray their
Emotions — Consummate Strategy of Indian "Sports" — Tho Ap-
pearance of the two Race-Horses — Preliminary Manoeuvres — Tho
Start — The Indian Horse Ahead — Wild Excitement — The Fast-
est Time on Record— All Good Indians Three Feet Under
Ground — Fine Opportunity for Sport — Challenge to Commodore
Vanderbilt, Rooert Bonner, Rev. W. II. II. Murray, or Any Other
J/aw— Habits of the Indian Horses — The Cayuso Horse — An In-
dian Train — The Squaw's Outfit — Indian Etiquette — Indian
Wives who Want to be Widows —Indian Maidens — Many of the
Umatillas Civilized — Tho Prospect of the Umatillas

185

CONTENTS.

CHAPTEE XIY.

SNAKE WAR — FIGHTING THE DEVIL WITH FIRE.

The Snake War — Alleged Cause of the War — Manner of Warfare —
Charley Winslow and Nathan Dixon — II. C. Scott and Family, and
Wheeler, all Victims of the War — Eighty Chinamen Murdered —
Indians Butchered in Turn — Jeff Standiford and His Band of But-
chers — Stone Bullets and Iron Slugs — The Art of Killing Indians —
Joaquin INIiller — General Lcc — Stonewall Jackson — General
Grant — Capture of the Daugliter of a "Warm Spring" Chief —
General Crook calls for Indian Scouts — The Bounty Offered — The
McKay Brothers — A White Cliief Fights like a Savage — Privilege
of Scalping Granted— On the War Path —The Last Buttle —The
Surrender — A Pile of Scalps — Snake Ilair Playing Switch for
White Ladies — Visit to Snake Country — After a Long Leap Com
ing Out Smiling — Castle Rock — Old Castle of Jay Cook — Pant-
ing Charger — A Game Chicken in the River — Adams Laughing
and Weeping — A Real Native American — In a Basket — In Col-
lege — Baking Bread in a Frying Pan — Jimmy Kane the Indian
Cook — Making Mathematical Calculations — The Test — Season-
ing tlie Supper — Clothes Don't make the Man — General Crook
under a Slouch Ilat — Tah-homo and Ka-ko-na — Transmutation —
Fine Feathers — Arrival at Camp Harney

207

CHAPTER XV.

THE COUNCIL WITH THE SNAKE INDIANS — O-CHE-0.

A Camp Scene — Peace Council with the Snake Indians — Announcing
the Presence of Ka-ko-na — Their Representations — Colonel
Otis — Old Winnemucca Sent For — A Bloodthirsty Chief — His
Wives — Their Savage Mode of Life — Indian Women Socially —
Result of the Council — Both Parties Came Armed — The Medi-
cine Man — A White and Red Doctor Disagree — A Warning-
Incantation of a Medicine Man — Strange and Cruel Treatment of
the Sick — "Big Foot" — A Beautiful Custom — The Fire Tele-
graph — Spiritualism — 0-Che-O and Allen Diivid — A Peaceful
Talk in Seven Tongues — The Old Squaw and Her Heartless
Sons — A Gloomy Picture of Savage Life — The Snakes' Home —
Their Future a Problem — Climate of this Region — Enemies to —
Novel Method of Capturing them — Crickets for Food — A Cricket
Press — Warriors who Eat tiieir Foes — An Embryo Indian War —
How it Can be Avoided — Tah-home and Ka-ko-na in Tribulation —
Power of Medicine Men — Stronger tJian love — Wild Men Shrewd

CONTENTS.

XIII

PAGE

In Such Matters — ITcart-Broken Squaw — Proposition to Elope —
Fear of Pursuit — No Compromise 224

CHAPTER XYI.

OVER THE FALLS — FIRST ELECTION.

Resuming the Journey — Klamath Reservation — Saying Prayers —
The Accident — Value of a Dead Mule — Different Trihos on tho
Reservation — Klamaths never Enemies of the 'Wliites — Lindsey
Applegate — The First Election — White Jlen Imitated — The
Result — Allen David Elected Chief — His Cliaracter — He is an
Orator of Great Power — Preparation for the " Big Talk" — Tho
Scenes in the Council — The Big Camp Fire — Tah-home and Ka-
ko-na in Great Distress — Indian Strategy Winked at l)y an Offi-
cer — It Succeeds — The Lovers in a Snow-storm — Outwitted ami
Glad of It — Allen David Opens the Council — His Thrilling
Speech — The Author's Official Report — Another Speech from tho
Red-skinned Orator — Tiie Author's Reply — Joe Hood — Various
Speeches Bearing on the Indian Question — Official Correspond-
ence — Address to the Klamath Indians — Their Attention — Tho
Indian Allen David — His Wonderful Eloquence — Extracts — Tho
Author's Reply — Speech of Joe Hood — The Reconciliation — The
Preparation — The Speeches of Allen David and Captain Jack —
The Autlior's Views of Thieving Officials — An Appeal for Justice —
Tho Request of Klamaths

245

CHAPTER XYII.

KLAMATH COURT — ELOPEMENT EXTRAORDINARY.

Wife Rohbery — Divorce made Easy — Names of Uniformed Officers
Withheld — Wliy — Bio's Searcliing Questions — The Law One-
sided—Little Sally — Tlie New Court — A Novel Scene — Tlie Court
Opened— Sally's Complaint — Her Husband's Views — Tlie Baby's
Heart half his and half his Wife's — Sally and her Husband Want
to bo Re- married — The Bride's Outfit- A Serious Ceremony — A
Pledge that White Men don't Take — Indian Modesty — Wlio Kissed
the Bride — Case Number Two — Tlie Sentence — Tho Dance —
Indian Theatre ~ The Actor — A Wild, Exciting Play — Tiie Indian's
Dramatic Power 262

XIV

COXTENT8.

CHAPTER XYIII.

OMELETS AND AKROWS — BIG STEAM-BOILERS.

PAGE

Imlinn Games — Long John, the Gambler — The Wocus Fiehls — How
it is rrepiircd for Fooil — E;;ging and Fishing — A Bird's Nest
Described — Trout-fishinj; — Various Kinds of Trout — Game — Bijj
Klamath Lake — Linkllivcr— Nature's Steam-power — The Country
of the Blodocs — A Grand Scene — Bound for the Homo of Captain
Jack 279

CHAPTER XIX.

MODOC BLOOD UNDER A FLAG OF TRUCE — SEED SOWN
TWENTY YEARS BEFORE A HARVEST.

The Modoc War — The Origin of the Modocs — The La-la-kas — The
Grciit Indian Rebellion and the American Revolution — The Offlco
of Indian Cliief — Captain Jack — Form of Government among Indian
Tribes — Tiie Home of the Modocs — Why Modocas Rebelled — The
Modocs in 184G — Schonchin — Tlie Fatlicr of Ca])tain Jack — Ac-
count of the Latter — Cruelties Perpetrated oy the Modocs — Causes
of the First Jlodoc Wars — Two Sides of the Question — Chief Schon-
chin's Reason for Killing White Men — The " Bon Wright " Massa-
cre — Slaughter of Emigrants — Horrible Cruelties — The Squaw's
Jealousy — Ben Wright — Ills Character — His Infimous Act of
Treachery — Treaty with the Modocs in 18G4 — Why it was not
kept by Captain Jack — The Oregon Superintendent makes a
Treaty — It is now being Ratified -^ Captain Jack understood tho
Treaty — He Rel)el3 — Says he was Deceivcid — Attempt to Force
him to return to the Reservation — His Insulting Language — Lost
River — A Fish Story — Difficulties in the way of meeting Captain
Jack 289

CHAPTER XX.

BLUE EYES AND BLACK ONES — TOBEY RIDDLE.

Captain Jack's Apology — He Makes a Camp for his Visitors — The
Modoc Women not Slaves like other Indian Women — Sage
Brush — The Modocs would not Eat First — The Reason — Tobcy
and Frank Riddle — Riddle's Romantic Career — Truth Stranger
than Fiction — He Discards his First Love — Ilis Indian Wife —
They act a part in his Story — Captain Jack's Falsehood Exposed —
The Government Appropriations — Captain Jack Quibbles but

CONTENTS.

PAOK

Yields — lie is Overruled by tlie Medicine Man — A Critical
Moment — Indian Vocabularies — Tobcy's Good Sense and Loyalty —
Kiddle and Tobcy Avert a Scene of Dlood — Mr. Meachaui's Bold
Speech to Captain Jack — The Strategy of Meachatu's Party — Two
Powers Invoked — Kepresentalives of Elijah and Aliab —The Sol-
diers wlio are sent for do not Kcspond as Ordered — They, too,
are under the Influence of <S}n'n7s — They Hush into Camp — An
Excitinf? Scene — The Parley with the Modocs and its llesults —
Queen Mary — Her Itare Ojiportunities — She Pleads for her
Brother, and Gains her Point — Jack Surrenders — An Incident —
Arrival at tlie Klamatli Ileservation — IJeconeiliation between Two
Chieftains — Ceremony of Burying the Hatchet — Allen David, the
Famous Indian Orator — His Kemarkablo Spcecli — Captain Jack's
Beply — Allotment and Distribution of Goods — " Head and Pluck" —
Indiaa Mode of Cooking Meats — A Gorgeous Scene — A Big
Council Talk — Link lliver Joe's Solemn Speecli — An Impressive
AVatcli-meeting — The Writer's Peculiar Position — The Dim Fore-
sliadowing

811

CHAPTER XXI.

BURYING THE HATCHET — A TURNING POINT.

A Settlement of Old Difficulties — Trouble Ahead — The Modocs Taunted
with their Poverty — Agent Knapp — His Character— Captain
Jack Applies to Knapp for Protection — Is Treated Coolly— Schon-
chin John — Captain Jack and his Band Leave Klamath — Old
Schonchin Removes to Yainax — Captain Jack Contemplates making
his Home tlicre — An Unfortunate Occurrence Prevents — One
more Effort for Peace — Jesse Applegate — Letter of Instructions to
John Meacham — It is Conciliatory but Firm — Departure of The
Commission — Humanity and Common Sense — Fortunately the Com-
missioners go well Armed — Assassination Intended — Prevented
by Captain Jack — His Loyalty Doubted by tlie Modocs — Schonchin
Intrigues for the Chieftainship — Captain Jack only a Representative
Chief — Republican Ideas for once a Curse — Captain Jack Argues
tlie Cause of liis People with Great Skill and Force — He Refuses to
go on to the Reservation again — Agrees to go to Lost River —
How Bloodshed Might Have Been Avoided — The Author's Reports
referred to — The Modocs become Restless — They Violate their
Pledges- Tlie White Settlers Annoyed — They demand Redress
and Protection — Captain Jack not blamed by the Whites — He was
Powerless

ill'

XVI

CONTEXTS.

CIIAPTEK XXII.

U. S. SENATOUS COST BLOOD — FAIR FIGHT —
OPEN FIELD.

Change in the Indian Suporintcndency — T. B. Oilencnl Appointed — Ills
Qualiflciitions for tiie OlHce — Did not Undorstand tlic Indians —
Tlie Modocs Ordered to Klamatli Reservation — Tlicy Refuse to
go — Captain Jackson Ordered to the Modoc Camp — Twelve
Settlers go to soo tiio Fun — Character of Frontiersmen — Who
are Responsible for Indian Wars — Situation of Jack's Camp —
Number of his Braves — Arrival of the Soldiers and Citizens —
They como Unexpected — A Fatal Jlistako — First Gun of the
Modoc War — First Battle — Jlodocs Victorious — Fight on tho
other side of tho River — Injjlorious Results to the White — Rein-
forcements sent for by JIajor Jackson — Captain Jack and his
Braves retire to tho Lava Beds — Scar-faco Charley remains
behind — His Strange Motive for so doing — John A, Fairchild —
He learns an Important Lesson — Ills Humanity and Wisdom —
White Citizens cry for Vengeance — Fourteen Modocs agree to
return to Klamath — AVIiy they rejoined Captain Jack — Tho
latter always for Peace — TIio curly-haired Doctor wanted War —
Ho and other Modocs Commit Horrid Crimes — Seventeen Whites
Butchered — The Scene that followed — Tho Victims of tho
Slaughter — Friends of the Murderers — The Author's Authority for
many of his Statements — Captain Jack denounces tho Murderers,
and demands that they shall be surrendered to tho Whites — Is
overruled

PAOI

3G1

CHAPTER XXITI.

MOURNING EMBLEMS AND ]MILITARY POMP.

"Wails of Anguish" — "Intense Excitement "—" A Scene of Woo
seldom Equalled " — "A Sublime Portraiture of Frontier Life" —
"Who shall say Vengeance on The Avenger" — "Tiio Govern-
ment called to a Rigid Account" — "War Succeeds Sorrow" —
" The Grand Army of Two Hundred " — " Opinions tliat are Opin-
ions, and tho Reasons for tliem " — " A Job before Brcakftist not
accomplished" — " Benefit of the War to Oregon and California" —
" The Politicians and Speculators' Opportunity " — " Four Hundred
White Soldiers" — "Proposition to slay Modoc Women and Chil-
dren " — "A Little Gray-eyed Man Objects" — "A good deal of
Buncombe and of anticipated Glory "

377

CONTENTS.

XVII

CHAPTER XXIY.

PEACE OR "WAR — ONE IIUNDUED LIVES VOTED AWAY BY

MODOC INDIANS.

PAUK

A Descent to tlio Lava Bed — Tulo Lake — The Lone AVoinan witli a
Field Glass — The Deserted Wiiito House — Tlie Dark IMiifl' — The
Red-skinned Loyal Soldiers — The Solitary Tree — Description of
the Lava Ik-d — Link River Jack tlie Natural Traitor — Council
among tlie Modocs — Jack Still for Peace — Earnest Speeches on
both sides — Tho Curly-headed Doctor decides the Momentous
Question — The Vote is for War — IIow tho Doctor niak('s Medi-
cine — Captain Jack Plans tho Battle — A Lost Warning to tho
Sleepers 888

CHAPTER XXY.

MODOC STEAK FOR BREAKFAST — GRAY-EYED MAN ON THE

WARPATH.

i A. M., January 17, 1873 — Preparation for tho Battle — Tho Conflict
Begins — Tho Deadly Modoc's Bullets — Where are tho Volun-
teers — The Battle Rages with fearful Loss of Life — Orders to
Retreat — The Wounded to bo Rescued — Vain Attempt, tho Vic-
tims Scalped — Modoc Rejoicings — Speeches of tho Victors —
Captain Jack not so Enthusiastic — General Wlieaton's Defeat —
Comments of the Volunteers — Tho Sarcasm of the Gray-eyed
Man 400

CHAPTER XXYI.

OLIVE BRANCH AND CANNON BALLS — WHICH WILL WIN?

The Peace Commission Appointed — Terms of Peace unwisely Proposed
to tho " Modocs " — The " Modocs " seem to accept the Terms —
Joy in Camp — It is suddenly Dampened — The Great Mistake of
Steele, tho Messenger — Tho Fearful Crisis— A Most Suitable
Time to say Prayers — Honor among Savages — Tiio Messenger's
Strategy — It Saves his Life — His Report — Tho Author's Dispatch
to Washington — The Reply — Anxiety and Gloom in Camp — Mo-
doc Messengers— What they Propose — Commission in tho hands
of General Canby — Prejudiced against Tobey— Tho Modocs offer
to Surrender — Wagons sent to Receive Them — Their Intentions —
They Fail to Agree — Modoc Horses Captured — General Canby
won't return them 413

XVIII

COXTHNTS.

CIIATTEK XXVII.

CAPTAIN JACK A DH'I.OMAT

SHOOT ME IF YOU DAHE.

PAGE

The Now Ciiiiii) — 'llu" Moilocs AUowcJ to TUit the Camp — Rcngons
for it — Tilt' Scviii Hours' T:ilk witli Captain Jaik — The Diplo-
matic Siivajju — Ills Skill in Debate — Hi* Logic an J liis Kloqucnco
— lie lm» IJiKlit on liis Side — This the Only ErtcmleJ Talk with the
Modocs — ('iijit. Jack's drapliic Description of the " I»en Wri;^lit"
Massacre — Tliis Cokl-bloodtMl Butclicr Kewarded liv our Govern-
ment — Full lleport of tliii Meetinsj — Another Effort for Peace —
Tobcy's Mission — The Kesult — She i* Warned hy a jicace-loving
Modou — The IJoports to the Commisjion — Some do not Believe
Her — The Indiscretion of ller. Dr. Thomas — Siirrin^ News from
the other Camp — Assassination IntenJcvl — Tohcy is Sent for by
the Modocs — She Goes — Atfectinj Farewell to Husband and
Child — A Tlirillinj; Scene in the llo'loc Camp — True Heroism —
•*I am ft Modoc Woman; Shoot Me if You Dare" — The Camp
Sloved — Strange Surroundings and Sad lleflcctions — An Inci-
dent — Peace Council with the Jlodocs — Their Hostile Intentions
Foreshadowed — The Storm — Proposal to Adjourn — It is Treated
with Contenii)t by Jack — Says he shall not Melt like Snow — The
Council Adjourns 443

CHAPTER XXVIII.

WHO HAD IJEEN THERE — WHO HAD NOT.

General Gilliam's Oi)inion about Taking the Modocs — Colonel Mason's
Opinion — Dlirerence in Judtrnicnt — Another Discussion Going On —
Colonel Greene Speaks — Colonel Tom Wright in Commissioners'
Tent — A Growl — Wager Offered — Proposition to Send Away
Nine Hundred Soldiers — Waiting for the Warm Springs — Desertion
— Common Soldiers' Opinion — They Want Peace — Commissioners'
Cooking — Work Divided — Canby Enjoys a Joke — " Don't Throw
Oflf on Bro. Dyer "

457

I H

CHAPTER XXIX.

UNDER A WOMAN'S HAT — THE LAST APPEAL.

New Efforts for Peace — Dr. Thomas' Faith — It Avails Little — Riddle
Appealed to — The Author's Fatal Absence — Modoc Cunning —
The Guileless Betrayed — The Author's Fears — The Compact

CONTENTS.

XIX

PAOE

Madv — Tlic Last llrcnkfast — Tlio Indian Jmliis — IIo \V'iint9
Mcaclum to Wiar IiIh Nw IJoots — Tlio Modoc Council — C'liptain
Jack and Scar-fin- Oiijjosc tlic Massiicrc — Tlie I'onm'i 'raiuiti'il witii
being a Wiiite Sijuiiw — Hoin^ only ii Ut'iirL'scntiitivy Cliii'f lin Vidds
to the XIajority — 'I'lio IJloody Work Allotti'd to Kiicli — Another
Butchery Agreed ujion — The Warninj^ liepented but Unheeded —
Canby and Dr. Thomas nre Determined to K" — 'I'he Latter Seems
Doubtful of the Kesult — The Farewill Letter — Tohey and IJiddlo
Implore them not to go — Meacham Makes Ono More EfTort to Save
Life — lie Pleads with Dr. Tliomas and General Canhy — .V Sad
Scene and a Terrible Kesolution — The Dorrinyer I'istol — De-
parture fur the Scene of Slaughter

4G2

CIIAPTEE XXX.

ASSASSINATION — " KAU-TUX-E " — THE DEATH TUAYEU
SMOTHERED BY BLOOD — UESCUEl).

The Scene near the Council Tent — Several De.'pcrato Slodocs De-
scribed — I'reparing for the Carnival of Death — Tlic Boy Jlurderers
and their Weapons — Bo};us and Boston Announce the Approach of
the Commis'^ion — Wliy does Meacham l{eniove his Overcoat — Tliu
Blodocs Suspiciously Cordial — Fighting a Battle with Pride —
Appearance of the Commissioners — Hooker Jim's Strange Move-
ments — Tlie Intruder Near the Council Tent — Tiio Butchery for
the Time Being Averted — Hooker- Jim's Ominous Movements — Ho
puts on Meacham's Overcoat — "Me old man Aleacham now" —
Tliis Act is instantly Interpreted — All are Conscious of tlieir Impend-
ing Doom — Uefcctions During the Fleeting Moments — What will
General Canbv Say — AVill he Accede to the Demand of tlie Modocs
and thus At. rt Death — Vrill he Take the Soldiers Awny — I le Breaks
the Silence — Duty Dearer than Life — Death before Dishonor —
Dr. Thomas's Last Speech — What will Captain Jack do now —
Will he Give the Signal — IIo Changes Places with Schonchin — The
Manner of the Latter — The Attack Begins — General Canl)y the l''irst
to Fall — His Horrible Death — Dyer is Shot at by Hooker- Jim —
He 3Iakcs Lis Escape — Eiddle Pursued by Black Jim — The Latter
Fires at IJandom — The Reason — The Bloody Work of Boston and
HfKiker-Jim — Dr. Thomas's Tragic End — Ilis Murderers Taunt
him with his Religion — Why dcm't he Turn the Bullets — Schonchin,
his D.igger and his Pistol — Meacham Attacked by Schonchin —
Slolux and Sliack-Nasty Jim — The Struggle for Life — Tobey's
Efforts to save Him — The Dreadful Scene of the Tragedy — Boston
as a Scalper — The Squaw Toboy — Her Strategy — Another Bloody
Tragedy Planned but not Executed — Lethargy followed by Vigor-

XX CONTEXTS.

PAGE

0U3 Action — Meacham Discovered — Tlio Stretcher — Brandy —
"No Timo for Tuinperanco Talli" — Tlio Council Tent a AVinding-
shoct — Howards to tlie Couriers — Tlie Eisiity-tlirco Mile Uace —
The Gray and the Pinto — The Exultant Winner . . . .

478

CHAPTER XXXI.

HAIiyESSED LIGHTNING CARRYING AWFUL TIDINGS — HE
JAKES IT — A BROKEN FINGER WON'T DISFIGURE A
CORPSE.

Making Coffins in the Lava Bed — The Patient in the Hospital — A
Broken Finger will not Disfigure a Corpse — Tlie Commotion in tho
Modoc Camp — The Disputes — Common Interest a Strong Bond —
The Great Medicine Dance — The Modocs Exultant —The Wife's
Suspense — The Dreadful News — Its Effect on Wife and Children —
First Robbed by the Government, then its Defenders — Our Nation's
Perfidy — The Sorrowful Hearts at Home — Prayer and Praise in
Camp — A Lesson for Bigots and Cowards to Learn — Tlie Medi-
cine JIan in the Modoc Camp — lie Fires the Modoc Heart — Capt.
Jack Despondent — Long Jim — Novel Scene ift the Soldier's Camp
— The Murder of the Commission to be Avenged — Long Jim Es-
capes — Much Powder Wasted — "Nary a Wound" . . , 522

CHAPTER XXXII.

HORIZONTAL PYROTECHNICS — THE SCALP MIRACLE— KILLED
IN PETTICOATS — THE PRESENTIMENT.

Preparationa for Another Battle — Stretchers for the Wounded — Mat-
tresses and Lint — Tlie Wounded Man in the Hospital Expects Com-
pany — The Iowa Veteran — Tlio Signal for Battle — It Begins —
Re-echoing of Cannon — Tlio Assault — No Response Yet — Volleys
from the Concealed Foe — Tlio Retreat — The Dead and Wounded

— Tiic I'AT-riotic Sutler — The Walking Sage Brush — Tho
Wounded Pony — Pat's Head in Danger — Tho Flat Assaulted —

— Lieut. Eagan Falls — The Two Stages — Tho Remains of tho
Laniented Dead — The Bere.ivcd AVidow and the StrikenWife —
The Wounded Warm Sp.'ing Indian — He Ridicules Modoc Powder

— The Modocs out of Water — The Lady Passc.iger — Sympathy
Extended — On Her AVay to the Lava Beds — The Welcome Letter

— Still Alive, but Handsome No Longer — The Battle for Water —
The Fair-haired Boy — His Terrible Presentiment — Courage Tri-
umphs — His Lost Jlessages to Friends — The Dread Reality — The
Unexploded Shell does Execution — A Scalp Cut to Suit — The In-

CONTENTS.

XXI

PAGE

dian Plays Squaw — He is Suspected and Numerously Sca.\\)C(l —
Military Bombast — Mourning for the Dead — llcinains of Canby
and Thomas — The Stricken Parent — The Wife's Disappointment
and Anguish — Tlie Modocs Withdraw — The Soldiers Deceived —
Thev Surround Vacant Caves 522

CHAPTER XXXIH.

MUSIC DON'T SOOTHE A SAVAGE — FIGHTING THE DEVIL
WITH FIRE A FAILURE — " WE'LL BURY THE OLD MAN
ALIVE."

Watching and Disappointment — Visit of Pia-noose to Meacham — Geri.
Canby's Remains in Portland, Oregon — Burial of Dr. Thomas —
Burying a Leg — Col. Wright's Opinion of the Modocs — Modocs
in New Camp — Young Ilovey's Father Informed of his Death —
Modocs Attack Gilliam's Camp — " You can Play Dead, Old Man "
— Scar-Face an Artillery Officer — The Gray-eyed Man — Proposi-
tion to Bury "The Old Man" Alive — Burial of Young Ilovey —
Extermination — Indian Sympatliy with Capt. Jack — W-uin Spring
Messenger to Linkville — Anotlier Disappointment for Mrs.
Meacham — Twenty Changes in a Hundred for Life — The Twenty
Chances Win — Hope Dawns — Another Messenger Sent — Donald
McKay in Camp — Reading News to Meacliam — Fairciiild's Opinion
of Oregon Press — Ferree's Warning to Fairchild — His Reply —
Gov. Grover Calls out Volunteers — Meneham's Departure for
Home — Storm on the Lake — Old Fields — A Sailor — Dr. Cabanis
a Joker — Jlrs. Meacham Watching the Boat — Her Thoughts —
Tlie Meeting — Ferree's Introduction — Meacham on an Am-
bulance — Arrival at Linkville — Big-hearted Jlen — Soft Hand and
a Whispered Prayer 643

CHAPTER XXXIV.

AMEN OUT OF

TIME — FRIENDLY ADVICE FROM ENE-
MIES — BETRAYED.

Meacham at Ferree's — Then and Now — Capt. Jack — Another Scene
in the Hospital — Maybridge — Bunker Bildad — Modocs Impatient
to be on the Warpath — Gen. Canby's Remains in San Francisro
— The Silver-haired Man in Iowa — The Warning against the Kla-
maths— Old Father Jones and Brother Congar — Tlio Misunder-
standing — Adniinisteiing Saltpetre — Army Recruiting — Making
Aapther Coffin — Meacham Again in Danger — Iowa Veteran Ready

XXII

CONTENTS.

to Dose out Bluo Pills — Location of Modocs — Rcconnoissanco
Ordered — Defeat of Tliomas and Wrigiit — Scenes of tlie Slaughter
— Warm Sprinjjs to the Rescue — Cranston's Death — Tliirty-four
Modocs Fighting Eighty Soldiers — Peace Commissioners not in the
"Way — Lt. Harris's Mother in Camp- Gen. Davis's Iteport of the
Fight — Jlodocs Leave the Lava Bods — Dry Lake Battle --Mo-
docs said to he AVliipped for Once — Treason of Hooker Jim to
Bogus — Gen. Davis's Summary of Succeeding Events .

CG2

CHAPTER XXXY.

LAST HIDING PLACE — IIANGING-MACHIXE UXTIUED — MODOC
BUTCHERS OUTDONE.

Vivid Account of the Surrender of the Mod(i-j Chiefs — Butchery hy
"Brave Civilized" Wliito Jlen — Oregon Laws — The 'Whito
Butchers not Arrested — Men who have Political Influence — The
Gallows — A Strange Sight to the Modocs — Tiie Harmless Cannon

— The AVails of Anguis'n — Legal Jus.ic^ — The Jlost Bloody
Hands Escape — The Courier's Arrival — General Disappointment

— A Summary of Scenes and Events 582

CHAPTER XXXYI.

TAKING A SAFE LOOK AT A SUBDUED LION— POWER BE-
HIND BAYONETS— WEAKNESS IN CHAINS.

A Fort Turned into a Court-IIouso — The Prisoners at the Bar — Those
Glittering Bayonets — The Prisoners Arraigned — Tlie Trial Begins

— A. B. Meacham in Court — Have the Prisoners no Counsel? —
Schoncliin and Capt. Jack — They Extend their Il.inds to ..'.eacham

— He Repels Them — The Rjason for it — Jleachani Advised hy his
Phj'sician not to Appear as Prisoner's Co.insel — The Trial Goes On —

— Indian Testimony — Tliey Seek to Shift the Responsibility —
Capt. Jack not TL.nself ; *' lie caimotTalk with Irons On." — Hooker-
Jim's AVeak Defence — The Modoc's Attorney Arrives Too Late —
The Most Guilty ^Modocs Escape '' 'nishment — Tlie Jlistako of the
Judge Advocate — The Finding of the Court — The Deatl, ■Tentence 607

CHAPTER XXXYII.

THE EXECUTION — THE ROYAL CHIEF OUT OF CHAINS.

Modocs in the Prison and Stockade — New Hanging-Machine — The
Announcement of the Death Sentence — The Fallen Chief — Ilia

COMJiKXS.

XXIU

TAQE

Speech — Boston Charley's Speech — Sclionchin's — Tlie Enraged
Modocs — The Unfettered Traitors — Scar-faced Charley — A
Solenin Scene and an Eh)quent Prayer — A White Man in Tears
over Ked Men's Sorrows — Once Proud, NuW Ihunblc — Tliunder-
bolt from a Clear Sky — Marble Tomb and Pearly Gate — Jumbled
Theology — Whirling Tempest — Roaring Cannon — Lightning
Flashing and Darkened Homes — Passing under the Ch)ud Alone —
Anxious for a Good Seat — Six Graves — Boston has a IJare Privi-
lege — Short Questions anil Sliort Answers — More than B)gus
could Stand — A Slieriff among Soldiers — State Kiglits — United
States — A Big Offer for a Cinpso — Under the Eye of Uncle Sam —
The Prisoners 'Waiting for Jlarching Orders — The Con)mand :
"Come Forth" — Then and Now — Leaving Living Tombs for
Permanent Homes — Solving the Problem of Six Graves ard Four
Coffins — In Sight of the Scalfold — Last in Crime — First to Jlount
the Ladder — The Chains Drop Off — Six Graves — Six Kopes —
Six Prisoners — Four Coffins — Four Unfettered Convicts — Sus-
pense Succeeds Certain Death — Last March — A Single Strand
and a Gleaming Axe — On tlie Drop Waiting — Sitting on a Cotlin
Watching — Justice ^Making a Protest — Fortj' Millions of People
Talking at Once — What They Say —Tlie Problem Solved — Jus-
tice Surprised — The Last Prayer — Tiio Drop — Calling the Modoc
Roll — The Missing — Where They Arc — Tragedy Ended

G30

CHAPTER XXXyill.

THE TWO GIBBETS.

Mementoes of the Horrid Butchery — A Nation's Justice towards the
Strong, and its Tyranny over the Weak — Grant's Humane Policy —
On Wliom should tlie Blame Fall — Tlie Answer — Witnesses Sum-
moned to Prove the White Man's Perfiily —0. C. Applegatc — His
Record of Bloody Deeds —Hon. J. W. Nesmith — His Intimate Ac-
quaintance witli Indian Affairs — His Unequivocal Testimony — Dr.
Wni. C. McKay's Testimony — General Harney Bears Witness to the
Indian's Good Faith — The Indians Not the Aggressors in the Oregon
War— Tstinionyof Hon. Geo. E. Cole— iMutual Fear resulting in
Butchery — Tlie Rogue River War — Tlie Result — Another Unim-
peachable Witness, Gen. Joel Palmer — His Terrible Arraignment
of the AVliites — Judge Steele — Bon AVright's Plot to Poison
the Indians— Colonel Wliiting — Forty-nine Indians Butchered —
A Tribute to Frontier Men — A Simple Remedy for the Great
Wrong

GG3

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

» ♦ ♦

CHAPTER I.

EARLY REMINISCENCES, POW-E-SHIEK'S BAND.

" Oh, that mine enemy would write a book ! " With
that ominous warning ringing in my ears, I sit down
to write out my own observations and experiences,
not without full appreciation of the meaning and pos-
sible reiteration of th" above porientous saying. In
so doing I shall endeavor to state plain facts, in such
a way, perhaps, that mine enemies will avail them-
selves of the privilege.

Hoping, however, that I may disarm all malice, and
meet with a fair and impartial criticism, based on the
principles of justice both to myself and to the peoples
of whom I write, I begin this book with the convic-
tion that the truths which I shall state, though told in
homely phrase, will nevertheless be well received by
the reading public, and will accomplish the purposes
for which it is written ; the first of which is to furnish
reliable information on the subject under considera-
tion, with the hope that when my readers shall have
turned the last leaf of this volume they may have a
better understanding of the wrongs suffered and
crimes committed by the numerous tribes of Indians
of the north-west.

II; M

I'ii t

h (

WIOAVAM AND WARPATH.

Born on the free side of the Ohio river, of parents
whose immediate ancestors, though slave-holders, had
left the South at the command of conscientious con-
victions of the great wrong of human bondage, my
earliest recollections are of jiolitical discussions relat-
ing to the crime against God and humanity; of power
compelling weaTcness while groaning under the oppres-
sion of wrongs to surrender its rights.

Coupled with the "great wrong" of which I have
spoken, occasionally that other wrong, twin to the
first, was mentioned in my father's family; impressed
upon my mind by stories I had heard of the treat-
ment of Indians who had in early days been neighbors
to my parents, driven mile by mile toward the setting
sun, leaving a country billowed by the graves of their
victims mingled with bones of their own ancestors.
What wonder, then, that, while rambling through the
beech woods of mv native State, I should speculate
on the remnants of ruined homes which these people
had left behind them, and walk in awe over the bat-
tle-fields where they had resisted the aggressive march
of civilization?

While yet in childhood my parents migrated to
what was then the " Far West." Our new home in
Iowa was on the outskirts of civilization, our nearest
neighbors being a band of Sacs and Foxes, — " Sau-
kees." This was the beginning of my personal
acquaintance with Indians.

The st^. -ies that had kindled in my heart feelings of
sympat; and commiseration for them were forgotten
for a tiiiiv in the present living history before my
eyes.

I was one of a party who in 1844 assisted the Gov-

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

ernmcnt in removing Pow-e-shiek's band from the
Iowa river to their new home in the AVest. The
scenes around the Indian village on the morning of
their departure were photographed on my mind so
plainly that now, after a lapse of thirty years, they
are still fresh in my memory, and the impressions
made on me, and resolves then made by me, have
never been forgotten, notwithstanding the terrible
dangers through which I have since passed.

The impression was, that j)ower and miglit were
compelling these people to leave their homes against
their wishes, and in violation of justice and right.
The resolution was, that, whenever and wherever I
could, I would do them justice, and contribute wdiat-
ever of talent and influence I might have to better
their condition.

These impressions and resolutions have been my
constant companions through a stormy life of many
years on the frontier of Iowa, California, and Oregon.

The bloody tragedy in the Lava Beds, April, 1873,
through which the lamented Christian soldier, Gen.
Canby, and the no less lamented eminent preacher. Dr.
Thomas, lost their lives, and by which I had passed so
close to the portals of eternity, has not changed my
conviction of right, or my determination to do justice
to even those who so earnestly sought my life. Nar-
row-minded, short-sighted men have said to me, more
than once, "I reckon you have suffered enough to
cure all your fanatical notions of humanity for these
people ! "

I pity the heart and intelligence of any man who
measures principles of justice and right by the gauge

4 WIGWiVil AND WARPATH.

of personal suffering or personal interest. It is
unworthy of enlightened Christian manhood.

"By their works ye shall know them." So may
these people of whom I write be adjudged in the
lights of 1874; so shall this nation be adjudged; so
judge ye the author of this book.

The spring of 1845, Pow-e-shiek's band of Sacs
and Foxes were removed from their home on Iowa
river, twenty-five miles above Iowa City, Iowa, to
Skunk river, one hundred miles west. Eighteen or
twenty teams were hired by the Government to con-
vey the household goods and supplies.

Among the number who furnished teams, my father
was one, and I went as captain of the ox-team. The
Indians were assembled at the " Trading Post " pre-
paratory to starting. While the wagons were being
loaded, some of them were gathering up their horses
and packing their goods, ready for shipment; others
were making the air vocal with wails of grief over
the graves of their friends, or from sadness, conse-
quent on leaving the scenes of a life-time.

I wonder not that they should reluctantly yield to
inexorable fate, which compelled them to leave their
beautiful valley of the Iowa. " The white man wanted
it,^'' and they must retreat before the onward march of
empire, notwithstanding their nationality and their
ownership of the country had been acknowledged by
the Government, when it went into treaty-council
with them for the lands they held. This was not on
the plea of " eminent domain," but on account of the
clamor for more room for the expanding energies of a
growing population.

" The white man wanted it," tells the story, as it

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

has been repeated, time after time, since the founding
of the Colonics in America.

I do not know that, in this instance, any advantage
was taken of these Indians, except that advantage
which the powerful always have over the weak. But
I do know that if they had been allowed a choice,
they never would have consented to leave the graves
of their fathers. 'Twas easy to say, " It was a fair
transaction of selling and buying."

So is it a business transaction when a man buys the
lots adjoining your own, and builds high walls on
three sides, erects powder magazines and glycerine
manufactories, corrupts city councils, and, by means
of extra privileges and excessive taxation, compels
you to sell your valuable property for a mere song, by
saying, "Take my price for your property, or run the
risk of being blown up."

Is it a fair " business transaction," after he has thus
forced the trade?

What though he does faithfully pay the contract-
price? Does it atone for the first moral wrong, in
legally forcing the sale? And how much more aggra-
vated the injury becomes, when, through his agents^
or his sons, he " legitimately," under various pretences,
permits the unfortunate seller to be robbed, by paying
him off in "chips and whetstones," that he does not
desire nor need, so that in the end he is practically
defrauded out of his property, and finds himself at
the last payment, homeless and penniless.

All done, however, under the sanction of law, and
in the shade )f church-steeples, and with sanctimoni-
ous semblance of honesty and justice.

The picture is not overdrawn. The illustration is

WIOWAM AND WAUPATII.

I! ;

fair, or, if deficient at all, it has been in excess of
advantage to the principal, not the victim. The latter
has accepted the wituation and suffered the conse-
quences.

To return to Pow-e-shiek's band leaving their home.
Who shall ever recount the sorrows and anguish of
those people, while they formed in line of march, and
turned their eyes for the last time upon the scenes
that had been all the world to them? What mattered
it though they realized all the pangs their natures
were capable of, in those jjarting hours, with the un-
comfortable promises that the ploughshare of civiliza-
tion would level down the graves of their fathers, be-
fore their retreatirg footprints had been obliterated
from the trail which led them f^adly away? They
were "Injins; " and they ought to have been in better
luck than being "Injins."

Such was the speech of a white man in whose hear-
ing I had said some word of sympathy on the occa-
sion. I did not like the unfeeling wretch then, and
have not much respect for him, or for the class he
represents. Now I may have charity and pity, too,
for all such. Charity for the poverty of a soul so
devoid of the finer sensibilities of " conmion humanity
that make mankind akin ; " pity for a heart overflow-
ing with selfishness, made manifest in thoughtless or
spiteful speech.

The trying hour in the lives of these Indian people
had come, and the long cavalcade moved out along
the line of westward march, wagons loaded with corn
and other supplies. The old men of the tribe, with
darkened brows and silent tongue, sat on then* horses;

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

the younger ones, with seeming indifference, in red
bhmkets, leathers, and gaudy paints, moving off on
prancing i^onies^ in Uttle squads, to j(/ui the funeral
pageant; I'or so it was. They were leaving the cher-
ished scenes of childhood to hunt for sepulchres in
the farther "West.

The women, young and old, the drudges of the
Indian household, as well as homes, where the sun-
light of civilization should warm the hearts of men,
and move them to truer justice, were gathered up,
and preparing their goods for transportation, while
bitter tears were flowing and loud lamentations gave
evidence of the grief that would not be repressed^
and each in t u'n, as preparations were complete, would
lift the pappoose-basket with its young soul to altitudes
of mother's back or horse's saddle, and then, with
trembling limbs, climb to their seats and join the sad
procession, adding what of woful wailing seemed
necessary to make the whole complete with sights
and sound that would bid defiance to painter's skill
or poet's words, though, in the memory of those who
beheld it, it may live as long as the throbs of sympathy
which it kindled shall rej)eat themselves in hearts that
feel for human sorrow.

The first day's joui'ney measured but four miles;
the next, six; and at most never exceeded ten or
twelve. I did not understand, then, why we went so
slow. It may have been necessary to "kill time," in
order to use up the appropriation for the removal.
Wlien "camp" was reached, each day the wagons
were "corralled;" that is to say, were drawn together
in a circle, one behind another, and so close that when
the teams were detached, the " pole " laid upon the

WIGWA3I AND WAi:PATII.

II
li

liiiitl wliut'l of the next forward wagon would clost?
lip the ga[), and tliurs toinplete the "corral," which
was to answer the double purpose pf " penning the
oxen when being ycjked up," and also as an exteni-
l)ore Ibrt in case of attack by the Sioux Indians.

The wick-e-u[)s — Indian tents — were scattered
promiscuously around, as each family might elect.
After dinner was over the remainder of Uncle Sam's
time was spent in various ways: horse-racing, foot-
racing, cai'd-playing, shooting-matches by the men,
white and red, while the women were doing camp-
work, cooking, getting woo<l, building lodges, etc.;
for be it understood, an old-style Indian never does
such work any more than his white brother would
rock the ci'adle, or operate a laundry for his wife.
The old men Avould take turns standing guard, or
rather sitting guard. At all events they generally
went out to the higher hills, and, taking a command-
ing position, would sit down all solitary and alone,
and with blanket drawn around their shoulders and
over their heads, leaving only enough room for vision
and the escape of suKjke from their pipes.

In solemn silence, scamiing the surroundings, hour
after hour thus wore away. There was soLicthing
in this scene suggesting serious conteraplraiou to a
looker-on, and I doubt not the reveries of tlie lone
watchman savored strongly of sadness and sorrow,
may he revenge.

Approaching one old fellow I sought to penetrate
his mind, and was rewarded by a pantomimic exhibi-
tion, more tangible than "Black Crook" ever wit-
nessed from behind the cmtains, while recuperating

'OW,

rate
ibi-
vit-

iiig

! !

WIGWAii AND WAKPATH.

liib vfasted energies that he might the more seem-
ingly "play the devil."

Kising to his feet and releasing one naked arm
from his blanket, he pointed toward the east, and with
extended lingers and uj)rising, coming j^esture quick-
ly brought his hand to his heart, dropping his head,
as if some messenger of despair had made a sudden
call. He paused a moment, and then from his heart
his hand went out in circling, gathering motion, until
he hf.d made the silent speech so vivid that I could
see the coming throng of white settlers and the
assembling of his tribe; and then, turning his face
away with a majestic wave of his hand, I saw his sor-
row-stricken people driven out to an unlniown home ;
while he, sitting down again and drawing his blanket
around him, refused me further audience. Perhaps
he realized that he had told the whole story, and
therefore need say no more.

Often at evening we would gather around some
gi'assy knoll, or, it may be, some wagon-tongue, and
white and red men mingled together. We would sit
down and smoke, and tell stories and recount tradi-
tions of the past. Oftenest from Indian lips came
the history of wars and dances, of scalps taken and
prisoners tortured.

At the time of which I write the " Saukies " were
at variance with the "hated Sioux," and, indeed, the
latter had been successful in a raid a^nong the herds
of the former, and had likewise carried away captives.
Hence the sentinels on the outpost at evening.

Just at dusk one night, when the theme had been
the " Sioux," and om* thoughts were in that channel,
suddenly the whole camp was in a blaze of flashing

WIGWAM AND WAKPATII.

1 '

i i'

mi"^ket8. AVe beat a hasty retreat to our wagons
— which were our only fortifications — with mingled
feelings of fear and hopf;; fear of the much-dreaded
Sioux, and hope that we might witness a fight.

My recollection now is that feai' had more to do
with our gymnastic exercises round about the wagon-
wheels than hojye had to do with getting a position
for observation. But both were short-lived, for soon
our red-skinned friends were laughing loud at our
fright, and we, the victims, joined in to make believe
we were not scared by the unceremonious flight of a
flock of belated wild geese, inviting fire from the
warriorib of our camp ; for so it was and nothing more.
Still it was enough to make peace-loving, weak
nerves shake, and heated brain to dream for weeks
after of Sioux and of Indians generally. I speak
for myself, but tell the truth of all our camp, I
think.

The destination of our chief, Pow-e-shiek, and his
band was temporarily with " Kisk-ke-kosh," of the
same tribe, whose bands were on Desmoines river.
There is among all Indians, of whom I have any
knowledge, a custom in vogue of going out to meet
friends, or importr^it personages, to assure welcome,
and, perhaps, gratify curiosity.

"When we were within a day or two of the end ol
our journey, a delegation f-^m Kisk-ke-kosh's camp
came out to meet our party, and, while the greeting
we received was not demonstrative in words, the
younger people of both bands had adorned them-
selves with paint, beads, and feathers, and were each
of them doing their utmost to fascinate the other.
The scene presented was not only fantastic, but as

"WIGWAM AND AVARPATII.

civilized people would exclaim, "most gay and gor-
geous," and exhilarating even to a looker-on.

At night they gathered in groups, and made Cupid
glad with the battles lost and won by his disciples.
Then they danced, or, to ears polite, "hopped," or
tripped the light fantastic moccason trimmed with
beads, to music, primitive, 'tis true, but music made
with Indian drums and rattling gourds. They went
not in waltz, but circling round and round, and
always round, as genteel people do, but round and
round in lum xit ,vv, the circling ends of which would
meet at an^ pai aciilar point, or all points, whenever
the ring was complete, without reiierence to sets or
partners, and joining in the hi-yi-yi-eia-ye-o-hi-ye-yi ;
and when tired sit down on the ground until rested,
and then, without coaxing or renewed invitation, join-
ing in, wherever fancy or convenience suited; for
these round dances never break up at the unwelcome
sound of the violin, — not, indeed, until the dancers
are all satisfied.

The toilets were some what expensive, at least the
"outfit" of each maid*^ ■oc.So her tribe several acres
of land, — sometimes, i; T Y.uc figure, several huadred
acres, — and not because oi ':"' c iong trails or expensive
laces, for they do ii t need extensive skirts in which
to dance, or laces, ' aer, to enhance their charms;
for the young gentlemen for whom they dressed were
not envious of dry goods or firo enamel, but rather
of the quality of paint on the cheeks of laughing
girls; for girls will .nint, you know, and those of
whom I write put it oi; ' •> tbiclr that their beaux never
have cause to say, " That s too thin."

The boys themselves paint in real genume paint,

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

'tip.

I 1

i1'

not moustaches alone, but eye-brows, cheeks, and
hair. They wore leathers, too, because they thought
that feathers were good things to have at a round
dance; and they followed nature, and relieved the
dusky maidens of seeming violation of nature's plain
intention.

As I shall treat under the head of amusement the
dances of Indians more at length, I only remark, in
this connection, that the dance on this occnsion, while
it was a real "round dance," diffared somt v' ^rom
round dances of more high-toned people in , , eral
ways, and I am not sure it was not without advan-
tage in point of accommodation to the finer feelings
of discreet mammas, or envious '' wall-flowers.'' At
all events, as I have said on former pages, the whole
set formed in one circle, with close rank, facing always
to the front, and enlarged as the number of the
dancers grew, or contracted as they retired; but each
one going forward and keeping time with feet and
hands to the music, which was low and slow at first,
with short step, increasing the music and the motion
as they became excited, until the air grew tremulous
with the sounds, rising higher and wilder, more and
more exciting, until the lookers-on would catch the
inspiration and join the festive ring; even old men,
who at first had felt they could not spare dignity or
muscle either, would lay aside their blankets until they
had lived over again the fiery scenes of younger days,
by rushing into the magnetic cordon, and, with re-
called youth, forget all else, save the soul-storming
fury of the hour, sweetened with the charm of exult-
ant joy, over age and passing years.

And thus the dance went on, until at last by degrees

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

the dancers hnd reached an altitude of happmess
which burst forth in simultaneous shout of music's
eloquence, complete by higher notes of human voice
drawn out to fullest length.

The dance was over, and the people went away in
groups of twos and threes. The maidens, skipping
home to the paternal lodge without lingering over
swinging gates, or waiting for answering maids to
ringing bells, crept softly in, not waking their mammas
up to take off for them their lengthened trails, but
perhaps with wildly beating hearts from the dance
to dream-land.

The young braves gathered their scarlet blankets
around them, and in couples or threes, laughing as
boys will do at silly jest of awkward maid or swain,
went where "tired ^Nature's sweet restorer" would
keep promise and let them live over again the en-
chanting scenes of the evening, and thus with nega-
tive and photograph would /eeZ the picture of youth
their own.

The older men, whose folly had led them to display
contempt for age, went boldly home to lodge where
the tired squaws had long since yielded to exhausted
nature, and were oblivious to the frolics of their
liege lords.

Mrs. Squaw had no rights that a brave was bound
to respect. It was her business to carry wood, build
lodges, saddle his horse, and lash the pappoose in the
basket, and do all other drudgery. It was Ids to
wear the gayest blanket, the vennilion paint, and
eagle-feathers, and ride the best horses, have a good
time generally, and whip his squaws when drunk

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

or angry; and it was nobody's business to question
him. lie was a man.

Now, if my reader has failed to see the picture I
have drawn of Indian dances, I promise you that, be-
fore our journey is ended, I will try again a similar
scene, where the music of tall pine-trees and tum-
bling torrents from hoary mountains will give my pen-
cil brighter hues and my hand a steadier, finer touch.

The arrival of our train at the camp of Kisk-ke-
kosh called out whatever of finery had not been on
exhibition with the welcoming party who had come
out to meet us. And when the sun had gone down
behind the Iowa prairies the dances were repeated on
a larger scale.

The following day we were paid off and signed the
vouchers. Don't know that it was intended; don't
know that it was not; but I do remember that we
were allowed the same number of days in which to
return that we had occupied in going out, although
on our homeward journey we passed each day two or
three ca'T»^;s made on the outward journey. I ven-
tured to make some remark on the subject, suggest-
ing the injustice of taking pay for more time than
was required for us to reach home, and a nice kind of
a churchman, one who could drive oxen without
swearing, said in reply, "Boys should be seen and
not heard, you little fool ! "

He snubbed me then, but I never forgot the deep,
earnest resolve I made to thrash him for this insult
when ^^I got to he a man.'''' But, poor fellow, he went
years ago where boys may be heard as well as seen,
and I forgive him.

We met the rushing crowds who were going to the

'WuliHirill

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

"New Purchase"; so eager, indeed, that, like gi'eedy
vultures which circle round a dying charger and
then alight upon some eminence near, or poise them-
selves in mid air, impatient for his death, sometimes
swoop down upon him before his heart has ceased
to beat.

So had these emigrants encamped along the fron-
tier-line, impatient for the hour when the red man
should pull down his wigwam, put out his council-
fires, collect his squaws, his pappooses, and his ponies,
and turn his back upon the civilization they were
bringing to take the place of these untamed and sav-
age ceremonies. "While the council-fire was dying
out, another was being kindled whose ruddy light
was to illuminate the faces, and warm the hands of
those who, following the westward star of empire, had
come to inherit the land, and build altars whcrefrom
should go up thanks to Ilim who smiled when he cre-
ated the "beautiful valley" of the Iowa.

How changed the scene! Then the gray smoke
from Indian lodge rose slowly up and floated leis-
urely away. !Now from furnace-blast it bursts out in
volume black, and settles down over foundry and
farm, city and town, unless, indeed, the Great Spirit
sends fierce tempests, as an omen of his wrath, at the
sacrilege done to the red man's home.

Then the forest stood entire, like harp-strings
whereon the Great Spirit might utter tones to
soothe their stormy souls, or rouse them to deeds in
vindication of rights he had bequeathed.

Now they live only in part, the other part decay-
ing, while groaning under the pressure of the iron
heel of power.

WiaWAM AND WARPATH.

: fe

Bearing no part in sweet sounds, unless indeed it
be sweet to hear the iron horse, with curling breath,
proclaiming the advance of legions that worship daily
at Mammon's shrine, or bearing forward still further
westward the enterprising men and women who are
to work for other lands a transformation great as
they have wrought for this.

Then on the bosom of the river the red man's chil-
dren might play in light canoe, or sportive dive, to
catch the mimic stars that seemed to live beneath its
flow, to light the homes of finny tribes who peopled
then its cryst d chambers.

^oiVf it is turgid and slow, and pent with obstruc-
tions to make it flow in channels where its power is
wanted to complete the wreck of forests that once
had made it cool, fit beverage for nature's children, or
is muddied with the noisy wheels of commerce, strug-
gling to rob the once haj)py home of Pow-e-shiek, of
the charms and richness of soil that nature's God had
given.

•The prairies, too, at that time, were like a shoreless
sea when, half in anger, the winds resist the ebb or
flow of its tides; or they may be likened to the
clouds, which seem to be mirrored on their waving
surface, sporting in the summer air, or, at the com-
mand of the Great Spirit, hurry to join some gather-
ing tempest, where He speaks in tones of thunder, as
if to X ebuke the people for their crimes.

"Where once the wild deer roamed at will is en-
livened now by the welcome call of lowing herds of
tamer kind.

The waving grass, and fragrant flowers, too, gave
way to blooming maize of finer mould.

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

[m-
ler-

311-

lof

Lve

The old trails have been buried like the feet that
made them, beneath the upturned sod.

And now, while I am writing, this lovely valley
rings out a chant of praise to God, for his benefi-
cence, instead of the weird wild song of Pow-e-shiek
and his people at their return from crusades against
their enemies.

Who shall say the change that time and civilization
have wrought, have not brought nearer the hour,
"When man, no more an abject thing, shall from the
sleep of ages spring," and be what God designed
him, "pure and free? '*

!No one, however deeply he may have drank from
the fount of justice and right, can fail to see, in the
transformation wrought on this fair land, the hand
of Him whose finger points out the destiny of his
peculiar people, and yearly gives token of his appro-
bation, by the return of seasons, bringing rich reward
to the hands of those whom he has called to perform
the wonders of which I write, in compensation for
the hardships they endured, while the transit was
being made from the perfection of untamed life to
the higher state of civilization.

While we praise Ilim who overrules all, we cannot
fail to honor His instrumentalities.

The brave pioneers, leaving old homes in other
lands to find new ones in this, have made sacrifices of
kindred, family ties, and early associations, at the be-
hest of some stern nece&,sity (it may be growing out
of bankruptcy of business, though not of pride and
honor, or manly character), or ambition to be peers
among their fellows.

Or, mayhap, the change was made by promptings

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WIGWA3£ AND WARPATH.

of parental love for children whose prospects in life
might be made better thereby, and the family unity
still preserved by locating lands in close proximity,
where from his home the father might by some well-
known signal call his children all around him.
Where the faithful watch-dog's warning was echoed
in every yard, aiid thus gave information of passing
events worthy of his attention enacting in the neigh-
borhood. Where the smoke from cabin chimneys
high arose, mingled in mid air, and died away in
peaceful brotherhood. Where the blended prayer of
parent and child might go up in joint procession from
the school-house-churches through the shining trees
that answered well for steeples then, or passing
through clouds to Him who had made so many little
groves, where homes might be made and prepared
the most beautiful spots on earth for final resting-
place, where each, as the journey of life should be
over, might be laid away by kindred hands, far from
the hurrying, noisy crowds, who rush madly along, or
stop only to envy the dead the ground they occupy,
and speculate how much filthy lucre each sepulchre
is worth.

Others went to the new country with downy cheeks
of youth, and others still with full-grown beards, who
were fired with high ambition to make name, fame,
home, and fortune, carrying underneath their sombre
hats bright ideas and wonderful possibilities, with
hearts full of manly purposes, beating quickly at the
mention of mother's name or father's pride, sister's
prayer or brother's love.

WIOWAM AND WARPATH.

And with all these to buoy them up, would build
homes on gentle slope, or in shady grove, and thus
become by slow degrees "one among us."

I was with the first who went to this new country,
and I know whereof I write. I Iniow more than I
have told, or will tell, lest by accident I betray the
petty jealousies that cropped out; when Yankee-boys,
forgetting the girls they left behind them, would pay
more attention to our western girls than was agree-
able to " us boys."

Others there were who had followed the retreating
footsteps of the Indians. These were connecting
links between two kinds of life, savage and civilized.
Good enough people in the:r way, but they could not
bear the hum of machinery, or the glitter of church -
spires, because the first drove back the wild game, and
the devotees who worshipped beneath the second,
Ibrbade the exercise of careless and wicked noises
mingling with songs of praise.

A few, perhaps, had fled from other States to avoid
the consequences of technical legal constructions
which would sadly interfere with their unpuritanical
ways. But these were not numerous. The early
settlers, taken all in all, possessed many virtues and
qualifications that entitled them to the honor which
worthy actions and noble deeds guarantee to those
who do them. They had come from widely different
birth-lands, and brought with them habits that had
made up their lives; and though each may have felt
sure their own was the better way, they soon learned
that honest people may dift'cr and still be honest.
And to govern themselves accordingly, each yielded,
without sacrifice of principle, their hereditary whims

WIOWAM AXD WAllPATn.

and i)o('uliar ways, anil left the weightier matters of
orlhodoxy or lioterodoxy to be argued by those who
had nothing better with which to occupy their time
than to mnddle their own and other people's brains
willi abstrnsc thcincs.

'^rhc "early settlers" were eminently practical, and
withal successful in moulding out of the heterogene-
ous mass of whims and prejudices a common public
scntiuient, acceptable to all, or nearly so. And thus-
they grew, not only in numbers but in wealth, power,.
inicHi'»'ence, and i)atriotism, until to-day there maybe
found on the once happy home of Pow-e-shiek a peo-
ple rivalling those of any other State, surpassing
many of them an that greatest and noblest of all vir-
tues, "love for your neighbor."

No people in all this grand republic furnished truer
or biaver men for the holocaust of blood required to
reconsecrate the soil of America to freedom and jus-
tice than those whose homes are built on the ruins of
Pow-c-shiek's early hunting-grounds. Proud as the
record may be, it shall yet glow with names written
by an almost supernal fire, that warms into life the
immortal thought of poets, and the burning eloquence
of orators.

We are proud of the record of the past, and cher-
ish bright hopes of the future. But with all our
pati'iotic exultations, memory of Pow-e-shiek's sacri-
fices comes up to mingle sadness with our joy. Sad-
ness, not the offspring of reproach of conscience for
unfair treatment to him or his people by those who
came after he had gone at the invitation of the Govern-
ment, but sadness because he and his people could
not enjoy what other races always have, the privilege

WIOWAM AND WARPATH.

of a higher civilization ; sadness, because, while our
gates are thrown wide open and over them is written
in almost every tongue known among nations, "Come
share our country and our government with us," it
was closed behind him and his race, and over those
words painted, in characters which he understood,
"Begone!"

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CHAPTER II.

OVERLAND: BLOOD FOB BLOOD.

In 184:6 Pow-e-shiek came with his band to visit
his old home. We were " early settlers " then, and
had built our cabins on the sloping sides of a bluff
overlooking ihe valley below. From this outpost we
descried the bands of piebald ponies and then the
curling smoke, and next the poles of his wick-e-i\ps
{hmses) ; and soon we saw Pow-e-shiek coming to
mr \«j known his wish that he might be permitted to
pastm'c his stock on the fields which we had already
robbed of corn. The recognition in me of one who
had assisted in removing his people seemed to sur-
prise and please him, and for a moment hia eye lit up
as if some fond realit}- of the past had revived the
friendship that had gruwn out of my sympathy for
him in his dark hour of departure from his home.
And when I said, " This is my father and ray mother,
these my sisters and my brothers, and this place is
our home," he gave to the welcoming hands a friendly
grasp in evidence of his good intentions, and then
assured us that no trouble on his part should grow
out of his coming, and that, if his young men should
do any dishonest acts, he would punish them; that
he had come back to spend the w nter once again near
his haunts of olden times, perhaps to kill the deer
that he thought white men did not care about since
they had so many cattle and swine. We accepted his

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

assurance, and believed him to be just what he pre-
tended, — a quiet, honest old chief, who would do as
he agreed, nor seek excuse for not doing so.

The dinner hour had passed, but such as we had
my mother set before him, and he did not fail to do
full justice to everything upon the table. He made
sure that his pappooses should complete what he be-
gan by making a clean sweep into one comer of his
blanket to bear it to his lodge. After dinner he drew
out his pipe, and filling it with Kin-ni-ki-nick (to-
bacco), and lighting it with a coal of fire, he first
sought to propitiate the Great Spirit by offering up
to him the first puff of smoke; next the devil, by
blowing the smoke downward, and saved the third for
himself; and after that he offered to the fourth person
in his calendar, my father, the j)nvilege of expressing
his approval. But, as he was not a smoker himself,
he passed the pipe to his oldest son, intimating his
desire that he should be represented by proxy. I,
willing to do his bidding, in friendship for our guest,
it may he, or perhaps from other personal motives,
soon reduced the Kin-ni-ki-nick to ashes and handed
back the empty pipe to Pow-e-shiek. I knew not
thnt I had transgressed the rules of politeness until
afterwards, when I offered a pipe to our strange-man-
nered guest, he, with dignity, drew a puff or two and
then passed it back, with an expression of countenance
which declared unmistakably that it was meant for
rei)roof.

If I felt resentment for a moment that a savage
should presume to teach me manners, I do not feel
that I was the only one who might be greatly bene-
fited by taking lessons of unsophisticated men and

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

'. I

women of other than white blood ; not alone in
simple politeness, but also in regard to right and
justice, whose flags of truce are never raised ostensibly
to insure protection, but really to intimidate the weak
and defenceless, who dared to stand up for the God-
given rights to home and country.

Pow-e-shiek made preparations to return to his
lodge, and we, boy-like, followed him out of the
cabin door, and while he was saying good-by he
espied a fine large dog that we had, named Yan,
though the name did not indicate our politics. Pow-
e-shiek proposed to trade a pony for " old Van," and
■v/e were phased at first, because we thought the
pony would do to ride after the " breaking team " of
dewy triornings in the spring. But when we learned
that " Van " was wanted by the chief to furnish the
most substantial part of a feast for his people, we de-
murred. " Old Van," too, seemed to understand the
base use to which he was to be put, and reproached
us with sullen side-looks; and the trade wap aban-
doned, and would have been forgotten only that Van
was ever afterward maddened at the sight of Pow-e-
shiek or any of his race.

The wmter passed, and our red neighbors had kept
their promise, for although neither the granary nor
any other building was ever locked, nothing had
been missed; and our mutual regard seemed stronger
than when the acquaintance was renewed. When
spring hfd fully come, Pow-e-shiek, punctual to his
promise, broke up his camp and went away.

Occasionally, for years afterwards, his people came
back to visit; but he no more.

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WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

Years have passed, and he has joined the great
thvong in the happy hunting-grounds.

When the gold fever v>'as at its height, in 1850, in
company with others I journeyed overland to the
new Eldorado. While en route, we heard much of
Indians, of their butcheries and cruelties; I think
there was good foundation for the stories. Indeed, wo
saw so many evidences of their handiwork, in new-
made graves and abandoned wagons demolished, that
there could be no reasonable doubt of their savage
treatment of those who came within their power.

While / do not now, never havp, and neve?' will at-
tempt to justify their hutclierics, yet it is hut fair that
both sides of the story he told.

When our party was at " Independence Rock," in
1850, and no Indians had disturbed the passing
travellers, near where we were then, we " laid over "
a day, and within the time a man came into camp and
boasted that he had "knocked over a buck at a dis-
tance of a hundred yards," and when the query was
made as to the whereabouts of his game he produced
a bloody scalp. He gave as an excuse that the In-
dians had frightened ar antelope he was trying to kill,
and that he shot the Indian while the latter was en-
deavoring to get away. Is it unreasonable to suppose
that the friends of the murdered Indian, when he
came not to the lodge at nightfall, would hunt him
up, and that, when his brother or friend .-^aw his scalp-
less head, he should avow to avenge his death?

Doubtless he did avenge both himself and his tribe,
and he may have slain many innocent persons in re-
taliation for this foul deed.

As to the cause of the Indian troubles on the

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WIOWAJI AND WARPATH.

Humbolt river, during the summer of 1850, 1 know
nothing. Probably they originated in some lawless
act similar to the one above described. In September
following I loaned a rifle to a miner who was going
out on a prospecting tour. On his return he proposed
to buy it, saying that -"it was a good one, he knew,
because he tried it on an Indian, shooting from one
bluff to another; and," said this civilized white man,
" I dropped him into the river, and he went where all
gooa Injuns go."

LattT in the season two friendly Indians came into
the town of "Bidwell's Bar,'* and, although no evidence
was produced against them, they were arrested on
" general principles," it was said ; and while threats
were made of hanging them on " general principles "
too, better counsels prevailed, and they were placed in
charge of a guard, who were to convey them to
*'' Long's Bar," and turn them over to the sheriff to
be held for trial.

The guard returned in a short time, and reported
that the prisoners had " slipped down a bank and were
drowned" It was, however, understood that they
were killed by the guard " to save expense." Fol-
lowing this accident several white men were murdered
by Indians, it was said, although the murdered men,
it was evident, had met death through other instru-
mentality than hows and arrows.

A company was raised to go out and punish the
offenders. On their return they reported grand suc-
cess in finding Indian rancheros, and in the wholesale
butchery they had committed. Do you wonder that
twenty or thirty white men were riddled lulth arrows
within a short time, after such manly conduct, hy the
brave butchers of Indian women and children?

WIOWAM AND WAEPAXn.

know
iwless
ember
going
)posed
knew,
m one
e man,
lere all

ae into
^ridence
ited on
threats
ciples "
iaced in
lem to
eriff to

reported
d were
it they
Fol-
irdered
Id men,
instru-

I have not at hand the data from which to mention
in detail the various Indian wars that harassed the
miners of California. Suffice it that they were of
frequent occurrence, and, indeed, continued until the
mountain bands of Indians were broken up. If the
truth could be heard from the lips of both the living
and the dead, we should hear many things unpleasant
to the ears of white men as well as Indians, and, per-
haps, discreditable to both. I doubt not such revela-
tion would support the declaration I here make, — that
had white men have always been the instigators of the
bloody deeds through which so many innocent persons
have passed on to the other life.

The proofs are not wanting in almost every instance
in support of this statement. That the Indian is vin-
dictive, is true J that he is brave, cunning, and inhuman
to his enemies is also true; but that he is faithful to
his compacts, whenever fairly dealt with, is not less
tru<i.

lish the
id suc-
lolesalc
ler that
\arrows
hy the

CHAPTER III.

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INDIANS AND MINERS.

Walla-Walla, Washinoton Tehbitobt,
February 4th, 18C3.

Dear Brother {Suisun City, Cal.): —

I have found a good country and more business
than I can manage alone; come and help me. Better
leave your family until you can see for yourself. You
may not like it, though I do. Money is plenty, every-
thing new, and prices keyed up to old " forty-nine "
times.

Your brother,

H. J. MEACHAM.

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Lke's Emcahfhent, fifxt uiles sodtu of Walla-Walla,
ON TOP OP Blub Mocntaik, March 6, 18C3.

My dear Wife (Suisun, Cal.): —

"Eureka." Come; I am camping in four feet of
snow, and cooking meals in a frying-pan, and charging
a dollar; selling "slap jacks" two bits each; oats
and barley at twelve cents, and hay at ten cents per
pound, and other things at same kind of prices; can't
supply the demand. Go to William Booth, San Fran-
cisco, and tell him to ship you and the children with
the goods, to Walla- Walla, Washington Territory,
via Portland, Oregon, care Wells, Fargo & Co.'s

Express.

A. B. MEACHAM.

WIGWAM AND WARPATH,

These two letters are copied here, to cany the
reader and the writer over a period of twelve years,
leaving behind whatever may have transpired of in-
terest to the work now in hand, to be taken up on
some other page, in proper connection with kindi'ed
subjects of later date.

Lee's Encampment is located near the summit of
the Blue Mountains in Oregon, on the great highway
leading from the Colunil)ia river to the rich gold
fields of Idaho and Eastern Oregon. It is fifty
miles south of Walla- Walla, and is also one of the
out-boundaries of the Umatilla Indian Reservation,
occupied by the Walla- Walla, Cayuse and Umatilla
Indians.

The roads leading out from the several starting-
points on the Columl)ia river, to the mines above-
mentioned, converge on the Reservation, and, climbing
the mountain's brow, on the old "Emigrant trail,"
cross over to Grand Round valley.

During the spring of 18G3, the great tide of miners
that flowed inland, to reach the new gold fields, nec-
essarily passed through the Reservation, and thence
via Lee's Encampment. This circumstance of loca-
tion gave abundant opportunity for observation by the
writer. Of those who sought fortunes in the mines,
I might wa-ite many chapters descriptive of the motley
crowds of every shade of color and of character,
forming episodes and thrilling adventures. But my
purpose in this work would not be subserved by doing
so, except such as have bearing on the subject-matter
under consideration.

Of the thousands who landed at Umatilla City and
Walla- AV'alla, en route to the " upper country," few

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WIGWAM AND WAUrATII.

brought means of transportation overland. There
were no stages, no raih'oacls ; and what though Haley
& Ish, Stephen Taylor, and many others, advci'tised
" saddle trains to leave for the mines every day of the
week, at reasonable rates," which were, say, sixty
dollars, on ponies that cost perhaps forty dollars; yet
there were hundreds that could not get tickets even
at those rates. The few who engaged reserved seats
were started off on saddle-horses of various grades,
under the charge of a " conductor," whose pi'incipal
duty was, not to collect fares, but to herd the kiichen
mules, — every train had with it one or more animals
on whose back the supplies and blankets were carried,
— and indicate the camping places by pulling the ropes
that loosed the aforesaid kitchens and blankets, when,
like other trains, at the pull of the rope, the whole
would stop, and not be startled into unnecessary haste
by " twenty minutes for dinner " sounded in their
ears. One or more nights the camp would be on the
Keservation, thus bringing travellers and Indians in
contact.

I have said that many could not get places, even on
the backs of mules, or Cayuse ponies. Such were
compelled to take " "Walkers' line," go on foot and
carry blankets and " grub " on their backs. The sec-
ond night out would find them also on the Reserva-
tion, and those who had the wherewith, purchased
horses of the Indians; some, perhaps, without consult-
mg the owners. I^ot stealing them ! No. A white
man would not do so mean a thing ; but ropes are sus-
picious things when found in the pack of one of
" Walker's " passengers, and if a pony was fool enough
jto run his head into a noose, the handiest way to get

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

icre
alcy
Iscd
rthc
sixty

; yet

even
seats
adcs,
icipal
ichen
umals
irried,
1 ropes
when,
whole
r haste
their
Dn the
ans in

clear of him was to exchange with some other man of
similar misfortune, and tlien it was not stealing in the
eyes of honest white men.

If the Indian missed his propert}'', and, hunting
along the line, found him under a white man, you
might suppose he could recover his horse. ]N"ot so,
my lord! ^ot so. The white man had proof that
he had bought him of some other man, may be an
Indian. Such Avas sometimes the case, for I do not
believe that all men are honest, white or red; and these
red men were not behind the white in sharp practice;
and it is safe to say, that those of whom I am w^riting
now were peers of those who sought to outwit them.
The horses of saddle trains would sometimes " stray
away," — often those of freighters, — and, since time
was money, and strangers might not understand the
" range," the Indians were employed to hunt for
the straying animals, and paid liberally if they suc-
ceeded; and thus it made the stock of oilier trains
restless, and of tan they would run away — and so the
business increased, and the Indians grew wealthier,
notwithstanding their own sometimes followed off a
rope in the hands of white men.

The road, along which this stream of miners poured,
left the valley of Umatilla on the Reservation, leading
up the mountains. Kear the foot of the hill, but with
a deep ravine or gulch' intervening, and on another
hill, — part really of the valley, though sloping toward
the former, — was "The Trading Post,"— Indian's
sutler store. 'Twas here that saddle trains and
" Walker's line," halted for the night, or " to noon "
and rest, after travelling a fourteen-mile " stretch."
Tiio "Walker" passengers were already worn out,

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WIOW.VM AXD WARPATH.

with heavy packs of picks aiul pans, bottles and blan-
kets. The situation ot* the post, with reference to the
mountain, was to an observer like standing on the
sloping roof of one house and measuring the "pitch"
of the one adjoining, making it seem much steeper
than it really is. So with this mountain. True, it
required a broad upward sweep of vision to take in
the height. On the first bench, one mile above, the
trains and men seemed to be transformed into dogs
and boys. On the second bench, two miles up, they
looked still smaller. On the third, three miles up,
they very closely resembled Punch and Judy driving
a team of poodles. The Indians found here a market
for their horses, and sometimes did a livery business,
in Indian style.

A stalwart son of Erin, standing against the wall
of the store to "rest his pack,'" after looking at the
trail leading up the mountain, said to the merchant
doing business there, '*I say, misther, is it up that hill
we go?" Hearing an affirmative answer, he looked
again at each bench, his brow growing darker the
higher his eye went; at length he gave vent to his
estimate of the undertaking b}^ saying, "By the howly
St. Patrick, if me own mother was here in the shape
of a mule, I'd ride her up that hill, sure I I say, Mis-
ther Injun, wouldn't you sell us a bit of a pony for to
carry our blankets an' things over the mountain with?"

The Indian had been iii business long enough to
understand that, and replied, "Xow-wit-ka mi-kapot-
luctch. Chic-a, mon, ni-ka is-cuni, cu-i-tan ! " — " Och !
Mister Injun, don't be makiu' fun of a fellow, now, will
ye? It's very sore me feet is, a-carrving me pick and
pan and cookiiig-ti*aps. Why don't you talk like a

WIOWAM AND WAUPATII.

,he wall

at the

crcliant

:hat hill
looked
ker the
to his
le howly
le shape
ty, Mis-
ty for to
with?"
lUgh to
ka pot-
"Ochl
LOW, will
lick and
like a

daccnt American jj^cntlcman? " — " Wakc-i'^: ta-cmn-
tiix," said Tii)-lip-a-noor, the Indian. " Don't be i)lay-
in' your dirty tongue on mo now, or I'll spoil your
beaut ilul lace so I will."

Drawing his arms out of the straps that had kept
the pack in position on his shoulders, and lowering it
aisy,'* to save tl\e bottle, he began to make demon-
strations of hostiivT character, when Mr. FHp[)in, the
post-trader, explained that Tlp-tip-a-noos had re})Hed
to his first request, " Yes, you show the money, and I
will furnish the horse;" and he had replied to the
second, " I don't nnderstand you." — "And is that all
he says? Shure, he is a nice man, so he is. Shan't I
swaten his moiith wid a dhrop from me bottle?" —
"^N^o," says Flip., " that wont do." — "Away wid yees;
shure, this is a free counthry, and can't a man do as he
plases with Li. own?" — "Not much," replied Flip.
" I say now, Mike, will you join me in the byln' of a
bit of a pony for to carry our blankets and things?"

The man addressed as Mike assented to the propo-
sal, and soon Tip-tip-a-noos brought a small j)into cal-
ico-colored horse; and after some dickering the trade
was completed by Pat, through pantomimic signs, giv-
ing Tip to understand, that if he would follow
do>vn into the gulch, out of sight of Flip, he would
give him a bottle of whiskey, in addition to the tv^enty
dollars.

The pony was turned over to Pat and Mike. The
next move was to adjust the packs on the Cayuse.
This was not easily done. First, because the pony
did not understand Pat's jargon; second, they had not
reckoned on the absence of a pack-saddle. Flip., al-
ways ready to accommodate the travelling public, for

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WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

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a consideration, brought an old cross-tree pack-sad-
dle, and then the lash-ropcs, — ropes to bind the load
to the saddle. Pat approached the pony with out-
stretched hands, saying pretty things in Irish brogue;
while Mike, to make sure that tl:c horse should not
escape, had made it fast to his waist with a roi)e hold-
ing back, while Pat went forward, so that at 'he pre-
eioc moment the latter had reached the pony's nose,
he reared up, and, striking forward, gave Pat a blow
with his fore-foot, knocking hun down. Seeming to
anticipate the Ii-ishman's coming wrath, he whirled so
quick that Mike lost his balance and went down,
shouting, " Sthop us, stliop us; we are running away! "
Pat recovered his feet in time to jump on the pros-
trate form of Mike, going along horizontally, at a
furious gait, close to the pony's heels. The Cayuse
slackened his speed and finally stoppc^d, but not until
Mike had lost more or less of clothing, and the " T/clt "
from his rosy face.

"When the two Iri^lnnen were once more on foot,
and both holding to the rope, now detached ^'om
Mike's waist at one end, and buried into the wheezing
neck of the Cayuse at the otlic, a scene occurred
that liierdstadt should have had I'or a subject. I
don't believe I can do it j T^^^^tice, and yet i desire my
readers to see it, since the renowned painter above-
mentioned, was not present to represent it on canvas.

Think of two bloody-nosed ^ -[ah lads holding the
poi^y, while he was pulling back until his haunches
almoist touched the ground, wheezing for breath, oc-
casionally jumping forward to slacken the rope around
his neck, and each time letting Pat and Mike fall sud-
denly to the ground, swearing in good Irish style at

I ii

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

k-sad-
ic load
li out-
rogue;
lid not
e hold-
he pro-
's nose,
, a blow
nuig to
lirled so
t down,
awayl"
lie pros-
ily, at a
• Oayuse
not until
"Tvelt"

on foot,
ed li'om
vheezhig
oceurred
3Ject. I
csire my
r above-
canvas,
ding the
launches
ath, oc-
e around
fall sud-
etyle at

the " spalpeen of a brute " that had no better man-
ners, while Mr. Indian was laughing as he would
have done his crymg, — away down in his heart.
Flip, and others looking on, were doing as near justice
to the occasion as possible, by laughing old-fashioned
horse-laughs, increasing with each speech from Pat
or Mike.

Occasionally, when the Cayuse would suddenly
turn his heels, and fight in pony style, Pat would
roar out Irish, while the horse would compel them
to follow hi'n, each with body and limbs at an
angle of forty-five degrees, until his horseship would
turn again, and then they were on a horizontal awhile.
Securing him to a post, Pat said, "]S^o',.', be jabers,
we've got him." After slipping a shirt partly over
his head, to " blind " him, they proceed to sinche — fas-
ten — the pack-saddle on him, and then the two packs.
Wlien all was lasherl fast, and a hak-i-more — rope hal-
ter — was on his nose, they untied him from the post,
and proposed to travel, but Cayuse did not budge.
Mike pulled and tugged at the halter, while Pat called
him pretty names, and, vath outspread hands, as
thoiigli Ik; was herduig geese, stamping his foot, coaxed
pony to start. No use. Flip, suggested a sharp stick.
Pat went for his cane, like a man who had been sud-
denly endowed with a bright idea. After whittling
the end to a point, he applied it to the pony.

The next speech that Irishman made was while in
half-bent position. With one hand on the side of his
head, he anxiously addressed Tip. " Meester Injun, is
me ear gone? Meester Injun, what time of night is
it now? I say, Meester Injun, where now is the spal-
peen of a pony?"

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

I ■' !l

I ill

■ i

! i ' 11 i

Mike had let go of the rope soon after Pat applied
the sharp stick, and was following the retreating blan-
kets and bottles, ejaculating, "The beautiful whiske^'^ !
The beautiful whiskey I "

When Pafs eyes were clear enough, Meester Injun,
without a smile, pointed to the valley below, where
frying pans and miners tools were performing a small
circus, much to the amusement of a band of Cavuse
horses, who were following Pat's pony with consider-
able in';erest.

I don't think the goods, or the whiskey either, were
ever recovered by Pat and Mike, but I have an idea
that " Tip-tip-a-noor *' had a big dance, and slept warm
under the blankets, md possibly a big drunk.

Of course, reader, you do not blame Irishmen for
their opposition to " The Humane Policy of the Gov-
ernment."

The Indian, however, if detected in unlawful acts,
was sure of punishment under the law, no matter
though he may have been incited to the deed by whis-
key he had bought of white men, who vended it in
violation of law. This commerce in whiskey was car-
ried on extensively, notwithstanding the efforts of a
very efficient agent to prevent it.

Men have started out on " Walker's line," carrying
their blankets, and in a day or two they would be well
mounted, without resorting to a " rope " or money to
purchase with, and obtain the horses honestly too ; that
is to say, when they practised self-denial, and did not
empty the bottles they had concealed in their packs.
One bottle of whiskey would persuade an Indian to
dismount, and allow ^he sore-footed, honest miner,
who carried the bottle, to ride, no matter though the

WIGWA^I AND WARPATH.

act8,

natter

whis-

S','9

it in

■■■1

s car-

"■".

i of a

•rying

cwell

icy to

; that

id not

lacks.

an to

nmer,

».^

h the

horse may have belonged to other parties. I have
heard men boast that they were "riding a bottle,"
meaning the horse that bore them along had cost that
sum.

Such things were common, and could not be pre-
vented. Young " Black Hawk " learned how to speak
English, and make brick, and various other arts,
through the kindness of the Superintendent of the
State's Prison, These things he might never have
known, but for the foresight of some fellow who dis-
liked the fare on " "Walker's " line.

The question is asked, " AYhat was the agent do-
ing?" He was doing his duty as well as he could,
with the limited powers he possessed. But when he
sought to arrest the white men who were violators of
the laws of the United States, he was always met
with the common prejudices against Indian testimony,
and found himself defeated. But, when he was ap-
pealed to for protection against Indian depredations,
he found sympathy and support, and few instances
occurred whore guilty Indians escaped just punish-
ment.

I knew the agent well, and doubted not his sense
of justice in his efforts to maintain peace. If he did
not mete out even-handed justice in all matters of
dispute between white men and Indians, the fault was
not his, but rather that of public sentiment. When
colored men were "niggers," the Indian "had no
rights that white men were bound to respect."

He who proclaimed against the unjust administra-
tion of law so unfavorable to the Indians, in courts
where white men and Indians wei-e parties, was de-
nounced as a fanatical sentimentalist, and placed in the

l> \

11! '

ill

S!:!l ii

' li 1

■ 1

■ IB 'V

mP ' i

: !■ 1

i 1

1 II li

1 ]

i| :

' ' ■

; i. '

i ;

i '^ii.

WIGWAM AND WAUPAXn.

same category with "TVendell Phillips" and "Old
John Brown," whose names, in former times, were
used to deride and frighten honest-thinking people
from the expression of sentiments of justice and right.

I wish here to record that, although we did a large
amount of bu.siness with white men and Indians, we
nevoi" had occasion to complain of the latter for steal-
ing, running off stock, or failing to perform, according
to agreement, to the letter, even in matters left to
their own sense of honor. >

On one occasion, " Cascas," a Reservation Indian,
who ^\ as under contract to deliver, once in ten days,
at Lee's Bncampment, ten head of yearlings, of
specified size and quality, as per sample, at the time
of making the bargain, brought nine of t^^e kind
agreed upon and one inferior animal. Before driving
them into the corral, he rode up to the house, and
calling me, ])ointcd to the small yearling, saying that
was " no good ; " that he could not find " good ones "
enough that morning to fill the contract, but if I
would let the " Ten-as-moose-moose " — small steer —
go in, next time, he would drive up a " Ili-as-moose-
moose " — big steer — in place of an ordinary yearling.
If I was unwilling to take the small one, he would
drive him back, and bring one that would be up to the
standard.

I assented to the first proposition. Faithful to the
promise, he made up the deficiency with a larger ani-
mal next time, and even then made it good.

Another circumstance occurred which asserted the
honesty of these Indians. After we had corralled a
small lot of cows purchased from them, one escaped
and returned to the Indian band of cattle, from which

I "3

ill

WIGWAM AND AVARPATH.

she had been driven. Three or four years after, we
were notified by the owner of the band that ve had
four head of cattle with his herd. True, it was but
simple honesty, and no more than any honest man
would have done; but there are so many who would
have marked and branded the calves of that little
herd, in their own interest, that I felt it worthy of
mention here to the credit of a people who have few
friends to speak in their behalf. I^TotAvithstanding
their lives furnish many evidences of high and hon-
orable character, yet they, very much like white men,
exhibit many varieties.

In pressing need for a supply of beef for hotel use,
I called on " Tin-tin-mit-si," once chief of the Walla-
Wallas (a man of extraordinary shrewdness, and
possessed of great wealth, probably thirty thousand
dollars in stock and money), to make a purchase.
He, silently, half in pantomime, ordered his horse,
that he might accompany me to the herds. Taking
with us his son-in-law, John McBernc, as interpreter,
we soon found one animal that would answer our
purpose. The keen-eyed old chief, with his blanket
drawn over his head, faced about, and said, " How
much that cow weigh?" — "About four hundred and
fifty pounds," I answered. " How much you charge
for a dinner?" — "One dollar," I responded. "How
much a white man eat? " said " Tin-tin-mit-si." I read
his mind, and knew that he was thinking how to take
advantage of my necessity, ard, also, that he was not
accustomed to the white man ;i dinner. I replied,
" Sometimes one pound." — " All .• ' • ," quoth Indian;
" you pay me four hundred dollars, then what is over
will pay you lor cooking." — " But who will pay me

' I

44 WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

for the coffee, sugar, butter, potatoes, eggs, cheese,
and other thmgs?" I replied.

While Johnny was repeating this speech the old
chief moved up closer, and let his blanlset slip off his
ears, and demanded a repetition of the varieties com-
posing a Christian dinner; and, while this was being
done, he looked first at the interpreter, then at me, and
said, in a surly, dry tone, " No wonder a white man is
a fool, if he eat all those things at once; an Indian
would be satisfied with beef alone."

After some mathematical calculations had been
explained, he agreed to accept forty-five dollars, a
good, round price for the cow. And I drove away the
beast, while " Tin-tin-mit-si " returned to his lodge to
bury the money I had paid him along with several
thousand dollars he had saved for his sons-in-law to
quarrel over; for the old chief soon after sent for his
favorite horse to be tied near the door of his lodge,
ready to accompany him to the happy himting-
grounds, where, according to Indian theology, he has
been telling his father of the strange people lie had
seen.

ai 'I

* i

CHAPTER IV.

DIAMOND-CUT-DIAMOND.

It was understood, in the treaty stipulation with the
Government and these people, that they were to have
the privilege of hunting and grazing stock in com-
mon with citizens on the public domain. In the exer-
cise of this right, they made annual journeys to Grand
Round and other valleys, east of the Blue mountains,
driving before them, on these journeys, their horses.
They were often thus brought in contact with white
settlers, and sometimes difficulties occurred, growing,
generally, cut of the sale of intoxicating liquors to
them by unprincipled white men.

Indians are not better than white men, and, when
drunk, they exhibit the meaner and baser qualities of
their nature as completely as a white man. Deliver
us from either, but of the two, an intoxicated white
man has the advantage; he is not held responsible to
law. The Indian has one privilege the civilized white
brother is not supposed to enjoy. He can abuse his
family, and us long as he is sober enough can whip
his squaw; but woe be to him when he gets past fight-
ing, for then the squaw embraces the opportunity of
beating him in turn, and calls on other squaws to
assist in punishing her lord for past as well as present
ofiences.

The chiefs generally watch over their men, to pre-
vent the purchase of liquor by them. "Homli,"

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

■ n

chief of the Walla-Wallas, sometimes punished his
braves in a summaiy manner for getting drunk, using
a horsewhip in the public streets. However worthy
the example, I believe that it was not often followed
by others of either race.

The annual visits of which I have spoken occurred
in the latter part of June, when the mountain sides of
Grand Ivound valley were offering tempting induce-
ments in fields of huckleberries. The valley, too, —
where not enclosed and turned to better use, — was
blooming with Indian " muck-a-muck," a sweet, nutri-
tious root called ca-mas, with which the Indian women
filled baskets and sacks, in which to carry it to their
homes for winter use.

The beautiful river of Grand Round was inviting
the red men to war against the shining trout and salm-
on, that made yearly pilgrimage to greater alti-
tudes and cooler shades, there to woo and mate, and
thus to people the upper waters w;ith finny children,
who would, in time of autumn leaves, go to the great
river below, and come again when mountain snows,
now changed to foaming torrents, hastened to the
river's mouth, and tempting salmon flies had come
from their hiding places, and swarmed on bush and
bank, to lure the fish onward and upward, or beguile
them to the fisher's net, or hidden spear, if, perchance,
they were warned away from angler's line, or escaped
the lightning arrow of Indian boys.

Then, too, this beautiful garden of the mountains
wore its brightest hues on plain and sloping hills and
cultured field. The farmers were idle then, and often
went to join the red men in racing horses, and chasing
each other in mimic wars. Sometimes the two would

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

engage in trades of wild Cayuses (Indian horses),
teaching eacli other how to tame these fiery steeds.
Gi'cat circus shows were these, in which the red man
might for once laugh at the white man's clumsy imi-
tations of red men's daily i-ecreations.

Again, the red man had sweet revenge for sharper
practice which he had felt at the hands of his Avhite
brother. Selecting some ill-natured beast, whose
tricks he well knew, he would offer him at a price so
low, that some white man who was tired of going to
his neighbors for a ride, or had a hopeful son anxious
to imitate little Indian boys in feats of horsemanship,
would purchase him. Then fun began, to witness
which the town sometimes turned out. The colt, un-
used to civilized bit or spur, would, like his former
owner, show contempt for burdens he was not made
to bear without " bucking." When, with bridle and
saddle, and rider, all new, surrounded by scenes un-
like his coltship's haunts, he was called upon to forward
move, he would stand as if turned to marble, until by
persuasion of whip and spur he'd change his mind.
Then, with a snort, a bound, or upward motion of his
back, his nostrils buried in the dust, he'd whirl and
whirl until the rider dizzy grew, of which circum-
stance he seemed aware, when, with all his power
brought into quick use, he sent the rider in mid-air or
overhead, and straightway bent each bound toward
his former home, followed by loud shouts of laughter,
made up of voices joined of every kind and age, ex-
cept perhaps that of the disgusted father — who had
sundry dollars invested in furniture on the runaway's
back — and the crying boy in the dust.

The chances against the new owner's boy ever

WIGWAM AND WAKPATII.

i i

!; Ill

'II i

" putting on much style " on that pony were not very
numerous. Fearing as much, tlie next proposition
was to sell the pony back t.^ " Mr. Injun " at a heavy
discount; Avhich Avas done much against the wishes
of the dethroned boy, whose aspirations for western
honor were thereby " nipped in the bud."

A lawyer of "La Grande," celebrated for his
shrewdness in Ijusiness generally, and who was the
father of several (>nterprising sons, made an invest-
ment in Cayuse stock, for the benefit of the aforesaid
boys, and fearing that he, too, might go in mourning
over the money thus spent, in fatherly tenderness
determined that he himself would ride the pony
first.

The horse was saddled, and led by a long rope to
the ofiice door. The lawyer said, " ]N^ow, Charley,
I'll fool that pony, sure. I'm little, you know, and
he'll think I'm a boy." The rope was made fast to an
awning-post, and then, in presence of a hopeful audi-
ence, he mounted slowly, though in full lawyer's dress,
a bell-crowned " plug " (hat) included. When softly
springing in the stirrups, to assure himself all was
right, and confident that his " nag " was there, subject
to his will, he essayed to display his horsemanship.
But pony was not ready then. The lawyer called for
whip and spurs, and without dismounting they were
furnished, and while holding out his foot to have the
spur put on, remarked that " he did not half like the
white of the pony's eye. But, boys, I'll stick while
the saddle does." With sober face and eye fixed on
the ears in front, he coaxed again, and with soft;
speech sought to change the pony's mind. But he
was not ready now, until he felt the rowel stick into

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

41)

his sides, and then away went horse and rider together,
to the end of the rope, where the pony stopped, though
the hiwyer did not, until his liead had struck the
crown of his hat; and not then even, l)ut, going at a
furious rate, the lawyer, hat, and torn trowsers had
landed all in a heap on the other side of the street;
the awning-post gave way, and the lawyer's Cay use
went oir, with a small part of the town following him.

The language used hy him on this occasion con-
sisted not of quotations from Blackstone, or the Bihlc
either, unless in detached words i)ut strangely in shape
to answer immediate use. It is not safe to say any-
thing about fooling ponies, in court or elsewhere, in
the town of La Grande, unless the si)eaker wants
war. That lawyer, although a stanch liepublican,
and liable to be a candidate for Congress, is strongly
opposed to President Grant's peace policy with
Indians, — the Umatilla Indians in particular.

To say that Chief Ilomli and his tribe enjoyed little
episodes, growing out of horse-trading with the citi-
zens of La Grande, is too gentle and soft a way of
telling the truth, and have it well understood, unless
Ave add the westernism " hugely."

These visits had other beneficial results than those
growing out of trade, since they extended over the
Fourth of July, when all the peoj)le of the valley
came together to celebrate the "nation's birthday,"
when, with fife and drum, the country-folks would
join with those in town, who " marched up a street
and then marched down again," to the willow-covered
stand, where readers and orators would rehearse, one,
the history of the "Declaration," the other, repeat
some great man's speech.

WIGWAJI AND WARPATH.

III!

1^ '■.•Ml

The tables j;roaned beneath the loads of viands,
spread by gentle women's hands. The leader and
the orator oi" the day wonld take positions at either
end, and the meek eha[)lain in between, while the
bashful country boys would lead up their girls, until
the table had been tilled. Ilonili and his people,
dressed in Fourth-of-July regalias, would look on
from respectful distance, and wonder what the reader
meant, when he said, "All men are born free and
equal," and wondered more to hear a wicked orator
protest that ihe " Hag above was no longer a llamiting
lie." The Indians were then serving in the house of
a foolish old man, named Esau. When fair lips
refused hjuger to taste, and manly breast was filled
too full for utterance, Ilomli and his people were in-
vited to partake. Some of his people accepted the
gift of the remnants; but he, Ilomli, never.

In the absence of better pastime, the crowd would
come again to the grand stand, to give opjjortunity
for disai)pointed spouters to ventilate pent-up patri-
otism. Ilomli, too, made a speech, and w^ith keen
rebuke referred to days gone by, when white men
had come to his lodge, and craved his hospitality; how
his women had culled their berr^-baskets to find some-
thing worthy of the white man's taste, and how the
finest trout had been ofiered in proof of friendship for
the stranger guest, and boasted that he had given the
finest horses of his band to help the stranger on, and
sent an escort of trusty braves to direct him over all
doubtful trails. He boasted, too, that no white man's
blood had ever stained his hand, even when he was
sti'ong, and they were weak; then, with well-made
gesture, pointed to the valley, once all his own, and

}:;i

WIGWAM AND WAUrATII.

ancls,
• and
eitlier
e the
, until
leople,
ok on
render
ic a"d
orator
amting
)use of
lir lips
IS iilletl
v^crc in-
)ted the

covered with .•^ntclope and feathery trihes. No Iiouhcs,
fields, or barns marred tlien the beautiful xalley of the
mountain. Tiu-ning' half around, he gazed at people
and town, and nadly motioned to the mountain-sides,
robbed of fir and pine, and seemed to drink in, what,
to him, was desolation made complete. With eye
half closed, he mused a moment, and then broke forth
like some brave soul that had mastered self, and was
reconciled to the inexorable destiny that his mind had
seen in store, declared that he would be a man
himself, with white man's heart, and that his people
would yet join with pride in the coming celebra-
tions.

The triumph of civil hopes over savage mind was
complete, and when the change was realized by the
lookers-on, they gathered round the chieftain, and
gave him welcome to a brotherhood born of a nation's
struggles to redeem mankind, when the white men
were few and Ilomli's people numerous as the stars
that looked do>Mi on the rivers of this beautiful land.
"Who shall rememljer the mild reproof of Ilomli, wdien
he, under the humane and enlightened policy of the
GoveiTunent, shall have made good this declaration to
be a white man in heart and practice?

Little things sometimes move in harmony until they
unite, and make up an aggregate of causes, whose
combined power becomes irresistible for good or ill
to peoples, tribes, and nations.

The chieftain of whom I write had, at various
times, felt the thongs that bound him to his savage
habits loosening, little by little, until at last, under
the influence of the patriotic joy of freemen, he him-
self had stepped from under a shadow that was once

i i r' !

WIGWAM AlsD WARPATH.

m !i!

? ,';1i-i

rilNi

a beiiison, but had now, because of his eiihghtenment,
become a barrier to his happiness.

The change was real, and the heart that had come
laden with reproach to hh neighbor, and felt the sting
of slighted manhood, now exulted in the recognition
he had found in the sunshine of American Indepen-
dence, and the warm hands of freedom's sons, who
bade him welcome to a better life.

No human brain can correctly measure the influence
of such events. Ilomli, as I have said, was a chief of
the Walla- Wallas, who, in conjunction with the Uma-
tihas and Cayuses, occupied the reservation spoken
of as "Umatilla" (horse-heaven), it being the orig-
inal home of the tribe bearing that name. In 1856,
the three tribes above named united in treaty coun-
cil with the Government, rep" isented by the lamented
J. I. Stevens and General Joel Palmer.

T'liis treaty was conducted with firmness and on
principles of justice, the Indians having, in this in-
stance at least, half " the say." By the terms agreed
npou, a portion jf country was reserved by the three
tribes for a i)ermanen' home, to be held jointly
by them. It is located on one of the tributaries of
the Columbia, known as the Umatilla river. The
out -boundaries measured one hundred and three
miles, covering a country possessing many natural
advantages, conducive to Indian life, and of great
value in the transfei* of these people from a barbarous
to a civilized condit'on.

Its surface is diversified with rich prairie lands,
producing an excellent quality of bunch grasr> — so
called becaiise of its growing in tussocks, — covering
not more than half the surface of the ground, the

WIGWAM AND WAK^'ATII.

remainder being entirely devoid of vegetation, very
nutricious and well adapted to grazing.

The mountains are partly covered with forests of
pine and fir, valuable for commercial and building
purposes, '^lie streams are rapid, with bold shores,
abounding in laten^, power, waiting for the tii.ne when
labor and capital shall harness its cataracts to ma-
ciiinery, whose music will denote the transformation
process going on in the forest of the mountain; the
fleeces from the plain, and in the cereals they contain,
in embryo, for better use than shading herds of cattle
and Indian horses, or its fleeces made traffic for
traders and shippers, who enrich themselves by
taking them in bulk and returning in manufactured
exchanges; or for its fields to lie dormant a'ld idle,
while commerce invites and starving people clamor
for bread they might be made to yield.

True, its almost unbroken Avilderness, echoing the
call of cougar or cayote (ki-o-te) ; its tall gras^s plains,
tangled and trembling with the tread of twenty thou-
sand horses; its valleys decked with carpets of
gorgeous flowers, — fit patterns for the costumes of
those w ho dance thereon, — or speckled with baby
farms, belonging to red-skinned ploughmen, or shaded
by the smoke of council wigwams ; its waters some-
times shouting, as if in pain, while hurrying headlong
against the rock, or, laughing beneath the balm-wood
trees at the gambols of its owui people, or, divided
into an hundred streams, go rushing on, still play-
ing -nirror for the smiling faces of the youths, wiiose
hearts and actions take pattern after its own freedom;
true, indcL 1, that this lovely spot of earth seems
to have been the special handiwoi-k of the Almighty,

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

'I '8 iil!

fi 'I

II ir

ijii

ji:

:ii

i
1

who had withheld from other labors the cnoicest gems
of beauty, that he might make a paradi.se, where
youth could keep pace with passing years, until the
change of happy hunting-grounds should be noted
only by the wail of weeping widows, or sighs of sor-
rowing orphans.

'Twas to this Indian paradise that Homli returned
from his summer visit, his heart laden with new feel-
ings of pride; for he had been recognized as a man.
If he did not then begin to enjoy the realization of
his hopes, there were reasons why he did not that
few have understood.

Born to a wild, free life, possessed of a country
such as few ever enjoy, with a channel of commerce
traversing his home ; brought in constant contact with
white men, some of whom, at least, he found to be
soulless adventurers, ever ready to take advantage of
his ignorance of trado ; confused and bewildered by
the diversity of opinions on political and religious
subjects; witnessing the living falsehood of much of
civilized life; but half understanding the ambitions
of his " new heart," or the 2)rivilege he was entitled
to; with the romance of his native education in mat-
ters of religion, its practical utility to satisfy his
longings that reached into the future, or to meet the
demands of conscience, where duty led him, or anger
at insult drove him; the performance of its ceremonies,
connecting social with religious rites, — added to these
the power that his red brethren who were yet un-
touched by the finger of dostiny, and were luxuriating
in idle, careless life, enhanced by the sight of the
hardened hands and sweating brows of those who
soujyht to find admission to circles where labor insures

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

^ems
here
L the
loted
' sor-

irned
' feel-
man,
on of

hat

t t

j\intry
imcrce
ct with
to be
age of
red by
liglous
uch of
l)ltlons
ntitled
n mat-
4y his
et the
anger
bonies,
lo these
let nn-
Iriating
of the
^e who
insures

reward; confused when witnessing the cnfoi-cement
of laws "that are saf)posed to be uniform in opera-
tion," b} the outrageous partiality shown ; treated with
coldness and distrust, because of his color ; envied of
his possessions, to which he had an inalienable right,
by deed from God, and confirmed by the government
of the United States; compelled to hear the constant
coveting of others for it, and to hear government de-
nounced because it did not rob him of his home; to
see distrust in every action toward him; his manhcad
ignored, or crushed by cruel j^ower; his faith shaken;
treated as an alien, even in his birthplace; taunted
with the threat that when he planted his feet on higher
plains, he should be crowded off, or forced to !?tand
tottering on the brink; li'.s fears aroused by the
threats he overheard of being finally driven away; of
si^eculations on the future towns that should spring
up over the graves of his fathers, when he was not
there to defend them, — added to all these discourage-
ments the oppressions of his would-be teachers, in
moral ethics and religion; demanding his attendance
on ceremonies that were intangible, incomprehensible,
to his mind, made more unbearable by the tyranny of
his red brethren, growing out of their recognition
of church-membership, and the consequent arrogance,
even contempt, with which they spoke of his religious
habits and ceremonies; unable to reconcile the prac-
tices of these people with the precepts of their priest ;
ostracised from those, who, while untouched by the
hand of Christianity, had mingled voice and prayer
with him in wilder worship; finding friends among
white men, whose hearts were true, but who, in-
stead of soothing his troubled feelings by patiently

•M") -ill

I m'i

:l , t

WIGWAM AND WARrATH.

teaching him charity and lilieral-mindccl views toiicli-
ing matters of religious practice of his Catliolic friends
and their ministers, would pile the fagots on the
burning altar 'twixt him and them, increasing dis-
trust, making the breach wider, thus becoming
alienated from the other chiefs, llow-lish-wam-po,
of Cayuse, and We-nap-snoot, of the Unritillas,
and those of their tribes who had been led, by minis-
trations of priest and chief, to the solemn masses of
the church: if then Ilomli failed to be a "white
man " in heart, on whom does the responsibility rest?

I have iiot dealt in fiction, but have stated the cir-
cumstance plainly, the truth of which will not be
questioned by those whoso personal knowledge quali-
fies them for passing judgment, unless, indeed, it be
those whose minds have been trained to run in narrow,
bigoted grooves, whose hearts have never felt the
warming influences of the high and pure love for
truth that characterizes a noble Christian manhood,
and whose measure of right is made by the petty and
self/ .J 'uterest of himself, who, with the judgment of
a truckling demagogue, barks for pay in popular ap-
plause or political reward.

For the present, I leave my readers to chide Ilomli
for his failure, if, indeed, they can, with the facts
before them. As to the responsibility, I shall discuss
the subject fully and fearlessly on some future page
of this work, where the argument for and against the
several "policies" may be made and applied in a
general way in the consideration of the subject of
" Indian civilization."

CHAPTER Y.

PGLK lES ON TRIAL— "ONE ATTA."

In" the fall of 186G, the "Oregon Delegation," in
"Washington, proposed the name of the anthor of this
book for appointment as Superintendent of Indian
Affairs in Oregon.

President Johnson, on inqnirj-, learned that he
was not a " Johnson man," and, of course, refused to
make the nomination.

The recommendation of the author's name was
made without Ms solicitation or knowledge. On the
accession of P -esident Grant, the recommendation
was renewed, the nomination was made and con-
firmed by the Senate of the United States ; bonds
filed, Oatiis of office administered, and notice given
to my predecessor ; and on the 1st of May, 18G9, I
assumed the duties of the office indicated.

The new administration had the Indian qnestion
in transit, between three policies: The old way,
^^ Civil Service,'''' ^^ The War Department Policy, ^^
and General Grant's " Quaher Policy.''''

With good intention, doubtless, the several policies
were put on trial.

Oregon supcrintendency and all its agencies were
assigned to the tender care of the War Department
policy, and I was ordered to turn over my office to
an oificer of the army, even before I luid performed

' 8

11 il

I v.i

■

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i:
i!

^ '^ h;!

1 ■

•

wigwa:m and wahpath.

an important official duty. Remonstrance was made
by the people of Oregon against the change.

A compromise was effected. I was retained as
Supeiintcndent, and Hon. Ben. Simpson, Agent at
Siletz, and Capt. Charles Lal'ollette, Agent at
Grand lionnd also of the civil service policy. The
remainder of the agencies were assigned to officers
of the army. This mixing np of elements was
somewhat embarrassing for a thne.

I began again my official duties. From the records
in the Superintendent's Office, Salem, Oregon, I
learned the location and something of the condition
of the several agencies under my charge.

" T/^e Coast Reservation,^'' covering three hundred
miles of the Pacific coast, embraced several stations,
or agencies, comprising not more than one-third the
territory within its boundaries. It had never been
ceded to the Government, neither acquired by con-
quest, but was set apart by an act of Congress for the
benefit (t' the several tribes of the "Willamette
valley. It is partly timbered and generally moun-
tainous. It abounds in resources suitable to Indian
savage life.

On -e this Avild region had been peopled with deer
and elk, whose plaintive call had led thecotigar to his
feast, or qtiickened the steps of the huntsman, Avhose
steady nerves enabled him to glide through the
tanglewood, bearing with him images of his children
(who, dependent upon his archery, awaited his
rettn-n) ; and of faithful clutchmen (sqtiaws), whose
eyes wotdd kindle at sight of hunter, laden with
frtiits of the chase, that were to be food and clothing
for her little ones. These forest trees had ntood

■^

II %

WIGWAM AND AVARPATII.

ade

I as
t at
: at
The

Leers
was

3ords
)n, I
lition

iidred

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rd the

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con-

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mette
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ndian

II deer
Ito his
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ih the
iildren
Id his
whose
with

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ntood

sentinels, guarding its people, from the gaze of tamer
hmitsmen, and from the rough ocean winds that
sweep the coast; or, uttering hoarser sounds, or
sighing songs, warning of coming storms, that some-
times beat the white-winged ship, laden with mer-
chandise, from foreign lands, against the rocky shore
(whose caverns were the refuge of sea-lions), oi',
echoing back Pacific's roar, were waiting for the
debris from wrecks of stately crafts, or coming of
sea- washed mariners.

Then, at such perilous times, the peoples of this
wild western verge of continent would, in pure
charity, build warning-fires on higher blutl's, at night-
fall, and thus give signals of danger; or, mayhap,
they sometimes built them to decoy, in order to
ave'ge insult (or wrong, real, or imaginary) of
some former seaman, who had repaid them for good
will by treacherous act of larceny of some dusky
maiden, or black-eyed boy, or stalwart warrior, car-
ried away to other lands.

Ti-adition's living tongue has furnished foundation
for the pictures I have made. And many times to
listening ears the story has been told, changed only
in the name of maiden, or boy, or braves, as date or
location gave truth to the sorrowing tale.

Living still, on a homci sot apiiil by the State, are
two chieftains of a western tribe, wliose people tell,
in story and in song, how, at a ci'rlain sign of
danger to a shi)), they went out over the breakers in
a hollow-tree iiuioc, to meet the white "tyee" of
the " great canoe," and in pity for the poverty of his
knowledge of sea line had proffered him shelter in a
quiet nook of land-locked ocean, until such time as

Hi ill!

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WIGWAM AND WAItPATH.

the Great Spirit might give evidence of anger past,
by smiling on the boisterous waves that had made
sport of man's puny elforts to control his own
going.

These chieftains, in dainty craft, had won the cap-
tain's conlideuce, and, by consent of favoring winds
and rolling s(}as, with trust he follows past lone rocks
that stand above the sunken reef, and through the
foamy passage, guarded by " headlands " on either
side; past bars, unseen, that break huge rollers into
waves of shorter measure; past, still past, the homes
of fishermen on shore, until at last his sails Happed
approval on the mast, the keel complains of unaccus-
tomed touch, and anchors dropped in fathoms short
to the bed of a bay that gives evidence of welcome,
by sending its sands to surface, speckled with mica
or sparkling with grains of gold.

Thus the white man's big canoe found rest, and
sailors crowded the rail to give signs of gratitude
to the strange, stroiig-arme(l pilots.

The captain let down his stairs, that they might
come on deck and exchange mutual feelings of each
heart. On the one hand, that of thankfulness, that
misfortunes make mankind akin, and used such occa-
sions to teach the lion that the mouse may be his
master when circumstances bring his ability into
demand.

The white man felt gratitude, and made proof of it
by loading the red man's " hollow tree " Avith rich
stores of choice sugars from the islands, blankets
made in colder zones; with clothing that illy fitted
the red man's limbs; with lines, and nets, and hooks,
and spears of foreign make, and with weapons of

{mil t'tt'<

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

fiery breath and noisy moutli, tliat poorly mated tlic
bow and '.rrow, tliougli mating good by force of
execution tlie loss in warning talk.

The chieftains, too, gave back, with answering
hand and smiling face, the gladness of their hearts that
they had found opportunity to serve the white man.

When they departed, the " tyee " bade them come
again. This was a great day for the chieftain's
household, when they landed beneath the willow trees
near their e-li-he (home). The women, with great,
wondering eyes at the sight of so many ic-tas (goods),
began to unload the "hollow-tree canoe," and, as
each article new to them came in sight, they would
wonder and chatter and try them on, until at last
they stood clothed in sailor's garb, of jacket, pants
and shoes. To their camps they came, loaded with
the precious freights, and, coming to their own, the
little ones would cry and run, shouting, " Ilal-lu-me,
til-li-cum " (strangers) ; nor would they trust to their
mothers' voices until they had put aside their cos-
tumes.

These chiefs still laugh at the surprise they felt at
sight of what they supposed to be the new-found
friends, until the merry cluchmen (women) shouted,
" Cla-hoy-em-six, tyee?" (How do you do, chief?)
They quickly rose from their cougar skin and pan-
ther's pelt, caught the bogus sailors, and quickly
robbed them of their borrowed clothes.

That night, while the sun was going to rest in his
bed of flaming billows, on the ship's deck arid on the
sand of the red man's floor, happy hearts bade each
" Good-night." The white man was happy now that
his home was gently rocked by flowing tides. The

WIOWAM AND WARPATH.

* III'!, .'r

Bill', . l,l|||

1 >im-\

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red men, happy with thoir lil-H-ciims, retaihiig in
guttural notes their groat adventures, *and dancing
the pot-hu'h dance (giving dance), wouhl stop, and
with their hands divide the prizes won, without
thought of sliells, or Indian coin, oi* wliite man's
chick-a-nion (money). AVhen "to-morrow's sun"
had climbed over the craggy ledges of the coast
mountain, and sent out his fiery messengers to an-
nounce his coming, they came to the vesseFs deck,
nd fonnd no watchman there. They peeped into the
foiecastle and cabin, and waked the slumberers up to
welcome the new morn begun on the bosom of Ya
Quina Bay.

At the Indian lodge, the soft voice of cluchman,
mingling with the murmur of rippling rills, that from
snow-banks high on the mountain side cam.c hurrying
down to quench the thirst of sailor or of savage;
maybe, the briny lips of the sea-monster or salmon
fish, that come in to rest from surging waters and
bask awhile in the smooth currents of the bay.

The chiefs arose and made breakfast on foreign teas
and island sugars, and when in new attire, with
cluchman in beads and fine tattoo (an adornment of
savage tribes), with noses pierced by long polished
shells, that made an uncouth imitation of a dandy's
moustache, with pappoose in basket hung with bells, or
lashed to boards with wild-deer thongs, and slung on
mother's back, secured with sealskin belts worn on
the brow. To make the whole a complete picture of
Indian life, the dogs were taken in, and then sitting
in the prow to give command, the "hollow-tree canoe"
was pointed toward the ship. The loud hurrah of
sailors, that was intended to give welcome, was at

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WIGWAM AXD WAUPATII.

fii'st construed to be a warnin*^, and quick the " hol-
low-tree canoe" was turned about, each paddle [)lay-
ing in concert to carry the frightened visitors away,
while cluchincn and maidens, with woman's privilege,
screamed in terror of expected harm.

The chief soothing them, and looking back descried
the tyee captain, with beckoning hand and signs re-
calling him to fuini his purpose, and make the visit.
He bade the oarsman cease, and, while his canoe
moved on from ac(iuired motion, though slower going,
while he backward gazed, he, with noiseless paddle,
again l^'ought the prow towards the sides of the "big
canoe."

Slowly and cautiously he, with his precious cargo,
floated nearer and nearer still, with eyes wide open, to
detect any sign of treachery, sometimes half stopping
at suggestions of frightened mothers or timid maidens,
and then anon would forward move ; still, however,
with great caution, until at last the two canoes were
rocking on the gentle tide in closest friendship.

The seamen who made this welcome port came on
deck, with a sailor's pride of dress, wide-legged trow-
sers, and wider collars to their shirts over their
shoulders falling, and with wide-topped, brimless
caps. When the new-comers had passed their fright,
and the old chief had climbed on deck to be sure that
all was safe, he called his family, and, though the
jolly tars went down to assist them, they remained
waiting for some further proof of friendship.

"While their eyes were upw^ard tui-ned, and Jack's
were downward bent, two pairs (at least) met mid-
way, and told the old, old tale over again.

On deck, and leaning oyer the rail, stood a youth-

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23 Wt-ifK M'« STREET

WEBSTER, N.y. 14580

(716) 872-4503

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WIGWA3I AND WARPATH.

fill sailor, with deep, earnest eyes. These had met the
gaze of another, the daughter of the pilot chief.
Silently the arrows flew; and, without honeyed word,
or war-whoop, the battle went on, until, by special in-
vitation of looks, Oneatta came aboard, and stood
beside the smiling palc-facc; and soon the older
women follow -^d with the baby baskets until all were
there except the dogs, who cried at the partiality
shown to the master and his family.

The scene on deck was novel. The tyee captain
and the chief were teaching each other the words
with which to give token of hospitality and grat-
itude ; half-sign, half-word language 'twas, though,
in which exchanges of friendly sentiments were
told.

The sailors, with the women and maidens, had
organized a school, on a small scale. Merry laughter
often oroke at the clumsy efforts of white man's
tongue to imitate Indian wa-wa (talk). The little
ones received the touch of rough fingers on dimpled
chin, and turned like frightened fawns away to listen
to the tinkling of the little bells above their heads.

The chief had brought with him richest offerings
of venison and fish ; the women, specimens of handi-
work in beads and necklaces, which they ofiered in
exchange for such articles of bright-hued colors as
the sailors might have bought in other lands.

The bargains were quickly made, each side proud
of success in securing something to remind them of
the visit.

The chief signified his intention to return to his
home on the beach, when the good captain, not to be
outdone in matters of courtesy, brought fresh supplies

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

of various kinds, and had them stowed away in the
" hollow-tree canoe."

When the parting came, to prove his good will, the
tyee captain promised to return the visit. Oneatta
had said to Theodore, the sailor, " Come ; " and he, with
eyes doing service for his lips, had made promise.
The red chief and his family withdrew, and soon they
were riding the laughing waves in the " hollow-tree

canoe

Thus the day had passed and joined the happy ones
gone before it; and bells had called the sailors to the
deck, and the Indian chief reposed his limbs on the
uncut swath of willow grass, and waited for the ap-
proach of night, that he might, by signal fires, call
his kinsmen to the pil-pil dance; a dance in honor
of each Indian maiden when she " comes out."

Oneatta had demanded of her parents this honor,
and, since custom allowed this privilege, she on that
day reached an era in her life, when she chose to bo
no longei" a child.

Her father, the chief, wondered at this sudden
change of manner wrought, but, yielding to his doating
c'lild, gave his assent. The picture I am making now
is true to the life of many a maiden, who may follow
Oneatta's history, whose faces take their hue of colors
that give token of their race.

Some of them may recall their " coming out "
'neath dazzling chandeliers, on carpets of finest grain,
in dresses trailing long, in which they stepped with
timid gait to softest music, of silver, lyre, or flute, or
many-voiced piano.

But Oneatta's parlor was lighted up with glittering
stars, that had done service long, and brighter grew

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

' (■»■■

to eyes of each new belle, who had, from tune to
time, lent first a listening ear to soft-voiced swain.

The carpets were brightest green, and sanded by
waves stranded on the beach at the flowing of the
tide.

The music was grandly wild, a combination of the
hoarse drum, or angry roar of sea-lions, mingling
with the deep bass voice of waves, breaking on the
rocks, while, soft and low, the human notes came in
to make the harmony complete to cars long trained
to nature's tunes.

The maiden, whose heart was now tumultuous as the
scenes around her, had dressed with greatest care in
skirts of scarlet cloth, embroidered with beads and
trimmed with furs of seal and down of swan. Her
arms, half bared, were circled with bands of metals ; her
neck, with hoofs of fawns, or talons of the mountain
eagle; pendent from her ears, rattles of the spotted
snake ; the partition of her nose held fast a beautiful
shell of slender mould; her cheeks, rosy with vermil-
ion paints; while in her raven hair she wore a gift
from her pale-faced lover, brought from some far-off
shore, intended for some other than she who wore it
now. It was but a tinsel, yet it fitted well to crown
her whose eyes were dancing long before her beaded
slippers had touched time upon the sanded floor.

The circular altar, built of pebbles of varied colors,
■was lighted up with choicest knots of pine from
fallen trees.

The watch on board the " big canoe " was set, and
down its swinging stairway the tyee captain, mate,
and sailors descended to the waiting boat ; then
softly touched the oars to smiling waves, and steady

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

arms kept time to seamen's song in stern and bow,
guided, meanwhile, by the altar fire. Over the glassy
bridge they flew, and touched the bank beside the
" hollow-tree canoe."

With hearty hand the chieftains bade them wel-
come, and gave silent signal for the dance to begin,
while the tyee captain ar "< his men took station at
respectftil space. The dancers came, and, forming
round the maiden's altar fires, awaited still for her to
come from lodge.

The pale-faces, lighted up with blaze from knotty
wood, with folded arms and curious wonder stood
gazing on the scene.

One among the number had scanned the merry
ch'cle of bashful Indian boys and timid girls; his face
bespoke vexation at his disappointment, for he had
failed to catch the eye of Oneatta.

She came, at length, tripping toward the festive
throng, and spoke to him ere the dance began, not
by smile, or deed, or word, but in Cupid's own
appointed way, that never lies. He, as every other
swain can do, read it in her eyes, and made ansTvar
in ways that do not make mistake.

When thd circle had closed round the altar, thu
song of gladness broke forth from he lips of the
tattooed and painted red chins, and from the drum of
hoarser sound, and then the happy dancers, without
waiting for partners, went with lithesome step in gay
procession round. Louder rang the music, quicker
grew the steps, each time round, the little invisible
nrrows flew from sailor-boy to Indian maiden, and
from maiden to sailor-boy ; glancing each against the
other, would rustle and then

straight

to target

WIGWAM AND WARrATII.

sent, until at last the maiden tired grew, her bosom
overladened with the arrows Cupid's quiver had
supplied. She bade the dancers stop, and with native
grace, and stately step, she stood beside her lover
without a thought of wrong; for she was Nature's
child, and had not felt the thongs of fashion's code,
"which forbid her to be honest.

Her tiny hand was pressed between the hard palms
of the captive sailor, for he had been fighting a battle
where each is conquered only to be a conqueror.

Oneatta led the sai!or-boy to join those who, with
wondering eyes, had waited for her return. He took
his place beside his tutor now, to learn how a step
unused by tamer people might make speech for joy
and gladness.

The dance was ended. Pale faces, and red ones,
too, had lost sight of the stars, and were lulled to
sleep by the rocking tides or muffled song of rippling
waters, or by the breakers beating the rocky shores
of Ya-quina.

Day followed day, and each had a history con-
necting it with its yesterday and prophesying for the
morrow. The sailor-boy went not on duty now, for
his "chummies" stood his watch. He spent much
time at the e-li-he of the tyee chief, or with Oneatta
went out in a small canoe to watch the fishermen
spear the fattened salmon.

Sometimes they rambled on the mountain side
beneath the mansinetta trees, and exchanged lessons
in worded language. He told her of his home, where
cities and towns were like the forest of her native
home; of people who outnumbered the stars above,
and of bright-colored goods, of beautiful beads and

WIGWAM AND WARPATH. ^^

ttL:1al1rt^«-»h. consent to go

a" for the sakT^t red^T^ """ ^'«^''
give. • promised happiness he could

The sailor made confidpnf r.^ u-

i»g pictures painted of hLr.r''''P'*™' ™''^'°^-

would do witi her then o T"''!'""* '^'"" ^^
came. ^° *° '"« mother's home he

The honest captain foDiul ..k.- ••
carrying her away, andTe^t fo ''" t"" '" ""^ ?'« °f
they called the eh eftl 2 7 ^r" '^°'"> " (for so
stand how the y<mTZT^''f "^de him under-

The face of Tye'f /oZ' ^.tw S:: TT"^-
was impatient to be gone but l f, ^'-^t' ""d he
presents hinted at bron^hrw T "'"•>' '^^"'''^ »■><•
Vosea that the sailo -L sWM T""'"'- '"" ^''>-

T.!^:rrr sxsr c'" '^^ -- -

n.ot'Ketho„td™:tr "' -<« P---a of
'''e^io. Of the Indian :Z'^::aZfZ\r'' '"

;^etyee cap^tain "mtdT L^H Is S r'-^ '^^^'
the bomiding waves. Onentt. hi , J^ ° "'^"^ ^^"^
rowing mothers, sisters brrth '""^.^f'"•«weII to sor-
*» t.=ep until h^r comi J o^^'r/.'-''^'' '^ token
tnow not what yon do" y„ t '* °""''«''-' Jou
of your fairer silters ^hoT " "" ""^ '"'"" ^^'""Ple
of foreign lips. We'pl '! *" ""= ^"""^ ""^^
nepityyouaswedothera. You

WIOWAM AND WARPATH.

,1 •■'<

m, .■

11 ■'.' '

i :'

have not thought how strange will be the customs,
manners and life of those with whom you are to
mingle. A time may come when you will long for
the caresses of your rude mother, to hear the merry
shouts of brothers, to gaze into the face of your dark-
eyed father; perhaps long to hear love in native ac-
cents spoken by the young brave who has given you
choicest gems of ocean's strand and mountain cliflfs.

"We see you yet when your kinsmen tell of you in
song, or story, your dark eyes brimming with tears of
hope and sorrow mingled.

You reach the side of the " big canoe." "We see
the brave and manly sailor-boy, who hastened to
catch your trembling hand, and help you up the
swinging steps, and when on deck you stand, we see
the sailor's chums, from the ship-yards above, gaze
down on you and him, with glances half of envy, and
half of pleased surprise.

And now we see you startle at the fierce command
of the mate, to heave the anchor up, then their
response drawn out in lengthened "Aye-aye, sir,'*
and singing, while they work, the seamen's song; and
how wide your dark eyes open at sight of whitened
sails, outspreading like some monster swan, and the
troubled, anxious look you give to the humble e-li-he
of childhood, as it passed away, as if moving in
itself, and the headlands that seem floating towards
you, and the great water that came rushing to meet
you.

We see, too, your father, Tyee John, in his " hollow-
tree canoe," leading the way, and pointing to some
sunken rock, or shallow bar, or hidden reef, until he
rounds to in proof of danger past to the " big canoe."

US,

to
for
;rry
irk-

ac-
you
fs.

►uin
rsof

3 see
id to
) the
1Q see
gaze
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imand
their
sir,"
; and
ttened
id the
-li-he
Ing in
Iwards
meet

lollow-

some

itil he

lauoe

i; m.

ttH

yii >n

WIOWAM AND WARPATH.

How its huge white wings fold up at a signal from
the tyee captain! And then your father comes on
board, and stands in mute attention to the ceremonies
of seamen's ♦marriage law. And you, in innocence,
give heed to word or sign until you are bound in law
to the fortunes and freaks of a roving sailor-boy.

When Tyee John turns away, hiding his teai's in
his heart, while yours run down your cheeks, we see
him reach his canoe, and you hanging over the sides
of the ship to catch a last glance of his eye.

And then the white wings are spread again, and
soon he grows so small that his paddle seems but a
dark feather in his hand, and your old home recedes,
and you have caught the last glimpse you ever will,
of the mountain sinking in the sea, and you, alone,
— no, not alone, foi- your sailor-boy is with you, now
drying the tears from your dusky cheeks.

Oneatta, we leave you, with a prayer that your life
may not be as rough as the seas that drove the "big
canoo " into Quina bay. "Whether your hopes have
blossomed into fruition, or have been blasted, we
know not, nor if you still live to be loved or loathed.
We only know that your silver-haired sire sits on
the stony cliff, overlooking the mouth of the harbor,
and watches passing sails, or hastens to meet those
that anchor, and repeat the old question over and
over, Me-si-ka, is-cum, ni-ka-hi-ak-close, ten-as-
cliichman, Oneatta? (Have you brought back my
beautiful daughter, Oneatta?)

When Cupid comes with pale-faced warric ! "» the
dusky maiden now, they repeat the warning tale, with
!Ni-ka-cum-tux Oneatta. (I remember Oneatta.)

CHAPTER VI.

SENATORIAL BRAINS BRATKN DY SAVAGE MUSCLE
ANT WAY OF P.-YINO PENALTIES.

■ FLEAS.

I'-
1 * .I'l

': liUfi

TiiE story I have related is but one of the many
that belong to this region, and for the tinith of which,
witnesses still live, both whites and Indians; anothe.*
reason I introduce it here is f^ show my readers who
may think otherv^^ise, that Indians — savage as they
are at times, often made savage by their religion — have
liearts. Again and again shall I refer in this work
to the red mriu's emotional nature, and to his religion.
I cannot do so too often, as the reader will admit
before he turns the last leaf.

This agency is located west of the coast range of
mountains, and bordering on the Pacific Ocean. The
valleys are small, irregular in shape, fertile and pro-
ductive, with prairies interspersed with forests of fir;
picturesque almost beyond description. At some
points the mountains reach out into the ocean, form-
ing high headlands whereon are built light-houses,
to guard mariners against the dangers of the coast.
Long white sandy beaches stretch away for miles, and
are then cut ofi" by craggy bluffs.

At the southern boundary of Siletz — two miles
from the line — may be found a beautiful bay, navi-
gable inland for thirty miles. The banks are varied in
altitude; undulating hills, with rich alluvial bottom
lands intervening. The greatest width of bay is

WiaWAM AND WARPATH.

perhaps four miles, and occasionally cut into channels
by beautiful islands narrowing inland to receive the
small river Ya-quina. Midway between the mouth of
the river and the ocean entrance to the bay, extensive
oyster-beds exist.

This " Chesapeake " of the Pacific was once a part
of Siletz reservatii)n. The discovery of the oyster-
beds, and also of the numerous forests of timber
accessible to navigation, attracted the attention of
the white men; and the old, old story was again
rehearsed, — "T/(c white men wanted them.''''

That it was wanted by the white men was su^lcient,
and no a^nbitious candidate for Legislature or Con-
gressional honors dare oppose the violation of a
solemn compact between the United States Govern-
ment and the Indians, who had accepted this <jountry
in compensation for their homes in Umpyua and
Rogue river valley. It was cut off, and given to com-
merce and agriculture in 1866.

That an equivalent was ever made to the Indian
does not appear from any records to which I have had
access. It is, however, asserted, that a small sum was
invested in stock cattle, for the benefit of Siletz
Indians. There are two approaches to Siletz from
the valley of Willamette ; the principal, via Ya-
quina river and bay; the other, over the mountain
by trail. My first visit was by the former. In Sep-
tember, 1869, . in company with Hon. Geo. H.
Williams, then U. S. Senator, now Attorney General
of the United States, Judge Odeneal, since my
successor in office, and other citizens, we reached the
head of navigation late on the evening of the 12th.
We remained over night at " Elk Horn Hotel." The

WiaWAM AND WARPATH.

it'll:

following morning, in the absence of steamer,
we took passage in small row-boats, propelled by
Indians.

The adventures of the day were few, only one of
which I shall refer to now. Our U. S. Senator, who
had done much for reconstruction in the Senate, chal-
lenged one of our Indians for a trial of muscle at the
oars. The challenge was accepted, and senatorial
broadcloth was laid aside, and brain and muscle put
to the test. After a short race the prow of our boat
ran into the bank on the side where brains was at
work. For once at least, muscle proved more than a
match for brains, and, besides, an Indian had won a
victory over a great tyee. Now although our sen-
ator had proven himself a match for other great
senators in dignified debate, he was compelled to
listen to the cheers of our party in honor of a red
man's triumph over him. I doubt if those who of
late defeated him, when a candidate for the highest
seat in our halls of justice, felt half the gratification
that " To-toot-na-Jack " did that morning when the
tyee dropped the oar, exhausted and disgusted with
his failure to hold even hand with a red brother, who
was not a senator.

After a row of twenty miles, we landed within a half
hour's ride of Siletz. The agent, Mr. Simpson, met
our party with saddle-horses.

While en route a horse-race was proposed ; the
dignified gentleman turning jockey for the nonce.
In fact, the entire party engaged in a run. The road
passed over low hills, covered with thnber and tall
ferns. "While the Congressional and Indian Depart-
ments were going at a fearful speed, a representative

lit ly

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

of the latter went over his horse's head, and soon felt
the weight of the United States Senate crushing the
Indian Department almost to death.

The parties referred to will recognize the picture.

This was not the first time, or the last either, that
the Senate of the United States has " been down on
the Indian Department."

Without serious damage, both were again mounted,
and soon were fording Siletz river, — a deep, narrow
stream, whose bed was full of holes, — slight " irreg-
ularities," as defaulters would say.

We crossed in safety, except that one horse carried
his rider into water too deep for wading. It matters
not who the ric. 'r was, or whether he belonged to
Congress or the Indian Department.

On reaching the prairie a sight presented itself,
that gives emphatic denial to the oft-repeated dec-
laration, that Indians cannot be civilized.

Spread out before us was a scene that Avords cannot
portray. The agency building occupied a plateau,
twenty feet above the level of the valley. They were
half hidden by the remnants of a high stockade that
had been erected when the Ind ians were first brought
on to the agency fresh fi'om the E,ogue-rive»* war.
At that time a small garrison was thought neces-
sary to prevent rebellion among the Indians, and to
secure the safety of the officers of the Indian Depart-
ment.

It was, doubtless, good judgment, under the
circumstances. Here were the remnants of fourteen
different tribes and bands, who had been at war with
white men and each other, and who, though sub-
jugated, had not been thoroughly " reconstructed.^^

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

They were located in the valley, within sight of
the agency, and were living in little huts and shanties
that had been built by the Government.

Each tribe had been allotted houses separated from
the others but a few hundred yards at farthest.
They drew their supplies from the same storehouse,
used the same teams and tools, and were in constant
contact. They had come here at the conmiand of the
United States Government, in chains, bearing with
them the trophies of war; some of them being fair-
haired scalp-locks, and others were off red men's
heads. Think for a moment of enemies meeting and
wearing these evidences of former enmity ; shaking
hands while each was in possession of the scalp-locks
of father or brother of the others I

But, at the time of the visit referred to, no sen-
tinel walked his rounds. No bayonet flashed in the
sunshine on the watch-tower of the stockade at
Siletz. The granaries and barns were unbarred; even
Agent Simpson's own quarters were unlocked day and
night. Fire-arms and tools were unguarded; Indians
came and went at will, except that Agent Simpson
had so taught them that they never entered without a
preliminary knock. The Indian men came not with
heads covered, but in respectful observance of cere-
mony.

The kitchen work and house-keeping were done by
Indian women, under the direction of a white matron.
The agent's table afforded the best of viands. Tell
the world that Indians cannot be civilized I Here
were the survivors of many battles, who, but a
few short years since, had been brought under
guard, some of them loaded with chains, and with

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

tit of
anties

Lfrom
'thest.
house,
nstant
of the
2: with
g fair-
. men's
ng and
jhaking
[p-locks

no sen-
l in the
tadc at
id; even
day and
Indians
Simpson
ithout a
aot with
of cere-
done by
matron.
Is. Tell
i\ Here
but a
It under
Ind with

blood on their hands, who were living as I have
described.

Sometimes, it is true, the remembrance of former
feuds would arouse the sleeping fires of hatred and
desire for revenge amongst themselves, and fights
would ensue. But no white man has ever been in-
jured by these people while on the Reservation, since
their location at Siletz.

This statement is made in justice to the Indians
themselves, and in honor of those who had control
of them, both of whom merit the compliment.
Amongst thesv-; people were Indian desperadoeSy who
had exulted vi the bloody deeds they had committed.
One especially, braver than the rest, named Euchre Bill,
boasted that he had eaten the heart of one white man.

This he did in presence of Agent Simpson, during
an efibrt of the latter to quell a broil. The agent,
always equal to emergencies, replied, by knocking the
fellow down, handcuffing him, and shutting him up in
the guard-house, and feeding him on bread and water
for several days, after which time he was released,
with the warning that, the next time he repeated the
hellish boast, he would " not need handcufis, nor bread
and water." Bill understood the hint. The agent
remarked to us that " Bill was one of his main
dependants in preserving order."

During our visit we went with the agent to see
Euchre Bill. He was hewing logs. On our approach
he dropped the axe, and saluted the agent with " Good-
morning, Mr. Simpson," at the same time extending
his hand. When informed of the personality of our
party, Bill waved his hat, and made a slight bow,
repeating the name of each in turn.

WIGWAM AND WAUPATH.

I'' I

i\ i

We looked in on the school then in progress; we
found twenty-five children in attendance. They gave
proof of their ability to use the English language, and
understand its power to express ideas; the lessons
v^ere all in pi'imary books. Their recitations were
remarkable. Outside of books they had been in-
structed in practical knowledge, and answered readily
in concert to the questions. Who is President of the
United States? What city is the capital? Who is
Governor of Oregon? Where is the capital located?
Who is Superintendent of Indian Afiairs? What year
is this? How many months in a year? When did the
count of years begin? Who was Jesus Christ? And
many other questions were asked and readily answered.
The boys were named George Washington, Dan Web-
ster, Abe Lincoln, James Kesmith, Grant, Sherman,
Sheridan, — each answering to a big name. "Dan
Webster " delivered in passable style an extract from
his great prototype's reply to Hayne. The school also
joined the teacher in singing several Sunday-school
hymns, and popular songs. Short speeches were made
by visitors and teachers. We were much encouraged
by what we saw, and left that school-house with the
belief that Indian children can learn as readily as
others when an opportunity is given them. I have not
changed my conviction since; much of its prosperity
was due to the teacher, William Shipley, who was
fitted for the work and gave his time to it. We also
called at sorue of the little settlements. The agency
farm was tilled in common; notwithstanding we saw
many small gardens around the Indian houses, grow-
ing vegetables, and in one or more " tame Jlowers."
At one place several men were at work on a new

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

house, some of them shingling, others clinking cracks.
One man was hewing out, with a conunon axe, a soft
kind of stone for a fire-place.

We entered the house of " Too-toot-na Jack," the
champion oarsman. He welcomed his vanquished rival
in the boat-race above referred to, and his friend, and
ojQfered one an arm-chair, and stools to the remainder.
His wife came in, and Jack said, " This is my woman,
Too-toot-na Jinney. She is no fool either. She has
a cooking-stove in the kitchen." Jinney was much
older than her husband; but that was not unusual.
She was a thrifty housewife, and was a financier, —
had saved nearly one thousand silver half-dollars;
and what she lacked in personal charms, on account
of tattooed chin and gray hairs, she made up, like
many a fairer woman, in the size of the buckskin
purse Avherein she kept her coin. Jack seemed fully
to appreciate the good qualities of his "woman;" not
because he had access to her fortune, but because she
was old and lie was young, and the chances were that
he would be at her funeral.

That hope has made many a better fellow than
Too-toot-na behave with becoming reverence for his
wife. But " many a slip 'twixt cup and lip " applies
to all kinds of people. Jack never realized on Ms
inve^L..<,ent. He went first, and Jinney is now a
rich widow, and has no doubt marriage offers in
abundance.

AVe were present on " court day," the agent hold-
ing it for the adjustment of all kinds of difficulties
among his people. In such cases he appoints juries
from among the bystanders, always taking care to
select such as had no tribal affinities with the parties

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

to the suit. He had a sheriff in every tribe, and on
occasions where their own friends were interested he
summoned other>s to act. He himself was the court
and high sherijf, and always sat with a large hickory
cane, called " Old Moderator."

My readers may smile at this kind of a gavel; but
it was a practical and useful thing to have in such
courts, — much more potential than Blackstone or any
other kind of commentaries, unless, indeed, it be the
last revised edition of Samuel Qolt.

The records of that court were sometimes made on
untanned parchment; by which I mean, my poor,
unsophisticated reader, that these Indian citizens would
sometimes forget very willingly to observe the decorum
due before that august tribunal, and fall to making a
record for themselves and on one another with fists,
clubs, whips, knives, pistols, and other lively weapons,
until the good Judge Simpson completed that record
by a vigorous application of the aforesaid hickory
club, and some of the citizens had editions for per-
sonal adornment.

The walls of the court-room had transcript frag-
ments done in carmine, — or, to be better understood,
in "claret." Court day had been announced to the
visitors while at breakfast. The senator had been a
successful lawyer before entering the polif* ?al arena;
the judge was then in the enjoyment of a lucrative
practice; the superintendent had done something in
the law line in county courts before justices of the
peace.

The court-room was crowded, the doorways and
windows were occupied, and black shining eyes were
glistening through every crack, all anxious to see and

WIGWAM AND WARPATH. ^

hear. These people of <5:i^f

imitators, and mo'e Vadilvt! -''^'T"^' ""^'^ "P*
frivolities of civlli^atLt'^':" :;"'"; '"'! ^'^^ »<>
proprieties. *'"' "« virtues and

Of ?h:.r:™X ::r;rd"''' ^^^^'-' -^-^

found in any eourt- oom "wol"'' -"ntenance ever
ing law. Perhaps, thev' bJ ''"'' """•"' •^''™-

-uffod the purer'ai .SeiTar-'''''' '"'"'"^'^■>-
over our beautiful eountr; and b • If tT""/" ""''^
demagogues who now rul wi/i. 1 ^'"''^^ of

better portion of the peopt' '■'?P'-^«^«fe-»i?, the

*-^fttrt;;;::rrr°'-''-"'^-vith

them, reader. They nevr had , ^^ ^""'' '^'"'•«

'oo.dng rorwrto'i^;L^-:^r^^^^^^^^^^ ^-^^i? -™

good as a ne^ro if thp,. , I -^""^^^^ will be as

- <=ye to po,L;, IdTeett; a^ff"''"- . ^''^^ ^
people were all there exeent 1^ ""'■ ^" ''"ot, the
ones. ^^""P' oamp-watchers and sick

toSTthelSt" aT"' ^^ "Mod-ator"

These Indians are fold of " .""'"'"'•
'- and new-that"' s ? !■;' ^"""^ *-">
■"ea's-were somewhat mLd ' it " ""'^ ^''''^
"•atter to execute justice uniformi" A '"" " '''®''-""
hemg a practical man had nn^ ^' .^''"' ^™P^on.
white men's law any fetter ?t '""f '"* '° ^"'"""^ «>«
hended it. ^ ""'"'^ ">«" 'he Indian con.pre-

The Indian lawvers too,.=

'-« »••«'« Sir. s-

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

i.ti.

■<- >i

V' Ki

battery. The court and the visitors had been partial
witness of the little fight, which occurred the day
previous to the trial, on the " Plaza," in front of the
agent's head-quarters. The contestants were clutch-
men (women) ; the cause of war, the only thing that
women ever fight about, — a man.

The statement in court was to the effect that one
woman had stolen another woman's husband. The
parties were arraigned, the statement made concern-
ing the case, and the matter compromised by sending
both parties to the "Sku Kum" House (Guard
House) .

The next case called was that of a man charged
with unlawfully using a horse belonging to some one
else. The accused was ordered to pay for the offence
about wh; t the real service of the animal was worth;
no damages were allowed. The thu*d case was some-
what similar to the first.

One of Joshua's people — name of a tribe —
claimed damage for insulted honor, and destruction
of his domestic happiness.

A Rogue-river Indian had, very much after the
fashions of civilized life, by presents and petty talk,
persuaded the wife of the aforesaid warrior to elope
with him. The old history of poor human nature
had been repeated. The villain deserted his victim,
and she returned to her home. Her husband, with
observing eyes discovered more ic-tas (goods) in the
woman's possession than could be accounted for on
honorable grounds, and demanded an explanation.
She made " a clean breast," and agreed to go into
court with her husband and claim damages, not
divorce ; for I have before remarked that Indians

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

were eminently practical. The husband demanded
satisfaction. The accused, whose name was " Chetco
Dandy," would have accorded him the privilege of a
fight; but that was not the satisfaction demanded.
The husband had made his ultimatum. Ttuo horses
would settle the unpleasantness. Chetco, however,
owned but one. The court decided that he should
make ten hundred rails, and deliver the horse to the
injured husband, with the understanding that the
latter was to hoard him while doing the work.

I can't resist a query : how long a white man,
under such arrangements, would require to make ten
hundred rails. The husband was satisfied, his honor
was vindicated, and he owned another horse. After
the docket was cleared, a council talk was had.

These people had been placed here by the Govern-
ment, in 1856, numbering then, according to Superin-
tendent l^esmith's report for 1857, 2,049 souls, repre-
senting fourteen bands ; and although, in 1869, they
numbered little more than half as many, they kept
up tribal relations, at least so far as chieftainship was
concerned. In the council that day one or two of
the chiefs represented tribes in bands of ten or twenty
persons ; and one poor fellow, the last of his people,
stood alone without constituency. He was a chief,
nevertheless.

I cannot report here the reflection that such a
circumstance suggests, — only that he, with the usual
solemn face of an Indian in council, seemed the per-
sonification of loneliness. '

The speeches made by these people evinced more
sense than their appearance indicated. They were
dependent on the Government, and felt their helpless-

^•1 ;>!!

WiaWAM AND WARPATH.

Ell iji',

li!

ness. "When the usual speeches had been made pre-
liminary to business talk, I said to them that I was
gratified at the advancement they had made, consider-
ing the circumstances, and that I was willing for
them to express their wishes in regard to the expendi-
ture of money in their interest.

They were loth to speak on this matter, because
they had never been consulted, and a recognition of
their manhood was more than they had expected.
After some deliberation, during which they, like bash-
ful boys, asked one another, each nudging his neigh-
bor to speak first, old Joshua at last arose, half-hesi-
tatingly, and said, "Maby, I don't understand you.
Do you mean that we may say what we want bought
for us? N^obody ever said that before, and it seems
strange to me."

I had consulted the agent before making this ex-
periment, and he had doubted the propriety; not
because he was unwilling to recognize their manhood
in the premises, but he feared they would betray
weakness for useless articles, and thereby bring de-
rision on his efforts to civilize them. Perhaps it
might establish a precedent that would be trouble-
some sometimes.

He exhibited great anxiety when Old Joshua rose,
lest he would disgrace his people by asking for beads,
paint, and powder, and lead, and scarlet cloth. I can
see that agent yet, with his deep-set eyes fixed on the
speaker, while he rested his chin on his cane. Old
Joshua spoke again, and, though he was considered a
" terrible brave on the warpath," and had passed the
better portion of his life in that way, now when, for
the fii'st time in his life, he was called upon to give

WiaWAM AND WARPATn.

opinions on a serious matter, concerning the invest-
ment of money for his people, he appeared to be
transformed into a man. He was a man. Hear him
talfi¥—

**! am old; I can't live long-. I want my people to
put away the old law (meaning the old order of
things). I want them to learn how to work like
white men. They cannot be Indians any longer. AVe
have had some things bought for us that did us no
good, — some blankets that I could poke my finger
through; some hoes that broke like a stick. We
don't want these things. We want j^lougJis, harness,
chick-chick (wago7is), axes, good hoes, a few blankets
for the old people. These we want. We have been
promised these things. They have not come."

The agent's face relaxed; his eyes changed to
pleased suriDrise. Other chiefs si3oke also, but after
the pattern that Joshua had made, except that some
of them complained more, and named a former agent,
who came poor and went away rich. No Indian sug-
gested an unwise investment. We assured them that
they should have the tools and other goods asked for;
and that promise was Tcept, much to the gratification
of the Indians and agent.

I have not the abstract at hand, but I think I pur-
chased for them soon after $1,200 worth of tools and
twenty sets of harness, and that a few blankets were
issued.

But, :;o resume the council proceedings. These people
were clamorous for allotments of land in severalty.
Their arguments were logical, they referring to the
promises of the Government to give each man a
home. The land has been surveyed, ard,.if not

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

<;;';■ i

allotted to them, I do not know why it has not been
done.

The subject of religion was discussed at some
length. The agent, willing to advance " his people,"
had given them lessons in the first principles of Chris-
tianity, lie had taught them the observance of
Sunday, had Ibi'bidden drinking, gambling, and pro-
fanity. He invited ministers to preach to them, and,
when necessary, had been their interpreter. There
were several languages represented in the council;
the major portion of the Indians understood the
jargon, or " Chi-nook," a language composed of less
than one hundred words; partly Indian, Spanish,
French, and " Boston." The iatter word is in com-
mon use among the tribes of Oregon and Washington
Territory to represent white men or American.

The Christian churches have enjoyed the privilege
of ministry to these people since they were first
located on the Reservation.

The Catholic priests, who had baptized some of
these people, were very zealous. Occasionally, the
Methodist itinerant called and preached to them.
The labors of neither were productive of much good,
because they did not preach with simplicity, and could
not, therefore, preach with power. It would be about
as sensible for a Chinaman to preach to Christians,
as for the latter to preach to Indians in high-flown
words, abstruse doctrines, or abstract dogmas. One
case will illustrate.

A very devout man of God visited the agency,
with, I doubt, not good intentions. Pie preached to
these people just as he would have done to white men.
He talked of Jesus Christ, the Saviour of the world;

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

besought thorn to flee from the wrath to come; that
Jesus Christ was the Suviour of the red men as well
as white men; that he had died for the sins of the
world ; that he rose again the third day and ascended
into heaven.

The discourse was interpreted to the Indians by an
employe on the Reservation. A few days after, a
Si-wash, the usual word for Indian, who answered to
the name of Push-wash, entered into conversation
with the above-named employ(5, by saying, " What
you think about that Sunday-man's talk, — you think
him fool?" — "No; he is a good man; he has plenty
of sense." — "What for he swear all time?" — "He
did not swear; he talked straight."

"What for he say Jesus Christ so many times?
All the time he talk the same."

"That was all right; he told the truth; he did
not talk wrong."

"You think me fool? Wliat for a good man die
for me? I am not a bad man. I did not tell him to
die."

" The Jews killed him, they did not like him."

"You say Jews kill good man? "

" Yes, they kill him, and he come to life again on
the third day."

"You think he came to life? I don't believe they
kill him. He not live anv more."

"Yes; everybody will live again some time."

" You suppose a bad Indian get up, walk 'bout
again, all the same a good man? "

" They will all rise, but they won't all be good."

"What for the Sunday man tell that? He say
Jesus Christ die for bad Indian too? Say he go to

WIGWAM AND WAKPATH.

f V 'Ml 'i

heaven all the same as a good Indian, good white
man; that aint fair thing. I don't no like such rchg-

lon

A few days afterwards the man who reported this
dialogue passed near the grave of an Indian, and
found it covered with stones and logs. He learned
afterwards, that Piish-Avash had explained to other In-
dians the meaning of the " Sunday-man's talk," and
they had piled stones and logs on the graves of their
enemies, to pi'cvent them rising from the dead.

The reader will thus appreciate the necessity for
sending ministers who are qualified to preach to these
people; otherwise they may do the savage more harm
than good. Farther on in the work I shall discuss
more fully this most important of all questions, with
special reference to the difficulties in the way of treat-
ing with the Indians, in consequence of their numer-
ous and peculiar religious beliefs, which few white
men know anything about.

I left Siletz with a favorable opinion of the people,
and the prospects before them. JS^otwithstanding the
many impediments in the way of their civilization,
the transformation from a wild savage to a semi-civ-
ilized life had been wrought in fourteen years.

In this connection I submit the last annual report
of Hon. Ben. Simpson,* late United States Indian
agent at Siletz. I do so, because whatever of progress
these people may have made was under his adminis-
tration as Indian agent, and believing the short his-
tory presented by him will be of interest to my
readers.

* Sec Appendix.

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

I white
h relig-

ted this
an, and

learned
other In-
Jk," and

of their

jssity for

II to these
lore harm
11 discuss
lOns, with
y of treat-
sir numer-
;ew white

le people,
Ending the
ivilization,
semi-civ-

L*S.

Lial report
les Indian
|f progress
adminis-
Ishort his-
^st to my

He is a gentleman of unimpeachable integrity,
though blessed with enemies whose assaults have pol-
ished his character hke a diamond. Whatever vices
these Indians may have exhibited to his successor, —
Gen. Palmer, — they were not the results of Mr. Simp-
son's management, or example ; but rather the natural
consequences of association with profligate soldiers
and other white * men, during the first years of their
residence on the Reservation.

Gen. Joel Palmer was recommended as Mr. Simp-
son's successor by the Methodist Church. He went
to his duty with long experience, and in many re-
spects well fitted for the work.

Scarcely had he assumed the duties of his office,
with a new set of employes, before he was made to
realize that poor human natuic will in most cases
control human action. Ingratitude is said, by Indian
haters, tu be characteristic of those people. Better be
honest and say it of mankind.

I have said that he selected a new set of officers.
Among them was one chosen on account of his relig-
ious habits, — habits, I say, not character, — who had
lent a listening ear to the call, " Go preach my Gospel
to all nations." This man answered this urgent call,
and Agent Palmer employed liim. Xo sooner had he
unfurled the banner of Christianity among tli^'^e peo-
ple, than he began in a clandestine way to undermine
Agent Palmer. Unfortunately for the agent, this
preacher had been recommended by the same church
for position. This gave him influence. He made use
of it. He proposed to other ofticers of the agency
that if they would assist in ousting Palmer he would
retain them in their respective positions.

1 i
I

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

'«! ;;? -^ ••

To consummate this act of religions villany, he
circulated reports against the man, whose kindness
fed him and his family, that he (Palmer) had men in
his employ who were " not, strictly speaking, Chris-
tians j that he was not competent to discharge the
duties of his office." The agent found, what nearly
every officer haa learned sooner or later, that his posi-
tion was of doubtful tenure, and felt the sting of this
man's treachery so severely that he proposed to
resign.

" Brother

is determined to oust me, and I

reckon I will let liLn have the position. He wants it,
and I don't care to worry my life out fighting for an
Indian agency."

This is the substance of the speech Agent Palmer
made to me as superintendent. I said to him, " Do
no such thing. Go back to yom* agency and tell
that man to roll his blankets and be off, or you will
put him in irons. Then discharge every accomplice
he has, and select good, true men instead."

Brother Palmer replied that "the church recom-
mended Brother , and I don't like to do such a

thino"

„. I prevailed on him to withdraw his resig-
nation; and on his return to Siletz, he discharged

Brother . But the war was continued against

demanded a successor to

him until Agent Palmer

a short administration he
christianized the Siletz

relieve him ; and after
rtiired without havin;
Indians.

I have mentioned this episode for the reason that I
desire full justice done a r^.an who meant well, with a
sincere hope that those having the appointing power
may be made to reflect a moment before maldng

-/"^

WIGWAM AND WAftPATH.

nominations for office in deference to the demands of
any church, and without regard to the fitness of the
appointee.

I have due respect for church members, and recog-
nize the necessity of having men of moral character
among the wards of this Government.

Gen. Palmer, with his long experience, was, in many
respects, qualified for his position; but he was a jDoor
judge of character. I may be censured for making
these comments, but they are just, nevertheless; as
was the opinion I gave of the aforesaid Brother

, when his name was proposed as a missionary to

the Siletz Indians, by the presiding elder of the
district.

I answered him, " That man's face says he would
undermine his father, to forward his own interests."

The elder said in reply, " Brother Meacham, you
must be mistaken ; he is a good, Christian man, and
will be a great help to Brother Palmer." In courtesy
to the presiding elder, I consented, with the remark,
" Try him; but he will make a thorny bed for Brother
Palmer."

Here is the history. It is not written to bring ridi-
cule on the church nominating him.

Siletz agency has been established fourteen years,
during which time five agents have represented the
Government. Some of them have been good men for
the position.

Although these Indians are not up to the standard
of moral character, or, church requirements, a great
change has been wrought, and credit should be given
to v/hom it is due.

Uncouth these Indians on Siletz may be, but let

fli

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

ii m

m:.u.':i:

:ni'

i m

truth speak for them, and you will hear of how they
came to this new home captives, and in chains, under
guard of bayonets, borne on shoulders of men
wearing the uniform of the U. S. A.

You will hear how thco men were stationed among
them to guard them, and compel obedience to the
mandates of a Government that pernii^^ted the grossest
outrages on their rights, and made no effort to redress
their wrongs.

You would hear, too, of a people living in careless
indolence on Umpyua and Rogue rivers, in southern
Oregon, when disturbed by the advent of white men,
who came with prejudices against them, who disre-
garded their rights, denied them the privilege of living
on the land God had given them, who failed to
protect them from the outrages committed by vicious
white men; of the indiscriminate warfare that was
carried on against them for resenting such insults;
of their native land left in ruins, where the wail of
weeping pale-faces over slain friends mingled with
their own lamentations on taking leave of the homes
of their earliest life.

Tmth would tell of the many crimes committed by
and against them, since their residence at Siletz ; of
how they have been punished for their own misdeeds,
and have seen those who sinned against them go
unpunished.

Be patient, you half-savage people I Death is
rapidly healing your wounds and curing your griefs.
Those who survive may, in time, be given homes.
The lands have been surveyed for these people, but
have not yet been allotted. Nothing could do more to
revive them than the consummation of this promise.

WIGWAM AND AVARPATH.

Some of them have lived with white men as labor-
ers, and have learned many things qualifying them
for this great boon. Surely a magnanimous Govern-
ment will compl^^te this great act of justice to a
helpless people. May God speed the day I

AL8EA AGENCY.

It is located on the coast Reservation south of Ya-
quina bay. The people are " salt chuck," or salt-
water Indians, and the majority of them vfcre born on
the lands they now occupy ; hence they arc the moat
quiet and well-behaved Indians in Oregon.

They are easily controlled, and are making prog-
ress in civilization. But few in number, and of the
character I have named, they have never taken part
in any of the many wai's that have made Oregon " the
battle-ground of the Pacific coast."

A sub-agency was established over them in 1866.
The pay of sub-agent is $1,000 per annum, without
subsistence or other allowance. The Alsea people
being non-treaty Indians, — that is to say, they have no
existing treaty with the Government; no funds being
appropriated especially for them, — they are sustained
entirely from the "Incidental Funds" for Oregon
Superintendency.

The fact that the Alsea Indians have always been
easily managed has been to their disadvantage in
securing Government aid. Had they been more re-
fractory, they would have been better treated. This
sounds strangely, and yet I declare it to be true. Why
should Government reward them for being peaceable?
They have asked for buildings ; the Government gave
them huts. They asked for schools and churches; but

WIGWAM AND WAKPATH.

'*:. %. !

lie; :■■ ■■■;.i

, ,1

ii:

ll'Hi It

i(ii

,''' li

l.'V

no school-house stands out in the bleak ocean winds
of their home; no church-bell calls them to hear the
wonderful story of a Saviour's love. Notwithstand-
ing the wealth of their successors peals forth in loud
strains which echo on foreign shores, no hammer
rings out its cheering notes on anvil of theirs.

This little agency demonstrates the fact, that the
only sure way for Indians to secure attention is through
hlood. Our Government follows the example of the
father of the Prodigal Son, with this remarkable dif-
ference, that it abuses its dutiful children, while it
fawns upon and encourages the red-faced reprobates,
by rewarding them for their rebellious deeds.

The department farm at Alsea was made by Gov-
ernment, on Indian land, ostensibly for the Indians'
benefit. It is located on a bleak plain, that stretches
away from the ocean surf to the foot of the coast
range mountains. It produces potatoes and oats.
The mountains are high and rugged, and covered
with dense forests of fir and cedar timber; much of
the former has been " burnt." A heavy ttndergrowth
has become almost impenetrable except for wild ani-
mals or Indian hunters.

The cedar groves cover streams of water that will in
time be of great value, when turned on to machinery
with which to convert the cedars into merchandise for
foreign markets. The streams are plentifully supplied
with fish. No long list of employes answer to the
command of an agent at Alsea. In some respects it
is the better way, inasmuch as it is to the interest of
the agent to teach his wards the more common arts
of handiwork. In this way, the improvements have
been made by Indian lal^or, under the direction of an

WIOWAM AND WAKPiTH

agent; and now, while I write th»=

mg .lowly up towards the^l t''! ^^'^ "■•« «om-
then^awaytothebrotherlotd; "^ ;^-« open to

Efforts ai-e beins mnrfn ♦ ,
Eeservation, and, !h™,d 1 1'"^'"'" *" '"•'^'' of the
who have cost the Govlm!n,'"T'^' ^^^^ P^^Ple
t-asure, will be com,XdTo ''n ""'' °^ """d «r
'Might versus Eight" it' ^?'''' ""'^ repeating,

fonof the hmits^of the eo" n '"'""'' '" '•'^'^-
People, who have already ^Z f^'"'^''"'"'' 'f these
«0"ntry, shall be provided vifh^ '", "'?"' '"'="'"'■"■
^hops, and other means Xrbv tl'°°''' '•'"'™''-'
Pensated, and, i„ the moart.W ^^ '^ ""^ '^'^ <^°'«-
fon for the new life that '' ; ^T""^ ^^ ^-'"'i^a-
« fe- yeara hence ,n I be t^^ "'™™'-^' ">«,
people. ' ""^ ''O left to represent their

The Government owes to ti. >.
I have suggested, a„H 1..^ """^'^ ^"''''">« «"
out and allotted in sevlTtvlr".' " ''°™ ""^''''ed
or two generations. ^' '""'"^ '"alienable for one

^ut, however deservm«. +u
f they ever enjoy tX^n^f ""^ "'^' ■' '^ ""'"'tful
ber, peaceable „ dis,?I°" ^'^.^'-''^e- Pew i„ „„„.
-^y bloody deeds, thT^tbimi!'"""" '° *« -«
"an will encroach o,fth eir ' ' "'" *"' "''' ^^te
*™e, until at last, hlme^ i "I ' " '"^ '»"«« « a
-""ot enjoy, thjy ^ntl^^ " "^"'-"o" they
becomingmore licentious "anrf^™'^ and mingle,
'"'.'th vicious white men a^^''.''"'™P' bji assoeia^on

wJ' be known only bTTf- " ''"'""'"" "'^ '^"
"f'der, gipsy-like, through V"^"""""'' ^""^ "'"
-".serable fag-end of a race ''"'""■^' " ?"»■•,

^-I'aps a few .ay take humble positions as labor.

WIGWAM AND WAIIPATH.

i?' i-t

ers, and attain to a half-way station between savage
and civilized life. Another few will become slaves to
King Alcohol, and their chief men, lying around
whiskey mills, drunken, debauched, despised, will
drop back again to mother earth, mingling with the
soil their fathers once owned.

Thus the people of Alsea will pass away. I pity you,
humble, red-skinned children of the Pacific surf I You
were happy once, and carelessly rode in your canoes
over the shining sands of your native beach, or chased
the game on the mountain side, little dreaming of the
coming of a human tide which would swallow you
and your sea-washed home, or carry both away out
on the boundless expanse of a civilization whose
other shores you could not see had sepulchres ready
for your bones. You have spent your lives with your
feet beating the paths your fathers made centuries
ago ; but your children shall follow newer trails, that
lead to more dangerous jungles than those trod by
your ancestors. Strange demons they will meet, be-
fore whom they will fall to rise no more.

Your fathers watched the shadows of Alsea moun-
tain moving slowly up its western front, making huge
pictures on its sides, and gazed without fear on the
sun dropping under the sea, wondering how it found
its way under the great ocean and high mountains, to
come again with so much regularity; or perhaps
they believed, as others do, that the Great Spirit sent
a new " fire-ball " each day, and nightly quenched it
in the sea. You now see the shadows climb the
mountain, fitting emblem of the white man's presence
in your land, and read in the setting sun the history
of your race. Better that you had never heard the

WiaWAM AND MAUPATH.

Bweet sounds of civilized life than that you, with feet
untrained, should follow its allurements to your de-
struction.

You, that once gave to the beautiful mountain
streams smile for smile, are now haggard and worn,
giving only grim presages of your doom.

Others of your race have avenged their ill-fortunes
with the tomahawk, and, in coiiipliance with their
religion, have rejected offers of a better life than
they knew. But you — you have yielded without
war, and, like helpless orphans thrown on the cold
world, have accepted the mites given grudgingly by
your masters, who treat with contempt and ridicule
your cherished faith, who misconstrue your peaceful
lives into cowardice. They have fixed their eyes on
your home. They will make Alsea river transform
the forest on its banks into houses, towns, and cities.
They will make the valley where you now follow the
government plough, to yield rich harvests of grain, and
they will convert the ocean beach into a fountain of
golden treasure. A few years more, and the noise of
machinery will wake you early from your slumbers.
The roar of ocean's breakers will mingle with the
hum of busy life in which you may have no part.
The white man's eyes will dance with gladness at the
sight of your mountains dismantled of their forests,
and the glimmer of coming sails to bear away the
lofty pines. Yours will weep at the sacrilege done to
your hunting grounds; theirs will gaze on the wide
Pacific, and see there the channels that will bring
compensation to them for the spoils of your home.
Yours will recognize it only as the resting-place
for the bones of your people. The white man says,

100

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

" Your fate ia fixed, — your doomed is sealed." Few
hearts beat with sympathy for you ; you are unknown
and unnoticed. You must pass away, unless, indeed,
the white race shall, from the full surfeit of vengeance
upon you and yours, at last return to you a measure
of justice.

He who dares appeal in yoiir behalf is derided by
his fellows. A proud, boastful people, who claim that
human actions should be directed by high motives
and pure principles, treat with contempt every effort
made to save you from destruction. Strong may be
the heart of the Indian Chief to resist the encroach-
ments on his people's rights, but stronger still the aim
of a Government that boasts rebellion against oppres-
sion as its foundation striie.

CHAPTEK VII.

PHIL SHERIDAN'S OLD HOME — WHAT A CABIN COST.
GRAND ROUND INDIAN AQENCY.

I MADE my first oflicial visit to this agency in the
latter part of September, 1869. Captain Charles
La Follette was then acting agent.

The road from Salem was over a beautiful country,
settled by white men, who had transformed this once
wild region into a pai-adise. The first view of the
agency proper was from a high ridge several miles
distant On the right and left were clustered the
houses of the several tribes, each one having been
assigned a location. Their houses were built of logs
or boards, and rudely put together. Every board had
cost these poor people an acre of land; every log
counted for so much money given in compensation
for their birthrights to the soil of the matchless valley
of the "Willamette.

As we stood on the dividing ridge separating this
agency from the great valley I have mentioned, look-
ing toward the west, we beheld, nearest on the left,
old Fort Yamhill, with its snowy cottages, built for
the accommodation of the officers of the army in the
days when the gallant Sheridan was a lieutenant, and
walked its parade-grounds with a simple sword
dangling by his side and bars on his shoulder, hold-
ing beneath his military cap a brain power waiting
for the sound of clanking chains and thundering
cannon to call him henco to deeds of valor that should .

173409

108

WIGWAM AND WAIIPATII.

compel the liiiirel wreutli of Itimc to seek his brow,
little thinking then, while guarding savages, that,
away off in the future, his charger would impatiently
call him from repose, and bear him into the face of a
victorious enemy with so much gallantry that he
would turn an apj)arent defeat into a glorious victory.

Immediately on our right were the huts of the
people for whose especial intimidation the costly
palaces and beautiful cottages had been built. The
huts or houses were built on the hillside sloping
toward the valley. They presented the appearance
of a small, dilapidated inland town that had been "cut
off" by a railroad; but they were peoi:)led with In-
dians who were trying to imitate their masters.

Farther away on the left was another little group
of houses, occupied by the chief of the Santiams and
his people. The sight of this man's home recalled a
part of his own history, suggestive of romance, wild,
it is true, but real, nevertheless.

Many years ago, this chief was a young warrior,
and his people were at ]:>eace with the white race,
and were not then " wards of the Government," but
were living on their native hills, in the vicinity of
Mount Jefferson, standing sentinel over the snowy
peaks of the Cascade mountains, on v/hose sides were
sitting, like great urns, clear, cold lake •, sending forth
little streamlets, murmuring and whispering, and
sometimes leaping, like boys going home from play,
joining other merry, laughing streamlets, rushing
madly along through forests of firs and sugar-pines,
whose dropping cones startled the wild game from
their repose.

'Twas here this young warrior's home was nestled,

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

103

and

lay,

ling
|nes,
L'om

lied,

beneath the outstretched arms ol' giant cedars, or
sheltered by some quiet nook or cove. Hci-e he had
learned the arts of his own people, and passed the
winters by, until alone he could chase the fawns or
climb the mountain-peak, and gather trophies with
which to ornament his neck or fill his quiver.

A pale-face man from distant Missouri had come to
this far country to escape the familiar sounds of
civilization, where he might imitate the Indian in his
freedom and his pleasures. He brought with him his
family, and l)uilt his cabin near a fountain, to which
medicine men would sometimes come or send their
patients for recovery.

This white man had a son, with down just cropping
on his chin, who, " chip of the old block," as he was,
seemed half Indian already, and, Ibnd of wild sports,
soon made the acquaintance of young Santiam. The
friendship grew, and the rivalry of archer and gunner
often drew them into dispute. Still they were friends.

The archer claimed that he could creep, and noise-
lessly shoot from cover, without giving alarm, until
his quiver should be empty, and thus bring down the
chary buck or spotted fawn. The gunner would aver
that he could do better execution at greater distance.
These trials of skill were often made, and each time
the difterence 'twixt white and red skin seemed to
diminish. The young pale-face would sling his gun
and straightway bend his steps toward the camp of
Santiam. By signs that he had learned, he took the
young chief's trail, and followed through Avoodcd
plains, or up the mountain side, until they would hail
each other, and then, by agreement, would separate
to meet again at some appointed place, laying a wager

!!P

„; ;1

1 1

1 ta

104

WIOWAai AND WARPATH.

■^iil- Q If

who would be most successful in the chase of black-
called deer or mountain sheep.

The hill-sides had put on autumn hues, and the
loftier hills were dressed in winter's garb, and gave
warning to the denizens who spent their summers
near their peaks, that cold weather would soon drive
them to the hills beneath for refuge from the blasts
that howl above the roar of mountain lion or jumping
torrents.

The keeper of the fleecy clouds had jiven sign of
readiness, and, in fact, had begun to spread the win-
ter's carpet down, to preserve the tender grasses for
the antlered herd, which would return in open spring
to train their limbs for daring feats, in defiance of the
feathered arrow, or his neighbor, the loud-talking
gun.

Santiam, to aiv 'x-ipate their coming, had started in
the early morn, while yet the sun was climbing the
eastern slope of Jefferson, and, leaving a sign im-
printed in iho snow, for his friend to read, hurried on,
hoping that from ambush he might send his arrow
home to the panting heart of the bounding deer. His
friend, anticipating the coming of his rival, had already
gone by another route to the trysting place; while
waiting there for valley-going game, he spied a griz-
zly bear, and, without knowing the habits of the mon-
ster, he took deliberate aim and fired, but failed L?-
bring his bearship to the ground.

These fellows, when undisturbed, are sure to run;
but when the leaden ball had pierced this one's pelt,
he exhibitRd the usual bearish indications of resent-
ment for insult offered. The pale-face hunter stood
his ground, and sent another ball, merely to pert?uade

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

105

his enemy to desist. To those accustomed to this
kind of fight, I need not say that every shot made
the matter worse. These kings of the Cascades yield
not to showers of leaden hail or flocks of flying ar-
rows until the life of tlieir enemy or their own
gives victory. With lumbering gait and open mouth,
he closed upon the hapless hunter, and had home him
to the ground, when Santiam reached the scene. He
hesitated not on which side he would volunteer.
Snatching from bis belt a hatchet, and a well-tried
knife, he, too, closed on the grizzly, and drew his at-
tention from his friend, who, in turn, would attack
the wounded monster, and thus alternating between
two enemies, he grew more furious and regardless of
consequences.

Rallying again to renew the desperate struggle,
though his life was ebbing fast, he threw his great
body on the pale-faced hunter, when Santiam, with
well-aimed steel at his heart, closed the battle. His
friend had been severely wounded, And lay prostrate
on the ground ; his torn garments dripping in blood,
his own, and that of his dread enemy, mingled. The
young chief soon had a blazing f ''e, and then tying
up the wounds of his friend, to stop the flow of blood,
he hastened to his home for aid.

Returning with a cluchman of his tribe, he found
his friend sinking fast. Making a hasty litter of pine
limbs, they bore th„ wounded hunter to his home.
The mother, at the sight of her son so mangled, like
a true heroine, overcame her fear, and made prepara-
tion for his comfort. The sister, in her quiet way,
brought refreshment for her brother, and while the
father and his comrade, the "medicine man," were

106

WIGWAM AST) WARPATH.

! i

joining their skill to provide remedies for the wounded
one, young Santiam, acting from the precepts of his
people, had hurried back to the battle-ground, and,
with his cluchman's help, soon stripped the pelt from
the dead beast, and brought it to the home of his
white rival, and then the " medicine man," with faith
based on tradition's usage, bound up the wounds
therewith.

The days v/ent slowly by, until the danger was
passed. Santiam went not to the chase, unless for
choicest food for his friend, but waited beside the
couch of his comrade for his recovery; sometimes
joining with the sick man's sister in watching his
slumbers, or, may be, touching hand^ in ministering
to his wants.

She, with missionary spirit, sought to teach San-
tiam words, and the history, too, of her people, their
ways, and higher life than he had known. He was
apt at learning, as my reader may discover by his
speech, recited in this book, made in council years
alter. His dark eye kindled as some new knowledge
found way to his understanding, and his heart grew
warmer at the sound of voice from pale-faced cluch-
man. If history be true, her eye kindled too, at the
coming of the quiet step of the young comrade of
her brother, and her heart felt a new, strange fire, that
sent it^ ^ame to her cheeks in tell-tale roses.

Xovice though he was in civilized ways, he was a
man, and with quick perception made the discovery
that he now cared more for his comi'ade's sister tlian
for him; and that even the sister thought of her
brother in the third person.

This Missouri man had not yet recognized the

:J■^ I

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

107

growing love between his daughter and young San-
tiam; and the mother, too, without recalling the youth-
ful days of her own wooing, — perhaps she had none?
but years before, in obedience to a custom of her own
people, had listened to a proposal, and accepted, be-
cause she might " do no better," — did not recognize the
signs of coming trouble to her household, in the rus-
tic courtship going on. Why do parents so soon for-
get their wooing days, and hide the history from their
children, when so nearly all that human nature en-
.'uj'fs of woes, or enjoys of bliss, cjmes through the
agency of the emotions and affections of the heart?

This guileless girl, cut off from association with
her ovm people by action of her father, and in grati-
tude for the young chief's kindness to her brother,
had, under the prompting of the richest emotions that
God had given, opened her heart in friendship first
and invited the visitor to share so much; little dream-
ing that, when once the guest was there, he would
become a constant tenant, against whose expulsion
she wouln hoi'self rebel.

The 7 ;!n\t' chief himself did not realize that the
finest, -^ ^ ''s! feelings of the human heart are sup-
posed by gi ■; '• ev men to be confined to the same race
or c 'lor. Perhaps he thought the Great Spirit had
mau> 11 alike, not fixed the difference in the hue of
the skin. He was a free man; did not know that
civilization had raised a barrier between the races.
He had, without knowing what he did, found the
barrici si own, and passed beyond in natural freedom,
and, w-t' '>ut thought of wrong, had given full free-
dom to his heart.

The winter passed, and spring had sprinkled the

(!■ 1 1

108

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

«' '»

•:f 1

hill-side with flowers. The wilder herds had fled from
the huntsman's horn, and climbed again to pleasure-
grounds, where the tender grasses cropped out from
retreating snow-fields. The rival hunters had again
resumed the chase, and spent whole days in telling
stories of the past, or living over the battle of the
preceding autumn. Each rehearsal made them better
friends, and confidence grew mutual. Santiam, with
freedom, spoke to his u'^^o brother of the "fire in his
heart," — so these people ak of love, — of the sister
whom he loved. Who ever told a fellow that he
loved his sister without making friendship tremble
for the result?

The pale-face boy of whom I am writing still lives,
though grown into gray manhood, to verify this story.
When Santiam had told his story, her brother was
quiet and thought in silence, while the warrior talked
on, of how he would be a " white man " and put
away his wild habits, and be his brother. The other
promised that he would consult his family, and thus
they parted for the night.

The morning found Santiam at the cabin of the
" settler," little dreaming that the friendship they had
shown him was so soon to be withdrawn. He saw
the ominous word refusal in the cold reception that
he met. One pair of eyes alone talked in sympathetic
glances. He waited to hear no more.

I would like to accommodate my youthful readers
with what would make this romantic story run on
until some happy denouement had been found, and
then resume my work; but I dare not be false to
history. The white man moved away. The Indian
remained until, through misunderstanding between

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

109

the
had
saw
that
thetic

laders
[u on
and
Ise to
idian
tween

his people and the white race, war ensued ; the
frontier rang out the fearful challenge of battle,
and victims of both races were offered up to ap-
pease insult and thirst for vengeance. The white
hunter and his father united with others in a war
of extermination" against the Indians, while they
left a home defenceless.

Young Santiam refused to war against the white
man. He gave protection to the cabin that sheltered
his love of other days. The maiden is maiden yet;
and, though gray hair crowns her head, she is still
faithful to the vows made to her Indian lover in her
girlhood. Whether she condemns the usage of
society that forbade her marriage, or blesses it be-
cause it saved her from a savage life, we know not.
She may blame her parents for their short-sighted
action in isolating her from those congenial to her
heart, by locating on the frontier where she met
Santiam; surely, not for prohibiting her marriage to
him.

Santiam, at the close of the war, removed with his
peoj)le to Grand Round Agency, where he has lived
since. Hear him talk in the Salem council of 1871,
and judge him by his speeches. Faithful to his com-
pacts, he remains on his home. Few of those who
meet him when he visits Salem know of this romance
of his life, but hundreds give him the hand of friend-
ship.

To resume. Grand Round valley, the name of which
suggests its size and shape, lay stretched out before
us, a beautiful picture from Nature's gallery, embel-
lished by the touches that Uncle Sam's greenbacks
had given to this agency in building churches, halls,

110

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

18* -b

j.v*

and Indian honscs, together with a large farm for
general use, and small ones for individuals.

At every change of Government officers, Reserva-
tion Indians show the Uveliest interest, and have great
curiosity to see the new man. My arrival was ImoAVii
to all the i)eople very soon The Indians of this
agency were more advanced in civilization than those
of any other in Oregon. They had been located by
the Government, fifteen years previously. Many of
them were prisoners of wav, in chains and under
guard, and had been subjugated, through sheer ex-
haustion; others were under treaty. Their very pov-
ei'ty and the scanty subsistence the Government gave,
was to them a blessing. Permitted to labor for per-
sons who lived " outside," passes were given each for
a specified time. Thus their employers became each
a civilizer.

At the time of my first official visit, they had aban-
doned Indian costume, and were dressed in the usual
garb of white men; many of them had learned to talk
our language. At my request, messengers were sent
out, and the people were invited to come in at an early
hour the following day. Before the time appointed
they began to arrive. A few were on foot, the re-
mainder in wagons, or on horseback; the younger
men and women coming in pairs, after the fashion of
white people around them, all arrayed in best attire,
for it was a gala day to them. I noticed that in some
instances the women were riding side-saddles, instead
of the old Indian way, astride.

The children were not left at home, neither were
they bound in thongs to boards, or swinging in pap-
poose baskets ; but some, at least, were carried on the

ted
re-
fer
|pf
Ire,
bie
ad

fere
he

WIGWASI AND WARPATH.

113

pummel of the father's saddle. They were clothed
like other children. Strange and encouraging spec-
tacle, to witness Indian men, who were born savages,
conforming to usages of civil life. "When once an In-
dian abandons the habits and customs of his fathers,
and has tasted the air which his more enlightened
brother breathes, he never goes back so long as he
associates with good men.

These people, in less than twenty years, under the
management of the several agents, had been trans-
formed, from " Darwin's " wild beasts, almost to
civilized manhood, notwithstanding the croaking of
soulless men who constantly accuse United States
agents of all kinds of misdemeanors and crimes.

AVhen they were first located, they numbered about
twenty-one hundred souls. At the time of which I
write, they had dwindled away to about half that
number.

"When the hour for the talk arrived the people filled
the council house, and crowded the doers and win-
dows, so that we found it necessary to adjourn to the
open air for room and comfort. The agent. La Fol-
lette, went through the form of introducing me to his
people, calling each one by name.

This ceremony is always conducted with solemnity;
each Indian, as he extends the hand, gazing stead-
fastly into the eye of the person introduced. They
seem to read character rapidly, and with correctness
equal to, and sometimes excelling, more enlightened
people.

First, a short speech by Agent La FoUette, followed
by the " Salem tyee," — superiiitendent. I said that
" I was pleased to find them so far advanced in civil-

I if

'fill'

114

WIGWAM AND AVARPATH.

ization; that I was now the * Salem tycc' You
are my children. I came to show you my heart, to see
your hearts, to talk with you about your affairs."

Jo Ilutchins — chief of Santiams — was first to
speak. He said : " You see our people arc not rich ;
they are poor. We are glad to shake hands with you
and show our hearts. You look like a good man, but
I will not give you my heart until I know you better."
Louis Neposa said: "I have been here fifteen years.
I have seen all the countiy from here to the Rocky
Mountains. I had a home on Rogue river; I had a
house and barn; I gave them up to come here. That
house on that hill is mine;" pointing towards the
house in question.

Indian speeches are remarkable for pertinency and
for forcible expression, many of them abounding in
flights of imagination and bursts of oratory. Much
of the original beauty is lost in the translation, as few
of them speak in the English language when deliver-
ing a speech. Interpreters are often illiterate men,
and cannot render the subject-matter with the full
force and beauty of the original, much less imitate
the gesture and voice.

During my residence in the far West, and espec-
ially while in Government employ, I have taken notes,
and in many instances, kept verbatim reports, the
work being done by clerks of the several agencies.
I have selected, from several hundred pages, a few
speeches, made by these people, for use in making up
my book. It will be observed that the sentences are
short, and repetitions sometimes occur. In fact, these
orators of nature follow nature, and repeat themselves,
as our greatest orators do, and their skill in the art

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

115

of repetition is something marvellous. This is pecu-
liar to all Indian councils, though not always recorded.
The following are word for word, especially Wapto
Dave and Jo Ilutchins' speeches : —

Black Tom said: "I am a wild Injun. I don't
know much. I have not much sense. I cannot talk
well. I feel like a man going through the bushes,
when he is going to fight; like he was thinking some
man was behind a bush, going to shoot him. I have
been fooled many times. I don't know much. Some
tyees talk well when they first come. I have seen
their children wearing shirts like those they gave me;
may be it was all right. I don't know nmch."

Solomon Rigfs — chief of the Umpyuas — said:
" I am not a wild man. I have sense. I know some
things. I have learned to work. I was born wild,
but I am not wild now. I live in a house. I have a
wagon and horses that I worked for. They are mine.
The Government did not give them to me. That
woman is my wife, and that is my baby. He will
have some sense. I show you my heart. I Avant you
to give me your heart. I don't want to be a wild
Injun." See speech of Solomon Riggs in Salem
Council.

All the "head men" made short speeches, after
which we came to business talk. Superintendent
Meacham said : " I see before me the remnants of a
great people. Your fathers are buried in a far coun-
try. I will show you my heart now. You are not
wild men. You are not savages. You are men and
women. You have sense and hearts to feel. I did
not come here to dig up anything that is buried. I
have nothing to say about the men who have gone

*«'5iii;

hJ'>

IIG

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

before me. That is past. "We drop that. We can-
not dig it np now. We have enough to think about.
I do not promise what I will do, except I will do right
as I see what is right. I may make some mistakes.
I want to talk with you about your agent. I think
he will do right. He is a good man. I will help him.
He will help me. You will help us. You are not
fools. You are men. You have a right to be heard.
You shall be heard. We are paid to take care of you.
Our time belongs to the Indians in Oregon. The
Government has bought our sense ; that belongs to
you. The money in our hands is not ours, it is yours.
AVe cannot pay you the money. The law says we
must not; still it is yours. You have been here long
enough to have sense. You know what you want.
You can tell us. We will hear you.

" If you want what is right we will get it for you.
You need not be afraid to speak out. The time has
come when a man is judged by his sense, not his skin.
In a few years more the treaty will be d^ad. Then
you must be ready to take care of yourreiv^es. You
need not fear to speak. Nobody will stop your
mouth. We are ready now to hear you talk. We
have shown our heart. Now talk like men. I have
spoken."

A silence of some moments followed. The chiefs
and head men seemed taken by surprise. They could
not comprehend or believe that the declarations made
were real; that they were to be allowed to give an
opinion in matters pertaining to their own interests.
I would not convey the idea that my predecessors had
been bad men. They were not; but they had, some
of them, and perhaps all of them, looked on these

WIOWAM AJJD WARPATH,

117

Indians as wards, or orj)han children. They had not
recognized the I'act that these people had come up,
from a low, degraded condition of captive savages, to
a status of intelligence that entitled them to consid-
eration. The people themselves had not dared to
demand a hearing. They were subjugated, and felt
it too; but I know in their hearts they often longed
for the boon that was oflered to them.

It is due to the citizens who occupy the country
adjoining this agency, in whose employ the Indians
had spent much time in labor on farm, Avood-yurds,
and various other kinds of business, that they had,
by easy lessons, and, with commendable patience,
taught these down-trodden people that they had a
r'ght to look up. " Honor to whom honor is due."

AVapto Dave, a chief of a small band of Waptos,
Avas the first to speak. He delivered his speech in
my own language : " The boys all wait for me to speak
first ; because me understand some things. We hear you
talk. We don't know" whether you mean it. Maybe
you are smart. We have been fooled a heap. We don't
want no lies. We don't talk lies. S'pose you talk
straight. All right. Me tell you some things. All our
people vefy poor; they got no good houses; no good
mills. ISTo wagons; got no harness ; no ploughs. They
get some, they work heap. They buy them. Govern-
ment no give em. We want these things. Maybe you
don't like my talk. I am done."

Jo Hutchins — Chief of Santiams — said, " I am
watchmg your eye. I am watching your tongue. I am
thinking all the time. ^Perhaps you are making fools of
us. We don't want to be made fools. I have heard
tyees talk like you do now. They go back home and

118

WIOWAM AND WAEPATH.

send us something a white man don't want. We are not
dogs. We have hearts. Yie may be blind. We do not
see the things tlietreaty promised. Maybe they got lost
on the way. The President is a long way off. He can't
hear us. Our worfVj get lost in the v/ind before they
get there. Maybe his ear is smal^. Maybe your ears
are small. They look big. ' Our ears are large. We
hear everything. Some things we don't like. We
have been a long time in the mud. Sometimes we
sink down. Some white men help us up. Some white
men stand on our" heads. We want a school- house
built on the ground of the Santiam people. Then our
children can have some sense. We want an Indian
to w^ork in the blacksmith shop. We don't like half-
breeds. They are not Injuns. They ave not white
men. Their hearts are divided. We want some
harness. We want some ploughs. We want a saw-
mill. What is a mill good for that has no dam? That
old mill is not good; it won't saw boards. AVe want
a cii^rch. Some of these people are Catholics. Some
of ti:em are like Mr. Parish, a Methodist. Some got
no religion. Maybe they don't need religion. Some
people think Indians got no sense. We don't want
any blankets. We have had a heap of blankets.
Some of them have been like sail-cloth muslin. The
old people have got no sense ; they want blankets.
The treaty said we, every man, have his land. He
nave a paper for his land. We don't see the papev.
We see the land. We want it divided. When we
have land all n one place, some Injun put his horses
in the field; anothcx- Injun turn them out. Then they
go to law. One man says another man got the best
ground. They go to law about that. We want the

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

119

land marked out. Every man builds his own house.
We want sonxC apples. Mark out the land, then we
plant some trees, by-and-by we have some ajjples.

" Maybe you don't like my talk. I talk straight. I
am not a coward. I am chief of the Santiams. You
hear me now. We see your eyes; look straight.
Maybe you are a good man. We will find out. So-
chala-tyec, — God sees you. He sees us. All these
people hear me talk. Some of them are scared. I
am not afraid. Alta-kup-et, — I am done."

Here was a man talking to the point. He dodged
nothing. He spoke the hearts of the people. They
supported him with frequent applause. Other s^Deeches
were made, all touching practical points. The abstract
of issues following that council exhibit the distribu-
tion of hardware, axes, saws, hatchets, mauls, iron
wedges; also, iiarness, ploughs, hoes, scythes, and
various farming implements. The reasonable and
numerous points involved laanj questions of impor-
tance, which were submitted to the Hon. Commissioner
of Indian Affairs, Washington city.*

* See Appendix.

CHAPTER VIII.

STOPPING THE SURVEY — WHY.

j;l*"

Without waiting for red tape, we proceeded to
erect a new saw-mill. The Indians performed much
of the necessary labor. With one white man to direct
them, they prepared all the timber, built a dam, and
cut a race, several hundred yards in length, and within
ninety days from " breaking ground " the new saw •
mill was making lumber.

The Indians formed into working parties and de-
liverod logs as fast as the mill could saw them. Mr.
Manrow, a practical sawyer, was placed in charge of
the mill, and, with Indian help only, he manufactured
four to eight thousand feet of lumber per day. He
subsequently remarked that " they were as good help
as he wanted."

The understand ins: before

commencmg

work on

the mill was to the effect that it was to belong to the
Indians on Grand Round Agency, when completed.
Those who furnished logs were to own the lumber
after snic of sufficient quantity to pay the " sawyer,"
the whole to be under control of the acting agent.

Misunderstandings seem to have arisen between
the agent and Indians, growing out of the sale
of lumber manufactured by the mill. The only
misunde/standing that could have arisen, was that
wherein the Indians claim that "the Government
would pay the expense of running it," — the saw-

WIGWAM AND WAKPATH.

121

mill, — and they — the Indians — should have the
lumber to dispose of as they thought best, claiming
the right to sell it to the whites outside of the Reser-
vation."

It was so agreed and understood as above stated,
that the Government agent was to manage the busi-
ness, pay the sawyer, and meet such other expenses
as might accrue, out of the sale of lumber, and the
remamder to belong to jyarties fundshing logs, with
the privilege of selling fo persons wherever a market
could be found. If any other plan has been adopted,
it is in violation of the agreement made ^\ ;'!i the In-
dians at the council that considered the question of
building the mills. A full report of that council was
forwarded to the Commissioner at Washington (see
page 162), was filed in the office of Superintendent
of Indian Affairs, Salem, Oregon, and was, or should
have been, recorded on the books at Grand Round
Agency.

The Indians of Grand Round own the mills. " he
funds invested in their erection did not beloUj^ to
agent or Government. It was the Indians' money,
and was so expended by their knowledge and request.
The sweat of these people was dropped in the long
race, cut for the mills. Every stick of timber in them
was prepared, partly at least, by Indian labor. They
had accepted this little valley at the bidding of
a powerful Government, who had promised them
mills (see treaty of 1866), and had constructed
inferior machinery, at enormous expense, that had
never been worth one-half the greenbacks they had
cost.

These people have advanced more rapidly in civil-

'- ;';

iPli

122

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

izatioii than any other Indian people on "the coast."
Thej had learned a great amount of useful knowl-
edge ">yhlle working for the white men, to make a
living for their families, when the Government had
failed to furnish subsistence for them. They were now
ready to take care of their interests, when men paid
to instruct them had j^erformed their duty.

If these Indians are ever to manage for themselves,
why not begin with easy lessons, while they have, or
are supposed to have, an i gent, whose duty it was to
stand between them and the stronger race with
whom they are to mingle and associate?

I repeat that these Indian men own the mills, and
are entitled to the proceeds, and that it is, and was,
an agent's duty to transact such j^arts of the business
as the Indians could not themselves. "What if it did
require Ir.oor and care to prevent confusion? The
agent was paid for his time, his business talent, and,
if he was unwilling or incompcLent, he was not in a
proper position.

The agent says, "I have allowed them one-half
the lumber made, when they wished to use it for
building purposes, retaining the other half for the
departmenc, until such time as it can be used in im-
provement, or otherwise disposed of for tlicir common
benefit." If the department required lumber, let the
Indians be the meixhants^ and receive the pay. To
dispose of it for their benefit was to compel those
who were willing to labor to support those wdio were
not. Working parties were organized among them
by agent La Follette, and they wei«. to enjoy the priv-
ilege of furnishing saw-logs in turn; thus encour-
aging enterprise among them. Klamath Indian mill

WIGWASI AND WARPATH.

123

furnished several thousand dollars' worth of lumber
for the Military Department at Fort Klamath, and for
outride people too, and the proceeds were paid to the
Indians who did the work, or it was invested in stock
cattle for them. In the name of justice I protest, as
a friend of the Indians, against the confiscation, by
our Government, of labor and lumber belonging to
he Indians of Grand Round Agency.

Reference has been made to the allottment of land
to these people. The letter following will give the
reader some idea of the manner in which it was done,
and the various questions that were to be considered
in connection with this important episode in the lives
of these people.*

The enrolment referred to was completed. The
surveying was done by Col. D. P. Thompson, United
States Deputy Surveyor.

While he was engaged in doing this work, the In-
dians assisted materially, and followed him in crowds,
each anxious to see where the lines would run,
whether they would confoira to their preconceived
hopes or not.

The thoughts of these men — for they were men —
^ust have been very comforting at the prospect of
j)romises being at last fulfilled. Many years had
passed, waiting, waiting, waiting for the time to come
when they should have homes "like white men."
They well understood the arrangement in regard to
the amount oi land that was to be given to each. I
have not the " Willamette Treaty " before me, but,
from memory, state, that each grown person was to
have twenty acres, with ten acres additional for each
minor child.

* See Appendix.

124

WIGWAM AND WAEPATH.

:.W!

Col. Thompson, the surveyor, relates, that while
engaged in surveying near the house of a " Wapto"
Indian, said Indian came to him with a very serious
face, and requested the suspension of the work. The
colonel, being a humorous man, and patient withal,
entertained the petition, but demanded to know the
reason why the survey should stop.

" Wapto " said, in jargon, " Indian ISTecseka-nan-
itch-mi-ka, is-cum, twenty acres; JS^ika cluchman is-
cum, twenty acres; Ni-ka ten-us-cluehman is-cum,
ten acres; Kika ten-us-man is-cum, ten acres; Ma-
mook, sixty acres; Al-ka. You see I get twenty
acres, my squaw get twenty acres, my daughter get
ten acres, ray son get ten acres, making sixty acres in
all. Sposc Mesika Capit mamook ieta clihe, Kau-yua
nika is cum, seventy acres. Suppose you stop sur-
veying, and wait awhile, I can get seventy acres, may
be eighty acres. Cum-tux, — understand? "

The colonel took the hint, when the Indian pointed
to the small lodge, fitted up expressly, as the custom
among these people is, for important occasions of the
kind intimated above.

Whether he changed his course in surveying, he
did not say, but went on to relate, that a few days
after the above conversation, the same Indian came to
him and said, " ]!^ika-i8-cum, Ten-is-man " — "I have
another boy." — " Klat-a-wa-ma-mook-elihe " — " Go
on with the suryey." — " ^N^ika is-cum, seventy acres "
— "I get seventy acres." He seemed much elated
with the new boy, and the additional ten acres of land.

The surveying was completed, but " red tape " was
in the way of allotment, much to the satisfaction of
some of the people, who were hoping for as good for-

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

125

time as " Wapto," in the same way; others, who were
hopeless of such luck, were anxious for the lands to
be set apart at once, because each new-comer made
the chances less in securing good homes, by being
crowded off to make room for the additions that such
events demanded.

The allotment has finally been made. The people
are overjoyed, and they start off on this new order of
life with commendable zeal. I have no doubt of their
ability to maintain themselves, when they shall have
been admitted to the new relationships in life. While
they have been long in bondage, treated as depend-
ents, and begrudged the valley wherein they have
been placed by the Government, they have, neverthe-
less, attained to a status of manhood that entitles
them to consideration. They fully appreciate such
evidences of recognition, and should be consulted in
regard to the expenditure of their funds, the appoint-
ment of agents and employes, the selection of
church ministries and school teachers.

During one of my official visits they assembled to
the number of nearly oiiC hundred, and paraded on
horseback, for a grand demonstration. They were
well dressed, and well mounted on good horses. After
performing various evolutions, they drew up in front
of the agency office in a half circle. The leader
then made a speech, a portion of which I copy here,
from the memoranda made at that time. It was in
American language, and began, "Mr. Meacham:
You our chief. We look on you as our father. We
show you how we get along. We think we white
men now. We no Injuns now. We all Republicans.
We know 'bout the big war. We no Democrats.

126

■WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

One man he live with me — he Democrat — us boys
all laugh. He get shamed; he good 'publican now.
These all our horses, we work for 'em. S'pose you
want us work road, all right; s'pose you tell us pay
the tax, all right. Sometime we vote just like a white
man. All right. S'pose the President want soldier,
we are white men; we know all about everything; we
can fight. We are not boys; we know about law.
That's all right.

" We want to hear you talk. You talk all the same ;
you talk to white men. Some of these people don't
understand, we tell them; you go ahead, talk all the
time ;" meaning I should make a speech without wait-
ing to have it interpreted.

I felt then that I was their servant. The Govern-
ment was paying me for my time, and whatever of
ability I might have. I was not there to make a hur-
ried call, and go away without doing them good.

My remarks were, substantially, that I was glad to
see them appear so much like white men; that the
Government would give them lands, and would do
right by them. A few years ago, a great many black
people were slaves; now everybody is free. Every
man is counted by his sense and conduct, not by his
color. You men are almost white in your habits.
You are doing well ; you have made a good start.
After the land is allotted, you will each have a home,
and in four years the treaty will be dead ; then you
can come up with the white man. You will pay taxes
and vote.

Dave said: " There is something else we want you
to talk about. Some of us Injuns are Catholic; some
of us are not. The Catholics don't want to go to the

WIGWAM AND WARPATn.

127

other meetings. They don't talk all the same. We
want to understand about this religion."

The agency was^ at that time, under the supervis-
ion of the Methodist Church. A Catholic priest had
been laboring with these people for many years, and
had baptized a large number of them.

The assignment of agencies was made without
proper knowledge of the religious antecedents of the
people. Many of them had been, from time to time,
under the teaching of other churches, especially the
Methodist Episcopal Church. They had also formed
their ideas from association with the farmers, for
whom they had worked at various times. I realized
then, as I have often done, the very embarrassing cir-
cumstances that surrounded the subject.

If I have ever doubted the feasibility of the church
policy, it was because no well-defined regulations
were ever made. Regarding these matters it is a doubt-
ful question which of the churches named had prior-
ity of right to minister to the people of Grand Round
Agency. Though the Catholics had been many years
among them, the Methodists had, at an earlier date,
taught them in matters pertaining to religion.

I fully realized the importance of Dave's request,
and so deferred action until the Catholic father could
be summoned. Father Waller, one of the early found-
ers of Methodist missions in Oregon, was present.
When the former arrived, the subject was again
brought up. In the mean time, however, a new ques-
tion arose, and an incident occurred worthy of a place
in this connection.

The habits of these people are their lives really,
and when an old custom- is abolished, the substitute

) 1

128

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

may be clumsily introduced, and not well understood.
I refer to the marriage law. The old way was to buy
the girl, or make presents to the parents until they
gave consent for the marriage. The new order of
things forbade this way of performing this sacred rite.

The hero of this episode — Leander — was a fine,
handsome young fellow, who belonged to Siletz
Agency, and from his agent had learned something
of the working of the law. Siletz and Grand Round
Agencies are within one day's ride.

The heroine — Luc^^ — lived on the latter, with her
parents, who ^yere " Umpyuas."

Leander had obtained a pass — permission — from
his agent, stating the object of the visit, and had been
well drilled in regard to his :'ights under the " new
law." He had proposed, and, so far as the girl's con-
sent was concerned, been accepted. But the parents
of Lucy could not be so easily conciliated.

It is true they had assented to the new law, but
were reluctant to see Lucy marry a man, and go away
to another agency to live. I think, however, the ab-
sence of presents had something to do with their
reluctance. Leander had promised his agent that he
would stand by the new law, — make no presents to
the parents.

The " old folks " founded their objection on other
grounds when submitting the case for settlement.
Leander requested a private interview with me. He
then stated that he was willing to pacify the old folks
by making a present or two, if he thought Mr. Simp-
son would not find out about it. He declared he never
would return to Siletz without Lucy; said he thought
she was a good young cluohman; he loved her bet-

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

129

ter than any on Siletz. She is stout; she can work;
she can keep house like a white woman. She is no
squaw. I want her mighty bad. You s'pose you can
fix it all right? I don't want them old folks mad at
me. They say if she goes away now she get no land.
Can't she get land at Siletz? They don't care for her.
They want some ictas (presents) ; they want me to
wait until you give the land; that's what they want."

I promised to arrange the matter for him somehow,
although I could see the difficulties that embarrassed
the marriage, as indicated by Leander's talk.

Had the allotment of lands been made, no objec-
tions would have been had on that score. The father
and mother called upon me, wishing advice. Grand
Kound was, at this time, without a general agent, and
was running in charge of a special agent, — Mr. S. D.
Khinehart; hence the duties of an agent were de-
volved upon the superintendents, and one of the
important duties is to hear the complaints, and adjust
all matters of difference.

The " old folks " were much excited over this affair
of their daughter Lucy, who had, as her white sisters

sometimes do.

given evidence of her

interest in the

question, by declaring she would marry Leander, and
possibly said something equivalent to the " there now "
of a spoiled girl.

They were much affected. The father's chief ob-
jection, I think, was to prospective loss of ten acres
of land ; the mother's, the companionship and ser-
vices of her daughter, added to a mother's anxiety
for the welfare of her child. She shed some real
tears, woman-like.

The father said, when he would wake up in the

130

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

i«

morning and call " Lucy," she could not hear him,
and that he would be comi)elled to go for his horso
when he wanted to ride. Lucy had always done that
kind of work for him.

The confei'cnce was protracted, for I recognized in
this affair a precedent that might be of gi'eat impor-
tance to the Indians of Grand Hound Agency here-
after. I foresee, in the future, some stony-hearted
Indian hater, scowling while he reads this mention of
sentiment and feeling on the part of Indians. Scowl
on, you cold-blooded, one-sided, pale-face, protected
in your life, your rights, and even your affections, by
a great, strong Government!

Finally, all the parties interested were taken into
the council. The mother put some pertinent ques-
tions to Leander.

"Do you ever drink whiskey? Do you gamble?
Will you Avhip Lucy when you are mad? Will you
let her come to see me when she wants to? "

Leander's answers were satisfactory, and, I think,
sincere. He promised, as many a white boy has to
his sweetheart's mother, what he would not have done
to a mother-in-law. That relationship changes the
courage, and loosens the tongue of many a man.

Lucy was not slow to speak her mind on the sub-
ject. "Leander, Clat-a-wa-o-koke-Sun-Silet^. E-li-
he, hi-ka-tum-tum, ni-ak-clut-a-wa. (Leander goes
to Silctz, my heart will go with him, to-day.) Ni-
ka-wake-clut-or-wa-niker, min-a-lous. "If I don't
go, I will die." This settled the question.

Being the fu'st marriage under the new law, it was
decided to make it a precedent that would have proper
influence on subsequent weddings. The ladies resi-

WIGWAM AND AVARPATH.

131

dent at the agency, were informed of the affair, and
requested to assist the bride in making preparations
for the ceremony.

Leander was well dressed, but be required some
drilling. Dr. Hall, the resident-physician, assumed
the Vatik, and calling two or three boys and girls to
the office, the ceremony was rehearsed until Leander
said, " That's good. I understand how to get mar-
ried."

The people came together to witness the marriage.
The men remounted their horses, and formed in a half
circle in front of the office, women and children within
the arc, all standing. The porch in front of the
office was the altar. Father Waller, with his long
white hair floating in the wind, stood with Bible in
hand. A few moments of stillness, and then the
office door opened, and Leander stepped out with
Lucy's hand in his.

The doctor had arranged for bridesmaids and grooms-
men. As they filed out into the sunlight, every eye
was fixed on the happy couple. The attendants were
placed in proper position, and then the voice of Father
Waller broke the silence in an extempore marriage
service. Leander and Lucy were pronounced man
and wife, and, the white people leading off, the whole
company passed before the married pair and offered
congratulations.

Great was the joy, and comical the scene. One of
the customs of civilized life was omitted, that of kiss-
ing the bride. Father Waller could not, consistently^
set the example, the doctor would not, and, since no
white man led the way, the Indian boys remained in
ignorance of their privilege.

t I

m' i

132

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

m^]

The horsemen dismounted and paid the honor due,
each following the exact model, and if one white man
had kissed the bride, every Indian man on the agency
would have done likewise.

One young roan asked the bridegroom ir Indian,
"Con-chu-me-si-ua-ka-tum-tum? " ("How is your
heart now?") "I^ow-wit-ka-close-tum-tum-tum-ni-
ka." (" My heart is happy now.") I have witnessed
such affairs among white people, and I tliirxk that I
have not seen any happier couple than Leander and
Lucy.

The dance, in confirmation of the event, was well
attended. It being out of Father Waller's walk in
life, and my own also, Ave did not participate in the
amusement. But we looked on a few moments, and
were surprised to see the women and girls dressed in
style, somewhat grotesque, 'tis true, but all in fashion;
indeed, in several fashions.

Some oi them wore enormous hoops, others long
trails, all of them bright-hued ribbons in their hair.
Some with chignons, frizzles, rats, and all the other
paraphernalia of ladies' head-gear. The men were
clad in ordinary white man's garb, except that anti-
quated coats am"", vests were more the rule than the
exception. Black shining boots and wh:>e collars
were there. A few had gloves, — some buckskin, some
woollen; others wore liuge rings; but, taken all in all,
the ball would have compared favorably vith others
more pretentious^ in point of style, and even elegance.

These people were apt scholars in this feature of
civilization. The music on the occasion was fur-
nished by Indian men, with violins. Few people arc

WIGWAM AND WARIaTH.

133

more mirthful, or enter with more zest into sports,
when circumstances are favorable, than do Indians.

The day following the wedding, a general council,
or meeting, was held. Father AYaller of the Meth-
odist, and Father Croystel of the Catholic Church,
being -x^rcsent, the subject of religion was taken up
and discussed. The facts elicited were, that many
of the Indians, perhaps a majority, were in favor of
the Catholic Church. The i-tmainder were in favor
of the Methodist, a few only appearing indifferent.

Neither of the fathers took part in the "talks."
My own opinio i, expressed then and since, on other
occasions, was, that the greatest liberty of conscience
should be allowed in religious practice. That the
people should honoi- all religions that were Christian.
'No bitter feelings were exhibited. I attended, at other
times, the Catholic Church exerdses, conducted by
lilev. Father Croystel. The Indians came in large
numbers, some of them on horses, but the majority
in wagons; whole families, cleanly clad and well
behaved.

Those who belonged to the Catholic Church were
devout, and assisted the father in the ceremonies and
responses. The invitation was extended to any and
all denominations to preach; on one occasion a min-
ister came by invitation, and preached in the office.
The attendance was not large, but the employes of
the agency monopolized all the available benches.
They seemed to think that the Indians had no rights.
The proachc' began his discourse, and, after dilating
on the word of God, with a prosy effort to explain
some abstruse proposition in theology, for half an
hour, my patience became exhausted, and I arose and

134

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

made the suggestion that, since the meeting was for
the benefit of the Indians, something should be said
which they might understand. More seats were pro-
vided, and the preacher started anew, and when a
sentence wa«! uttered that was within the comprehen-
sion of those for whom the preaching was intended,
it was translated. This meeting, however, did not do
them very much good, because it was not conducted
in a way that was understood by the Indians.

The man who was trying to do good had undoubt-
edly answered when some one else had been called
of God to preach the gospel. He would, perhaps,
have made a passable mechanic, but he had no quali-
1 3ations for preaching to Indians. He was not human
enough. He was too well educated. He knew too
much. Kad he been less learned, or possessed more
common sense, he might have been competent to teach
great grown-up children, as these Indian people are,
in the Christian religion.

A short colloquy overheard between two of the red
children he had been preaching to would have set
him to thinking. The talk was in the Indian lan-
guage, but, translated, would have run in about the
following style : —

" Do you understand what all that talk was about?"
— "]N"o; do you? Well, he was talking wicked half
the time, and good half the time. He was telling
about a man getting lost a long time ago. Got lost
and didn't find himself for forty years. That's a big
story, but maybe it is so. I don't know. !N^ever heard
of it before."

I need not say to the reader, that this minister had
been preaching about Moses. Perhaps he was not to

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

135

be cenbured. He may have done the best he could.
He did not know how to reach an Indian's heart.

The schools at this agency were not flourishing.
The reason was that the mode was impracticable.
Schools were taught with about as much sense and
judgment as the preaching just referred to.

After several years of stupid experimenting, at an
expense of many thousands of dollars, there was not
among these Indians half a dozen of them who could
read and understand a common newspaper notice.
The fault was not with the pupils ; it was the system.

The Indians of this agency are farther advanced
than those of any others in Oregon, in everything
that goes to make up a civilized people. They have,
since the allotment of lands, made rapid progress,
and bid fair to become rivals of other people in the
pursuit of wealth, and other characteristics that make
a people prosperous. Some of them are already the
equals of their white neighbors in integrity of char-
acter and business tact. They have abandoned their
old laws and customs, and have been working under
civil laws. They elect officers and hold courts, some-
what after the manner of a mock Legislature ; in other
words, they are practising and rehearsing, in antici-
pation of the time when they shall become citizens.

Like all other races, they learn the vices much
quicker than the virtues of their superiors. It cannot
be denied that they follow bad examples sometimes,
especially intemperance; but when considered fairly,
taking note of the influences that have been thrown
around them ; the many different agents, and kinds of
policies under which they have lived; the fact that
they were wild Indians sixteen years ago; that they

136

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

have been kept in constant fear of being removed;
hope deferred so often and so long; that they were
remnants of many small tribes; that their numbers
have decreased so rapidly, — then tV'ij stand out in a
new light, and challenge commendation.

Lift your heads, Indians of Grand Round I you are
no longer slaves ; you are free.

This agency, with the people who are the^e now,
and wlio have been there as Government officers and
employes, would furnish material foi' volumes of real
live romance; racy stories, sad tales, great privationy,
disease, death and suffering make up the history of
such places. 'No character required to make a thrill-
ing drama, a bloody tragedy, or comic personality,
would be wanting. Better live only in tradition, or
fireside story, than in printed page. The latter would
embarrass men who h ave passed through some of the
chairs of office, and poor fellows, too, who have
sponged a living off of "Uncle Sam," and cheated
the people of thousands of dollars, and months of
labor, that they were paid for doing. Let the history
die untold, since it could not restore justice to either
Government or people. Some of those who have
administered on Grand Round Agency have left the
Indians in much better condition than they found
them, and will live forever in the memory of those
they served so faithfully.

Before leaving this agency I would state one feat-
ure of Indian life that exists everywhere, but it is
less prominent on this than other agencies.

I refer to the poor and the old. Perhaps the last
Christian virtue that finds lodgment in Indian liearts
is regard or reverence for age, especially old women.

WIGWAM AND WAEPATH.

137

They are drudges everywhere, and when too -^Id to
labor are sometimes neglected.

Poor, miserable-look' ug old women, blind, lame,
and halt, charity would shed more tears at your
death than your children would. "While this deplor-
able indifference for them exists to a fearful extent,
there are notable exceptions, particularly among the
Grand Round Indians. In every council they were
found standing up and pleading for something to be
done for the old and poor. These old creatures
nearly always hobble to the meetings, and although
they seem fair specimens of the Darwinian theory, they,
nevertheless, have feelings and gratitude even for
small favors. A grasp of the hand seems to impart a
ray of sunshine to their benighted faces.

A few years more, and all the old ones will be gone,
and their successors will take the vacant places with
prospects of more humane treatment than they have
hitherto received.

Heaven pity the poor and old, for man has little
for them that casts even a glimmer of hope, save on
their waiting tombs !

CHAPTER IX.

THE AGED PAIR — BIRTHPLACE OF LEGENDS.

The scene changes, and we stand on the deck of a
river steamer with its prow pointed eastward.

For hours we have steamed along in the shadows
of the Cascade mountains, through deep, dark can-
ons, with walls so high that the smoke-stack of our
little boat seemed like a pipe-stem. " Puny thing " it
is. Yet it bears us over boiling eddies and up rapids
that shoot between high rocks like immense streams
of silver from the great furnace of creation.

We are startled at the sound of the whistle on our
deck, and grow anxious when the nearest canon
answers back, rnd still another takes up the sound,
and the echo tu/ns to its original starting-point, and
finds its own ofispring talking back in fainter voice,
until it dies away like the rumbling of some fast-
retreating train rushing through the open field or
wooded glens.

Soon we are on board the thundering train, whirl-
ing away toward the upper cascades, swinging around
curves and beneath ledges, and overhanging the
rushing floods hundreds of feet below. As we fly
swiftly along, the conductor, or some one familiar
with this cascade country, points out the battle-
grounds where the red men fought white men for
their homes. The battle w^as a fierce one, and lasted
several days, when the Indians withdrew.

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

139

There are traditions yet among Indians and white
settlers; and it is related that in former times the
Indians who lived along the banks of the Columbia
were employed to assist the white men in transporting
goods over the portages (or carrying places), and
they were ill-treated by their employers, and their
rights disregarded.

The invasion of the country was not the most
grievous complaint. They were furnished whiskey,
were debauched, and corrupted as a people, until vir-
tue was unknown among their women; the men
themselves selling their wives and daughters for the
basest purposes. Degraded, polluted, and in despair,
they sought to wreak vengeance on their seducers.

If those who debased them were the only victims,
no just condemnation could be pronounced against
them.

There is a feeling of respect for the man, though a
savage he may be, who defends his home, and resents
imposition even at the risk of life. But humanity re-
volts against the butchery of innocent persons, no
matter what the color may be, or the cause of provo-
cation of race against race.

A few survivors of the Cascade tribes may be found
now on Warm Springs and Yak-a-ma agencies.

The traveller on the Columbia meets, occasionally,
a man and his family, still lingering around their old
homes, living in bark-covered huts, sometimes em-
ployed in laboring for the Steam !N^avigation Com-
pany, who transport the commerce that passes through
the mountain at this point. These stragglers are
poor, miserably degraded savages, and are not fair
specimens of their race.

140

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

An old Indian legend connected with the Cascades
has been repeated to tourists over and over again. It
has been written in verse, in elegant style and forceful
expression, by S. A. Clark, Esq., of Salem, Oregon,
published in February number of Harper's Magazine
for 1874. The poem is worthy of perusal, and ought
to make the author's fame as a poet.

The substance of the legend is to the effect, that
many, many years ago, before the eyes of the pale-
faces had gazed on the wonders of the Cascades, the
river was bridged by a span of mountains, beneath
which it passed to the ocean; that to this bridge the
children of Mount Hood on the south, and those of
Mount Adams on the north, made yearly pilgi'image,
to worship the Great Spirit, and exchange savage
courtesies, and to lay in stores of fish for winter use.
The Great Spirit blessed them, and they came and
went for generations untold.

They tell how the exchange of friendship con-
tinued, until at length a beautiful maiden, who had
been chosen for a priestess, was wooed and won by a
haughty Indian brave of another tribe. On her with-
drawal from the office her people became indignant,
and demanded her return. This was refused, and
when, on their annual visit, they came frorn the north
and from the south, bitter quarrels ensued, until, at
last, fierce wars raged, and the rock spanning the
river became a battle-ground. Soch-a-la tyee — God
— was vexed at the children, and caused the bridge to
fall. Thus he separated them, and bade each abide
where he had placed them.

of these

The legend still lives fresh in the memory
Indians, and they respect the command. Few have

WIGWAM AND WAKPATII.

changed their residences. The ragged mountains on
either side support well the historic tale. High, bald
summits stand confronting each other, and it requires
no effort of the imagination to see the Great Bridge
as it is said once to have stood, and to hear rising on
the winds, the weird, wild songs of the people at the
time of sacrifice.

At the place where this legend had its origin the
" Columbia " is crowded by its banks into so narrow
a channel that an Indian might, with his sling, make
a stone to trace the curves of the ancient arch. The
waters rush so swiftly that the keenest sight can
scarcely keep the course of timber drift in view.
The river's bosom is smooth above this rapid flow,
and, widening, takes the semblance of a lake, in
whose depth may be seen the trees that once were
growing green, but now to stone have turned; they
never move before the breeze ; they sway not, nor yet
can yield to the gentle currents, still standing wit-
nesses of the legend's truth.

Midway between the shores an island stands, fash-
ioned and fitted for a burial-ground of the tribes that
had oft, in ages past, made use of it at nature's invi-
tation, and had borne to this resting-place the war-
riors whose spirits passed up to the happier lands;
while the body resting here might wait for the com-
ing of some Gieat rrophet, vvho should bid the bones
to rise and become part and parcel of human forms,
and mingle with those who remain to build the
nightly fires and feed the mouldering bodies of their
dead, until the great past should be re-born and live
again attended by all the circumstances of savage
life.

142

WiaWAM AND WARPATH.

Sittinp: in the pilot-house of the steamer "Tenino,"
beside "McXulty," her captain, hear him tell how
these peoi)le ti.me, at certain times, to pay honor to
their dead; how, in years gone by, from the "Tenino"
he could see the old sachems sitting bolt upi-ight in
their woovlon graves and calmly waiting, watching,
with sightless eyes, for t]ie coming hour foretold be-
fore they died; how, with fleshless hands, they
clutched the rotting handle of the battle-axe of flint
or lishing-spears.

Then see his eye kindle while he tells you of relic-
hunters from the East, who came on board the
" Tenino " Avith boA'5s and lines and other devices for
relic-hunting, and requested that he won! land them
on the shores of this lone island. You will feel the
fire of that eye warming your heart towards the dead,
and living too, when it declares in full sympathy, with
the rich Irish voice, " That while he commands the
'Tenino' no gravc-rohhers shall ever disturb the old
heroes who sit patiently waiting for their resurrection.
No sacrilegious foot shall leave his vessel's deck to
perpetrate so foul a deed ! "

You will honor him still better when you learn that,
in his whole-hearted generosity, he declares that " JS^o
man shall ever disturb the repose of the congregated
dead, on that little island, wdiile he lives, and escape
unpunished."

Brave, fearless captain, many years have you passed
daily in sight, and scanned their sej)ulchres; self-
appointed guardian, you have been true to the impulse
of a noble heart; you have exalted our opinion of the
race you represent; and for your fidelity to the cause
of a common humanity, and especially to the race

m ■

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

1 Vt

whose dark faces seldom li<^ht iij) from rcco<2:niti()n by
t'. osc whose power has been but the destruction of
their own, do we thank you.

May many winters come and go before their snows
shall bring to you old age; and when, at last, the
" Tenino " shall be laid aside, may yon still be guar-
dian of this spot, so sacred to many a sad and
hopeless heart.

Leaving behind, on our upward jourr'^'y, the burial-
ground of the moiiiitain tribes, in charge of the
ftiithful Mc^ulty, wc pass beneath high rock cliiTs,
sometimes near beautiful valleys, with farm cottages
and lowing cattle on hill-side pastures. Through
the deep cafions that cut the table mountains in
twain, as if made on purjjose for tourists' delight,
Mount Hood, the father mountain, comes suddenly in
view; the beauty much enhanced when seen through
nature's telescope, made by rifts in solid rocks, with
sky-lights reaching to the stars above. "Words may
not give even a faint outline of the scene. Mc^N^ulty,
though for years he has gazed on this sublime paint-
ing, — at morning, when the shadows cover the tele-
scope, but light the mountain up; and at evening,
too, when both were shaded, — sees new beauties at
every sight; and, not content to worship all alone, he
rings his call to the engineer, and the vessel slackens
her speed, and "rounds to" in proper place, while
the captain calls his guests to the grandest l)anquet
that earth aifords, and points out the beauties as each
one paints the panorama on his soul.

See, there the old Fathcir Hood stands, with his
wreath of snow, which he has worn since the time
when man was i.aiknown. Sometimes he hides his

146

WIG>VAJI AXD AVAKrATir.

'¥ iifiW ■•'1:1 ■

Ell I

tlitf^'

ii^l

hoary head in clouds, iiiiwilHng to witness the injus-
tice done the puny children who have played around
his feet for generations past. We see his own sons,
still in primeval manhood, with heads crowned with
fir or laurel, standing* at his side and looking up, are
ever read}^ to bear the winter's burdei<3 that from his
shoulders fall.

Again w^c glide on the smootl' surface of the shin-
ing river until wc hear repeated the captain's call to
witness now how impartial God has been, and to pre-
vent any jealousy that might arise, has made on the
other shore, looking northward, twin telescope to the
first, and twin mountain, too, for now we see another
hoary head, rich in clustered snow-banks that orna-
ment her b' ow. Mother Adams stands calmly over-
looking her daughters, who modestly wear garlands
of wild wood-vines, and heavy-topped fragrant cedars.
She feels her solitude, and when " Hood " drawS his
mantle over his majestic shoulder, she, too, puts on
a silvery veil of misty wreath, or, in seeming anger,
drapes in mourning and weeps; the deluge of her
tears giving signs of Avillingness tr make fi'iends
again. And then these two old mouiitains smile and
nod, and looking above the clouds that covered the
heads of younger ones, they, giants in solitude, be-
come reconciled. The lesser ones then peep through
the rising mist, and siiiile to catch their estranged
parents making up.

Leaving these grand scenes, the mountains, smaller,
v/^aste away into gentle hills, and we feel that we have
passed the porfals of a par; disc, shut out from ocean
storms by great barriers oi' rocks. The river grows
narrow, the banks are perpendicular walls of solid

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

147

roclvS of moderate height. Rounding a turn in the
river, suddenly comes to view " The Dalles," a small
city near the river brink, nestling in an amphi-
theatre, formed by curved walls of rocky blutfs.
In times past The DaVes was a starting-point
for the mines of Eastern Oregon and Idaho, and
was, also, the seat of a United States fort. Its
streets have felt the tread of mercl.aut princes, and
miners of every grade and color; of the tramping of
bands of Indian ponies brought here to be sold or to
parade some red man's wealth; of heavily ladened
wheels bearing merchandise.

Busy throngs peopled then its streets, but now
they are less merry; business has taken long strides
toward surer success and larger life. Long years
ago it was a great resort for Indians, who came to
feast and gamble, and exchange captive slaves.
Many old legends date from this post, and some of
thum are rich in historic truths ; others in romance of
human lives, and, others still, of fairy tales and
ghostly stories.

A few miles above the city the river passes between
almost perpendicular walls of stone, while through
the narrow gorge the water leaps from ledge to ledge
in quick succession, making huge billows of the rush-
ing current, so rai)id that no steamer or canoe has
ever upward passed, though l)oth have downward
been in perfect safety. At this point the great
schools of salmon, on their journey to the lakes and
smaller streams, halt to rest, and thus prepare them-
selves for more severe struggles and more daring
feats. Here the red men have, year after year, come
to lay in supplies of salmon.

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148

WiaWAM AND WARPATH.

These fisheries are of great value, and, when the
Porthind, Dalles, and Salt Lake Kailroad is com-
pleted, will become sources of untold wealth, furnish-
ing Eastern markets with choicest salmon. Before
leaving this fishery, I would state, for the information
of my readers, that tho Indians have some peculiar
ideas about salmon. They "vun" at regular seasons
of the year, and the Indians gather on the banks and
make ])reparations for catchi^ig and preserving them;
but they do not take the Jirst that come up, because
they believe that, since the "Great Spirit" furnishes
them, they should be permitted to pass, in his honor,
and because the Jirst that come are 8ui)posed to be
bolder, and will succeed in getting to better spawn-

ing-grounds in higher streams.

The females always precede the males, who follow
several weeks later. 'No Indian would make use of
the first fish caught, because of the sacrilege. As
soon, however, as the "run" fairly begins, the Indians,
in their way, give thanks, by dancing and singing.
The ceremonies of opening the fishing seasons are
serious and solemn in character.

The manner of taking salmon varies. Sometimes
they use dip nets, attached to long poles resting in a
crotch or fork, or, maybe, pile of rocks, as a fulcrum.
Others, with spears made of bone, pointed at each
end. attached by a strong cord of sinew at the middle
to a shaft made of hard wood, with three prongs in
the end, of each of which a socket is made, wherein
one end of the bone spear is thrust, the cord attach-
ment being of sufficient length to pei'mit the escape
from the socket of the spear.

Thus equipped a fisherman thrusts the three-tined

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

149

spear into the water at random, and when a sail '.on is
struck, the spear leaves the shaft; but, still secure,
turns athwart the fish, and his escape is impossible.
"When he is landed the fisherman's work is done.
The fish is turned over to the women and boys, and
carried to a convenient camp, where the work of dry-
ing them is performed by first beheading and then
splitting them in two lengthwise. They are spread
on long scaffolds built on poles, and \ dth occasional
turning are soon dried by the air and sun. The aver-
age weight of salmon at this fishing is about fii'teen
pounds, though sometimes much greater. Some have
been taken weighing sixty-five pounds eacn, and
many of them forty pounds.

Another noticeable f he t is that the nearer the ocean
they are taken the better. Those which succeed in
stemming the many rapids en route to the head-waters
are poor and thin, and of little value. They often
ascend streams so small that they can be caught with
the hand. It is doubtful whether they ever return to
the ocean.

CI
1 ■■

CHAPTER X.

DANGEROUS PLACE FOR SINNERS.

Leavixg " The Dalles " early one morning in Feb-
ruary, 1870, with Dr. "VY. C. McKay as guide, I set
out on my first visit to "Warm Sj^rings Agency. Our
rouce was over high grassy plains, undulating, and
sometimes broken by deep canons, occasionally wide
enough to furnish extensive farm lands. Tyghe valley
is traversed by two rivers that flow eastward from the
foot of the Cascade mountains. It was, originally, a
very paradise for Indians. It is a paradise still ; but
not for them. "White men wanted it;" hence our
present visit to Warm Springs.

In 1855 the several Indian tribes occupying the
country east of the Cascade mountains, as far up as
John Day's, south of the Columbia river, and north
of the Blue mountain, met in Treaty Council those
who had been selected as the representatives of the
Government.

The Indiant^ confederated, settling all their diffi-
culties as between different tribes, and also with the
Government. They went into this council to avoid
farther hostilities. From Dr. W. C. McK ly I learned
that a body of troops were present; that the Indians
insisted on Tyghe valley as a home; that the Govern-
ment refused, and that the council continued for

WIOWAISI A2<T> WARPATH.

If)!

several days; that, finally, under threats and inthni-
dations, the Indians agreed to accept a home on what
is now "Warm Springs Reservation," the Govern-
ment agreeing to do certain things by way of fur-
nishing mills, shops, schools, farms, etc.

At this time certain members of the Tenino band
were in possession of, and had made improvements
of value near, " The Dalles." Under bpecial agree-
ments in treaty council these improvements were to
be paid for by the Government.

Nineteen years have passed, and John Mission and
Billy Chinook hove not yet received one dollar for the
aforesaid improvements. These men were converts
to Christianity under the ministration of Father
"Waller and others, who wei'e sent out by the Meth-
odist Church as missionaries. These Indians are still
faithful to the vows then taken.

Here is a good subject for some humane, senti-
mental boaster of national justice to meditate upon.

Had these men broken their compact with the
Government, they would have been punished; and,
had they been like other Indians Avho have figured
in history, they would have been at last rewarded;
not because the Government is prompt to do them
justice, but because they would have compelled jus-
tice to come to them, though filtered l)y blood
through the bones of innocent settlers and sweetened
by tears and groans of widows and orphans.

Strong language this, I admit; l)ut history su])ports
the declaration. For nineteen years liuve these two
huml)le red-skinned men waited patiently lor remu-
neration; for nineteen years have they waited in vain.
Poor fellows, I pity you! Had you a vote to give,

m .

,li

152

WIGAVAM AND AVARPATH.

your claim might have been paid years ago. Then
some ambitious politician, anxious to secure your
suffiogc, would have importuned the department at
"Washington to do you justice; and the department,
anxious for influence in Congress, would have recom-
mended payment, and some member would have
found it to his interest to " log-roll " it through. But
you are unfortunate; you cannot vote. You are no
trouble; you are peaceable and faithful, and jou dai'e
not now make any noise about your claim. You are
dependent on a Government that has so much more
imi^ortant business to look out for, jou are unknown.

Rebel once against your masters, and millions would
be expended to punish you. A few thousands would
make you rich, and would redeem the honor of the other
"high contracting power." But you will not be
made glad now in your old age, because you are but
" Injuns," and the good ones of your people " are all
under ground." So say j^oui* white brethren, who
now own what was once your country. Be patient
still. The God, of whom you learned from the lips of
the honored dead, will yet compel a nation of con-
querors to drink the bitter dregs of repentance, and
though you ma}^ never handle one dollar of the money
due you, your children may. And somewhere in the
future your race may come upon the plane where
manhood is honored without the question of ancestry
being raised.

Climbing a steep blufi', going south from Tygh
valle}', we look out on an extensive plain, bordered by
mountain ranges, facing us from the further side.
Forty miles brings us, by hIow and ever-increasiug
easy grades, to the summit of the plain, where the road

'J k' ■■

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

153

leads down a mountain so steep, that two com-
mon-sized horses cannot even manage a light car-
riage without rough-locking the wheels. From the
starting-point into the chasm below, a small stream,
looking like a bright ribbon that was crumpled and
ruffled, may be seen. Down, down we go. Down,
still down, until, standing on the bank of Warm
Springs river, we behold the ribbon transformed into
a rapid rushing current of snow-water, whose very
clearness deceives us in respect to its depth. We
drive into it at a rocky ford, and we are soon startled
with the quick bi'eathing of our team, while the w^ater
seems to rise over their backs, and we, standing on
the seat, knee deep, encourage our horses to reach the
other shore.

For nineteen years has the business of this agency
been transacted through this current. AYe are on the
other side, vowing that " Uncle Sam " fuust and shall
have this stream bridged. So vowed oiu' predecessors,
and so our successors, too, would have vowed had they
ever passed that way. A few miles from the crossing
and near our road we see steam ascending, as if some
subterranean monster was cooking his supper and had
ujiset his kettle on the fires where it is supposed
wicked people go. The nearer we came to the caldron
till' more we were convinced that our conjectures were
correct, and stronger was our resolve to keep away from
such ])laces. Hi'inistone in moderate quantities scat-
tered along the banks of this stream adds to our anxiety
to reach a meeting-house, where we may feel safe.

This spring gives name to the lieservation, though
twelve miles from the agency; to reach which, we
climb up, up, up once more to another high sterile

154

WIGWAM AND WARPAXn.

all

plain, devoid of everything like vegetation save sage
bush. Mile after mile we travel, until suddenly th^.
team halts on a brink, and we, to ascertain the cause*
alight. Looking down, away down below glimmer a
dozen lights. Tying all the wheels of our vehicle to-
gether and walking behind our team for safety, we go
down into this fearful opening in the surface of the
earth, and find "Warm Springs Agency" at the bottom
of the chasm.

The country comprising this Indian Reservation is
desolate in the extreme; the only available iarming
lands being found in the narrow canons hemmed in
by high bluffs. The soil is alkaline and subject to
extreme drought.

The Indian farms are small patches, irregular in
shape and size. They were originally enclosed by
the Government at great expense.

Remnants of the old fences may be seen, bearing
witness of the way in which Government fulfilled its
promises: round blocks of wood, on some of which
the decaying poles still lie, the blocks being from ten
to twenty feet apart; above them other poles were
staked, and thus the fences were made.

Calculation on the cost of this fencing would prob-
ably exhibit about five dollars per rod. In later
years the Indians have rebuilt and improved fences
and houses.

The department farm occupies the hest portion of
the valley, and is cultivated for the benefit of the de-
partment; seldom, if ever, furnishing supplies or seed
for Indians. The government buildings are gen-
erally good, substantial and comfortable for the
employes.

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

^ • "

The schools are not well attended, and arc of but
little value to the Indians, — the fault, however, rest-
ing principally with the Indian parents, who seem to
have but little control over their children, and do not
compel attendance.

A large number of the Indians are professedly
Christian, and are making progress in civilization.
The remainder are followers of " Smoheller," the
great dreamer, — a wild, superstitious bigot, — whose
teachings harmonize with the old religions of these
people. The Christian Indians are anxious for their
young men to learn trades, and become like white
men in practices of life.

The others arc tenaciously clinging to the old hab-
its of wild Indians, — isolating themselves from the
Christian Indians and the agent.

Thus a wide difference is manifest among these
people, ajDparently growing out of their religions.
This is the real cause of difference; but why this dif-
ference exists is a question that is not difficult to
answer.

The Indians who were located near the agency,
where they could attend Christian service, w^ere
almost all of them Christianized; while those whose
houses were remote from the agency, thus left to
care for themselves, were followers of " Smoheller."
Had these people been permitted to select Tygh val-
ley, in 1855, all of them might have been civilized;
because then all would have had productive farms
and been under the immediate eye of the agent.

If, then, they were compelled to accept homes that
did not furnish them the means of subsi-stence and em-
ployment, it is the natural conclusion and the legiti-

In I '!

Ill

156

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

mate result of the bad niaiingcnient of the Govern-
ment ■when maliing the treaty under which the
Indians accepted this great fraud in lieu of their
own beautiful homes.

The climate of AVarm Sj)rings differs materially
from that of Grand liound, Siletz, or Alsea, being
sheltered by the Cascade mountains from the heavy
rains of the "Willamette valley, but, being much higher,
is dryer, and in winter much colder. The mountains
act as a great refrigei-atoi*; hence snows are common,
though seldom to an extent that prevent cattle and
hoi'scs from living thi-ough Avithout being fed.

The ])eoplc are somewhat different in physique and
habit. They are braver, and more warlike, and, in
times past, have demonstrated their right to that char-
acter. Since they became parties to the treaty of
1855, they have, in the main, been faithful to the com-
pact, the exceptions being those who were led away
by the religion of " Smoheller." Nothing serious
has yet groAvn out of this " new departure." What
may occur hereafter depends entirely on the manage-
ment of the department.

In the treaty of 1855 the confederated bands of
middle Oregon reserved the right to the fishery at
" The Dalles," of which I have written at some length,
on a former page. In 1866 a supplemental treaty
"vvas made with them by my predecessor, — the late
Hon. J. W. P. Huntington, — by which the Indians
released all claim to said fishery. The consideration
was paltr}^, but was promptly paid by the Govern-
ment, and has long since been expended.

The Indians who were parties to the two treaties
referred to declare, most emphatically, that they did

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

157

not imdcrstaiKl the ternis of the hitter one; that
they only consented to relinquish, so far as the exclu-
sive rujlit to take salmon was considered; but that
they supposed and understood that they were still to
enjoy the i)rivilege in conunon with other people. A
careful examination of the said treaty discloses the
fact that they had entirely alienated all their right
and interest thereto.

AV^hen the lands covering these fisheries were sur-
veyed and selected as State lands, they were taken
up by white men and enclosed with fences, ])revent-
ing the Indians and others from having access thereto
except on payment of a royalty or rental. The In-
dians, not understanding the right of the parties in
possession, opened the enclosure, and really, in vio-
lation of law, went to the grounds where they and
their fathers had always enjoyed, what was to them
almost as dear as life, the privilege of taking salmon.

A compromise was made, the Indian Department
paying the claimant the damage done to the growing
crops through which the Indians had passed to the
fishery. I submitted the question of releasing this
land to the department at Washington, and also to
the State land officers. The Government, and State
land agent, Col. Thos. II. Cann, manifested a willing-
ness to do justice to the wards of the Government.

1^0 further action Avas ever taken, to my knowl-
edge, by the federal authorities. I suppose that it
was overlooked and forgotten. The injustice stands
yet a reproach tu a forgetful government.

" A bargain is a bargain," so says the white man ;
and truly enougli it may be held right in a legal
view to compel the Indians to submit to whatever

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WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

they may agree to. But there was a wrong done
them in this instance that ought to have been undone.
The plea, that so long as they were pcnnitted to
make annual visits to the Columbia river to take
fish, would interfere with their civilization, because
of the bad influences of vicious white men with
whom they came in contact, and ur^^ed in justifica-
tion of the treaty whereby they yielded their rights
in the premises, was a severe commentary on Ameri-
can Christian civilization, but may have been just.

It is a fact that cannot be questioned,. that the vir-
tue of the natives, until debauched bv association
with loio whites, is far above that of the latter, and
that the Indian suffers most by the contact. Had the
commissioners who conducted the treaty of 1855 con-
sented to select Tygh valley for a Reservation, no
necessity would } ve existed for the Indians to obtain
fish for subsistence.

Warm Springs Agency I have and ever will de-
clare to be unfit for civilized Indians to occupy.
Since they were compelled to take up their abode
thereon, not one season in three, on an average, has
been propitious for raising farm products. When a
people hitherto accustomed to ramble unrestrained,
are confined on a Reservation that has not the neces-
sary resources to sustain them, they should be per-
mitted the privilege of going outside for subsistence.

Shame on a powerful people who would deny them
this privilege; yet it is done. While these Indians
on Warm Springs have had many hindering causes
why they should not progress, they have nevertheless
made decided advancement in the march from savage
to civilized life. The fact of their living on unpro-

WIGWAM AND WAKPATH.

159

ductivc soil has not been the only impediment in their
way. To enable my readers to understand more fully
this subject, I will introduce the subjoined letter from
the present acting agent on Warm Springs Reserva-
tion, — Captain John Smith. Early in February, 1874,
I addressed a letter to him, stating my purpose of
writing this volume, and requested him to furnish me
with such facts as he would be willing to have appear
in my book ovei his own signature.

1 1

CHAPTER XI.

THE PARSON BROWNLOW OF THE INDIAN SERVICE.

To my readers of the Pacific coast, I need say
nothing in commendation of this writer. He is too
well known to require an introduction. But that his
communication may be appreciated by those who do
not know " The Captain," it may be well to state
that he is a member of the old-school Presbyterian
church, has long resided "West, is respected by all
who know him, as a man of unimpeachable honor and
integrity. His heart is in his work, and he talks and
acts toward the Indians under his charge more as a
father than as an officer. A zealous churchman and
partisan, he is positive in character, and fearless as a
speaker; while he may be lacking in some minor
qualities, he has so many important and useful ones
that qualify him for his position, that the deficiency,
if any, is not felt. As a christian civilizer of Indians
he ranks with Father Wilber, of Yakama, and other
noble-hearted men.

Warm Springs has been assigned to the Methodist
Church; yet so much confidence has Captain Smith
inspired l)y his success, that they have not recom-
mended his removal. In this they have consulted the
higher and purer motives that should, and often do,
control men in important matters. He should be per-
mitted to hold his off during life.

This communication, coming from such a man, is

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

worthy of careful consideration; touching, as it does,
the key-notes of the great question of the Christian-
ization of the Indians.

om-
the
do,

per-

Wabh Spbinos Aobnct, Orboon.

Hon. a. B. Meacham: —

My dear Sir, — Beheving that the work you con-
template publishing is designed to teach the mind., of
men the capability of the Indian race to be morally,
religiously and socially advanced; and having had
the experience of a residence of some seven years
among the confederate tribes and bands of Middle
Oregon, as agent; and further believing that I have in
some degree mastered the great problem of their civil-
ization, I willingly contribute anything that may
serve to give your readers a correct idea of the prog-
ress they have really made; and they are still going
forward.

It will be necessary to go back to the time I first
came among them. A more degraded set of beings I
am sure did not exist on the earth, nor was the con-
dition of most of ♦^he Indians on this coast much
better.

The mind of man would not conceive that human
beings could get so low in the scale of humanity as
they were; and I am sure, if they had been left to the
instincts of their own wild and savage natures, they
could never have beei so low down as they were.

God's holy Sabbath was set apart as a day of
licentiousness and debauchery. Drinking and gam-
bling had become common. Their women were univer-
sally unchaste, and were taught to believe that lewd-
ness was a conunendable practice, or even a virtue.

pit

162

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

Diseases and death were entailed on their posterity.
The men had to submit at the point of the bayonet ;
the consequence was, the Indians had lost all confi-
dence in the honesty and integrity of white men.

This state of aifairs was principally owing to the
military being brought into close proximity to them.
Some of the officers had built houses, and were
living with Indian women.

• After I came here (the military having been re-
moved previously) the Snake Indians commenced
making raids on the Reservation.

I ""Tas asked "if I wished the military to protect
us. " I answered, " ^N'o." I preferred the raids of
the Snake Indians to the presence of the soldiers; for
I doubted if I would be able in twenty years to wipe
out the evidences of the military having been amongst
them; and I am sorry to say, that the agents and
employes set over them to teach them had also con-
tributed largely to their degradation.

One of the agents has been frequently heard to say,
" that he thought the best way to civilize the Indians
was to wash out the color." They had accomplished
what they were able to in that line. While it is
certain that one agent came here a poor man, and went
away wealthy, to say nothing of the lesser pickings
which employers and contractors were allowed to
take.

How to restore the lost confidence in the white
man seemed on my arrival a herculean task. My first
work was to get rid of all contaminating influences,
by discharging bad men and filling their places with
good, ' \oral, and religious persons. The reformation
at firsi seemed slow, but gradually increased from day

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

163

to day. I was soon able to start a Sabbath school,
and divine services were held every Sabbath.

The Indians, old and young, were placed in classes,
and appropriate teachers set over them. Soon our
large and commodious house of worship was filled to
its utmost capacity by old and young, male and
female, all seemingly eager to pick up the crumbs of
comfort that fell from God's holy word; and from
Sabbath to Sabbath this was continued.

Then came a change; officers from the army were
ordered to relieve agents. The Sabbath was soon
disregarded; Christian" and moral men had their
places made unpleasant, and were compelled to resign.
Their places were filled by others who cared for noth-
ing of the kind, and everything was relapsing into its
former condition.

When I was again permitted to return I found
things but little better than when I first came. How-
ever, I immediately set to work again, and, I think I
can truly say, with full success. We have now three
Bible-classes that read a verse around, and seem to
comprehend very well what they read.

The old men are all in a class, and a person is ap-
pointed to read a chapter and explain it to them every
Sabbath day. Many who cannot read can quote a
large amount of Scripture. Quite a number, both
men and women, lead in prayer, and many families
maintain family worship, seemingly living Christian
lives. We give out a psalm; many of the young
people find it about as readily as we do, and can lead
the music. The first week of the new year was
observed as a national prayer-meeting, which was
well attended; some for the first tune acknowledging

I, I

'l '

it;4

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

Christ as their Saviour. We have at this time nearly
one hundred professing to live Christian lives, and
we seem to be adding, from day to day, such as I
hope will be saved. Our day-school has been a great
success for the last two years; before that it was a
failure, and I am now convinced that it was the fault
of the teac;hers not understanding the management
of Indian children. We have quite a number of
children who read and speak fluently, commit to
memory easily, using the slate to advantage, demon-
strating their capability to learn as readily as white
cliildren, provided they can have the same advantages.

There are white children in the school who do not
advance as rapidly as some of the Indian children,
thus exploding the general opinion that, as a race,
tlic}^ are merely imitative beings, but cannot originate
an idea. The true Indian character, I fear, is very
little understood, and still it seems almost anybody
can ^^Tite lectures on it, and with about as much truth
in them as ^sop's fables contain.

I have found them much more susceptible of moral
and religious advancement than the white man, giving
them the same opportunities ; and I account for it in
the fact that you never find an infidel among them
unless made so by white men. They all acknowledge
a Supreme Being that overrules all things. They
may have a very crude notion of the worship due to
such a Creator, but so soon as they are taught the
true worship, they become very zealous, and they have
no scoffers to discourage them.

One fatal error has been in admitting them into
churches, without any change of heart, to enjoy all
its privileges ; consequently they were not restrained

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

165

by any inward principle, and never became any better.
To make a Christian religious, intelligence, as well
as zeal, is necessary. If we are to be judged by
God's law, we should be acquainted with it, and it is
as needful for an Indian as for a white man to know
that law in order to become a Christian.

The Catholics take them into the church, whether
converted or not; and they are never made any better,
but rather worse, for they are kept ignorant and
superstitious. This was the case here, and these
Indians are well aware of these facts. I have iiy
doubts if a single Indian can be found on this coast
that has been made any better by the Catholics.

I am credibly informed that they say mass in the
morning, then run horses and play cards the remain-
der of the day ; and all this under the eye of the priest.
At the time of my coming here polygamy was
indulged to the fullest extent. Their women were
bought and sold, and used as beasts of burden, and
when old, were kicked out at pleasure, to get their
living as best they could, or die of want.

I immediately set myself to work to remedy this
evil, by telling them it was in violation of God's holy
word; then I was asked why we did not put a stop
to it among the Mormons. I finally succeeded in se-
curing a law prohibiting it in the future; allowing all
who had more than one wife to get rid of her as best
they could, but any one violating the law should be
punished by fine or imprisonment.

I was soon after enabled to pass an amendment
that where there was more than one wife, if one
wished to leave, their husbands had no control over
them. Under this rule nearly all had left.

166

WIOWAM AND WARPATH.

On last Sabbath, a woman got up in church and
said she was fully convinced that she had been living
in violation of God's holy word. She had lived with
her husband a long time; he had always treated her
well, and she loved him, — but she loved her Saviour
more, and for the sake of heaven and happiness she
had to give him up. She was much affected. I was
reminded of the words of our Saviour when he said,
he had " found no such faith, no, not in Israel."

Her confession has led others to the same conclu-
sion ; and I think we can truly say, the days of polyg-
amy are ended among these people, or soon will be.
The merchandise of their women was a source of
great annoyance to them. Their girls brought from
three to ten head of horses, owing generally to the
manner their pa • were able to dress them for the
market. This ' m was very hard to get rid of,
but it has entirely ceased for the last three years.
By law they are required to be married by the
agent; for violation of this law they are punished.
No divorces are granted, except in cases of adultery.
Cards, or any other devices for gambling, found about
their premises, make them liable to a fine of twenty-
five dollars, or ten days' work on the highway; as
does, also, gambling, or drinking ardent spirits, and
refusing to tell where it was obtained. Adultery is
severely punished; and now I am able to add another
law entirely prohibiting polygamy.

Our court consists of the " Head Chief" and six
selected men, — the agent presiding, — an Indian
acting as sheriff, who arrests and brings into court all
offenders, and subpoenas witnesses. The councils are
always opened by prayer by some of the Indians.

WI0W.V3I AND WARPATH.

1G7

Their agricultural affairs and social relations have
unajrgone a great change. AVhen I came among
them tlicy were wrapped up in their filthy blankets,
eating their meals — if meals they could be called —
off the ground like the pigs.

They had but few houses. Their crops probably
did not exceed three hundred bushels in any season;
they were living on the roots they digged in the
mountains and the fish they caught in the streams,
and not one pound of anything on the Reservation. I
purchased for them a limited amount of seed — they
packing it forty miles. This enabled them to raise
five thousand bushels of wheat, with a good supply
of assorted vegetables.

This seemed to gi\e them new life, and they have
been steadily increasing ever since.

Their crop, the last season, has been estimated at
from twelve to fifteen thousand bushels of wheat,
with an abundance of vegetables of all kinds.

Now they have some forty houses, with logs hauled
and lumber partly sawed for perhaps twenty more.

Many families sit around tables well furnished with
the luxuries common with white people. As to their
dress, they will compare very favorably with many
country congregations.

The women and children come to church clean and
nice, many of them dressed equal to white women.

I have built a house, 18 X 42 feet, for a female
school. In this house, if I shall remain here a short
time longer, I shall expect to accomplish much, as I
propose to teach their women domestic economy, - .
thing thoy are very little acquainted with, as are they
also with the preparation of vegetable foods, to make

1G8

WIOWAM AND WARPATH.

!VI

I ''

'!! i

Iht'in i)alatablc; and lor this rcapon they arc less
used than they should be, and they depend too much
on the ehase and lisheries.

This makes it necessary to leave their homes at
times, and keeps up lllthy habits, and their homes are
not made eomlbrtable as they would be if they looked
to the ground for support; and they could be better
induced to give up the chase and become settled and
eomlbrtable, much to the benefit of their health.

During the last year probably less than one half of
the usual number left the Reservation in search of
food, and I find the increase in numbevs ha«^ ')cen sur-
prising. In roaming around, their children can never
be educated, as they only come to school in the win-
ter months, and forget what they learn by the next
winter.

The sooner Indians can be brought to look to the
earth for a support, the better; or, in other words, the
Bible and the plough are the only civilizers of the
human family.

That has been my experience with these Indians,
notwithstanding the scoffs and jeers of infidels, who
would like to bring all manivind down to a level with
the wild and barbarous Indians ; and these are gen-
erally the kind of men who wish them transferred
from the civil to the military authorities.

This experiment has been tried, and we have seen
the result. They may have been in some measure
controlled, but never made any better, — always
worse. Their object has been to control them, — not
to civilize them.

President Grant's humane policy has done more
towards civilizing the Indians than all things hereto-

WIGWAM AND WAnrATH.

169

fore, done; and it is yet in its infancy, while every-
thing that could l)e has been brought to bear against
it, to make it unpopular if possible.

Here let nie say a woi-d in regard to yourself. I
have the fullest confidence that the earnest manner in
which the work was seconded and pushed forward
during your supcrintendency has greatly contributed
to its success among the Indians of Oregon, who, I
think, can compare favorably with any others in the
United States.

Good results were apparent among these Indian.^,
and I presume also others, immediately after Ihe
holding of that general council at Salem in the fall
of 1871. AVliat Lliey saw and heard there gave them
faith in iLc good intentions of the Government
towards them, and encouraged them to try and do
something for themselves; and your general manner
of treating and talking to them was well calculated
to inspire them with confidence and a desire for
improvement.

These Indians have been repeatedly advised to
leave the Reservation by designing men, on the ground
that under the fourteenth amendment to the Constitu-
tion they are citizens, entitled to both settle where
they please, and to enjoy all other rights appertaining
to citizenship.

They have succeeded in drawing away something
over a hundred, who are roaming over the country;
and some fears are entertained t'lat should the mili-
tary attempt to force them to return there may be
trouble, and perhaps a repetition of Modoc scenes.

If this should be the case, the fault clearly would
not be with the policy of the administration, but with

IBH

'fl

t «

170

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

its enemies, who by their mischievous interference
have induced the Indians to leave.

I think the facts will bear me out in the statement
that if the only contact of the Indians with the whites
had been with true Christian men, there never w^ould
have been any, or, at least, very little trouble with
them.

The cases are not wanting where men of high
moral and Christian character have succeeded ad-
mirably in controlling Indians, by showing decision
and firmness where it was needed, leniency and favor
where it was appreciated, and dealing honestly and
honorably in all things.

The results shown, where the contact was be-
tween them and such men, even though it did not
continue for any great length of time, indicate clearly
enough what might have been the present condition
of these " wards of the nation " if none but good in-
fluences had been brought to bear upon them. We
should have heard fewer details of revolting massa-
cres, there would have been fewer costly wars and
campaigns, that now go to fill up the pages of U. S.
history; and it is no idle fancy, but a logical deduc-
tion, to presume that they might at present be self-
supporting, instead of at the expense they now are,
and must be for some time to come ; if indeed they
were not able to contribute something to the support
of the Government. Very much might be said on
this subject, but as you probably prefer facts to
theories, incidents to deductions, I will not intrude
mine upon you.

Hoping that your work may be successful in assist-
ing to lead people to form just and correct con-

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

171

elusions and ideas in regard to the Indian ques-
tion,

I remain,

Yours respectfully,

JOIi:N^ SMITH,
U. 8. Indian Agent at Warm Springs, Oregon^

Here is a man talking of a subject who knows
wheieof he writes; so far at least as relates to his
own experience and observation.

His success, as declared by his letter, is established
by many living witnesses, and the anthems of praise
that go up from this mountain home of the red
men.

The reader who peruses the foregoing letter will
not fail to discover that Captain Smith's heart is in
the work, and that he is animated by a true Christian
spirit in his labors with his people.

I do not, however, endorse all his strictures on the
effects of the Catholic Church, in its labors in behalf
of the Indian race. I know many worthy men, who
are honestly laboring for them, who are members of
the Catholic Church. There is a difference in the
polity of that and Protestant Churches, and, however
strong my own prejudices may be in favor of the
latter, I am not insensible to the fact that the Catholic
Church has manifested a great interest in these peo-
ple. Let them be judged by their works.

Unfortunately for the world, Christianity has not,
and does not, divest its followers of the common in-
heritance of poor weak human nature, and of the pas-
sions and prejudices that close our eyes to the vir-
tues and honor due those who differ from us. More

172

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

charity, more justice, preached and practised, would
make man far happier.

In December, 1871, 1 visited Warm Springs Agency.
I remained several days ; during which time a series
of meetings were held at the agency. From the
record kept of that meeting I make a short synopsis.
Agent Smith, when his people were assembled in the
school-house, called on an Indian to offer prayers. I
confess that I was somewhat surprised to witness the
response, by a man whose childhood had been passed
in a wild Indian camp, and whose youth had witnessed
scenes of warfare against the white man, and who had
been compelled to accept this poor home, in lieu of the
beautiful prairies of "John Day's " river country,
— the name of a branch of tlie Columbia. A hymn was
sung by the people. IS^owhere have I ever seen
exhibited a more confiding trust in God than was
shown by them.

After the preliminaries were over, a discussion was
ofiened on the several matters pertaining to the in-
terests of the Indians, — their church, school, business
matters, investment of funds, etc.

The social and civil customs were brought up. We
insisted that polygamy was a great crime, and that they
should abolish the law permitting it.

The meeting increased in interest and earnestness
for several days. We finally proposed that those of
them who were willing should come out squarely
and renounce all their old ways, and take new names,
or, at least, add to their old ones a plain American
name. The people were warmed in their hearts.
The occasion was one of intense interest. Here were
those who had come up from a low, debased condi-

'^.

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

173

tion, through the labors of Christian white men, until
they stood on the threshold of a higher life than they
had as yet known. It was to them an important step.

The speeches made gave evidence of thought and
forecast of mind. They did not rush blindly forward
without counting the cost.

This scene reminds me of a Methodist camp meet-
ing in olden time, when people were moved by some
invisible power to llee from the wrath to come;
when the preacher would call, and exhort, and pray,

and a

great

overshadowing presence touched all

hearts, and drove away careless thoughts and selfish
purposes, and the multitude wouM seem to melt and
mingle in common sympathy; when saints could
throw their arms around sinners, and make them feel
how much they loved them, and how earnestly they
desired their salvation; when brave old sinners hes-
itated, faltered and trembled, and strong, brave Chris-
tians would then renew the contest in behalf of
religion. Men who had knocked elbows for life
would meet at a common altar, or gather in knots
and surround some stubborn, hard-hearted sinner,
who, with thoughtful brow, woidd whittle sticks and
spit, and whittle again, sometimes throwing the chips
away from him, indicating "I won't;" and then, when
some more pointed word of argument, or love, was
sent home to the sinner's heart, he would turn the
stick and whittle the chips toward him, thus saying,
" I may ; " until at last, when the preacher calls, " Who
will be the next? " the repentant one drops his stick,
shuts his knife, draws his bandanna to his eyes, starts
forward, escorted by his pious exulting friends, who
clear the way for the now penitent man.

174

WIGWAM AND WAKPATH.

The preacher comes down from the stand, clapping
his hands, and with streaming eyes shouts, "Thank
God, another sinner has turned to the Lord I " extends
his hand, and utters a few kind words in the listening
ear, and resumes, " Who will be the next? "

A cowardly sinner, who dares not come out from
the world, and is not brave enough to stand before the
battery of divine power, turns and flees, not from the
wrath to come, but from the means that are intended
to make him whole. He is followed by kind-hearted
Christian friends and brought back, and he, too, sur-
renders ; and the preacher says, " Thank the Lord I "
and the brethren shout, " Amen I Amen."

And thus the work goes on until all are converted,
or give evidence of penitence, save, perhaps, some
strong-willed, hard-hearted, cool-headed one, and
then especial efforts are made in his behalf. If he
does, at last, yield ^his stubborn will, the joy is im-
bounded.

This picture I have made, is a true one of western
camp-meetings, and equally true of the Indian meet-
ing held at Warm Springs in December, 1871. I was
to that what the presiding elder was to a camp-meet-
ing. Capt. Smith was the "preacher in charge.''
After one or two days of speech-making, when all
hearts were thoroughly aroused, the proposition above
referred to was made. I shall never forget the scene
that followed. " Who will be the first to throw away
his Indian heart, laws, customs, and be from this day
henceforth a white man in everything pertaining to
civilization?" Silence reigned; all eyes turned toward
"Mark," head chief. He realized the situation, saw
how much of the welfare of his people depended on

^VIGWAM AND WAKPATH.

175

his example. He saw, besides, his three wives and
their ten children.

He arose slowly, half hesitating, as though he had
not fully made up his mind what to do. The pres-
ence of his women embarrassed him. He said, " My
heart is warm like fire, but there are cold spots in it.
I don't faiow how to talk. I want to be a white man.
My father did not tell me it was wrong to have so
many wives. I love all my women. My old wife is a
mother to the others, I can't do without her; but she
is old, she cannot work very much ; I can't send her
away to die. This woman," pointing to another,
"cost me ten horses; she is a good woman; I can't do
without her. That woman," pointing to still another,
" cost me eight horses ; she is young ; she will take
care of me when I am old. I don't know how to do;
I want to do right. I am not a bad man. I laiow
your new law is good; the old law is bad. We must
be like the white man. I am a man; I will put away
the old law."

Captain Smith, although a Presbyterian, behaved
then like an old-fashioned Methodist, shouting,
" Thank God ! Thank God, the ice is broke ! "

Mark remained standing, and resinned : " I want you
to tell me how to do right. I love my women and
children. I can't sen^ ..ny of them away; what must
I do? " The old chief was moved, and his uphca\nng
breast gave proof that he was a man. Silence fol-
lowed, while he stood awaiting the answer, — a
silence that was felt.

Here \ras a people, in the very throes of a new life,
making effort to overcome the effects of savage birth
and education. The heart of this question was

176

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

t' ^h

[li 'i|;-

bared. This old superstition was still lingering in
their lives, part and parcel of the very existence of
the 2>eople. It remained with them even after they
had put away their religious faith and accepted that
of their Christian teachers.

We had long before seen the struggle that it would
cost, — the embarrassments that polygamy threw into
the question. Our mind was made up, or Ave thought
it was, and, motioning the chief to be seated, we arose
and said : —

" I know how much depends on my words. This
is a great question. It has always been a hard thing
to manage. My heart is not rock. I sympathize
with you ; Captain Smith feels for you. We will tell
you what to do. Ko man after this day shall ever
marry more than one woman. No woman shall ever
be sold. The men that have more than one wife
must arrange to be lawfully married to one of them.
The others are to remain with him until they are
married to other persons, or find homes elscwiicre.
If they do not marry again, the husband must take
care of them and their children."

After a few moments, the chief arose, and said, " I
understand ; that is right. I will give all my Avives a
choice. I will be a white man from this day ;" and then,
advancing toward the desk, he was welcomed by
friendly greeting from the white men present.

Holding him by the hand I said to him, " I wel-
come my red brother to our civilization. You are now
a man; our jieople do not consider the color of a man;
it is his heart, his life. What name will you take? "

He hesitated, looking down for a moment; then rais-
ing his eyes to my own with earnest gazii, he inquired

WiaWAM AND WARPATH.

177

if he might take my name, saying that he liked it
because it sounded well.

Acknowledging the compliment, I extended my
hand, and addressed him as Mr. Mark Meaeham,
which was greeted with great applause. His second
wife, Matola, arose and made a short speech, inquiring
what was to become of her and her children. " Is
your heart made of stone? Can I give Mark up? No
r won't; he will want my children. I want them. I
won't go away. I am his wife. I am satisfied with being
his second wife ; we did not know it was wrong. JS^o-
body told us so. We get along well together. I won't
leave him; I am his wife." The plan was explained,
and she was reconciled. John Mission was next to
follow Mark, saying, "that when he was a small
boy, he first heard about the new law. He had waited
for the time when his people would come to it. They
have come now. I am glad in my heart. I give you
my hand."

Billy Chinook said, "I throAv away the law my
fathers made. I take this new law. I have two wives.
They are both good. If anybody wants one of my
wives, he can have her; if he don't, she can stay.
Long time I have waited for the new la\>. It has
come. I give you my hand."

Hand-shaking was renewed, and then one after
another arose and made short speeches, and came for-
ward and were enrolled ; the captain growing warmer
and more enthusiastic as each new name was entered
on the roll. I^early one hundred had come out
squarely, and we adjourned the meeting to the follow-
ing day.

On reassembling, next morning, the invitation was

I' !• :■

f n ■

i^. m

\ ii,i. ';

ii ile

178

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

renewed, and nearly all of the men present surren-
dered. Sitting moody, gloomy, silent, was a tall,
fine-looting fellow, with a blanket on his shoulders.
His name was Pi-a-noose.

He had been called on several times, but had not
responded until near the close of this civil revival.
Unexpectedly he laid aside his blanket and arose.
Every eye was turned on this man, because he had
opposed every new law. While he was a peaceable,
quiet man, he was a strong one, and had always exer-
cised great influence, especially with the younger
men.

He began to talk, — breaking a breathless silence,
because it was supposed that he would take a stand
against the new law, — the Indian way of speaking
of all new rules. His speech was one of vast impor-
tance to his hearers, and was as follows : —

" I was born a wild Indian. My father was a wild
Indian. A long time I have fought you in my heart.
I have not talked much; I wanted to think. I have
thought about the new law a great deal. I thought I
would not have the new law. My heart says ]S'o ! I
cannot fight against it any longer. I am now going
to be a white man. I will give up the old law."

He advanced towards the desk, and the captain,
unable to restrain his emotions of pleasure, gave vent
to exclamations of gladness by slapping his hand on
the desk, while tears came to his eyes in proof of his
pleasure. _ The hand- shaking that followed was of
that kind which expressed more than words. A
throng gathered around Pi-a-noose, congratulating
him.

Here was a scene that w^ould have touched the

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

170

heart of man possessed of any feeling, — a savage
transformed into a man I The world scoffs at such
sentiments, because it seldom witnesses a spectacle so
grand in human life. Indians who have passed into
that new life are like white men newly converted to
Christianity. Our meeting adjourned with great dem-
onstrations of pleasure on the part of all interested.

The captain called his employes together for prayer-
meeting. A few Indians were present, taking part
in the exercises. Strange sounds, — those of prayer
going up from an Indian agency, where, in years
agone, shouts of revelry and bacchanalian songs arose
from throats that were used to the language of the
debauchee ; even officers, if history be true, had taken
part in the disgraceful orgies.

This agency has two classes of Indians — one that
are anxious to advance; the other who, adopting the
religion of white men, are loth to abandon their old
habits. The former are fast coming up to the estate
of civilized. Christianized manhood. A few years
more and the treaty will expire, and then those who
are qualified should be admitted to citizenship, and
the remainder removed to some locality where they
could find suitable lands for cultivation. This will
not probably be done. The Government owes these
people a debt that it may be slow in paying.

The Dalles fishery should be returned to them,
and a peaceful enjoyment of its privileges guaranteed.
Captain Smith should be permitted to remain with
those for whom he has done so much, and who regard
him with reverence. This may not be either, because
the success of party will require another change in
the policy.

180

WIOWAM AND WARPATH.

i!'- I

A new administration may change the whole plan
of civilization, and remand these Indians ba(!k to the
care of their first masters, or into the hands of the
politicians. In either event, it will be a misfortune to
those who have advanced so much under the humane
pohcy of the present administration. Warm Springs
has had but two agents in eight years. This agency
has legends and romantic stories connected with its
people, one of which I propose to give in other con-
nections.

'Hl-i

CHAPTER XII.

NO PLACE LIKE HOME — SQUAWS IN UOOPS AND CHIGNONS.

Umatilla Agency has been mentioned on former
pages. I return to it now to say something more of
its peojjle. It is imder the management of the Cath-
olic Church. It has had but four agents in ten years,
is on a gi-eat thoroughfare between the Columbia
river and Idaho. It has a good climate, abundant
resources, and is of great value. An effort was made

during

1871, to induce the Indians to consent to a

removal.

The council convened at Umatilla Agency, Oregon,
August 7th, 1871, consisting on the part of the Gov-
ernment, of Superintendent A. B. Meacham, Agent
N. A. Cornoyer, of Umatilla Agency, and John S.
AYhite, a citizen of Umatilla County, Oregon.

Hon. Felix Brunot, chairman of Indian Commis-
sion, was present ; also, many of the citizens of the
surrounding country. The council was organized
with A. B. Meacham, president, Mathew Davenport,
secretary, Donald McKay and P. B. Pamburn, as
interpreters. The council continued six days, during
which time the questions at issue were fully discussed.
A few of the speeches made will be sufficient to give
a correct understanding of the argument for and
against the sale of their lands.

Note. — See Appendix to Chapter XII. for the several speeches on the 2ub-
ject of removal.

182

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

?i ,.t

I u :!■ :

I, 'J

The Indians were entirely untrammelled, and spoke
without intimidation. After the couneil had been in
session lour days, in reply to the remarks of a chief,
that they were not ready to talk yet, it was said, " Wo
want you to talk iirst all you have to say."

This council was conducted on fair terms. The
Indians freely expressed their wishes and mind
on the subject, and the white men accepted tho
result.

On all the western coast there is not a fairer land
than Umatilla. I do not wonder that the Indians love
their homes on this reservation. They arc, however,
somewhat divided in religious practice; one part be-
ing members of the Catholic Church, the remainder
Dreamers, — followers of Smoheller. Some of them
have made advancement in civil life.

Wealth has been to them a curse, and not a bless-
ing. Many of them have large herds of horses and
cattle, and have not felt the necessity for labor. The
few who have farms are prosperous, the land being of
excellent quality, climate favorable, and market con-
venient. At the Oregon State Fair, 1868, some of
them were awarded first prizes for vegetables.

Surrounded, as they are, by white men, they have
been worsted by the contact.

Unlike the Indians of Grand Round, v'ho owe much
of their prosperity to the citizens for whom they
labored, the Indians of Umatilla are a rich, thrifty,
proud people. They are fond of sports and games,
and yield slowly to the advice of agents to abandon
their habits. A few noticeable instances, however, to
the contrary, are How-lish-wam-po, We-nap-snoot, and
Pierre, together with a few others, who live in houses

WIGWAM AND WAHPAXn.

183

like citizens. Another instance is that of the widow
of Alex McKay, a half-breed. This woman, of Indian
blood, has been educated by white persons, keeps
house in a respectable manner, dresses after fashion's
style, though about one year behind it. When white
ladies adopt new fashions this "Susan" waits to see
whether it is perpetuated, and then adopts it just
about the time her fairer sisters abandon it. During
one of my official visits, I was invited to "a social"
at Susan's house. In company with the agent and
his family I attended. The refreshments served
would have done ciedit to any house-wife in any fron-
tier country, though the manner of serving them was
rather comical. Each person went to the table, taking
edibles in hand, while coffee for twenty persons was
served in, perhaps, half-a-dozen cups, passing from
one to another.

The Indian women who were present were dressed
"a la Boston:" painted cheeks, high chignons, im-
mense tilting hoops, and high-heeled bootees.

The men were in citizen costume, Susan refusing
to admit either man or maiden in Indian dress.

The dance, or hop, was also Boston, with music on
a violin by a native performer. The first was an old-
fashioned " French four." When the set was formed,
they occupied the floor, leaving little room for wall-
flowers. Dancing is a part of Indian life in which they
take great pleasure.

In this instance the music was slow, very slow at
the commencement, but increased in time, growing
faster, while faster went the flying hoops, and faster
yet went the music; and then the dancers would chase
each other in quick succession through the figure

184

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

until the iiddles failed and the dancers, exhausted, sat
down. No cold kind of amusement, that.

After refreshments were again served, another set
was formed, and gone through in the same manner,
I noticed in this affair that the maidens selected
partners.

Susan, in reply to the remark on the change, said
that "the boys liked all the girls for partners, but
the girls don't always like all of the boys for part-
ners. The boys have had their own way long
enough." This is an enterprising woman, and be-
lives in woman's rights. She is doing her people
much good, in their amusements especially. !N^ature's
children, as well as those of higher society, are
blessed with joyful spirits, and a longing for recrea-
tion.

Susan has sense enough to know that she cannot,
even if she would, prevent dancing, and wisely con-
cludes to draw her people away from the old, un-
couth, senseless dances of savages. Being herself a
good Catholic, she is zealous for her church, and,
since dancing is not prohibited, she succeeds in lead-
ing them into communion with religious people.

Whether the hearts of these converts are changed,
I know not; their manners and customs are, and
their ideas of right and justice much improved. For
this reason, I commend this woman for her efforts to
break up old, heathenish customs.

CHAPTER XIII.

"HOW-LISH-WAMPO," KING OF THE TURF — A DEAD THING

CRAWLS.

Umatilla is known to be a great country for
horses. I doubt if anywhere on this continent there
can be found horses of greater speed or powers of
endurance.

The feats performed by those people on horseback
are wonderful, and past belief by those who know
western horses.

How-lish-wam-po, chief of the Cayuse (Kiuse), is
owner of several thrusand horses. He is a stout-
built man, has a dark complexion, wears his hair just
clear of his shoulders, and is now past middle age.

This man is a natural horseman, and a match for
any man of any race in matters pertaining to
horses. He is really king of the turf in the Umatilla
country.

In conversation with him regarding horses, he
remarked to me that he had horses that could carry a
man one hundred miles in a day, and bring him home
the next day. T shook my head, when he proposed to
back his judgment by betting twenty horses. I am
satisfied that he could have won the wager.

The racing habits of these people are well known,
and many a white man has found more than his
match.

I remember, one day in the spring of 1867, a maa

186

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

and boy passing my residence on the mountain bor-
dering the Reservation. They were leading a fine-
looking horse, with a fancy blanket over him. I sus-
pected his purpose, and inquired his destination. In
his answer I detected a rich Irish brogue and a tone
that sounded somewhat familiar.

"It's meself that's going down to the Umatilla
*Risivation,' to have a bit of sport with the 'Injuns.'
You see, I've been in Idaho this few years, and I've
made me a nice bit of a stake; and I thought that,
when I'd be going home, T might stop off at the
Umatilla, and get even with them red-skinned boys
that swindled me and Mike Connelly out of a few
dollars when were going up, — so they did."

A few words of explanation, and I recognized him
as the fellow who had, in partnership v/ith another,
bought an Indian pony, of which mention has been
made in a previous chapter. I felt sympathy for him
during his first adventure^ and I did this time also,
and said to him, "Be careful, Pat; you will lose all
your money."

"OchI never fear; that fellow there has claned
them all out in the Boi-se basin. Oh, but he is a
swange cat, so h3 is; and he will show them how to
tr.ke a poor man in when he's foot-sore and tired, so
he will, too. ]^ow, do you mind what I'm telling
yous? That .ad here can tell you how he flies. OchI
but he's a swate one, so he is."

Pat went on his way with his heart full of hope.
A few days after, the boy who had gone down with
him returned homeward. To my inquiry about how
Pat made out, racing horses, he shrugged his shoul-
ders and replied, that "<Ae Injuns cleaned us out/"

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

187

Another party, who had heard of the Umatilla race
horses, passed down toward the Reservation. This
man's name was French Louie. He had several fine
racers with him. I learned iiis destination, and gave
him a few words of caution. But he replied that he
" knew what he was about." He had " a horse that
had ' swept the track,^ all the way from the Missouri
river, at Denver City, Salt Lake, Boi-se, and Baker
City. Never fear. I'll teach those Indians some-
thing they never knew, before I get through with
them."

Poor fellow, I felt sorry for him. On his arrival on
the Reservation he found chances to invest his money.
The men he came to teach were apt scholars in tricks
that are shrewd.

He led out a horse, and made a small bet and losty
as he intended to. The next run the Indians played
him the same game, until, thinking he had learned
the speed of their horses, Louie proposed to wager
all his money, horses, saddles, and, in fact, stake every-

thini

upon one race.

That man and his attendants went home on little
ponies which the Indians gave them in charity.

How-lish-wam-po, chief of the Cayuses,is the owner
of a horse with which he has challenged any and
every sporting man in the country.

Several parties have visited Umatilla, bringing with
them men and boys to drive home the herds of Indian
horses they were " going to win."

One party imported a horse for the express purpose.
He made known his desire, and he, too, soon found
opportunity for an investment. The preliminaries
were arranged, and the race was to be run over the

188

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

V. I

! -Ti i

Indian race-course, which was located on the bottom
lands of Umatilla river, smooth, level turf, over two
miles and a half in length.

At one end of this course a post wp^ planted, round
which the racers were to turn, and come back to the
starting-point, making a distance of a little ovei five
miles and a quarter.

Joe Crabb, the owner of the imported horse, had
been present at a race months previous, when How-
lish-wam-po had permitted his horse to be beaten ; and
as he had measured the distance, marked the time,
and subsequently tested the speed of his ho'-se with
the winner, on that occasion, he, of course, had a
" dead thing."

The Avhite men came with groom and riders, mak-
ing a camp near the Indian, standing guard over his
own horse, to prevent accident.

The Indians were not so careful of their horse; at
least Joe Crabb thought they were not, and, since
everything is fair in gambling as in war, he con-
cluded to Tcnoio for himself how the speed of these
two horses would compare.

He thought, as thousands of other white men have,
that it was no harm to cheat an " Injun," no matter
by what means.

There is a general belief that Indians sleep when
their eyes are shut, and especially just before daylight.

Sending 'i careful, trusty man to get the Indian
horse, leaving another in his place, he led his own
out on the prairie, and made a few trials of speed
with the two. The result was satisfactory. He
found that his horse was able to distance the
other.

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

189

Now How-lish-wam-po was the owner of two horses
very nearly alike, — one the racer; the other half-
brother to him, but not so fleet. They were " Pinto "
— spotted horses; so the deception was complete.

The Indian horses are never stabled, groomed, shod,
or grain-fed. Their system of training differs from a
white man's very much. After a race is agreed upon,
the animal is tied up to a stake or tree, and if he is
fat, they starve him down, giving him only water. If,
however, he is in good condition, they lead him out to
grass, an hour or so, each day, and at nightfall they
run him over the course.

In this instance the half-brother was tied up and
put in training, and left ^mguarded, with the hope
that Crabb would steal him out, and try his speed.
Sure enough, h*^ fell into the trap that How-lish-
wam-po set for him. The real race-horse was miles
away, under proper training.

The fame of this wonderful winner had spread far
and wide, as did the news of the approaching contest.

When the morning agreed upon arrived, the roads
leading to the valley of Umatilla gave full proof of
the interest the people of the surrounding country had
in this important affair.

They came from places several hundred miles
distant, and from the settlements surrounding the
Reservation.

The little towns furnished their quota, and the farm-
ers excused themselves for going, hoping, as they told
their wives at home, that they should meet some one
with whom they had business. And through various
devices nearly every man, and a part of the women,
also, found excuse to be there.

190

WIGWAM AND WAEPATH.

:j, 'y,

I know how that was done ; at least, I heard men
tell how they managed.

People who never gambled with dollars, and would
blush to own they were fast people, found their way
to Umatilla.

The race-course which I have described was par-
allel with a low range of gi*assy hills, that rose by
gentle slopes fi'om the valley to an altitude of fifty to
one hundred feet.

Long before the time for the race, carriages, bug-
gies, wagons, and horses, might be seen standing on
the hills, or driving over the green sward, while at
the standing-point was assembled a great motley
crowd, on foot and horseback.

The Indians were in their gala-day dress, — paints,
feathers, long hair, red blankets; in fact, it was a
dress-parade for white and red men too.

The majiT^er of betting at an Indian race differs
somewhat from affairs of the kind among white men.
One man is selected as a stake-holder for all moneys.
Horses that are wagered are tied together and put
under care of Indian boys. Coats, blankets, saddles,
pistols, knives, and all kind of- personal effects, are
thrown into a common heap and tied together.

As the starting-hour approaches, two judges are
elected, — one white man and one Indian. But two
are required, since the horses run out, turn the stake,
and come back to the starting-point. The first horse
tr get home is winner. No account is made of the
, iirt, each party depending on his shrewdness to get
I'l. better in this part of the race.

Indians are enthusiastic gamblers, and have a cer-
tain kind of pride, and to do them justice, honor,

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

191

nen

way

par-
s by
"tyto

bug-
2: on
lie at
lotley

)aints,
was a

iffers

men.

|oneys.

cl put

ddles,

ts, are

|es are

|ut two
stake,
horse
I of the
to get

a cer-
I honor,

as well, in conducting their races. "No disputes ever
arise among themselves, and seldom with white men,
growing out of misunderstandings, either about start-
ing or the outcome. They take sides with their own
people always, and bet, when the chances are against
them, from pride.

The prevailing idea that they are always cool and
stoical is not correct. They become very much
excited at horse-races, but not generally until the
race begins. Wliile the preliminaries are being
arranged, they are serious, even solemn-looking
follows, and with great dignity come up with the
money to bet. " Capable of dissembling," I should
think they were, from the cool face of How-lish-
wam-po, when the money is being counted out by
the hundreds, in twenty-dollar gold-pieces, — not a
few, but handfuls of twentica. One could not have
detected the slightest twinkle in his eye, or other sign
that he knew that Joe Crabb had stolen his horse, and
nm him secretly. Cool, calm, earnest as if he were
saying mass, this chieftain came up and handed over
his money to the stake-holder, while numerous bets
were being arranged between the other Indians and
white men. Horses Avere wagered, and tied to-
gether, and led away. Many a fellow had brought
extras with him, for the express purpose of gambling,
expecting of course to take home twice the number
in the evening.

Crabb had confided his secret about his stolen run
to a few friends, and advised them to go in, and win
all the horses they wanted. There was no danger;
he knew what he was talking about. He had the
Indian's horse's speed by time, and also by trial.

192

WIGWA3I AND WARPATH.

1:0

This thing leaked out, and was communicated from
one to another. Some pretty good men, who were
not accustomed to betting, became anxious to win
a pony or two, and laid wagers with the Indians.

The trick that Crabb had played was finally made
known to Ilow-lish-wam-po. lie and his people were
cooled down, and seemed anxious to have the race
come off before more betting was done.

This made the white men more anxious, and they
urged, boasted, and ridiculed, until, in manifest des-
peration, the Indians began to bet again, and the
nolle white man generously took advantage of the
Indian's hot blood, and forced him to make many
bets that he appeared to shun.

• The horses were brought out to start, and while
the imported horse of Crabb's looked every inch a
racer, the other stood with head down, a rough-
haired, uncouth brute, that appeared then to be a
cross between ox and horse.

The presence and appearance of the horses was
the signal for another charge on the Indians, and a few
white friends they had, who, having learned from the
chief, the truth of Crabb's trick, came, in sympathy
for the Indian, to his rescue.

Money, coats, hats, saddles, pistols, pocket-laiives,
cattle, horses, and all kinds of property, were staked
on the race.

The Indians, in their apparent desperation, drove
up another band of ponies, and in madness wagered
them also.

Those of my readers who are accustomed to exhi-
bitions around our " fair grounds," on days of " trials
of speed," may have some idea of the scene I am

WiaWAM AND WARPATH.

1!)3

trying to describe, except that few of them have ever
seen so many horses tied together, and so large a pile
of coats, blankets and saddles, as were staked upon
this occasion.

When the final starting-time came, a pure-minded,
innocent man would have felt great pity for the pooi*,
dejected-looking Indians, at the sight of their faces,
now so full of anxiety ; and, certainly , the Pinto, who
stood so unconcerned, on which they had staked so
much, did not promise any hope; while his competitor
was stripped of his blanket, disclosing a nice little
jockey saddle, and silver-mounted bridle, liis whole
bearing indicating his superiority.

His thin nostrils, pointed ears, and arched neck,
sleek coat, and polished limbs, that touched the ground
with burnished steel, disdaining to stand still, while
his gayly-dressed rider, with white pants tucked into
boots embellished with silver-plated spurs; on his
head a blue cap, and with crimson jacket, was being
mounted, requiring two or three experts to assist, so
restless was this fine, thorough-bred to throw dirt
into the eyes of the sleepy-looking Indian horse,
which stood unmoved, uncovered, without saddle or
bridle, or anything, save a small hair rope on his
lower jaw, his mane and tail unkempt, his coat rough
and ill-looking.

On his right side stood a little Indian boy, with
head close-shaved, a blanket around him, and to all
appearances unconscious that anything unusual was
expected.

The other rider's horse was making furious plunges
to get away.

How-lish-wam-po was in no hurry, really; indeed

194

WIGWAM ANO WAKPATII.

things were going very much to the satisfaction of
that distinguished individual.

He was willing to sec the other man's horse chafo
and fret, — the more the better; and he cared nothing
for the sponge that was used to moisten the mouth of
the great racer.

Look away down the long line of white men and
Indians; and on the low hills, above, see the crowd
eager to witness the first jump !

The chief gives a quiet signal to the Indian boy.
The blanket dropped from the boy's shouldurts, and
a yellow-skinned, gaunt-looking sprite bestrode the
Indian horse, holding in his left hand the hair rope,
that was to serve him f jr a bridle, and in his right a
small bundle of dried willows.

Presto 1 The stupid-looking brute is instantly
transformed into a beautiful animated racer, flis
eyes seemed almost human. His ears did not droop
now, but by their quick alternate motion giving signs
of readiness, together with the stamping of his feet,
slowly at first, but faster and more impatiently the
moment it was intimated he might go ; and the other
was making repeated efforts to escape, his masters
manoeuvring for the advantage.

The little Indian boy managed his horse alone as the
chief gave quiet signs. Three times had they come
up to the scratch without a start. Crabb seemed now
very solicitous about the race. I think, prol.ably, he
had by this time found the "hornet in his hat; " at
all events, he was pale, and his rider exhibited signs
of uneasiness.

At length, thinking to take what western sports-
men call a " bulge," he said, " Ready I " — " Go," said

antly
ftis

roop
signs

feet,
y the

other
asters

las the
come
kl now
)ly, he

k;" ^*

signs

|sports-
." said

WKiWAM AM) WAIU'ATH.

197

the little Indian boy, and away wont twenty thousand
dollars in the heels of the Indian horse, twenty feet
ahead before the other crossed the mark, making the
gap wider at every bound.

Away they sped, like flying birds-. The crowd
joined in shouts and hurras, hundreds of all colors
falling in Ix-hind and following up.

Away go the flying hoi'ses, and several thousand
eyes following the yelloio rider, still ahead, as they grow
smaller and smaller in the distance, until the Indian
horse turns the stake at the farther end in advance.
Now they come, increasing in size to the eye xis they
approach, the yellow rider still in advance. Crabb
gasps for breath, and declares that his horse "will
yet win."

The eagle eye of the old chief lights up as they
come nearer, his rider still leading. Excitement is now
beyond words to tell. Look again! — the Indian boy
comes alone, rattling his dry willows over a horse that
was making the fastest time on record, considering
the nature of the turf.

The Indians along the line fell in, and ran beside
the victorious racer, encouraging him with wild, un-
earthly shouts, while he comes to the starting-point,
running the five miles and one-fourth and eighty-three
yards in the unprecedented time of nine minutes and
fifty -one seconds; winning the race and money, much
to the joy of the Indians and their few friends, and to
the grief of Crabb and his many friends. He, with-
out waiting to hear from judges, ran down the track
nearly a mile, and, rushing up to the gay jockey, with
silver spurs, white pants, blue cap, and crimson jacket,
who had dismounted, and was leading the now docile,

19«

WIGWAM AND AVARPATH.

fine-bloodcd English racer by his silver mountings,
inquired, "What's the matter, Jimmy?" — "Matter?
Why, this hoss can't run a bit. That's what's the
matter."

Do my readers wonder now that so many white
men, along the frontier line, declare that all good
"Injins are three feet under the ground "?

Before leaving this subject, it is projjer to state that
How-lish-wam-po gave back to Crabb the saddle-
horse he had won from him, and also money to travel
on; and with a woi'd of caution about stealing out
his competitor's horse, and having a race all alone,
remarking dryly, Mc-si-ka wake ciini-tux ic-ta mamook
ni-ka tru-i-tan klat-a-wa (You did not know how to
make my horse run). Cla-hoy-um, Crabb " (Good-by,
Crabb).

I will further state that many years ago these In-
dians had exchange-^ horses with emigrants going
into Oregon, across the plains, and that this celebrated
Indian race-horse is a half-breed.

The old chief refused to sell him, saying, "I don't
need money. I have plenty, I am a chief. I have
got the fastest horses in the world. I bet one
thousand horses I can beat any man running houses."

He refused an offer of five thousand dollars for this
renowned courser. Several efforts have been made to
induce him to take his horse to the State fair.

He at one time consen^ ed, saying, " I will take my
horse just to show the white men what a race-horse
is." But he was iniwell when the time came, and
failed to go.

The question has been raised, whether this horse
actually made the time reported. I helieve he did.

WiaWAM AND WAKPATH.

199

Competent white men have measured the course care-
fully, and several persons kept the time, none of whom
marked over ten minutes, while others marked less
than nine-fifty.

If any man is sceptical, he can find a chance to
leave some money with How-lish-wam-po. The chief
don't need it, because he has thousands of dollars
buried, that once belonged to white men.

But he is human, and will take all that is offered,
on the terms Joe Crabb made with him.

If there are real smart sports anywhere who desire
a fine band of Indian horses, they have here a chance
to obtain them, without stealing. Take your race-
horses to Umatilla, and you won't wait long. The
probabilities are, that you may be disgusted with the
country very soon.

For the benefit, it may be, of some of my readers, I
would suggest that you have only to lead out the
horse you propose running, and name the amount and
distance. The Indians will find the horse to match
the amount and distance, anywhere from fifty yards
to one hundred miles. Don't be tender-hearted if
you should win " few hundred ponies. Thev won't
miss them. They only loan them to you to gamble
on.

Having a long-standing acquaintance with How-
lish-wam-po, as a neighbor, and subsequent!}^ ai:
his "high tyee chief," I am authorized to say to
Commodore Vanderbilt, Robert Bonner, "Uncle"
Harper, Rev. W. H. II. Murray, or any other horse-
fancier, clerical or unclerical, that a sufficient forfeit
will be dejiosited by Ilow-lish-wam-po, and his friends,
in any bank m Oregon, to defray the expenses of any

200

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

r i

party who will measure speed with his horse, on his
own turf, five and a quarter miles, turning a stake
midway the race ; said expense to be paid on the con-
dition that the said parties win the race; in which
event they can return with ponies enough to over-
load the Union Pacific Kailroad, and make business
for the "Erie" for a long time to come; with the pro-
viso that Ilow-lish-wam-po's race-horse is alive and
in condition to make the run, as we believe that he is
at this present writing, 1874.

Parties seeking investments of the kind will recei\e
prompt attention by addressing How-lish-wam-po,
chief of Cay use, Umatilla Reservation, Oregon, care
Joe Crahh, Esq.

This latter gentleman has been hunting this kind
of a contract, in behalf of Ilow-lish-wam-po, for sev-
eral months, unsuccessfully.

The Umatilla Indians rear horses by the thousands,
never feeding or stabling, but always herding them,
when the owner has enough to justify the expense of
hiring an Indian herder. The horses run in bands
of fifty to one hundred, and seldom mix to any con-
siderable extent. If, however, there should be several
bands corralled together, the master-horse of each
band soon separates them. When turned out on the
plains they are very exacting, and many a battle is
fought by these long-maned captains, in defence, or
to prevent, the capture, by the others, of some one of
their own.

Cayuse horses are small, from twelve to fifteen
hands high; are of every shade of color, and many
of them white or spotted, bald-faced, white-legged
and glass-eyed. They are spirited, though easily

tv ^:.\

WIGWAM AND AVARPATH.

201

broken to the saddle or harness. As saddle-horses
they are far superior to the common American horse,
and for speed and power of endurance they have no
equals.

The Indians are accurate judges of the value of their
animals and have strong attachments for them ; seldom
disposing of a favorite except in case of real necessity.

The small scurvy ponies are sold in large numbers,
for prices ranging from five to twenty dollars each. A
medium-sized saddle-horse sells for about forty dollars ;
a first- r..*^o ■ se, one hundred dollars; and if a well-
tried ani. ai u^at can make one hundred miles one day,
and repeat it the next, one hundred and fifty dollars.

The small, low-priced ponies are capable of carry-
ing a common man all day long, without spur or whip.
They are bought by white men for children's use, and
for ladies' palfreys. They are docile, tractable, and
fond of being petted. I know a small white pony,
with long mane, and not more than forty inches in
height, that was taught many tricks, — going through
the hotel dining-room, kitchen, and parlor; sometim(3s
following his litrlf^ naslress upstairs; lying down
and playing dead h : ., 1 neeling for prayers, asking
for sugar^ by signs; in fr ■:(,, a fine pet. And yet the
hiile bellow wopM canter otf mile after mile with his
mistress.

Major Barnhart, of Umatilla, owned a small Cayuse,
about thirteen hands high, that would gallop to the
CoUimbia river, thirty-one miles, in two hours, with a
man on his back, nd come back again at the same
gait.

I once made an investment of five dollars in an un-
broken pony, paid an Indian one dollar to ride her a

202

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

few minutes, took her home and gave her to a little
daughter, Who named her " Cinderella." After a few
days' petting, she often mounted and rode her fear-
lessly.

This one was a bright bay, with a small star in the
forehead, with long mane extending below the neck,
a foretop reaching down to its nose.

The Indians teach their horses, by kindness, to be
very gentle. Often on the visitr % hich they make to
old homes, a little pic-i-ni-ne (cLi ! securely fas-
tened to the Indian saddle, and the .iorse is turned
loose with the band.

On all their journeys they drive bands of ponies,
presenting a grotesque scene: horses of all ages,
sizes, and colors; some of them loaded with camp
equipage, including cooking arrangements, tin pans,
kettles, baskets; also bedding of blankets, skins of
animals; always the rush matting to cover the poles
of the lodge, and going i3ell-mell, trotting or gallop-
ing. The women are chiel managers, packing and
driving the horses.

An Indian woman's outfit for horseback riding is
a saddle with two pommels, one in front, the other in
the rear, and about eight inches high. The saddles
are elaborately mounted with covers of dressed elk-
skins, trimmed profusely with beads, while the lower
portion is cut into a fringe, sometimes long enough to
reach the ground.

These people seldom use a bridle, but, instead, a
small rope, made of horsehair, in the making of
which they display great taste. It is fastened with
a double loop, around the horse's lower jaw. They
carry, as an ornament, a whip, differing from ladies

WIGWAM AND AVARPATII.

203

riding- whips in this, that the Indian woman's whip is
made of a stick twelve inches long, with a string
attached to the small end, to secure it to the wrist.
The other, or larger end, is bored to a depth of a few
inches, and in the hole is inserted two thongs of
dressed elk-skin, or leather, two inches wide and
twenty in length.

The Indian woman is last to leave camp in the
morning, and has, perhaps, other reasons, than her
duties as drudge, to detain her; for she is a woman,
and depends somewhat on her personal appearance
especially if she is unmarried. If, however, she is
married, she don't care much more about her appear-
ance than other married women, unless, indeed, she
may have hopes of being a widow some day. Then
she don't do more than other folks w^e often see, who
wish to become widows, said wish being expressed
by feathers, and paint on the face and hair.

However, these Umatilla Indian maidens, who have
not abandoned the savage habits of their people, are
proud and dressy, and they carry with them, as do
the young men, looking-glasses, and pomatums, the
latter made of deer's tallow or bear's grease.

They also, I mean young people especially, carry
red paints. Take, for illustration, a young Indian
maiden of Chief Homli's band, when on the annual
visit to Grand Round valley.

Before leaving camp she besmears her hair with
tallow and red paint, and her cheeks with the latter.
Her frock, made loose, without corset or stays, is
richly embroidered with gay-colored ribboiis and
beads, and rings of huge size, with bracelets on her
wrists and arms.

204

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

I f i

I .;•;

Then suppose you see her mount a gayly capari-
soned horse, from the right-hand side, climbing up
with one foot over the high saddle, sitting astride,
and, without requiring a young gent to hold the horse,
place her beaded-moccasined feet in the stirrups, and,
drawing up the parti-colored hair rope., dash oflf at
what some folks would call breakneck speed, to join
the caravan.

'No young man had ever caught up her horse from
the prairie, much less saddled it. But, on the other
hand, she has probably brought up and saddled for
her father, brother, or friend, a horse and prepared it
for the master's use.

The young men who are peers of this girl do not
wait to see her mounted and then bear her company.
Half an hour before, they had thrown themselves on
prancing steeds, and with painted cheeks, hair flow-
ing, embellished with feathers, and necklaces of bears'
claws, and brass rings, and most prominent of all, a
looking-glass, suspended by a string around the neck.

The women manage the train and unpack the
horses, make the lodge in which to camp, while their
masters ride along carelessly, and stop to talk with
travellers whom they meet; or it may be dismount at
some way-side house and wait until it is tune to start
for the camp, where the lodge is built for the night.

There are, however, Indian men who are servants,
and these assist the women.

When the site of the camp is reached, our young
squaw dismounts, and, throwing off her fine clothes,
goes to work in earnest, preparing the evening meal,
while the gay young men, and the old ones, too,
lounge and smoke unconcerned.

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

205

young
othes,
meal,

!S, too,

Remember, I am speaking now of Homli's baud
of the Walla- Wallas. There are Christianized Indi-
ans on Umatilla Reservation, that have left behind
them their primitive habits, — men of intelligence,
whose credit is good for any reasonable amomit in
business transactions, and who occupy houses like
civilized people. But the major portion are still
wrapped in blankets, and thoroughly attached to the
old customs and habits of their ancestors. They
have a magnificent countiy, and are surrounded by
enterprising white men, who would make this land
of the Umatilla the most beautiful on the Pacific
coast.

It may be many years before these people will con-
sent to remove. In one sense it does seem to be a
wrong, that so many prosperous homes as this should
afibrd, must be unoccupied.

In another sense it is right, at least in that those
who live upon it now ai'e the lawful owners, and
therefore have a right to raise horses on land that is
worth five, ten, and twenty dollars per acre, if they
choose. So long as they adhere to their old ways, no
improvements may be expected. They will continue to
raise horses and cattle, to drink whiskey and gamble,
becoming more and more demoralized year by year ;
and in the mean time vicious white men will impose
on them, often provoking quarrels, until some politi-
cal change is made in the afiairs of the Government,
and the present humane policy toward them will be
abandoned, and then their land -vill become the spoils
of the white man. It were better for these people
that they had a home somewhere out of the Hue of
travel and commerce; or, at least, those who continu-

206

WIOWiViM AND WARPATH.

ll! t

ally reject civilization. It is not to the disadvantage
of those whose hearts are changed that they should
remain. While the Government protects them they
will enjoy the advantage of intercourse with business
men. With those, however, who do not evince a wil-
lingness to become civilized, it is only a question of
time, when they will waste away, and finally lose the
grand patrimony they now possess.

I do not mean that it will ever be taken by force of
arms, for the sentiments of justice and right arc too
d-. 2ply seated in the hearts and lives of the peoj)le of
the frontier to permit any unjustifiable act of this
kind to be committed; but designing men will, as
they have ever done, involve good citizens in diffi-
culties with Indians, who, so long as they cling to
their superstitious religion, will retaliate, shouting
"blood for blood; " and then the cry of extermination
will be extorted from good men, who do not and
cannot understand or recognize this unjust mode of
redress.

Under the treaty with these Indians, they are to
enjoy the privilege of hunting and grazing on the
public domain in common with citizens; but this
right is scarcely acknowledged by the settlers of
places they visit, under the treaty.

CHAPTER XIV.

SNAKE WAR — FIGHTING THE DEVIL WITH FIRE.

The southwestern portion of Oregon is a vast
plain, whose general altitude is nearly four thousand
feet above the level of the sea. A gi'cater part of it
is an uninhabited wilderness of sage-brush desert. A
few hundred Indians have held it for generations,
except the narrow belts of arable lands along the
streams. Th'^a-e, Indians are commonly called
" Snakes," deriving the name from the principal river
of the country.

The overland route to Oregon traverses this region
for hundreds of miles. Many years ago the emigrants

became

engaged in

a war with the few scatterinsr

bands of Indians along the route, and for many years
hostilities continued. The origin of the fii'st trouble
is not known by white man's authority. The Indian
story is to the effect that white men began it to re-
cover stock, which they, the Indians, had purchased
from other tribes. This may be correct, and may
not; but that a relentless war was carried on for
years there is no doubt, and, that in the aggregate,
the Indians got the better of it.

The great overlpnd route to the mining regions of
Idaho in early days passed through this hostile coun-
try. Many valuable lives were lost, and a great many
hundreds of horses, mules, and caiile Avere stolen.
The Snakes were daring enemies, and brave fellows

208

WiaWAM AND WARPATH.

on the warpath, successful in making reprisals, and,
having nothing hut their lives to lose, were bold and
audacious scouts. They kept a frontier line of sev-
eral hundred miles in length in constant alarm. Life
was unsafe even within the lines of settlement.

Owyhee-Idaho country was one of the bloody bat-
tle-grounds, the Indians waylaying travellers along
the roads, and from cover of sage-brush, or ledge of
rocks, firing on them, and, in several instances, at-
tacking stages loaded with passengers. At one time
the stage was fired into on the road between Boise
City and Silver City. The driver — Charley AVins-
low — and four passengers were killed and scal|.~fl.
At another time, within ten miles of a mining town
of two thousand inhabitants, Nathan Dixon, the
driver of a stage-coach, was shot through the body
and fell in the boot of the stage, a passenger by his
side taking the lines and driving the stage-load of
passengers out of danger. Poor " Kate ! " — he paid
the penalty of too brave a heart. He had been offered
an escort at the station but one mile away, and de-
clined it, saying, "He was not made to be killed by
Indians."

H. C. Scott, a ranchman living on Burnt river,
Oregon, with his family, consisting of a wife and two
children, went in a two-horse wagon to visit a neigh-
bor two miles away. On their return they were fired
on by Snake Indians. Mr. Scott received his death-
wound; his wife was also shot through the body, but
with heroic coolness took the lines of the team, and
drove home, with her murdered husband struggling in
death on the floor of the wagon, his blood sprinkling
her children and herself. She lived but a few hours

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

209

and was buried with him. The children were un-
harmed, although several volleys were discharged
after the flying team and its load.

On the road from "The Dalles" to Cafton city
many skirmishes were had with these Indians. On
one occasion they attacked the stage carrying passen-
gers and the United States mail. The driver, Mr.
Wheeler, was shot with a slug cut from an iron
rod that had been used to secure the tail-board
of a freight-wagon. The slug passed through his
face, carrying with it several teeth from both sides of
his upper jaw. Strange to relate, he drove his team
out of further danger.

Not unfrequent'y freighters would lose the stock of
entire trains, numbering scores of animals. Packers,
too, lost their mule-trains. Lone horsemen were cut
off, and murder, blood and theft reigned supreme in
the several routes through the "Snake country."

A party of eighty-four Chinamen were killed while
en route to the mines of Idaho. Helpless, unarmed
Chinamen, they are game for the savage red men, and
the noble-hearted white men also. One man, com-
menting on this occurrence, remarked that, "they
had no business to be Chinamen. The more the
Indians killed, the better." Instances of Indian
butchery might be multiplied.

But, on the other hand, they in turn suffered in the
same inhuman manner. Independent companies were
organized to punish them, and punishment was inflicted
with ruthless vengeance. Innocent, harmless Indians
were murdered by these companies. Women were
captured, or put to death. ' One circumstance will
illustrate this feature of Indian warfare, as carried on

210

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

i! 3' 11

by the white men. JcffStandiford, of Idaho City, went
in pursuit of savages with a company of white men
and friendly Indians.

A camp was found and attacked. The men escaped,
the women and children were captured. The old,
homely women were shot, and killed; the children were
awarded to the whites who distinguished themselves
in their great battle against helpless women and chil-
dren. The better-looking squaws were sold to the
highest bidder for gold dust to pay the expenses of
the expedition. But the fame of the company was
etsablished as " Indian fighters." When we hear of
Indians doing such deeds, we cry "extermination,"
nor stop to learn the provocation.

This kind of Indian war continued several years,
during the "great rebellion." One feature of sani-
tary cm'c on the part of the Snake Lidians I do not
remember to have seen in print. "While they were
poorly armed, and were cut off from supplies of am-
munition, and especially of lead, they cut up iron rods
from captured wagons, without any forges, into bul-
lets. On the persons of Indian warriors who were
killed and captured, — I say captured, because many
were killed and carried off by their friends, to prevent
mutilation, and because of their fidelity to each other,
— were found iron slugs, stones that were cut into
the shape of balls, and wooden plugs one or two
inches in length, and one inch in diameter. These
latter were used by them to stop hemorrhage. When
a warrior was struck by a bullet, he immediately
inserted a wooden stopper in the wound. Rude sur-
gical treatment this, and yet they claim it to be of
great value.

WIGWAM AND WAUrATII.

years,
f sani-
1 do not
were
of am-
)n rods
to bul-
o were
many
irevent
[i other,
!ut into
or two
These
When
sdiately
,de sur-
be of

This " Snake war " afforded a])iindant opportunity
for frontiersmen to learn the manly art of killing
Indians; and they did learn it, and learned it well.
Yolunteer companies were enlisted to stand bi'tween
the v.hite settlers and the Snake Indians, wliilc the
regular army was withdrawn to assist in putting
down the rebellion; and they stood there, some of
them, and others la^ there, and they are lying there
to this day.

The famous Oregon poet, Joaquin Miller, earned
his spurs as a war-man out on the plains fighting
Snake Indians, and many others of less celebrity did
likewise. But the handful of Snake Indians were
harder to conquer than General Lee or Stonewall
Jackson. General Lee touched his military hat with
one hand, and passed over his sword with the other
to General Grant, under the famous apple-tree, some
months before.

E-he-gan, AVe-ah-we-wa and 0-che-o had pulled
down their war-feathers in presence of General
Crook. "When the drums of the Union army were
beating the homeward march. General Crook was
ordered to the frontier to whip the Snakes. Some of
the regiments of the regular army were sent out to
relieve the volunteers who garrisoned the military
posts. Many a brave fellow who had returned from
fighting rebels went out there to die by Snake bul-
lets, and in some instances to be scalped.

They found a different enemy, not less brave, but
more wily and cunning, who were careful of the waste
of ammunition. These Snake Indians were not con-
tent to make war on white men, but continued to
invade the territory of other Indians; particularly that

212

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

«i' 111

}< Si

of Warm Springs Reservation, and occasionally of the
Umatilla; also, to capture horses and prisoners.

Among the exploits in this line, the carrying
off a little girl, daughter of a chief of the Warm
Springs, was the most daring, and perhaps tne most
disastrous, in its results, to the Srakes, daring, be-
cause committed in bread daylight, and inside the
lines of white settlements.

The affair created great excitement when it was
known among the friends of the child's parents. No
people are more intensely affected by such occur-
rences than Indians. This feeling is very much en-
hanced by the knowledge that captives are often sold
as slaves into other tribes. Hence th^s capture was
disastrous to the Snake Indians, because it aroused
the fire of hate among the "Warm Springs," and
sent many of their braves to the warpu^h.

Generr! Cook being the rigJit man in the right
place, ana finding that his regulars could not suc-
cessfully cope with the Snakes, called for volunteers
from Umatilla and Warm Springs Reservation. A
company of Cayuse Indians, under the leadership of
the now famous Donald McKay, went from the for-
mer, and another company, under command of Dr.
Wm. C McKay, an older brother of Donald's, from
the latter agency. I know nothing of the theology
of Gen. Cook, whether he is posted about the war-
policy of his Satanic Majesty, but he struck it this
tune, — " fighting the devil with fire."

These Indians "v/ere Piilisted with the understanding
that they were to have, as compensation for their ser-
vices, the booty won from the ''Snake Indians;" bat
were armed and rationed by thy Government.

WTGWAM ANE WARPATH.

213

n it was
nts. ^o
;h occur-
much 611-
often sold
pture was
it aroused
ings," and

not suc-
volunteers
vation. A
idership of
om tlie for-
and of Dr.
lald's, from
le theology
)ut the wor-
uck it this

derstanding
or their ser-
idians;" Vat
aent.

The father of the captured girl promised to award
the brave who should recapture her, with her hand;
or, in other words, she was to be the wife of the man
who brought her in.

In those days, no well-established Indian law recog-
nized the necessity for a marriage ceremony, neither
prevented a brave from taking as many wives as he
was able to buy, or otlierwise obtain.

Hence this captive girl became a prize within reach
of any brave who went on the warpath, and could
succeed.

This tempting bounty, together with a love of
plunder and the thirst for revenge, added to the am-
bition of the Indians to do something that would
entitle them to the recognition of their manhood by
white men, made recrniting easy to accomplish, and
the two companies were quickly made up. The en-
listed Indian scouts, when supported by the Govern-
ment and furnished with arms and ammunition,
clothed and mounted, were just the thing Crook had
been wanting.

The Snakes had learned that soldiers in bhie were
poor marksmen, and that they could drive them by
strategy. But as one of the chiefs related afterward,
when they saw blue coats slip from their horses and
take to the brush, giving back shot for shot, they were
astonished. Then, too, the scouts under the McKays,
Indians themselves, tracked them over plain and
mountain, until they were forced to fortify, and they
became desperate.

Meanwhile this wily general, divested of his offi-
cial toga, was out with his Indian scouts, one of whom
said he looked like " a-cul-tus-til-le-cum " (a com-

Ill

214

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

mon man) , but he " mum-ook-sul-lux-ic-ta-hi-as-tyee-
si-wash," (" makes war like a big Indian chief.")

General Crook, giving his Indian scouts permission
to take scalps and prisoners, under savage war custom,
very soon compelled the Snake chiefs to sue for peace.

This result was ^^rought about by the "Warm
Springs " and " Umatillas," under the leadership of the
McKay brothers, who advised a winter campaign.
General Crook, with rare good sense, availing him-
self of their wisdom and experience, pursuing the
Snakes, in mid-winter, over the high sage brush
plains, and through the mountains.

The Snakes were under the leadership of three
several chiefs. E-E-gan's band, infesting the frontier
on Burnt and Owyhee rivers. Eastern Oregon, num-
bering never more than three hundred warriors, had
been reduced to less than two hundred, by the casual-
ties of war; We-ah-we-wa's band, of about the same
number, swinging along between Burnt river and the
Canon City country.

Against these Donald McKay, with the Umatilla
Indian scouts, was sent, supported by a company of
the United Stftes cavalry.

Donald was eminentlv successful in his scouting
exjjedition, in recapturing horses, taking scalps, and,
what has since been of more importance to him, in
also retaking the captured daughter of the Warm
Spring chief.

She was not found wiih her original captors, it being
a common practice with Indians, and especially when
at war, to pass captives out of the hands of the orig-
inal captors, and, whenever practical, in exchange for
other slaves.

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

215

Those who may meet this famous scout, Donald
McKay, and his pretty little Indian wife, Zu-let-ta
(Bright Eyes), would never suspect that she had
served three years as a slave among the Snake Indians,
and that the great stalwart fellow was her deliverer ;
yet such is the truth.

The third division of the Snake tribe was under the
famous chief Pe-li-na, whose battle-grounds and war-
paths were cast of the Cascade mountains, and south
of the Warm Spring Reservation.

During one of the engagements incident to this
Snake war, he was killed in a fight with Dr. McKay'i
Warm Spring scouts. He was probably the most
daring and successful leader the Snake Indians have
ever had.

On his death, a chief named O-che-o assumed com-
mand, and conducted the last battle fought by this
band. Harassed and driven by the combined power
of United States soldiers and their Indian allies, they
made at last a stand, and fought bravely, but were
overpowered, and finally compelled to surrender.

When they came in with hands dyed with the blood
of innocent victims, and offered to shake hands with
General Crook, he refused; and placing his own be-
hind him, coolly said, " When you prove yourselves
worthy — not till then."

They were subjugated, and accepted the terms,
"unconditional surrender" — without treaty or promise,
except that of protection or subsistence on the jjart
of the Government and an acknowledgment of its
authority, and the promise of obedience on the part of
the Indians.

At Warm Springs Agency an Indian, who had been

|l!'i

1 1 B

216

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

'ivith Crook, invited me to visit the department barn
with him.

He led the way, climbing up gangways and ladders,
until we reached the upper garret. He pointed to a
dark-looking pile in one corner resembling a black
bear-skin. On examination I found they were scalps.
The SCO at remarked that he did not know how many
were there now, because white men carried them off,
and Capt. Smith, the agent, forbade them from touch-
ing them; that when they came home from "Crook's
war," at the great scalp-dance they had sixty-two.
He appeared to regret that the men who had cut them
off the hated Snakes' heads could not be permitted to
ornameni their shot-pouches with them. I selected
one or two as reminders of the handiwork of the
scouts, and also as «necimens of the long black hair
of the Snake Indians. J haven't them now. For a
while they hung in my office; but the doors were
sometimes left unlocked, and they were missing.
Pretty sure, they are now playing switch for a couple
of handsome ladies residing, — well, no odds where.

If my reader will accompai.y me awhile we will
visit the "Snake country," and see it for ourselves.
From the home office at Salem, Oregon, our route
leads us down the beautiful Willamette valley, n'a
Portland; thence once again up the Columbia by
steamer and rail, through "the Cascades," seeing new
beauties each time in things we had not noticed on
former trips. On the right a mountain stream leaps
off a rock six hundred feet, and turns to mist, forming
a perpetual cloud, that hides its main course, but pours
its constant rain into a great pool below, and, over-
flowing, leaps again two hundred feet, and lighting

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

217

on stony bed, made deeper and softer each century,
it comes out to a smiling, sparkling silver sheet be-
neath the evergreen forests, and joins thp river in its
flow to the briny deep.

On the left we see Castle Rock, on which Jay Cooke
built a fine air-castle when the IS^orth Pacific Railroad
was built upon paper, intending to match the ideal
with the real in time, to sit on its summit, and, from
the tower of his mansion, wave his welcome to the
panting iron charger on his arrival from Duluth, en
route to the great metropolis of the northwest.

Jay Cooke failed; the iron courser is stabled at
Duluth; the metropolis is covered with heavy forests,
and the hum of busy life is not heard very much at
Puget Sound, and Castle Rock stands solitary and
alone like some orphan boy.

So it will stand, for its mother mountains look on it
with contempt, from its very insignificance. It is a
pity Cooke can't build the castle, — pity for this lonely
rock, who bathes his feet in the boiling waters of the
river.

" Rooster Rock " is still worse off*, for he is sur-
rounded by water too deep for him to wade, though
he may keep Lis head above the flood.

Onward, upward we go, passing old rock towers
and Indian burial-grounds, catching a glimpse of
Father Hood, who seems in ill-humor now, and
frowns, with dark clouds on his brow. Maybe he is
angry with Mother Adams, on the north, who smiles
beneath her silvery cap, while he scolds and thun-
ders. The tables may yet turn with these mountain
nionarclis, and Hood may laugh while Mother
Adams weeps. We will keejj an eye on them for a

Ill

I'i 4

218

AVIGWAM AND WAUPATII.

few days, as om* joiu'ney leads us toward the " Snake
country."

"We are at " The Dalles." Our commissary, Dr. W.
C. McKay has made preparation for the journey; we
are no longer to be hurried by steam so fast we can-
not have the full benefit of the scenes we pass.

The doctor is a native of the mountains, and boasts
that he is "no emigrant or carpet-bagger either;" — that
his father's blood was mixed with Puritan stock from
Boston, and his mother knew how to lash him to the
l>aby board and swing him to her back with strong
cords, while she promenaded behind her husband, or
gathered the wild huckleberries.

He is now, 1874, en route for the east with a troupe
of Indians from Warm Springs and the Modoc Lava
Beds.

Few who meet him will suspect he is the one of
whom I write, unless I describe him more accurately.
Educated in Wilbraham, Mass., at his father's expense,
he graduated with honor, and retm-ned to his native
land a strong, well-built, handsome gentleman. He
married a woman of his own blood, fully his equal in
culture.

The doctor has taken part in nearly all the important
Indian afiairs of Oregon and Washington Territory
for a quarter of a century; sometimes as interpreter
or secretary for treaty councils, and sometimes as
United Stntes Resident Physician, and again as leader
of friendly Indians against hostile ones. Ilis experi-
ences have more the character of romance than any
man in the northwest.

He meets us at the wharf and says, " Come, you are
my. guest," and leads the way to the high, rocky

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

219

bluffs overlooking the city of " The Dalles." Our
entertamment was made complete through the hos-
pitality of the lady-like, dark-eyed woman who
presided at a table whereon we found an elegant
supper.

We light our pipes, and stroll out to the tents of
the teamsters, packers, and hands who are to accom-
pany our expedition. An Indian boy is baking bread
by a camp-fire with frying-pans. I^ear by the door
of the cooking-tent we see our kitchen, — a chest or
box, — and by its side stands a fifty-pound sack of
self-rising flour, with the end open, and, resting on
the flour, a lump of dough.

Jimmy Kane, the Indian cook, twists off a chunk,
and, by a circling motion peculiar to himself, and one
would say entirely original, he soon gives it the shape
of a thin, unbaked loaf. See the fellow measuring
the frying-pan with his eyes, first scanning the loaf
and then the pan, until, in his judgment, they will fit
each other well; then, holding tiie limp loaf in his
left hand, with the other he slips a bacon rind over
the inside of *hG pan, to prevent tiic dough from
sticking, and claps the latter in; and, patting it down
until the surface is smooth, he pulls from his belt a
sheath-knife, and makes crosses in the cake to pre-
vent blistei'ing. ]N^ext, the frying-pan goes over the
fire a moment" or two until the bottom is crusted.
Meantime the cook has drawn out coals or embers,
standing the pan at an angle, and propping it in posi-
tion with a small stick, with one end in the ground
and the other in the upper end of the i3an-haudle.
Meanwhile the coffee-pot is boiling, and in some other
frying-pan the meats are cooking. But see that mess

220

WiaWAM AND WARPATH.

of dough, how it swells and puffs up, like an angry
mule making ready for a bucking frolic. Jimmy
takes the pan by the handle, and, with a peculiar
motion, sends the now steaming loaf round and round
the pan; then jerking a straw or reed from the
gi'ound, thrusts it into the heart of the loaf, and,
quickly Avilhdrawing it, examines the heated point.
If nt) dough is there, the loaf is " done," and then
Jimmy throws it on his hand, and keeps it dancing
until he lands it in the bread-sack, which is stored
away among bed-blankets to keep it hot; while he
proceeds to put another lump of dough through the
same process. Sometimes the first loaf may be stood
on end before the fire while the other loaves are
taking their turn in the pan.

Perhaps a dozen cakes are standing like plates in a
country woman's cupboard, all on edge, while we
look at the Indian cook setting the table on the
ground. Fii'st spreading down a saddle-blanket, and
then a table of thick sail-cloth, he draws the kitchen
near, and pitches the tin plates and cups, knives, and
spoons ai'ound, and, placing an old sack in the centre,
sets thereon the frying-pan full of hot " fryins." But
Jimmy has everything on the table, and is waiting
for the boys to come.

Listen, and you will hear the tramping feet of our
band of horses and mules with which we are to make
our journey. They come galloping into camp, sea-
soning the supper with dust.

On the following morning we are on the road
toward the summit of the Blue Mountain, riding ovei
high, rolling prairiqs, sometimes crossing deep, dark
canons, and out again on the open plain. On ihe

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

221

evening of the second day we pitched our camp in
Antelope valley.

While Jimmy is preparing supper, a man ap-
proaches om* camp from the open plain. He carries
on his shoulders a breech-loading shot-gun, and,
hanging by his side, a game-bag, through which the
furry legs of Jack rabbits and the feathers of prairie
chickens may be seen; and also in his left hand a
string of mountain trout. The man declares himself
a hunter by his spoils ; but there is something else
that causes us to stare at him, — the soft felt hat
slouched over his face, flannel blouse, denim over-
alls stufied into the top of his boots, a small pointer
dog that keeps close to his heels, altogether presenting
a spectacle not common in appearance.

As he comes near our camp, wr. recognize, in the
sunburnt face and flaxen hair, a man whose heroic
deeds have placed his name high on the roll of honor
as a chieftain. This plain-looking, rough-clad, sun-
burnt hunter is George Crook, commander of the
Department of the Columbia.

He is just the man that we wished to meet at this
time. After a pleasant chat on every-day topics, the
general threw himself down on a pile of blankets, and
gave us his opinion of the Indian question, so far as
concerned those we were going to meet. His expe-
rience made his views of great value, and we fully
realized it within a few days.

We see, coming over the hill from Warm Springs
Agency, a small cavalcade of Indians. They are to
be of our party for the Snake expedition.

Foremost in the trail rode a young Indian, who had
been with McKay's scouts under Gen. Crook. The

222

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

general quietly extended his hand to the new-comer,
in token of recognition.

This man's name was Tah-home (burnt rock).
He had been successful, during the war, in capturing
a little Snake Indian squaw of about twelve years of
age. lie had subsequently adopted her as his wife.
Dr. McKay had arranged for Tah-home to bring his
captive wife for the purpose of interpreter, it being
presumed that she would, of course, be able to talk
in her native tongue, having been only two years a
captive.

It should be understood that nearly every tribe has
a language distinct from its neighbors, and it was
feared that some difficulty would arise in managing a
council with a people who were so little known to
other tribes, excejit by their daring acts of warfare;
hence this arrangement with Tah-home and his squaw
Ka-ko-na (lost child) .

It required some strong promises to reassure Tah-
home of the safety of this trip, in so far as it affected
his property interest in the squaw; for at this time his
thoughts were confined to this view of the case.
"When assured that, in the event the Snakes should
claim his wife, and succeed in persuading her to
remain with them, he should have two horses, he was
satisfied to proceed.

One or two days after we encamped near Canon
City, and, in pity for the poorly clad squaw, we had
her dressed in a full suit of new clothes. From that
time henceforth Tah-home seemed to be very much
attached to his wife. " Fine feathers make fine birds "
among Indian people as elsewhere.

Pursuing our journey, we at last stand on the

WIGWAM XSD WARPATH.

223

summit of the Blue Mountains, one hundred and
eighty miles south of " The Dalles." Looking north-
ward, spread out before us, a great high plain appears
in full view, though hundred of miles away; high
mountains, looking in the distance like a wooded
fringe, and their high peaks, like taller trees that had
outgrown their neighbors, were clothed in snow,
making a marked contrast with their shining tops.
To the south an elevated plateau of open country,
bleak and dreary in its aspect. A few miles on we find
a boiling spring of clear water, and near it a cool one.
Passing south of the siunniit about fifty miles, we
reach " Camp Ilarney," a three-company military
post established here to guard the Indians. There
was a tunc when it was necessary. Indeed, it may
be again.

CHAPTER XY.

THE COUNCIL WITH THE SNAKE INDIANS — 0-CHE-O.

On our arrival we made our camp one mile below
the post, on the bank of a small stream. No In-
dians were visible until the day appointed for the
council we had ordered. Messengers had been sent
out to the several Indian camps, notifying them of
our presence.

They came at the appointed time in full force, men,
women, and children. The council was held near our
camp, in a large army hospital tent. The Snakes
were represented by their great war chiefs, We-ah-
we-we, E-he-gan, and 0-che-o.

Before opening council, and while arranging the
preliminaries, we announced the presence of Ka-ko-
Ha, — the captive wife of Tah-home, — and the
purpose for which she had been brought along.

This announcement created great excitement among
the Snake Indians. They collected around the tired
little squaw, and scanned her closely, for the purpose
of identification. She w^as frightened, and shrunk
from their questions, saying to Tah-home that she
was "No Snake." She had either really lost her
native language, or was afraid to acknowledge that
she could speak it.

Meanwhile, through the kindness of Gen. Crook,
while we were encamped at Antelope valley, sending
for Donald McKay, who wasi in Government employ,

WIOWAM AND WAKPATII.

225

we were supplied with an interpreter. Donald is not
only a scout, but he is a linguist ir. Indian tongues, —
speaking seven of them fluently, — the "Slioshono
Snake," included. Ka-ko-na, satisfied that she would
not be forced to go with her own people, listened to
the Snake talk; suddenly, as though waking from a
dream, she began talking it herself, and was soon
recognized and identified as a sister of one of
"O-chc'O-s" braves.

Her father had been killed, her mother had died,
and her relatives all gone, save this one brother.
Stoical as they appear to be, there is, nevertheless,
deep feelings of human affection pervading the hearts
of these people; especially for brother and sister, and
even to cousins; but, strangely enough, they carry
their ideas of practicabil'ty beyond common humanity
in their treatment of mothers, by casting them off
as worn-out beasts of burden when too old for
labor.

This is even worse than among civilized people,
who pray for the death of mothers-in-law and step-
mothers.

The fathers are treated with great 3:indness, — at
least when they are possessed of worldly goods, and
even when poor they are exempt from labor, — are
buried with the honors due them, and iheir graves
held sacred as long as the graves of other fathers
generally.

After the usual preliminaries of smoking the peace-
pipe, both parties proffering pipes, and after drawing a
puff or two, then exchanging passing the pipes around
the circle, until all had proclaimed friendly intention by
smoking, Col. Otis, commander of 'the District of the

f 'i:

226

WIGWAM AND WAKPATH.

Lakes, present, together with a number of officers from
the post, — we opened the talk by saying, substantially,
that wc were there; to represent another department of
the Government; that we knew all about the history
of the past, and had come to offer them a home on a
Kcservation, and to provide for their wants; and that
we were prepared to assist them in r 2moving to the
new homes at Yai-nax, on Klamath Reservation.

The chiefs were suspicious and wary, not disposed
to talk, but were good listeners. After two days,
passed in " making heart," they said they could not
giv^e an answer without " Old Win-ne-muc-ca," the
head chief of all the Shoshones, Snakes.

The council was adjourned, and this celebrated old
fraud was sent for, a distance of one hundred miles.

Meanwhile we waited for his appearance, sometimes
visiting the Indi:in camps several miles away.

On one occasion I went on horseback and alone
with We-ah-we-wa. He seemed anxioiis to give warn-
ing to his people of our coming, and sent runners ahead
on foot for that purpose. As we rode away from our
camp I had some misgivings, when I remembered that
the man beside mc was ,ne of the most bloodthirsty
savages that had ever led a band of braves to a
banquet of blood. He it was who had directed, and
assisted too, in the many scenes of robbery and mur-
der on the Caiion City road.

He was more thaii oti ordinary man in mental
power, had in former years, while a captive, lived on
Warm Springs Reservation, had learned the Chinook
jargon, and could speak " Boston " sufficiently well to
make himself understood.

After leaving our camp, and while en route to his,

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

227

rom

ally,

it of
itory
on a
[that
,o the

•

posed

ted old

illes.

aetimes

alone

wavn-

alicad
rom ovir
•cd that
dthirsty
Lves to a
ited, and
,nd mur-

montal
lived on
Chmoolv
ly well to

Ite to his,

he told me of his capture years before ; of his confine-
ment in a guard-house, and exhibited the scars that
had been made bj the fetters he had worn; then of
his escape and subsequent adventures, and narrow
escape from recapture and death.

lie did not appear to shrink from mention of his
own crimes and exploits, but sought to impress me
constantly that he had only acted in defence of his
ow 1 rights. There was in the face of this man a cun-
ning, treacherous look that was anything but reassur-
ing.

On crossing a littlo stream fringed with willows,
we came suddenly on his camp. I^ot a hous'^, tent,
or lodge was to be seen, but scattored around among
the sage bushes were several half-circular wind-
brakes, made of sage-brush and willows. The \v omen
and children rnn cut at our approach. The chief
called them buck. They came shyly, and wiih won-
dering eyes gazed on the man who had come to move
them to a new home. I learned from him that the^j
had never been to the post, and that few white men
had ever called on him ; hence the curiosity they had
on being close enough to see how a white man looked.
This chief was the owner of three sleek, fat, healthy-
looldng wives; they lived on roots, fish, and grass-
hoppers. The entire outfit for house-keeping wae
carried from one camping place to another on the backs
of the squaws.

They were dressed in lo^ig loose frocks, made of
deer-skins, trimmed wiih furs, and, woman-like, em-
bellished with trinkets; in this instance of pieces of
tin, cut by them, feathers and claws of wild animals.

The sleeves were small, and in the seams a welt of

228

WIGWAM AND WAEPATH.

dressed deer-skin, two inches deep, and cut into
fringes of one-fourth inch wide. They made their
toilets at the little brook beneath the willows. These
people maintained all their old customs. I noticed a
woman's work-basket, differing somewhat from that of
those who were blessed with sewing-machines. Their
needles were pointed bones, resembling an awl, and
were used as such.

The threads were made of sinews of animals, cured
and prepared for the purpose, very strong, but not fine
enough for fancy work on silk or cambrics; and yet
they make beautiful moccasins and bead-work, with-
out othei thread or needle.

The children were also clad in deer-skin clothes,
as w ere the men ; lie latter being dressed with the
hair and fur retained. All these people of whom I
write are copper-colored, though varying in shades
about as much as white people do, some of them being
much darker than others ; all have black eyes, and long
black hair, and smooth features, except high-cheek
bones. They differ in stature; those near the sea-
coast being smaller than those of the high lands ; the
latter averaging as large as white men. The women
are much larger than white women.

Their habits are simple, and their morals beyond
question, so far as the honor of their women is con-
cerned. I learned from good authority that the Indian
women who have never been contaminated by asso-
ciation with low white men are chaste. The law
penalty of these people for violation of this virtue is
death. One or two instances of the enforcement of
this rigid rule have come within my own personal
knowledge on reservations in Oi'egon.

\'<i»

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

229

Sixteen days after the opening of the councils,
Win-ne-muc-ca arrived, and the council was again
opened. The great chief spoke to his people in pri-
vate, but declined to make a speech in our joint coun-
cils; the others speaking, however, for the people-
0-che-o accepted our offer of a home, on the con-
dition that we should return the captives that had
been taken during the late war. This promise was
made on our part. With this assurance, he and his
band made ready for removal. The others did not.
We used all our argumentative ability to obtain
their consent, but unsuccessfully. They came to the
council with war-paint on their bodies and arms con-
cealed under deer-skin robes. Our party were armed,
and all were on the keen look-out for trouble.
Toward the close of the council-talks the medicine-
man of the Snakes drew his knife, and, dropping his
robe from his shoulders, displayed what we well under-
stood to be war-painting on his body and arms, and,
thrusting his knife into the ground, said, "We have
made up our minds to die before we will go to any
place away from our country."

This action and speech brought all parties to a
standing posture very quickly. The situation was a
very doubtful one for a few moments. The proximity
of troops prevented a fight. Had we b:;en a few
miles from assistance, I doubt not blood would have
been spilled.

We-ah-we-wa himself would have consented to go
to a Reservation, but the medicine-man was not willing.
Their chief requested that his reasons for not comply-
ing should be made known to the "big chief" at Wash-
ington, which request was granted and complied with.

b 1

230

WIGWAM AND WABPATH.

The council ended, and we made preparation to
remove O-che-o's band to Yai-nax, Klamath Reser-
vation.

Before leaving camp we had demonstrated the su-
periority of our doctor's skill, by healing a sick Indian
against the will of the Snake medicine-man.

The Snakes had demanded the return of their peo-
ple who had been captured during the war. This we
refused unless they would go on to the Reservation.
These two circumstances had produced bad blood.

Before our departure a Snake woman, the wife of a
half-breed, gave us warning that an attempt would be
made to capture our party while on the way to Camp
Warner. I made requisition for an escort of troops,
which was honored, and we took up the line of march.
We passed safely through this wild, unsettled region,
and, on arrival at Warner, O-che-o gathered his
people, and, without escort, we continued the journey
to Yai-nax.

We enjoyed the rare spectacle of seeing the medi-
cine-man practise on a patient who was taken sud-
denly ill and supposed to be poisoned. The treat-
ment was novel. He made a sage-brush fire, and
waited until it had burned down to embers. Mean-
while the patient was divested of clothing. The as-
sistants of the doctor formed in a circle around the
fire, and four men were selected to manage the vic-
tim of this savage practice. The prayers, songs and
dances commenced simultaneously, increasing in ear-
nestness. The patient was lying, with his face down-
ward, on a blanket, with a slight covering over him.
The medicine-man made a sign of readiness, when
the sick man was seized by the four Indians, by the

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

231

hands and feet, and, amid the noise of prayers and
songs and dances, he was drawn forward and back-
ward, face down, over the hot cof.ls, until he was
burnt the length of his body, so that great blisters
were raised soon after.

This man did not wince or mutter or shrink from
the fearful ordeal. His faith made him whole. A
day or two after he was apparently well.

Belonging to O-che-o's band was one named " Big
Foot," who would, with a cane four feet long, capture
sage-brush hare, incredible as it may seem, when the
fleetness of these animals is considered. He would
actually run on to them and knock them down with
the cane.

Our route from Warner to Yai-nax led us over a
high, dry country, with occasional groves of mountain
mahogany, or spruce, the whole great plateau being
from four to five thousand feet above the sea level.
Small lakes lay basking in summer's sun or covered
with winter's ice. They are bountifully supplied with
fish of the trout species.

On the day before our arrival we were met by a
delegation of Klamath Indians, who came out to meet
and give us welcome. It is a beautiful custom among
Indians to send in runners to announce the approach
of visitors, and then messengers are returned, or per-
haps, as in this instance, the chief and his head men
go in person to meet them.

They were impatient to "look into the eyes and sec
the tongue" of th"" new superintendent. Whether
the Indians of our pi^*^" bnd telegraphed our coming,
or sent runners in advance, I do not now remember.
The great Caucasian race justly honors the names of

232

WIGWAM ^VND WARPATH.

Frankliriy Morse, and Field. These people of whom
T write had been using fire as a medium of communi-
cation for untold generations. Spiritualism is also
common among them.

"VVe were treated with some exhibitions of this
incomprehensible phenomenon while on this journey.
The seance was not conducted with the aid of pine
tables or the laying on of hands; the medium, or
clairvoyant, working himself by wild motions of his
arms and head into the proper condition. He an-
nounced that the Klamaths were at that minute
encamped at a certain place, and designated the day
on which they would meet us.

Subsequent investigation established the correct-
ness of the prophecy. Whether the knowledge
^V2« obtained through fire-signals, or by the medium
of spirit communication, this deponent sayeth not.
There is a general understanding among them as to
fire-signals, even when ti'ey have no knowledge of
each other's language.

The meeting with the Klamaths and Snakes was
one of interest to all parties, from the fact that they
had been enemies, and the chiefs had not met in
person since peace was restored. Living in the
country intervening was a small tribe of Wal-pah-
pas, who were half Snake and half Klamath. They
were mediators, though sometimes fighting on alter-
nate sidcs,-as interest or affront gave occasion.

The Klamath chief and his people had made camp,
and were awaiting our arrival. The chief first ad-
dressed me, as the high chief, stating that he had
heard of me, and was anxious to " see my eyes and
heart, and welcome me to Klamath." I replied by

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

233

saying, " I have brought with me a man of your own
color. He comes to live on Klamath." Then, ex-
tending my hand, the chief of the Klamaths advanced
and exchanged greetings with me, and also with
0-che-o, chief of the Snakes, This man I consider
a remarkable character. Mild-mannered, smooth-
voiced, unassuming, unused to ceremonies that were
not savage, he exhibited traits of character worthy of
emulation by more pretentious people.

In this informal council he responded to Allen
David, the Klamath chief: " I met this white man.
He won my heart with strong words. I came with
him. I once thought I could kill all the white men.
I have lost nearly all my young men fighting. I am
tired of blood. I want to die in peace. I have given
my heart all away. I will not go to war. I am poor.
I have few horses. I do not know how to work. I
can learn. We will be friends. I will live forever,
where this new chief places me. I am done."

After these greetings and the supper over, we gath-
ered around huge fires of pine and spruce logs, and
talked in a friendly manner. Singular spectacle, away
out on the unsettled plains of Eastern Oregon, to see
a meeting wherein were representatives of two races
and seven different tribes, speaking as many different
languages, sitting in peace and harmony, without fear
of harm, telling stories, some of which were trans-
lated into the several tongues.

To illustrate how these talks were conducted: a
white man speaks in his own language, a Warm
Spring Indian repeats it to his own people, who, in
turn, tell it to a Klamath, he to a Modoc, and then
it goes through the Wal-pah-pa's mouth to the

234

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

[ S: If

^^1

:' M 95

iii-il!

Snake's. Often three or four sentences, of different
sense, are being translated at the same time. Some
wild stories are told; but oftener the white man fur-
nishes the subject, at the solicitation of some red men
aslving information.

The night Avears away, the fires grow dim, and, one
by one, the talkers drop out of the circle, and retire
to sleep unguarded. The morning sun finds the camp
active, and preparation being made for moving for-
ward. The horses and mules are driven into camp,
about as motley a band as the people who wei-e squat-
ting around the various breakfast tables on the ground.
The scenes of such a ciunp are enlivening indeed.
Tents falling, lodges taken down, horses neighing and
losing company, all bustle and confusion, while the
teams are being harnessed, and the mules and Indian
ponies are being saddled and packed, — the spectacle
presented is an exhilarating one. But if you would
enjoy the full benefit of it, take a position on the side
of the camp from which we take our departure, and,
while you rest your elbows on your saddled horse,
take items.

See the anxiety of each to be off first, and hear the
driver of the mule teams talking in an undertone
until the bells on the leaders strike a note that is in
tune with the road, and then each mule settles to the
collar and the wheels move. Anxious squaws are
jabbering to their horses, children and dogs, lazy In-
dian men sitting unconcerned, astride the best horses.
Stand still a little longer, and see the last man run to
the fire for a coal to light his pipe, and then away to
overtake his company.

The camp is now deserted, the fires are burned out,

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

235

and the i)laces where tents and lodges stood look
smooth, and where the weary limbs have lain the
fresh broken trees tell who were there. And now
om' horse, with his impatient feet, bids a hasty "good-
by" to a spot that was om* home for a night; we
leave it behind us to be seen no more.

Our charger, now more impatient, still hurries to
join the departed throng, while we turn up our coat-
collar to keep the frost from our ears. Soon we come
upon the lame and lazy, and perhaps an old squaw,
with her basket of household treasures that has been
with her through her hard life, the basket suspended
on her back by a strap around her forehead, and a
stick in her hand, and her body bent forward. She
plods along until the sound of approaching hoofs
startle her, and instinctively she looks around and
stops for us to pass. Poor, miserable old link of Dar-
win's mystic chain, we pity you; for you are, at least,
half human, and your sons, with no filial love and no
shame, are on prancing horses just ahead of you,
wearing red blankets and redder paints, with feathers
flying, and thoughtless of their mother; your lot is
hard, but you don't know it, because in your youth
you played Indian lady, while your mother wore the
shoes of servitude that you are noAV wearing.

As we ride on, passing little squads of old people
on foot, and women with baby baskets, ponies groan-
ing under two or three great lazy boys, teams with
jingling bells, we find, nearer tho front of the train,
the lords of this wild kind of creation, laughing and
sporting as they ride, apparently unconscious of the
fact that slavery and bondage have fettered old age,
and compelled it to drag weary limbs over stony roads.

236

WIOWAM AND WARPATH.

"We arrive at Yai-nax, the future home of a war-
chief, who has cost the Government much of blood
and treasure, though docile now. A lone hut marks
the spot, near a large spring that runs off in a north-
erly direction to Sprague's river. A beautiful valley
spreads out for miles, covered with grass and wild
flax; snowy mountains lie south, west, and north,
the valley ascending the mountain east so gradually
that we can scarcely see where the one ends and the
other begins. The cavalcade halts near the spring,
and soon the throng becomes busy mating prepara-
tions for the night.

The next morning's sun finds a busy camp ; every
able-bodied man is ordered to work; trees a falling,
axes plying, and log cabins rise in rows, and the
new home of the Snake Indians begins to appear to
the eye a real, tangible thing.

Six days pass, and the smokes from thirteen
Indian houses join in procession and move off east-
ward, borne by the breeze that sings and sighs, or
howls in anger among the trees around Yai-nax.
A council is called, and O-che-o speaks : " My heart
is good. I will stay on the land you have given me.
This is my home. "When you come again you will
find O-che-o here."

Since leaving Camp Harney nothing has been said
until this evening about captives. O-che-o now
raises the question again. We meet him with the
assurance that all the captives that can be found shall
have the privilege of returning to their people. I
was not altogether prepared for the scene that was
opening. O-che-o remarked, through an intei'-
preter, that he believed me, and that he expected that

WiaWAM AND WARPATU.

237

ill

I would secure the return to him of his captured son,
who was somcAvhere in the north; but, to make his
heart easy on the subject , he would try me with a
case now before Ub ; referring to Ka-ko-na.

It was a regular bombshell. We were on the eve
of departure. Ka-ko-na and Tah-home had l^ccome
very strc^ngly attached to each other, and were not
willing to be separated.

O-che-o had assented to the new law which I had
introduced forlDidding the sale of women ; but he was
nevertheless anxious to detain her, unless she was
paid for. This last feature he did not avow, but I
well knew the meaning of his speech. lie insisted
that she should be brought before the council, and
in the presence of the people make her choice, to go
or stay. Tah-home was almost wild with fear of
losing her, and reminded me of my promise at Ante-
lope valley. Ka-ko-na was consulted, while I was
endeavoring to evade the trying scene. I was satis-
fied that she preferred going' with Tah-home; but I
well knew the mysterious power of the medicine-
man, and I fearec that, if she was brought into his
presence, she would be so much under the power of
his will, through her own superstitious faith in him,
that she would not have the courage to elect to go
with Tah-home.

O-che-o was informed that she preferred to go with
her husband. " All right ; but let her come here to
say so before all the people," insisted O-che-o. I
clearly saw that any further attempt at evasion would
impair his confidence in my integrity.

This episode was of that kind which enlists the
sympathies of all classes of men. Tah-home had

i'l

238

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

i! !>■ 'I ;

won the good will of our entire party, during the trip
from Antelope Valley, ])y his unceasing industry as a
herdei' and cami)-helper.

Ka-ko-na had also improved much in her manners,
and had learned the art of laundress to some extent.
No unseemly act had she committed to forfeit the
respect due her as a woman ; consequently now, when
the two had become so thoroughly infatuated with
each other that it was noticeable to even casual ob-
servers, a general feeling of pity and regret at the
untoward circumstances was manifest throughout the
camp.

The teamsters and other employes were willing to
make up a purse to buy her of her people, — in fact,
the project was put on foot to do so. I confess I was
not insensible to the common feeling of regret, mixed
with the fear for the result.

When the trying moment could no longer be de-
layed, Ka-ko-na and her master lover were brought
into the circle. The moon was shining brightly, and,
added to this, the light of the council fire made up a
picture of romantic interest. Speeches were made on
the occasion worthy of the subject.

An appeal was made to O-che-o's better nature, in
behalf of the anxious pair. He is really a noble fel-
low, and, to his credit be it told, a kind-hearted man,
though untrained in civil ways.

He acknowledged that it was wrong to separate
those who loved each other, but said " he must look
in Ka-ko-na's eyes while she made her choice." He
was not willing that Tah-home should even stand
beside her while the matter was under discussion.

The latter asked the privilege of speaking, which,

WIOWAM AND WARPATH.

239

boing granted, he poured out a speech that I little
♦bought him capable of making. It was replete with
the wild poetry of love, very impassioned, and I'lill of
pathos. Finally, Ka-ko-na was ordered to make a
choice, — to go with Tah-home, or stay with her people.

The Snake medicine-man took a position in front
of her, and, fixing his eyes on hers, stood gazing in
her face. The whole council circle was stilled. A
suspense that was very intense pervaded evei'y mind.
Silence reigned; every eye was watching the mo^'c-
mcnt of the woman's lips. The power of the medi-
cine-man was more than she could stand, even when
love for Tah-home was pleading.

She answered, " / s/ay," and burst into tears. Tah-
home turned as white as an Indian could. The white
men present felt a cold chill fall on them. Ka-ko-na
and Tah-home returned to their tent, she weeping
bitterly. The council was broken up, and the excited
camp was again quiet, save the sobbing of the heart-
broken Ka-ko-na.

An hour or two before daybreak, I was awakened
by Tah-home, who, in a low whisper, made an enter-
prising proposition, which was no less than to elope
with his wife. I dare not assent, though strongly
tempted to do so. When I refused, he then wished
me to prevent pursuit. .This I could not do. The
poor fellow returned to his tent, and the sobbing
changed to paroxysms of despair.

Our next point of destination being Klamath Agen-
cy, we had despatched part of our teams the evening
previous. On one of these wagons Ka-ko-na's goods
had been placed by her friends, with the intention, no
doubt, of making an excuse for her to follow. When

!l|

9\0

WIGWAM AND WAKPATH.

r ,'

< m

I -■ F !

the morning came for our departnie, 0-che-o was
invited to accompany om* party to the agency, and
repay the visit of he Iviamaths. The fact that Ka-
ko-na's clothing had preceded her in wagons was
urged as a reason why she should go also.

O-che-o consented. We placed the camp in charge
of a trustworthy white man, and turned from this new
settlement with feelings of pride, and with a prayer
and hope for its success. Whether O-che-o and his
people shall ever reach manhood's estate depends
entirely on the policy of the Government, and the
men who are selected to educate them in the rudi-
mentary principles of civilization.

Two years afterward I again visited the settlement.
I found Och-c-o there, contented. He was glad to
see me, and repeated iiis declaration that he would
" Go no more on the warpath." I found twenty-
eight log houses, with chimneys, doors, and windows,
occupied l^y the Snake Indians; also, comfo. vble
buildings for Government employes, and a farm of
three hi. died acres of land, under a substantial fen;e,
together with corr Is and barns.

This country is about forty-four hundred ^eet in
altitude, and, consequently, the seasons are short.
When not cut down by frost, wheat and barley yield
abundantly, unless, indeed, another enemy should in-
tei'feve, — tho cricket. They are about one and one-
half inches long, a bright black colcr, very destruc-
tive, marching in grand armies, eating the vegetation
netu'ly clean r.s they go. These crickets made their
appearance in the neighborhood of li ai-nax, and
threatened destruction to the crops. The commissary
in charge consulted O-che-o-and Choe-tort. They

lii't'

WIGWAi. AND WARPATH.

241

ordered tneir people to prepare for the war on this
coming army. Circular bowl-shaped basins, six feet
in diameter, were made in the ground, and paved with
cobble-stones; large piles of dry wood, brusli and
grass were collected near the pits. All the available
forces Avere armed with baskets, sacks, and other im-
plements, and ordered on to the attack. The forces
wer(3 put in position, and the alarm sounded, and this
strange battle began. Let us stand by one of the
basins, or pits, and witness the arrival of the victors,
who come laden with the wounded and maimed ene-
mies. Those in charge of the slaughter-pens, or
basins, throw in wood, dry grass and sage brush, and
\/hen burnt down, tlie ashes are swept out with long
willow brooms; then a fire is built around the upper
rim of the basin, and ;is each captor comes with her
load of thousands, they are thrown into the basin on
the heated rocks. The children, especially the girls,
are stationed around the circle to drive back the more
enterpi'jsing crickets that succeed in hopping over, or
through the liery ring surrounding this slaughter-pen.
Think, for a moment, of the helpless, writhing mass
of animated nature in a hot furnace, — a great black
heap of insects being stirred up with poles until they
are roasted, while their inhuman torture'rs are appar-
ently unconscious of the fact that these crickets are
complete organisms, each with a separate existence,
struggling for life.

I dout know that it was any more inhuman than a
" Yankee clam-bake,"' where brave men and fair wo-
men murder thousands of animated bivalves without
I thought of inflicting pain. The Indians had the
at vantage in a moral point of view, for the crickets

wiowajVi and wakpath.

were their enemies. When the halie is over they
shovel them into home-made sacks, and then, sewing
them u[), put them to press.

An Indian cricket-press does not work by steam,
with huge screws. Fiat rocks are placed on the
ground, and the sack full of cooked crickets is placed
thereon, and then another rock is laid on the sack;
finally stones, logs, and other weighty things are
placed upon the pile, until the work is complete.
Meanwhile, look away doAvn the sloping plane and see
the line of battle, with sprightly young squaws on the
outside, deployed as skirmishers. See how they run,
and laugh, and shout, imtil the enemy is turned, and
then the victory is followed up, each anxious to
secure trophies of the battle. This is one kind of war
where the women wield implements of destruction
quite as well as their masters.

The battle has been fought and won, and the
intruders routed and driven into the rapid current of
Spraguo's river. The people rest from the siege con-
tented, for the growing crop — carrots, and turnips —
has been saved. This is not the only cause of gratu-
lation, for now comes the best part of the war. The
luscious cakes of roasted crickets are taken from the
rude presses, and the brave warriors of this strange
battle celebrate the victory with a feast of fresh
crickets, and a grand dance, where sparkling eyes
and nodding feathers, and jingling bells keep time to
Indian drums.

Fastidious reader, have yon ever been to a clam-
bake, and seen the gay dancers celebrate the funeral
of a few thousand sightless bivalves? — things that
God had placed in harden 3d coffins and buried on

AVIGWAM AND WARPATH.

243

the shore, while godlike man and woman brought
them to a short-lived resmTection.

AVcll, then, you understand how little human sym-
pathy goes out for helpless things, and how much of
thoughtless joy is experienced in this civilized kind
of feasting. The Indian has the advantage, for his
roasted crickets are sweet and nutritious. I speak
li'om " the card," as a Yankee would say.

O-che-o and Choc-toot are safe from want. The
compressed cakes are " cached" away for winter use;
that is to say, they are buried in a jug-shaped cellar,
dug on some dry knoll, and taken out as necessity
may require. The cakes when taken from the bag
— as Yankee people would say, for they call every-
thing a bag that western people call a sack — pre-
sent the appearance of a caddy of foreign dates or
domestic plums when dried and put in shape for mer-
chandise.

Since my visit to Yai-nax, at the time of locating
O-che-o and his people, others have been added to
the station. Old Chief Sehonchin, the legitimate leader
of the now notorious tribe of Modocs, has taken up his
residence at Yai-nax.

At the time of planting this Indian settlement, it
was not known that any adverse claim could be set
up to this portion of Klamath Reservation; since
then, hovrever, a military road company has laid claim
to alternate sections of land, granted them by an act
of the Oregon Legislature, by virtue of congressional
legislation, giving lands to certain States to assist in
making " internal improvements."

The Government has been apprised of the state of
affairs, and may take action to meet the emergency.

• i|

WIGWAM AND AVARPATH.

There is, however, an embryo Indian war in this
chiini, unless judiciously managed.

In the treaty of 1864 this land was set apart as a
home for the Klamath Indians, and such other tribes
as might be, from time to time, located thereon by
order of the United States. Subsequently the grant
in aid of internal improvements was made. Suppose
the Government concedes the right to the road company
to sell and dispose of these lands, to which the Gov-
ernment has never had a title, and the purchaser takes
possession; thus occupying alternate sections of the
country belon.^mg to these Indian tribes, and giving
them nothing in compensation. The result might be
another cry of extermination, and another expensive
spasmodic effort to annihilate a tribe who, in despera-
tion, light for their rights.

The land never did belong to the United States;
else why treat with its owners for it? If the road
company are entitled to lands for constructing a mil-
itary road through this Indian Reservation, give them
other lands in lieu thereof, or make the compensation
to the Indians equivalent to the sacrifices they may
make ; otherwise more blood will be shed.

Their nationality and manhood were recognized in
making the treaty by which this tract of country was
reserved from sale to the United States. Let it be
recognized still; treat them with justice, and war and
its bloody attendants will be avoided.

CHAPTEE XVI.

OVFll THE FALLS — FIRST ELECTION.

T/iONG up our narrative, let us resume o ir jour-
ney to Klamath Agency, accompanied by O-chc-o
and a few of his head men; Tali-home and Ka-
ko-na taking charge of the loose stock, and riding,
for once in their lives, a la white people, side by side.
This was a sad day to them; they were, human-like,
more ardently in love than ever, as the hour for
departure approached.

The route from Yai-nax to Klamath Agency fol-
lows down the valley of Sprague's river for twenty
milc^^ over rich prairies skirted with timber. To the
eye it is a paradise, walled in on the north and south
by ranges of mountains five miles apart, traversed by
a stream of clear water, and covered with bunch-
grass and wild flax. It is the natural pasture land
of elk, who run in bands of fifty to one hundred over
its beautiful plains. Leaving the river, the road
crosses a range of low hills passing down to Wil-

liamson's river, — a

connectmg

link between the

" Great Klamath Marsh " and " Big Klamath Lake."
At the crossing it is one hundred yards wide; the
ford being on the crown of a rocky ledge of twenty
feet in width, over which the water thirty inches'
dei)th runs very swittly, and falls off about two feet
into deeper water below. The Indians cross on Iheir
ponies v/ithout fear; but Avhite men with trembling

246

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

limbs, with an Indian on each side. We made the
trip with a silent prayer to Heaven lor safety as we
went through. !N^ot so, however, with tlie diiver of
one of our six-mule teams. The wagon was partly
loaded with infantry soldiers, who were returning to
Fort Klamath from some duty, and had been granted
the privilege of riding. The driver, when about
midway, became dizzy, and for the moment panic-
stricken and wild; drew the leaders' line so strongly
that, mule-like, they jumped off into the boiling Hood
below. The soldiers leaped from the wagon before it
crossed the precipice.

Soon the six mules and the driver were struggling
in thirty or forty feet depth of water. The wagon
rolled over and over down the water-covered, rocky
slope, finally resting on the bottom. The driver aud
five mules were saved by the heroism of a quiet little
fellow named Zip Williams. lie had driven his team
tlu'ough, and wfis out of danger. Seeing the other
going over the fiills, he quitted his own, and throwing
off his boots, drawing his knife and clasping it between
his teeth, he rushed among the struggling mass of
floundering mules, and succeeded in cutting the har-
ness, thereby liberating five of the animals. The
remaining one, attached to the wagon tongue, being
tall, would touch the bottom with his hind foot occa-
sionally, and, with his head and front feet out of water
a portion of the time, would plea'' earnestly for suc-
cor; but his struggles were so furious that even the
heroic Zip could not extricate him. Those present
witnessed with ivgret this brave old mule sink
beneath the flood. The Avagon and ])art of the har-
ness were recovered, and also the "big- wheel mule;"

WIGWAM AND WAUPATH.

247

but the latter "was not of much account," as Zip
expressed it, " except to make a big Indian feast," to
which purpose he was appUcd.

From WiUiamson river our route hiy through a
heavy forest. The agency is situated on the east
side of a small river which rises at the foot of a long
ridge extending west to the Cascade Mountains.
This stream runs several thousand inches of water,
and would afford immense power. The buildings
were made of logs, and are arranged in a row, one
hundred feet apart, resembling one side of a street.
The long row of twenty whitewashed houses fronting
east was a welcome sight for those of our party who
had for three months been almost entirely out of
society, and, in fact, away from civilization.

Klamath Agency is new, it having been established
in 18(35; the Indians who occupy it numbering,
in 18G9 (the time of my first official visitation),
fourteen hundred. They are " Klamaths," Modocs,"
"Yahooshin," "Snakes," " Wal-pah-pas," and "Sho-
shone Snakes " The Klamaths number seven hundred.
They were the original owners of the coimtry; have
never been engaged in wars against the white race.

They are a brave, enterprising, and ambitious peo-
ple. In former times they were often in the war-
path against other Tiidiim tribes; and among their
ancient enemies are ilioae who now occupy the country
in coinmon with them.

The i)ractic(; of calling the Indians together for a
" big Inlli " on occasions of the visits of officials was
also observed in this instance.

This agency has been under the management of
Tandsay Api)legate, of Oregon, — a man who was

248

WIGWAM AND WAItPATn.

f ;•: »

;, '4

i 11

«i,i'i

well qualified by nature, and a long residence on the
frontier, for the office.

He had taken charge of them when they were only
savages; and, during the short time he was in power,
he, with the assistance of his subordinates, had ad-
vanced them gi'eatly in civilization. Under his tuition
they had abandoned the old hereditary chieftainships,
and had elected new chiefs by popular vote.

They were slow to yield to the new plan; but when
the election was ordered, they entered into the con-
test with eai'nestness and enthusiasm.

The manner of voting did not admit of ballot-box
stufling, — no mistake could occur, — but so natural
is it to cheat and corrupt the great franchise, that
even those wild Indians made clumsy imitation of
white deixiagognes.

There were two candidates for the office of head
chief, — each anxious for election, as in fact candi-
dates always are, no matter of what race. They
made promises, — the common stock in trade every-
where with people hunting office, — of favors and
patronage, and even homjht votes.

Tiiis, the first election on this Reservation, was one
of great excitement. There was wire-working and
intriguing to the last minute. When the respective
candidates walked out and called for votes, each
one's supporters forming in line headed by the candi-
date, the result was soon declared, and Bos-co-pa
was the lucky man.

Agent Applegate named him " David Allen ; " but,
Indian like, they transposed the names and called him
" Allen David," — by which name he is laiown and
has become, to some extent, identified with the recent

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

249

Modoc war. lie is a man of commanding apjiearance,
being over six feet in height, large, well-developed
head, naturally sensible, and, withal, highly gifted as
an orator and diplomat.

He had met our i)arty as we came in with O-che-o's
band of " Sho.shone Snakes," and, on our arrival at
Yai-nax, had come on home in advance to prepare his
people lor the big council talk. He called them to-
gether the day after our arrival.

The weather was cold, — the ground covered with
a few inches of snow. Allen David's peojile began
to assemble. Look from the oiHce Avindow on the
scene: here they come, of all ages less than a cen-
tury; some very old ones, lashed on their horses to
prevent them falling off; others who were blind, and
one or two that had not enjoyed even the music of
the thunder-storm for years; others, again, whose
teeth were worn off smooth with the gums. Not one
of the motley crowd was hald; indeed, I ne/cr saw an
Indian who was. They came in little gangs and
squads, or families, bringing with them camp equi-
pages.

As each party arrived they pitched their camps.
In the course of the day several hundred had come
to see the " New tyee." Some were so impatient
thc}'^ (lid not wait to arrange camp, but hurried to pay
honors to their new chief. They bi'ought not only
the old, the young, their horses and dogs, but also
their troubles of all kinds, — old feuds to be raked
up, quarrels to be reopened, and many questions that
had arisen from time to time, and had been diposed
of by the agent, whose verdict they hoped might be
reversed.

\ i||:iw

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14 iji'

250

WIGWAM AND WAHPATII.

The camp at nightfall suggested memories of Meth-
odist camp meetings in the West.

Here and there wci'e little tents or lodges, and in
front of some of them, and in the centre of others,
fires were built, and round them, sitting and standing,
long-haired, dusky forms, and, in a few instances, the
children lashed to boards or baskets.

I have selected this agency and these people to
quote and write from, with the intention of mention-
ing, more in detail, the characteristics of the real
Indian, in preference to any other in Oregon, for the
reason that minutes and rei)orts in my possession, of
the councils, are more complete; also, because the
people themselves i)rcsent all the traits peculiar to
their race. To insure the comfort of the people large
pine logs were hauled up with ox-teams, with which
to build fires, the main one being one hundred feet in
length, and several logs high, and when ablaze, lighted
up the surrounding woods, producing a grand night-
scene, with the swarthy liices on each side changing
at the command of the smoke and flames.

My reader may not see the picture because of my
poverty of language to describe it. Suffice it to say,
that these people were there to see and hear for them-
selves. Men, women and children came prepared to
" stay and see it out," as frontier peojjle say.

While preparations for the council wei-e being
made, a portion of the department teams, which we
had used on the Snake expedition, was despatched for
Warm Springs Reservation.

A high dividing ridge of the Blue Mountains sej)-
arates the waters of the Klamath basin from Des
Chutes and Warm Si3ring country.

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

251

'' '!j

The snows full early on this ridge, and sometimes
to great depth ; hence it was necessary that the teams
slioLild leave without delay, otherwise they might get
into a snow blockade, and be lost.

Tall-home was ordered to accompany the train as a
guide. lie remonstrated, because he had about made
up his mind to remain and join O-che-o's band sooner
than be separated from Ka-ko-na.

I knew if he remained it would be to his disadv^an-
tage, and probable ruin; and for that reason refused
him his request, after fairly explaining the reasons
there lor.

He acknowledged the validity of my arguments,
and with a quick, quiet motion withdrew. I caught
his eye, and read plainly what was in his mind. lie
had determined to take Ka-ko-na with him at every
hazard.

Half suppressing my own convictions of right in
the pre.nise , I shut my eyes to what was passing; in
fact, I half relented in my determination to enforce the
new law in regard to buying women. I felt that the
trial was a little too severe on all "the Indian parties
to this transaction.

The evening before the departure, in company with
Capt. Knapp (the agent), I called at Tah-home's
tent, and found Ka-ko-na still weeping. Tah-home
was downcast and sober-faced, and renewed his peti-
tion for the privilege of remaining. I confess that I
was tempted to sus])end the new law, but steadied
myself with the beli. f that some way, somehow, Tah-
home would succeed wiihout my aid, and without the
retraction of the la^s% tl.ough I could not see just
how. I was "borrowmg trouble," for, as I subse-

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252

WIGWAM AND WAEPATH.

quently learned, the arrangement for Tah-home to get
away with his wife had ah'eady been made through
the intervention of a " mutual friend," and at the time
I visited his camp, Tah-home and Ka-ko-na were
playing a part, — throwing dust in my eyes.

This mutual friend had satisfied 0-che-o by giving
him one of Tah-home's horses, his rifle, . nd a pair of
blankets, all of which had been sent off to O-che-o's
camp.

The snow began falling before morning, and in the
meantime Tah-home and Ka-ko-na silently left camp
for Warm Springs. On the following morning, when
the teams were drawn up to start, I missed Tah-home
and Ka-ko-na. Of course I needed no one to tell me
that at that moment they were miles away, towards
the summit of the mountain.

Having, at that t.me, no assurance that O-che-o
had been " seen," I hastened to iiis lodge. I found
him sleeping, or pretending to sleep. On being
aroused he sprang to his feet, and inquired the cause
of my early visit. I think that no lookei'-on would
have detected, in his looks or manner, anything but
surprise and indignation, when the escape of Tah-
home and his wife was made known to him. Keproach
was in his eyes and his actions while he dressed liim-
self. I was alarmed lest they should be pursued.

A " mutual friend " is, sometimes, a handy thing
in life; in this instance the "mutual," seeing that I
was in the dark, and liable to make some rash prom-
ises, touched me on the arm, and called me away. I
followed him. O-che-o did not follow me. If my
memory is correct, the matter was not again referred
to by either of usj but there was considerable sly

WIGWAM AND WABPATH.

253

laughing all over the camp, at the way in which the
" tyee " (myself) had been outwitted by Indians.

" Such is life." AVe are living a lie when we seem
most honest, and justify ourselves with the assurance
that " of two evils choose the least," will whitewash
us over to all other eyes. To the present writing,
conscience has not kept my eyes open when I wished
to sleep, because I shut them on Tah-home and
0-che-o's trick.

The grand council was opened by Allen David, the
chief, saying, "Hear me, all my people — open your
ears and listen to all the words that are spoken — I
have been to the head of Sprague's river, to meet the
new tyce — I have looked into his eyes — I have seen
his tongue — he talks straight. His heart is strong
— he is a brave man — he will say strong words. His
ears are large — he hears everything. He does not
get tired. He does not come drunk with whiskey.
What you have heard about him shaking hands with
every one is true. His eye is good — he does not miss
anything — he saw my heart. He washed my heart
with a strong law — he brought some new laws that
are like a strong soap. "VV^atch close and do not miss
his words — they are strong. We will steal his
heart."

The subjoined report to my superior in office was
made on my return to Salem, and since it is an official
communication, written years ago, it may be worthy
of a place in this connection ; supplementing which I
propose to write more in detail matters concerning
this visit and the series of meetings referred to. I
make this statement here, because I do not wish the
readers to be confused by the mixing of dates, since

254

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

to finish this report in full without explanation would
exclude incidents that are of interest in a book, though
not justifiable in official reports.

Office SurERiNTENDENT Indian Affaibs,
Salem, Oregon, Jan. 20tli, 1S70.

Sir: — After the completion of the Snake expedi-
tion and previous to starting on the Modoc trip,
I held a series of meetings and talks with the Kla-
maths.

I understand, and have so represented on every
occasion, that President Grant meant what he said in
his inaugural address: that his jDolicy in regard to
Indians would be to prepare them by civilization for
citizenship. Acting from this principle, so perfectly
in accordance with my own judgment, I stepped out
of the track of my predecessors, and said to them that
my first business is to settle the financial affairs of the
agency; then, to issue such goods as I had provided;
and then to deliver a message from Mr. Parker to you;
that I am ready to hear any and all complaints; settle
any and all difficulties; decide any and all vexed
questions; to tell you about the white people's laws,
customs, habits, religion, etc., etc. ; in a word, I pro-
pose to remove the barrier that a condition has held
between the different stations in life. Civilization may
be yours — manhood — the American standard of
worth. The course is clear and open to you Indian
people — for the whole family of man.

I had never stood, until now, before a people just
emerging from the chrysalis of savage life, strug-
gling earnestly and man Jly to leave behind them
the traditions and customs of an ancestry known only

WIGWAM AND AVARPATH.

255

to mankind by the liistory of bloody acts and deeds
of savage heroism.

I would that I could portray these scenes : these dark-
eyed men with long hair, women nat Tally good-look-
ing, but so sadly debauched that virtue makes no pre-
tensions among them; children of every shade^ — all
gathered around a huge lire of pine logs, in a forest
of tall trees, in mid-winter, with the little camp ^ es
here and there ; and notwithstanding the ground was
covered with snow and thermometer sometimes below
zero, these people would sit, or stand, for hours, with
eyes, ears, and hearts all open to hear; catcljing with
great eagerness the story of my superior in office, to
whom I made all my reports and from whom I received
instructions, who, by his own energy, had elevated
himself to a level with the great men of the age ; and
that he, Parker, was of their own raceP

The Klamath chief, Allen David, arose to reply
amid surroundings characteristic of Indian life, — a
perfect solemn silence broken only by his voice.

I then heard the notes of natural oratory, coming
in wild, but well-mc isured words, and recognized for
the first time fully that nature does sometimes pro-
duce noble men wilhout the line of civilized life. I
send you a verbatim report of his speech as taken by
Dr. McKay; because I understand we are all trying
to solve the problem of civilization for Indians. /
am noty myself, lomjer sceptical oxv that subject; but
I know that a large proportion of our public men
are ; and you would not wonder, either, could you
visit some reservations and see for yourself the inside
workings of moral law.

But I assert that the Indians are not to blame;

256

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

let censure fall where it belongs; viz., on the men
who are entrusted with the care and responsibility of
leading and protecting these people, yet wink at and
tolerate, in subordinates, the most demoralizing hab-
its, and may be, in some cases, participants themselves.
I do not speak of this agency in particular.

Said Allen David, — " I see you. All my people
see you. — I saw you at Sprague river. — I watched
your mouth. — I have seen but one tongue. — I have
looked into your eyes. — I have seen your heart. — You
have given me another heart. — All my people will
have white hearts. — When I was a little boy I lived
here. — 1 1 ave always lived here. — A long time ago a
white man told me I could be like him. I said my
skin is red, it cannot change; it must be my heart,
my brain, that is to be like a white man. — You think
we are low people. — May be we are in your eyes. —
"Who made us so? — We do not know much; we can
learn. — Some of the officers at the fort (referring to
Fort Klamath, six miles from the agency) have been
good men — some of them have been bad men. — Do
you think a good white man will take an Indian wife?
— A white man that will take an Indian wife is worse
blood than Indian. — These things make our hearts

sad. — We want you to stop it Your ears

are large. — Your heart is large. — You see us. —
Do not let your heart get sick.

" Take a white man into the woods, away from a
store; set him down, with nothing in his hands, in
the woods, and without a store to get tools from ; and
what could he do?

" When you lay down before us the axes, the saws,
the iron we' jes and mauls you have promised us, and

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

251

we do not take them up, then you can s.ay we ai*e
* eul-tus ' — lazy people. — You say your chief is like
me — that he is an Indian — I am glad. What can I
say that is woi-th writing down? — Mr. Parker does not
know mc. — When you do all Mr. Huntington promised
in the treaty, 1804:, we can go to work like white men. —
Our hearts are tired waiting for the saw-mill. — When
it is built, then we can have houses like white men. —
We want the flour-mill; then we will not live on fish
and roots. We will help to make the mills. — We
made the fences on the big farms. — We did not get
tired ....

"Give us strong law; we will do what your law says.
We want strong law — we want to be like white men.
You say that Mr. Parker does not want bad men
among our people. — Is B. a good man? — he took
Frank's wife — is that good? We do not want such

men. Is a good man? — he took Celia from

her husband — is that right? — Applegate gave us
good laws — he is a good man. — Applegate told us

not to gamble. Capt. won thirty-seven horses

from us. He says there is no law about gambli^^g. —
Applegate said there was. — Which is right? " . . . .

Mr. Meacham said, " You need not be afraid to talk
— Keep nothing back. Your people are under a cloud.
I see by their eyes that their hearts are sick; they
look sorrowful. Open your hearts and I will hear
you; tell me all, that I may know what to do to
make them glad."

Allen David said, " I will keep nothing back. — I
have eyes — I can see that white men have white
hands. — Some white men take our women — they have
children — they are not Indian — they are not white

' il

258

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

— they are shame children. — Some white men take care
of their children. — It makes my heart sick. — T do not
want these tb'::gs. — Indian is an Indian — we do not
want any more shame children. A white man that
would take an Indian squaw is no better than we are.

" Our woaicn go to the fort — they make us feel sick
— they get goods — sometimes greenbacks. — We do
not want them to go there — we want the store here
at the agency; then our women will not go to
the fort .... Last Sunday some soldiers Avent to
Pompey's — they talked bad to the women. — We
do not want soldiers among our women. — Can you
stop this? Our women make us ashamed. — We may
have done wrong — give us strong law." ....

Joe Hood (Indian), at a talk seven days after,
said: "Meacham came here. Parker told him to

It is a 'new soap;'

come.

He brought a strong law.

it washed my heart all clean but a little place about
as big as my thumb-nail. Caroline's (his wife) heart
may not all be white yet. If it was, my own would
be white like snow. Parker's law has made us just
like we were nev/ married. I told these Indians that
the law is like strong soap; it makes all clean. I do
not want but one wife any more." . . .

Allen David said : " You say we are looking into a
camp-fire; that we can find moonlight. You say
there is a road that goes toward sunrise. Show me
that stone road. I am now on the stone road.
I will follow you to the top of the mountain. You
tell me come on. I can see you now. My feet are
on the road. I will not leave it. I tell my people
follow me, and I will stay in the stone road." . . .

I have given you a few extracts, that you may
judge from their own mouths whether they can

WIOWAM AND WARPATH.

259

become civilized. If Lindsay Applegate, and his
eons, J. D. and Oliver, could take wild savage In-
dians, and, against so much opposition, in the short
space of four years bring them to this state, I know
they can be civilized. If good men arc appointed to
lead and teach them, — not hooks alone, but civiliza-
tion, with all that civilization means, — men whose
hearts are in the work, and who realize that, as
soon as duties devolve on them, great responsi-
bility attaches; men who have courage to stand
squarely between these people and the villains that
hang around reservations from the lowest motives
imaginable; men paid fair salaries for doing duty;
that will not civilize the people by " mixing blood;"
married men of character who will practise what
they preach, and who can live without smuggling
whiskey on to the Reservation; ten years from to-
day may find this superintendency self-supporting,
and offering to the world seven thousand citizens.

I am conscious that this is strong talk, but it m
surely true. I have not overdrawn this side of the
case; nor will I attempt to show what 7ias been donCy
or will be done, with superintendents, agents, and
employes in charge placed there as a reward for
political service.

The past tells the story too plainly to be misappre-
hended. "While I am responsible for the advance-
ment of these people, I beg to state my views and
make known the result of observation and experi-
ence. As a subordinate officer of the Government, I
expect to have my official acts scrutinized closely.
I respectfully ask that I may be furnished the funds
to keep faith with a people so little understood, —
people so much like children that when they are

t60

WIGWAM AND WAKPATH.

proiiiiscd a saw-mill they go to work cutting logs,
only to see them decayed before the mill is begun,
but with logic enough to say, " When you have got
ufl the things you promised, then you may blame us
if we don't do right."

I have now no longer any doubts about President
Grant's " Quaker Policy," if it is applied to Indians
once subjugated. These people have mind, soul,
heart, affection, passion, and impulses, and great
ambition to become like white men. There are more
or less men in each reservation who are already
superior to many of the white men around them.
At Klamath they are now working under civil law of
trial by jury, — with judge, sheriflf, civil marriage,
divorce; in fact, are fast assuming the habili-
ments of citizenship.

I spent seven da^ , alking, and listening, and
making laws, marrying and divorcing, naming babies,
settling difficulties, etc., and finally started, accom-
panied on my journey by a large delegation of Kla-
maths, who insisted that I should come again and
remain longer, and make laws, and that I would
build the mills, and tell them more about our religion ;
all of which I promised, if possible; but realizing
fully and feeling deeply how much depended on the
man who is in immediate charge of these poor, strug-
gling people.

I am, very respectfully,

Your obt. servt.,

A. B. MEACHAM,

Supt. Indian Affairs,

Hon. E. S. Parker, Commisaiotur,
Wasuinoton, D. C.

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

261

In Allen David's speech, he refers to the " Fort,"
meaning Tort Klamath, six miles distant from the
agency. It was established for the protection of the
settler^ on the Klamath frontier. Two and some-
times three companies have been stationed at this fort
for several years.

The remarks of this chief need no comment; they
tell the tale. If confirmation was wanting of the
crimes intimated in his speech, a visit to Klamath
Indian Agency, and even a casual glance at the
diflferent complexions of the young and rising genera-
tion, would proclaim the correctness of Allen David's
charges.

CHAPTER XVII.

KLAMATH COURT — ELOPEMENT EXTRAORDTNARY.

The Reservation furnishes abundance of real
romance, mixed with tragedy, sufficient to make up
a volume. The Indians tell, and white men confirm,
the story of an officer of the fort, who loved an
Indian's wife, and how he sought to win her from
home by presents; and, failing in this, came with
armed soldiers, and, with threats of death to the hus-
band, compelled him to give her up. This officer
took this woman to the fort, dressed her in styles
common among white women, and refused to return her
to her husband. When the officer was "ordered
away " to some other duty the squaw went home,
bearing in her arms an infant not more than half
Indian. Her husband refused to receive her. She
was turned away from his l")dge, and became a
vagabond of the worst class. Fortunately for father,
mother, and infant, too, the latter died a few months
thereafter.

Another young officer of the United States army,
who was stationed at Fort Klamath, was a party to
an elopement in high life, — as all life is high at an
altitude of forty-five hundred feet above the sea level;
the other party being the wife of a haiidsome young
Indian living on Klamath Reservation. However,
they had but a few miles to travel, in order to reach

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

2(>3

a" Chicaffo^^ for divorces. All people without luw arc
a law unto themselves.

The Indian husband appealed for redress, but
found no one to listen to his appeals. His wife re-
turned to him when the regiment to whieh the
ofDcer belonged was ordered away, bringing with
her many fine clothes; her feet clad in good Amer-
ican gaiters, and with an aimful of childhood,
in which the Indian husband claimed no interest.
The mother was turned away from what was once a
happy home ; and to-day, with her little girl, wanders
from lodge to lodge, seeking shelter where she may.
This woman was really good-looking, and had proved
herself an apt scholar in learning the civilized arts of
house-keeping and dress-making; she also learned
something of our language, in which she tells the
story of her own shame and the fatherhood of her
child.

I am giving these statements as made to me by
white men, who are responsible, and will answer,
when called upon, for their authenticity. In respect to
the families of these United States officers, not through
fear of the men themselves, I withhold their names.
In this connection I remember a conversation with
a sub-chief of the Klamaths, who could speak
" Boston " quite well. His name was " Bio." He said,
" Meacham, I talk to you. S'pose an Injun man, he
see a white man's wife. He like her. He give pres-
ents; he win her heart; he talk to her sometime.
He tell her, " Come go with me." She come. He
take her away. White man come home. He no see
his wife. He see him children cry. He get mad. He
take a gun. He hunt 'em. He find em. He 'shoot

^^/'

264

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

'em, one

m !■

Injun man. What you think? You think
white man law hang him?" "VVe were travelling
horseback, and " Bio " came up close to me, leaning
from his saddle, and, peering into my eyes, continued,
"What you think?" I looked into his face, and read
murder very plainly. Had he been a white man I
might have given him a negative answer. Half
savage as he was, he was seeking for encouragement
to commit a bloody deed in vindication of his honor.
I replied that "the law would punish the Indians for
stealing the white man's wife. But if the white man
was wise he would not kill the Indian, because the
laws would take hold of him." I felt that I was con-
cealing a part of the truth, but I dared not do other-
wise.

" Bio " was not so easily put off. He replied with
a question that intensified my perplexity, " S'pose
white man steal Injun's wife, s'pose law catch Mmf'*
Harder to answer than the first one. If I said
" Yes," he would have demanded that the law be en-
forced in his case, that had come under my own
observation; and that, I knew, was impossible, with
public sentiment so strongly against the Indians that
white men would have laughed at the absurdity of
calling one of their race to account for so trifling a
thing as breaking up an Indian's family, and leaving
his children worse than orphans; yet knowing full
well that the whole power of the United States would
have been evoked to punish an Indian for a like
offence. If I said " No," I stultified myself and my
Government. I could only reply, " Suppose a woman
run away, — let her go. Get a divorce, and then
another wife."

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

265

** Now-wit-ka, Ni-kanan-itch." "Yes, I see. Law
not all the time same. Made crooked. Made for
white man. Aha, me see 'em now."

During the seven days' council, " Little Sallie "
came into the office, and in plain " Boston " said, " I
want divorce; my man, Cho-kus, he buy another
woman. I no like him have two wife. I want di-
vorce."

We had just completed the organization of a court,
composed of the head chief and his eight subordi-
nates. This was the first case on the docket, and the
beginning of a new history with this people, — a new
way of settling difficulties. The a<»'cnt provided a
book for making record of all proceedings. A sheriff
was appointed from among the Indians. Each sub-
chief was entitled to a constable, but, in all matters
pertaining to their respective bands, as between them-
selves and others, neither sub-chief nor constable was
permitted to take any part in the proceedings of the
court.

Novel scenes indeed! — Lidians holding '"ourt after
the fashion of white men. The chief made a short
speech on taking the middle seat on " The Bench."
He removed his hat, saying " that he knew but little
about the new law, but he would endeavor to make it
run straight, and not run around his own people," re-
ferring to those of his band. Th'i sub-chiefs took
their places on cither side, and we gave instructions
to the sheriff to open court, ordering a white man to
show him through, saying, "Olb-yes! Oh-yesI The
Klamath Court is now open." — " i^ow-witka, Now-
witka, Muck-u-lux, Klamath, Mam-ook, Bos-ti-na
Law, 0-ko-ke, Sun," rang cut the Indian sheriff.

266

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

I;.i

" Little Sallie " was the first to appear before the
bar of justice, and, without an attorney, she filed a
complaint against her husband, the substance of
which was to the effect, that " Cho-kus " — her mas-
ter — had made arrangements to buy another wife,
paying two horses; and that these horses belonged to
her mdividually, and she was not willing to furnish
horses to buy another woman, because it would leave
but one horse in the family, and that Cho-kus and
th3 new wife would claim that one, and she would be
compelled to go on foot. If Cho-kus had plenty of
horses she might not object; but she thought that she
could dig roots, and gather '^ wokus " — wild rice —
enough for the family, and Cho-kus did not need
another "nohow." But, if he persisted, then she
wanted a Boston divorce, otherwise she did not.

Cho-kus was required to show cause why " Sallie "
should not be made free. He appeared in person,
and expressed willingness for the separation, but
asked to know who would be awarded the baby, — a
little fellow twelve months old. The court decided
that "Sallie" should have possession of the child.
Cho-kus took it from its mother's arms, and, holding
it in his own, looked very earnestly and silently into
its face for a moment. His speech ran in something
like the following words: "N^ow half this baby's
heart is mine, half its heart belongs to ' Sallie.' "
Then slowly drawing the little finger of one hand
from its forehead down its face and body, he went on
to say, " I want tliis child's heart, and ' Sallie ' wants
it; if we cut into it it will die; I can't give up my part
of it." Sallie attempted to snatch it away, saying,
" I won't give up my part of the baby." This brought

WIGWAM AND WAEPATH.

267

the husband to terms. He said he would give up
taking another wife. Sallie agreed, and the court
proposed that, instead of being divorced, they should
be married over by " Boston law." They consented.
The ceremony was defen-ed in order to make prepa-
ration for the approaching nuptials, under the auspices
of the new law.

The white ladies of the agency, some of whom
were unmanied, proposed to adorn the bride, while
the employes furnished enough Sunday clothes to
dress the husband in good style. Employes and In-
dians were uolilied of the important affair, and the
court adjourned to the big camp-fi e, in order to per-
form the marriage ceremony in the presence of all the
peoi)le. The presiding judge pro tern, ordered the
parties to appear.

The groom, dressed in a borrowed suit, was the
fii'st to stand up. Sallie hesitated; the husband in-
sisted. The bride was reluctant, saying she wanted
to know how long the new law would hold " Cho-
kus." — " Is it a strong law ? Won't he buy another wife
some time?" When all the questions were answered
to her satisfaction, she passed her child over to another
woman, and stood beside her lover. Yes, her lover;
for he then discovered that he really loved her, just
as many a white-faced man has in similar cases, when
he realized the danger of losing her.

The official reporter, on this occasion, did not fur-
nish an account of the bride's dress, but for the sat-
isfaction, it may be, to my young lady readers, I will
say that the toilet was elaborately gotten up a-la-
mode, consisting of immense tilting hoops, bright-
hued goods for dress, paint in profusion on her cheeks,

2G8

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

i^ II

necklace of beads, and shells, and tresses of dark
hair, " all her own^'* ornamented with cheap jewelry.
This being the first marriage under the new law, the
chief remarked that he wished them " tied very strong,
so they could not get away from each other."

We extemporized the ceremony as follows : " Cho-
kus, do you agree to live forever with Sallie, and not buy
another squaw? To do the hunting and fishing, cut
wood and haul it up, like white man? ^ever to get
drunk, oi- talk bad to other women, and to be a good,
faithful husband?" When the ceremony was inter-
preted, he answered, "Now-wit-ka ni-hi;" yes, I do.
Sallie said, "Hold on, — I want him married to me so he
won't whip me any more." We adopted the supple-
ment suggested, and Cho-kus again said, " Now-wit-
ka." The bride said "^All right," and promised to be a
good wife, to take care of the lodge and the baby, to
dress the deer-skins, and dry the roots.

Cho-kus also suggested a supplement, which was,
that Sallie must not " go to the fort " any more with-
out him. She assented, with a proviso that he would
not go to see " old Mose-en-kos-ket's " daughter any
more.

The covenant was now completed, to the satisfac-
tion of bride and bridegroom, and the Great Spirit
was invoked to witness the pledges made; their hands
were joined, and they were pronounced husband and
wife. A waggish white man whispered to Allen
David, the chief, that the bride must be saluted. The
chief inquired whether that was the way of the new
law, saying he wanted "a real Boston wedding."
We said to Cho-kus, "Salute your bride." He re-
plied he thought the ceremony was oyer; but, when

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

269

made to understand what the salute meant, replied
that it was not modest; that no Indian man ever
kissed a woman in public. We urged that it was right
under the new law. He remarked that somebody else
must kiss her; he didn't intend to. Our waggish
friend again whispered in the ear of the chief, telling
him that the officiating clergyman must perform the
duty to make the marriage legal. "With solemn face,
the chief insisted that the whole law must be met.

The parties remained standing while this contro-
versy was going on. The bride was willing to be
saluted, but the question was, ivlio was to perform
that part of tlie closing ceremony. The record don't
mention the name of the individual, and it is perhaps
as well. The bride, however, was saluted,

No, /didn't, indeed; I — don't press the question
— but I di — . No, no, it was not m — , indeed it
wasn't; but I won't tell anything about it. As a
faithful reporter, I will only add that the happy couple
received the congratulations of friends. They are
still married, and Cho-kus hasn't bought another wife
yet.

The next case called was a young man who had
stolen the daughter of a sub-chief. He was arraigned,
"plead guilty," and by the court sentenced to wear
six feet of log-chain oii his leg for nine months, to
have his hair cut short, and to chop wood for the
chiefs, who were to board and clothe him in the
mean time. Care was taken to protect the convict's
right, in that he should not work in bad weather or
on Sundays, or more than six hours each day. He
objected to having his hair cut short, but otherwise
seemed indifferent to the sentence.

270

WIOAVAM AND WArwPATH.

The chiefs were satisfied, because they saw large
piles of wood in prospect. However, long before the
expiration of the term of sentence they united in a
petition for his pardon.

Cases of various kinds came into court and were
disposed of, the chief exhibiting more judgment than is
sometimes found in more pretentious courts of justice.

They were instructed, in regard to law, that it was
supposed to be common sense and equal justice, and
that any law which did not recognize these principles
was not a good law.

This court is still doing business imder the direc-
tion of a Government agent. The wedding of Cho-
kus and Sallie was celebrated with a grand dance.
"Who shall say these people do not civilize rapidly?
The occasion furnished an opportunity for the Indian
boys to air their paints, feathers, and fine clothes;
also for Indian maidens and women to dress in holi-
day attire.

Chief Allen David had given orders that this
"social hop," commemorating the first marriage in
civil life, should be conducted in civil form. The
white boys were willing to teach the red ones and
their partners the steps of the new dance.

The ballroom was lighted up with great pine wood
fires, whose light shone on the green leaves of the
sugar pines and on the tan-colored faces of the
lookers-on. Singular spectacle I — children of a high
civilization leading those of wilder life into the mazes
of this giddy pastime; and they were apt scholars,
especially the maidens. The music was tame; too
tame for a people who are educated to a love of
exciting sports.

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

271

The chiefs stood looking on, and, when occasion re-
quired, enforcing the orders of the floor-managers, who
were our teamsters, turned, for the nonce, to dancing
masters. I doubt if they would have been half as
zealous in a Sabbath school. But since dancing is a
part of American civilization, acknowledged as such
by good authority, and since Indians have a natural
fondness for amusements, and cannot be made to
abandon such recreation, perhaps it was well that our
teamster boys were qualified to teach them in this,
though they were not for teaching higher lessons.
At our request we were entertained with an Indian
play. 'No phase of civilized life exists that has not its
rude counterpart in Indian life. This entertainment of
which I am writing was given by professional players,
who evinced real talent. All the people took great
interest in the preparations, inasmuch as we had
honored them by making the request. The theatre
was large and commodious, well lighted with huge
log fires. The foot-lights were of pitch wood. The
hoards were sanded years befoi'c, and had been often
carpeted with velvet green or snowy white. The
" Green-rooms " were of white tent cloths, fasMoncd
for the purpose by brown hands, and were in close
proximity to the scene. The front seats were
" reserved " for invited guests. The rest was " stand-
ing room." Circling round in dusky rows stood the
patient throng. Nor stamps, nor whistles, nor other
hideous noises gave evidence of bad-breeding or
undue impatience. No police force was necessary
there to compel the audience to respect the players or
each other's rights.

As the time to begin comes round a silence pervades

272

WIGWAM AND WAKPATH.

! '

the assembly. No huge bill-posters, or " flyers,'' or
other programme had 'given even an inkling of tue
play. This was as it should be everywhere, for then
no promises were made to be broken, and no fault
could be found, whether the play was good or bad.
The knowing ones, aware, by signs we did not see,
that soon the performance would commence, by
motion of hand or eye would say, " Be still."

Now we hear a female voice, soft and low, singing,
and coming from some unseen lodge. It grows
more distinct each moment and more plaintive, and
liiially the singer comes into the circle with a half
dance, the music of her voice broken by occasional
sobs, makes the circuit of the stage, growing weary
and sobbing oftcner; she at last draps down in weary,
careless abandonment. This maiden was attired in
showy dress, of wild Indian costume, ornamented with
beads and tinsel. Iler cheeks and haii* were painted
with vermilion. The frock she wore was short,
reaching only to the knee. Close-fitting garments of
scarlet cloth, richly trimmed with beads, and fringe of
deer-skin she wore upon her ankles, with feet encased
in dainty moccasins. When she sat down, the picture
was that of one tasting the bitter with the sweets of
life, in which joy and sorrow in alternate promptings
came and went. The sobbing would cease while she
gathered flowers that grew within her reach, arrang-
ing them in bunches, seemingly absorbed in other
thoughts, occasionally giving vent in half-stifled, child-
like sobs, or muttering in broken sentences, with
parting lips, complaints against her cruel father,
giving emphasis with her head to her half-uttered
speech.

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

273

Following the eyes of our Indian interpreter, whose
quick ear had caught the sound of coming steps, we
saw a fine-looking young brave enter the ring, crouch-
ing and silent as a panther's tread, and, scanning the
surroundings, he espies the maiden. We hear a sound
so low that we imagine it is but the chirping of a tiny
bird; but it catches the maiden's ear, who raises her
head and listens, waiting for the sound, and then re-
lapses into half-subdued silence. Meanwhile the
young brave gazes, with bright eyes and parted lips,
on the maiden. Again he chirps. Now she looks
around and catches his eye, but does not scream, or
make other noises, until, by pantomimic words, they
understand they are alone.

The warrior breaks out in a wild song of love, and,
keeping time with his voice, with short, soft, dancing
step, he passes round the maiden, who plays coquette,
and seems to be fully on her ground. I^e grows
more earnest, and raises his voice, quickens his steps,
and, passing close before her, ojQfers his love, and pro-
poses marriage, speaks her name, and, turning quickly
again, passes back and forth, each time pleading his
case more earnestly, until the maiden, woman-like,
feigns resentment, and he, poor fellow, thinks she
means what she does not, and slowly and sadly, in
apparent despair, retreats to the farther side of the
stage. When he came upon the scene, clad in his
dress of deer-skins, hunting-shirt and leggings, with
moccasins trimmed with beads and scarlet cloth, his
long hair ornamented with eagle feathers, and neck
encircled with the claws of wild cayotes, his arms with
a score of rings, his scarlet blanket girded round his
waist, and reaching nearly to the ground, — swinging

274

WIOWAItf AND WARPATH.

to his back, his quiver full of painted arrows, whose
feathered ends shone above his shoulder; his left
hand clasping an Indian bow, while his right held his
blanket in rude drapery around him, — he was the
very image of the real live young Indian brave. But
now, with blanket drawn over his shoulder, covering
his arms, while the feathers in his hair and the arrows
were held tightly to his head and neck, he seemed the
neglected lover he thought himself.

Poor Ke-how-la, you do not appear to know that
Ganweta is playing prude with you. Ke-how-la
breaks out afresh, in song and dance, and, circling
around the maiden, gives vent to his wounded pride,
declares that he will wed another, and, as if to retire,
he turns from her. Ganweta, as all her sex will do,
discovers that she has carried the joke too far, springs
up, and, throwing a bunch of flowers over his head,
begins to tell, in song, that she dare not listen to his
words, because her father demands a price for her that
Ke-how-la cannot pay, since he is poor in horses; but
that, if left to choice, she would be his wife, and gather
roots, and dress deer-skins, and be his slave.

Ke-how-la listens with head half turned, and then
replies that he w^ill carry her away until her father's
anger shall be passed.

Ganweta tells how brave and strong her father is,
and that he intends to sell her to another.

Ke-how-la boasts of his skill in archery, and, drop-
ping his blanket from his shoulder and stringing his
bow, quickly snatches an arrow from his fawn-skin
quiver, and sends it into a target centre, and then
another by its side, and still another, until he makes a
real bouquet of feathered arrows stand out on the tar-

WIOWAM AND WARPATH,

275

get's face, in proof of his ability to defend her from
her father's wrath.

Snatching his arrows, and putting them in place
among their fello,\rs, save one he holds in his hand,
he motions her to come, and, bounding away like an
antlercd deer, he runs around the circle with Ganweta
following like a frightened fawn. They pass off the
scene. The braves sent by the father come on
stealthily, scanning the ground to detect any sign
that would be evidence that the lovers had been
there. Stooping low and pointing with his finger to
the tracks left, a warrior gives signal that he has
found the trail, and then the party starts in quick
pursuit, following round where Ke-how-la and Gan-
weta had passed, who, still fleeing, come in on the
opposite side, and, walking slowly backward, he, step-
ping in her tracks, intending thus to mislead the
pursuers, then, anon, throwing his arm around her,
would carry her a few steps, and, dropping her on
the ground, they would resume the flight.

The pursuers appear baffled; but with cunning
ways they find the trail, and resume with quickened
steps the chase.

Suddenly Ke-how-la stops and listens. His face
declares that he has knowledge of the coming
struggle, — that he must fight. Bidding Ganweta
haste away, he takes a station near a tree, and awaits
the pursuers. They seem to be aware that he is
there, and, drawing their bows, prepare to fight.
See Ke-how-la expose his blanket, the pursuers letting
two arrows fly, one of them striking it, the other the
tree. A twang from Ke-how-la's bow, and a howl of
pain, and a red-skinned pursuer in agony has an

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arrow in his lieart, and then the arrows fly in quick
succession, until the hero sends his antagonists to the
happy hunting-ground of their futhers, and with
apparent earnestness he scalps his foes.

With his trophies hanging to his belt, he calls,
" Ganweta, Kaitch Kona Ganweta I " — Beautiful
Ganweta; but he calls in vain. While Kc-how-la
was fighting, a brave of another tribe carries off the
shrinking maiden, and escapes to his people.

Ke-how-la takes the trail, and follows by the signs
Ganweta had left on her involuntary flight, and dis-
covers her surrounded by his enemies. He returns
to his own people for assistance. He finds friends
willing to follow him. Ganweta's father is recon-
ciled with him, and gives his consent to his marriage
when he shall have brought Ganweta home. A
party is formed, and after the war-dance and other
savage ceremonies, they go on the warpath. Then
we see the warriors fight a sham battle with real war-
whoops and scalping ceremonies. The arrows fly,
and the wounded fall, and the victors secure the
scalps and also the captive maiden, and, with wild
sports, return to the lodge of Ganweta's father.

This performance lasted about three hours, and
from the beginning to the end the interest increased,
winding up with a scalp-dance.

I have never witnessed a play better performed,
and certainly never with imitation so close to reality.
It demonstrated that talent does not belong to any
privileged race; that Indians are endowed with love
for amusements, and that they possess dbility to
create and perform.

If it is urged that such plays foster savage habits

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277

among the Indian^!, the excuse must be that they were
true to the scenes of their own lives and in conformity
with the tastes of the people, as all theatricals are
supposed to be.

It hud one merit that many plays lack. Its actors
were natural, and no unseemly struts and false steps,
or rude and uncouth exhibitions of dexterity or un-
seemly attitudes, that make modest people hide their
eyes in very shame, were indulged in by the players.

The Indians of Oregon and of the Pacific coast
wear long hair ; at least, until they change their
mode of life, they have a great aversion to cutting it,
and, in fact, it is almost the last personal habit they
give up. Before leaving this agency, I proposed to
give a new hat to each man who would consent to
have his hair cut short. The proposition was not well
received at first, because of their old-time religious
faith, which in some way connected long hair with
religious ceremony. It is safe to assert, that, when-
ever an Oregon Indian is seen without long hair,
he has abandoned his savage religion. Before leav-
ing, however, I was assured that I might send out the
hat for ovev one hundred.

The following summer, when making an official
visit, I took with me four hundred hats. When the
question was brought up, and the hats were in sight,
a flurry was visible among the men. The chief, Allen
David, led the way, begging for a long cut. A com-
promise was made, and it was agreed that the hair
should be cut just half-way down. With this un-
derstanding, the barber's shop was instituted, and
long black hair enough to make a Boston hair mer-
chant rich was cut off and burned up.

Wil

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The metamorphosis was very noticeable. Many
ludicrous scenes were presented in connection with,
and gi*ew out of, this episode. A great step forward
had been made, and one, too, that will not "slip
back."

When O-che-o came out of the room, after his head
had been for the first time in his life under a barber's
hands, he presented a comical spectacle. His children
did not know him; some of his older friends did not
recognize in him the chief of other days.

3. i!

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CHAPTER XVIII.

OMELETC AND ARROWS - BIG STEAM-BOILERS.

Ax Indian game of ball is not exactly like
America's great game of base ball. It resembles,
somewhat, the old game of shindy or bandy. The
field is one-fourth of a mile in length, and one-eighth
in width. Stakes are planted at either end, and also
in the middle. The jilayers pair otf until all are
chosen who desire to play. Captains are elected
who command the players of each side, and take
their stations at the middle stakes, ananging their
men on either side, each of whom is provided with a
club three feet in length, having a short crook at the
lower end. The ball is fashioned out of a tough
knot of wood, and is about three inches in diameter,
and burnt by fire until it is charred sliglitly, thus
making it of black color. This game is called " ko-
ho,"' and is won by the party who succeeds in
knocking the ball with the club to the home base at
the opposite end of the ground.

A game of "ko-ho" attracts much attention; old
and 5'oung, deaf, dumb, and blind, all go to witness
the sport; the latter, probably, to hear the boisterous
shouts that attend the playing. iSometimcs it is made
the occasion for gambling, and then the excitement
becomes intense.

Another game is played, with two pieces of wood
six inches long and about one inch in diameter,

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securely connected by a thong of rawhide, about
four inches apart; the game, as in "ko-ho," being
to toss this plaything with straight clubs to a home
base; the parties struggling as in the other game.
Foot-ball is not uncommon, and great iiontests are
had over this game also.

Civilized American gambling cards are common,
and are played in games that have no existence
among white people ; though Indians are expert in all
common games, and become, like their white brother,
infatuated, and gamble with desperation. Gambling
seems to be a passion among them. It is not
uncommon to see the yoimger men of tribes that are
uncivilized, seated on the ground, and, with a blanket
spread over their limbs, all pointing toward a common
centre, gambling with small sticks of wood, the parties
alternately mixing their hands under the blanket,
changing the sticks from one hand to the other while
they sing a low melody; and, when withdrawing the
hands, the other Indians point to the hand they sup-
pose to be the holder of the sticks, thus indicating
the one selected as the winning hand. When the
bets are all made the holder opens both hands, and
thus declares the result. Tho favorite sport of the
Indians is horse-racing; but, like other people, they
gamble on almost everything. Among them are
natural professional «:amblers. This passion is a fruit-
ful source of poverty; and many con!}>laints are made
by young, green ones, against red-lcggcd sharps.

An Indian woman filed a complaint against "Long
John," an Indian gambler, charging him with ha\ing
swindled her son, a boy of eighteen or twenty years
of age, out of a number of horses that belonged to

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281

the family. She asserted that they were poor; that
the loss was too much to bear in silence, and that,
since her son was a boy, not a man, " Long John "
ought to return the horses. This famous gambler
was ordered to appear. The ease was investigated.
" Long John " pleaded guilty as charged in the in-
dictment, but oftered the old Indian law as an excuse.
He finally proposed to return the horses, oii condition
that the boy would abandon the habit. The boy
promised; the property was returned; and the old
woman went away happy in the possess'on of her
restored fortune ; for it was to her what business and
home are to wealthy people. Under the new law
gambling is prohibited by a fine ; but the Indians find
ways to avoid the law, and gambling is now, and will
continue to be, common among them.

These people have a beautiful country, with a cold
climate, being at an altitude of four thousand feet
above the sea level. Snows of two to four feet deep
are not uncommon. The rivers and lakes are well
supplied with fish, the mountains with game, the land
with berries and wild roots.

Big Klamath marsh is situated twenty miles north
of the Great Klamath lake. It is six miles wide and
twenty long, and receives its water from the south
side of the Blue mountains. This marsh is covered
with a growth of pond-lilies, that furnish immense
supplies of wo-cus (seed of lily). It is a great rendez-
vous for several tribes who come to gather wo-cus-
The main stem of this plant first blossoms on the top
of the water, and, as the seasons advance, the flower
matures and rises above the surface one or two feet,
and forms a large pod, of four inches in length and

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three in diameter. The Indians go out among the
lilies in canoes, and gather the bowls or pods while
green, spread them out in the sun, and when cured
they are beaten with sticks until the seeds fall out.
These are put in sacks and carried home, cached
(buried in cellars) until required for use. Then the
seeds are thrown into a shallow basket, with li\^,
coals of fire, and roasted, after which it is ground by
hand on flat rocks.

It is a nutritious food, and, when properly pre-
pared, not unpalatable. The Klamaths use it in
soups, and often prepare it by mixing like flour into
cakes, which they bake in the ashes. This article of
wo-cus is abundant, available, and altogether suflScient
to furnish subsistence for all the Indians in Oregon.
To this wo-cus field the natives have for generations
past gone for supplies, and in the mean time to ex-
change slaves, gamble, and hold great councils. Many
stirring scenes have been enacted at this place that
would furnish foundation for romantic story or bloody
tragedy.

The lakes of Klamath are great resorts for the
feathery tribes, which come with the spring and
sojourn through the summer. The people luxuriate
on the eggs of these wild fowls. They go out into
the tall tule (grass) in canoes, and collect them in
large quantities. " The egg season " lasts until the
hatching season is over^ the Indians cooking un-
hatched birds, and eating them with as much avidity
and as little thought of indecency as ^New England
people cook and eat clams, oysters, or herrings.

The young fowls are captured in nets. The ar-
rangement is quite cunning, and, although primitive

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283

in construction, evinces some inventive genius. A cii*-
cular net is made three feet in diameter, and to the
outer edge are attached eight or ten small rods of half-
inch diameter, and about ^fteen inches in -length;
three inches from the lower end, which is sharpened
to a point, the net is attached. The upper end of
the rods are bevelled on one side, and inserted
into a rude socket, in the end of a shaft ten feet
long.

Armed with this trap, the hunter crawls on the
ground until he is within safe distance of the mother-
bird and her little flock, when, suddenly springing up,
the old birds, geese or ducks, as the case may be, fly
away, while the little ones flee toward the water. The
Indian launches the shaft with the net attached in
such a way that the net spreads to its utmost size, the
sharpened points of the rods pierce the ground, and,
the upper end having left the socket on the shaft,
stand in circular row, holding the net and contents to
the ground.

The Klamath mode of taking fish is peculiar to
the Indians of this lake country. A canoe-shaped
basket is made, with covering of willow-work at each
end, leaving a space of four feet in the middle top of
the basket. This basket is carried out into the tules
that adjoin the lakes, and sunk to the depth of two
or three feet. The fishermen chew dried fish eggs
and spit them in the water over the basket, until it is
covered with the eggs, and then retire a short dis-
tance jWaiting until the whitefish come in large num-
bers over the basket, when the fishermen cautiously
approach the covered ends, and raise it suddenly,
until the upper edge is above the water, and thus

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WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

entrap hundreds of fish, that are about eight inches
in length. These are transferred to the hands of the
squaws, and by them are strung on ropes or sticks
and placed over fires until cured, without salt, after
which they are stored for winter use. This fish is
very oily and nutritious, and makes a valuable food.
Indeed, this country is more than ordinarily fruitful,
and abounds in resources suited to Indian life.

The lakes are well supplied with various kinds of
trout. They are taken in many ways ; mostly, how-
ever, with hook and line. I remember, on one occa-
sion, going to a small slough making out of the lake
among the tules. Being prepared with American
equipment of lines and flies, I was sanguine of suc-
cess ; but I was doomed to disappointment so far as
catching trout with fly-hooks was concerned. I
finally succeeded in capturing a pocketful of large
black army-crickets. The first venture with this bait
was rewarded by a fine trout of six pounds' weight.
In one hour and a half I had twenty-four fish, whose
aggregate weight was one hundred and four pounds.
They were mostly golden trout, a species peculiar to
Klamath lake. They are similar to other trout,
except in the rich golden color of their bodies, and in
the shape of their fins. Silver trout are sometimes
caught also, they taking their name from their silver
sides and the color of their flesh. Lake trout, another
species, are very dark; they are sharp biters, and very
game when hooked. Salmon trout, as the name indi-
catf /esemble salmon in every way; so much so that
none t an expert could distinguish the two.

Still another kind of the trout family are also in
abundance, called dog trout. They live on the

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285

younger fish of their own species; do not run in
schools, but solitary and alone, devouring the small
ones. I have caught them with the tails of little fish
sticking in their mouths. Brook trout may be found
in the smaller streams; they are identical with those
of New England.

The wild game consists of deer and elk, which are
still abundant and furnish subsistence; and, until
these people sold their birthrights and received in
exchange therefor clothing and blankets, — a mere
mess of pottage, — afforded material for warming
their bodies. These sources of supply, together with
the wild fowls, which congregate in innumerable quan-
tities, all go to make up a country well adapted to
wild Indian life, requiring but reasonable exertion to
secure subsistence and clothing.

Although the country is high and cold, and the
major portion covered in winter with deep snows,
there are small valleys and belts of country where
snow never lies on the ground for any considerable
length of time, and the stock cattle and horses live
through the winter without care.

When the railroad shall have been built, connecting
the lake country with the outside world, it will afford
large supplies of fish, game, wild fowls, eggs, feathers,
ice, and lumber of the choicest kinds. Already has
the keen eye of the white man discovered its many
inducements and tempting offers of business.

Big Klamath lake is twenty miles wide and forty
miles long; a most beautiful sheet of water, dotted
with small islands. Its average depth is, perhaps,
forty feet, surrounded on two sides with heavy forests
of timber; on the others, with valleys of sure and

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productive soil, when once science shall have taught
the people how to accommodate the agriculture to
the climate. This lake has a connection with those
below, called Link river, a short stream of but four
miles, through which vast volumes of water find out-
let, over sweeping rapids, falling at the rate of one
hundred feet to the mile.

The power that wastes itself in Link river would
move machinery that would convert the immense
forests into merchandise, and put music into a million
spindles, giving employment to thousands of hands
who are willing to toil for reward.

Nature has also favored this wonderful country
with steam-power beyond comparison; great fur-
naces under ground, fed by invisible hands, send the
steam through rocky fissures or escape-pipes to the
surface. Near Link river, two of these escape-pipes
emit the stifling steam constantly. Approaching
cautiously, a sight may be had of the boiling waters
beneath. Lower down the hill it arises in a stream,
sufficient to run a saw-mill, coming out boiling hot,
and flowing away in rippling current. Along the
banks of this stream flowers bloom the year round,
and vegetation is ever green for several rods from the
banks. The scene from the ridge on the north that
overlooks Link valley is one of rare beauty.

Standing in snow two feet deep, on a cold morning
in December, 1869, my eyes first took in the landscape.
Surrounded by lofty pines, and, looking southward, we
caught sight of the Lost river county, the home of the
Modocs, bathed in sunshine, clear, cold sunshine ; the
almost boundless tracts of sage-brush land, stretch-
ing away to the foot of the Cascade mountains on the

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287

right, until sage-brush plain was lost in pihe-wood
forest. On the left front we caught sight of Tu-le
lake, lying calmly beneath its cryetal covering of
glittering ice; and, still loft. Lost-river mountains, and
beside them the stream whose water drank up the
blood of many battles in times past. Following its
line toward its source, we see a mountain cleft in
twain to make passage for the waters of Clear lake,
after they have tunnelled Saddle mountains for ten
miles, and come again to human sight.

We had been so entertained with the splendor of
the winter scene, that we had overlooked its grandest
feature, until our fretful horses, which had caught
sight of it before we had, became restless and impa-
tient to bathe their icy hoofs in the beautiful valley
at our feet, and refused longer to wait for us to paint
on our memory the panorama.

Dismounting, we, too, caught sight of one of nature's
wonderful freaks. Down below us, in the immense
amphitheatre, we discovered columns of steam I'ising
from the smooth prairie hill-side, ascending in fan-
tastic puffs, and mixing with the atmosphere ; some-
times cut off, by sudden gusts of cold winds, into
minute clouds, that swing out and lose themselves in
strange company of fiercer breath from the mountains
covered with snow and ice.

Look again to the right, and see the constant steam
vapor that comes with hot breath from the boiling
spring, where it runs in grandeur, and gradually
warms the soil and shrubbery that surrounds its chan-
nel. Following the curve of this stream, see the
clouds of steam decrease as it flows out on the plain,
until, at last, its warm breath is lost to sight in the

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hi^h tule grass of Lower Klamath lake. Come back
along the line and see the fringe of grass and flowers
that exult in life, despite the winter's cold; and other
of nature's children, too, are standing Avith feet in the
soft banks, and inhaling the warm breath. See the
long line of sleek cattle and horses that have driven
away the mule, deer and antlered elk, and now claim
mastership of what God has done for this strange
valley. Even dumb brutes enjoy this refuge from the
cold storms of the plains; thus cheating old winter
out of the privilege of punishing them.

Yielding to the importunity of our restless steed,
we remount, and, giving rein, are carried rapidly
down the mountain side, at a pace that would be
dangerous on clumsy eastejM ponies, until reaching
the valley, and feeling tbo soft turf beneath us, we
improve the invitation to warm our hands at this
gentle outlet to one of nature's seething caldrons.

Gathering a bouquet of wild flowers from this fairy
garden, surrounded by snows and ice, we resume our
journey, for we are now bound for the home of
Captain Jack.

CHAPTER XIX.

MODOC BLOOD UNDER A FLAG OF TRUCE — SEED SOWN
TWENTY YEARS BEFORE A HARVEST.

Since wc arc now en route to the Modoc country,
and since they have taken a phicc in modern history
as a warUkc people, and have enrolled their names on
the record of stirring events, it is well to give them
something more than a passing notice.

In so doing, I shall confine my remarks to such facts
as hav : come under my own observation, and also
those that are well authenticated. In memory of the
late tragedy m the " Lava Beds," in which I so nearly
lost my life, I approach this subject with a full de-
termination to present the facts connected therewith
in a fair and impartial manner, without fear of criti-
cism fi'om the enemies of the red man, or a desire to
court undue favor from his friends.

The Modocs arc a branch from a once powerful
tribe of the Pacific coast, and known as " La-la-cas,"
inhabiting the country drained by Klamath river and
lakes, also including the "Lost-river Basin," and
extending inland from the coast proper about three
hundred miles, covering the territory of what is now
Siskiyou county, Cal., and parts of Jackson and
Josephine counties, of Oregon. They were warlike,
as most uncivilized nations are, when they become
powerful. Surrounded with peoples of similar char-
acter, they were often on the " warpath."

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Tlic history of the great battles fought by the La-
la-cas of olden time is a fruitful subjeet for Indian
stories by the deseendants of the Klanuiths and Mo-
does; and from them, years ago, I learned about the
rebellion so nearly eotemporaneous with the Ameriean
Kcvolution.

That rebellion sprang from causes so nearly of the
same kind as those which prompted our forefathers to
take uj) arms against Great Britain, that the coinci-
dence is strange indeed, though it could not have any
connection with the white man's war. To those who
have given the subjeet of Indian history a careful
study, it is not new, that, while a monarch exercised
arbitraiy power across the Atlantic, and dictated gov-
ernment and law to the American colonies, many
petty monarchs, also claiming the hereditary right to
rule on the strength of royalty and blood, were the
governing nations on the continent of America. This
kind of royalty seems to have been acknowledged
and disputed by turns, for many generations; and,
perhaps, the La-la-cas may have passed through as
many revolutions as enlightened political organiza-
tions, though no other history than tradition has made
a record thereof At all events it is part of the his-
tory of the Modocs and Klamaths, that feuds and rev-
olutions have been of common occurrence, growing
out of the desire for power. After all, human nature
is pretty much the same in all conditions of society,
without regard to color or race.

The office of chief, among Indians of former times,
was to the chieftain what the crown was to a king.
The function of chieftain among semi-civilized Indians
of to-day is to him what the office of President is to

WIOWAM AND WAUPATII.

291

General Grant, or it may be likened to the position of
Louis Phili[)pc a lew years ago, half attained throu<i;h
royal right, and half by force or consent of the gov-
erned.

This comparison is apropos according to the status
of traditional and hereditary law.

With the La-la-cas, one hundred years ago, the pre-
rogative of royalty, though, perhaps, acknowledged
in the abstract, was often disputed in the distribution
of honors.

This " bono of contention," so fruitful of blood with
civilized nations, was one of the principal and moving
causes of the separation of a band of La-la-cas, who
are now known as Modocs, from the tribe who are
now called Klamaths.

There is a curious resemblance between the politi-
cal customs of savage and civilized nations. The
royal house from whence came the hero of the Modoc
war — Captain Jack — was not exempt from the con-
tentions common to royal households, and it may be
said, too, that while the branch to which he belonged
had furnished their quota of braves for many wars,
they resisted the taxes levied on them, and at last
openly rebelled, and separated from their ancient
tribe on account of the exactions of tyrannical chiefs.

That my readers may properly understand the sub-
ject now under consideration, it is well to state, in a
general way, that Indian nations, singularly enough,
follow in the footsteps of the people of Bible history.
Whether they derive the custom from traditional con-
nection or not, I leave to antiquarians to answer.

Every nation is divided into tribes, and tribes are
divided into bands, and bands into smaller divisions,

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WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

life

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even do^vn to families ; each nation has, or is supposed
to liave, a head, chief; each tribe a chief; each band
a sub-chief; and so on, down, until you reach family
relations.

Each tribe, band, and even family, has in times of
peace an allotted home, or district of country that they
call their own. They claim the privileges that it
aflbrds, and are very jealous of any infringement on
their rights.

The Modocs inhabited that portion of country
know, as ''Lost-river Basin,'' — perha})s forty miles
square, — lying east of the loot of " Shasta Butte,"
possessing many natural resources for Indian life. It
is doubtful whether any other country of like extent
affords so great and so varied a supply as this
district.

Lost river is a great fishing country, affording
those of a kind peculiar to Tule lake and Lost
river, in so great abundance as to be almost beyond
belief.

But to resume the liistory of this band of Modocs.
At or about the time indicated as cotemj)oraneous
with " the great event *' in American civilized history,
the head chief of all the La-la-cas demanded of
Mo-a-doc-us, the chief of the Lost-river band of the
La-la-cas, not only braves for the warpath, but also
that supplies of fish from Lost river should be fur-
nished.

This demand was refused. .7ollow'ing the refusal,
war wasdechrcd; and Mo-a-doc-us issued his declar-
ation of independence, throwing off his allegiance
from and to the head chief of the La-la-cas. The
war that followed was one of a character similar m

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WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

295

some respects to the American Revolution; the one
party struggling to hold power, the other fight-
ing for freedom, — for such it was in reality.

The Modocs and Klamaths tell cf many battles
fought, and brave men killed ; how the survivors
passed their allotted time in mourning; how, at last,
the La-la-cas were defeated; and though no formal
acknowledgment or recognition of the independence
of Mc -a-doc-us was ever bulletined to the world, yet
it was, in modern political language, "an accom-
plished fact "

The * Hi _s of the La-la-cas have since been
termed Klamaths.

"'vN'^ithout tracing the history of the Mo-a-docs
through theii many wars, I pass over the intervening
feuds until 184G, at which time they numbered six
hundred warriors, and were subdivided into bands,
governed by " Schoncliin," a head chief, although his
authority seems even then to have been disputed, on
the ground that he was not a legitimate descendant
of the great Mo-a-doc~us, and consequently not of
royal blood. He "• ( i^ his position as chief by his
great personal bra» , Ia battle.

The father of Cap cj mi ! i ck was the former chief of
tlie lost-river Modocs. lid was killed in battle with
the Warm S^ in;;' and Te-ni-no Indians, near the
head-waters of tne Des-chu< -< river, in Oregon, at
which time Ki-en-te-poos (Captain Jack) wr-s a small
boy.

I have taken S'^me pains to ascertain reliable data
as to the parenta-iv'and birthplace of a man whose
name has been on >. . ciy tongue for the past year, and
state, roost positively, that Captain Jack's parents were

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both Modocs of royal blood, and that Captain Jack
was born on Lost river, near the " Natural Bridge,"
and very near the ground on which was fought the first
battle of the late Modoc war; and, further, that he
never lived with any white man; that he never has
learned to speak any other than the language of the
ancient La-la-cas, or Mo-a-docs, although he may have
understood many words of the English tongue.

You will have observed that th icgard for royal
honors was not extinct at the time 'C death of

Jack's father, who seems to have left in > ue hearts of
his people the ambition to restore the ancient order
of things, by re-establishing the hereditary right to
the chieftainship. This sentiment, thus perpetuated,
undoubtedly found a lodgment in the heart of the
bo}', Kien-tc-poos.

To rcsmiio the review of the first war: As told by
white men, it would appear that a wanton thirst for
blood impelled the Modocs to murder defenceless emi-
grants. I doubt not that many innocont persons lost
their lives; still, with my knowledge of Indian charac-
ter, I am not ready to say that provocation was want-
ing. While I would be careful in making up my
estimate on the validity of Indian statements, I am
still willing that the Modocs' side of the causes of the
first wars should be heard.

Old Chief Schonchin says that it grew out of a
misunderstanding as to the identity of the Modocs,
Snalces, and Pitt-river Indians. The emigrants had
difficulties with the Snake Indians, through whose
country they passed in reaching Oregon and Cali-
fornia; and that he never knew what was the cause
of the first troubles between them. The Snake In-

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

297

dians capturerl horses and mules from the emigrants,
and sold them, or gambled them, to the Pitt-river
Indians, who in turn ti'ansferred them, through the
same process, to the Modocs; and that the animals
found by emigrants in possession of the Modocs were
recaptured, and hence war was at last brought about.
The btorj seems plausible, and is certainly entitled to
some respect, coming, as it does, from a man of the
character of old Chief Schonchin. I know there is
a disposition to discredit any statement made by an
Indian, simply because he is cm Indian, and more
particularly when it comes in conflict with our preju-
dices to accept it as the truth. Some white men are
entitled to credit; others are not. So it is with In-
dians, and, if it were possible, the disparity is even
greater among them than among white men.

Chief Schonchin, of whom I am speaking, com-
mands respect from those who know him best, and
have known him longest. He does not deny that he
was in the early Avars ; that he did all in his power to
exterminate his enemies. In speaking of the wars
with white men, he once remarked, in an evening talk
around a camp-fire: "I thought, if we killed all the
white men we saw, that no more would come. We
killed all we could; but they came more and more,
like new grass in the spring. I looked around, and
saw that many of our young men were dead, and
could not come back to fight. My heart was sick.
My people were few. I thrcAV down njy gun. I
said, I will not fight again. I made friends with the
white man. I am an old man; I cannot fight now.
I want to die in peace." To his credit be it said,
that no act of his, since the treaty of ISGl, has

298

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

deserved censure. He is still in charge of the loyal
Modocs, at Yai-nax station, grieving over the way-%
wardness of his brother J ohn and Captain Jack.

He was not in the " Ben Wright " affair, although
he was near when the massacre occurred. His rea-
son for not being present was because he mistrusted
that treachery was intended on the part of Wright;
and, fm ther, that a " treaty of peace " was proposed
by him, which was to be accompanied with a feast,
given by the white man; but that the talk was "too
good," — ^^ promised too mucli^'' — and that, suspicious
of the whole affair, he kept away; that forty-six
Modocs accepted the invitation to feast with their
white brethren, and that but five escaped the whole-
sale butchery. Of these five, the last survivor was
murdered, June, 1873, vluring the cowardly attack on
Fairchild's wagon, containing the Indian captives,
near Lost river, after the surrender of Captain
Jack.

IS'ow, whether the Indian version of the Ben
Tv"i ight affair is correct, or not, that forty Indians
were killed while under a flag of truce in the
hands of white men of the Ben Wright party, in
1852, — there can he no doubt. The effects of this
act can be traced all the way down from that day to
this, and have had much to do with making the
Modocs a revengeful people.

The friends of Ben Wright deny that he committed
an act of treachery; yet there are persons in Cal-
ifornia who state positively that he purchased strych-
nine previous to his visit to the Modoc country^
with the avowed intention of poisoning the Indians.
Others, who were with him at the time of the mas-

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

299

sacre, testify that he made the attempt at poisoningy
•and finally, abandoning it, he resorted to the " peace
talk" to accomplish his purpose. The excuse for
this unwarrantable act of treachery was to punish the
Modocs for the murdering of emigrants at Bloody
Point, a few days previous.

This unparalleled slaughter was perpetrated on the
shore of Tu-le lake, in September, 1852. It occurred
directly opposite the " Lava Bed," at a point where
the emigrant road touches the shore of the lake, after
crossing a desert tract of several miles, and where
the mountains forced the road to leave the high
plains to effect a passage. For several hundred
yards the route ran along under a stony bluff, and
near the waters of the lake. The place was well-
adapted for such hellish purposes.

The emigrant train consisted of sixty-five men,
women, and children, and the whole line of wagons
was driven down into this position before the attack
was made. The Indians, secreted in the rocks at either
end of the narrow passage, attacked their hapless vic-
tims both in front and rear. Hemmed in by high
rocky bluffs on one side and the lake on the other,
they were butchered indiscriminately. !N'either age
nor sex were spared, save two young girls of twelve
and fourteen years of age respectively, who were
taken prisoners, and one man, who escaped.

This massacre was attended with all the circum-
stances of savage warfare. Men were killed outright
and scalped. Women were treated with indignities
that words may iiot reveal. Even fiendish torture
was surpassed, and human language is too tam^ to
express the horrible outrages committed on them.

III

300

WIGWAM AND WABPATH.

'. ;

Children were tortured, some of them mutilated and
dismembered, while yet alive, before the eyes of their
mothers. No page in all the bloody history of Indian
cruelties exceeds that of the massacre of emigrants
at Bloody Point, by the Modocs, in September, 1852.

The two girls who were taken prisoners were
allotted to some of the brave warriors as wives. They
survived for several years, and, according to Modoc
stories, were reconciled to their fate, adopting the
manners and customs of their captors. It is said that
they taught the Modocs many things pertaining to a
civilized life, and that they exercised great influence
over them; that the Modoc women became jealous
of their power, and put them to death.

ISTear the residence of Mr. Dorris, on Cottonwood
Creek, is a rocky cliff overlooking the valley. It was
from this cliff the unfortunate captives were thrown
to the rocks below, ending their lives as victims to
the jealousy of the wives and mothers of their savage
captors. Evidences of this tragedy are in existence;
human skulls, and, within a few years, locks of long
hair, unlike that of Indians, have been found on the
spot indicated as the place where these captives were
destroyed.

Ben Wright was a citizen of Y-re-ka. He was
esteemed as a man of good character and standing
among his fellows in that early day. Bom a leader,
he was selected by the miners to conunand a company
of volunteers, who were enlisted without authority of
the Government of the United States, the State of
California, or the County of Sys-ki-you.

This company was formed, under the common law
of self-protection, in the early days of California, when

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

301

Indian outrages were of common occurrence.

In th(

absence of regular provision for protection, the miners
and settlers, in a spirit of patriotism, volunteered to
punish Indians as w^ell as to guard the peace of the
country. Be it remembered that the massacre at
" Bloody Point " was not the only act of savage
ferocity committed by the Modocs. For five years
had they been murdering the worn-out emigrants who
were en route to California and Oregon.

It was in harmony with frontier ideas of right, to
punish these people for their crimes, without taking
into consideration the causes that may have impelled
them to bloody deeds. The victims were not respon-
sible for the ac:s of their predecessors on the line of
travellers. However humane and just we may feel,
we cannot object to Ben "Wright's motive, though all
men who possess correct ideas of justice may depre-
cate the manner of avenging the wrongs committed.
Had he slain the entire tribe in fair battle, no just con-
demnation could have been pronounced against him.
Had he avenged their horrible crimes by ambushing
them, by his skill and cunning, no man would have
censured him; hut to violate a flag of truce, under
pretence of peace-mahing, was a wrong that fair-
minded men, everywhere, condemn as an outrage
against humanity and civilization.

If the Modocs had first been guilty of such acts of
treachery, "extermination" would justly have been the
cry. Savage warfare is unworthy of any people ; but
certainly it should never be surpassed by those pro-
fessing Christian civilization. Even in war they
should endeavor to teach the savage the higher laws
that govern mankind.

302

WIGWAJI AND WARPATH.

"Without stopping to moralize further, let us pursue
the main facts, as they come following each other in
succession. After the Ben Wright massacre, hos-
tilities were continued until 18G4; at which time Elisha
Steel, Esq., of Y-re-ka, who was then acting super-
intendent for the northern district of California, made
an informal treaty with the various bands of Indians,
and who seems to have been more an arbitrator than a
government commissioner. At all events the articles
of agreement were not ratified by Congress.

This treaty did not set forth that any consideration
would be paid by the Government for the possession of
the Modoc country. N^either did it seek to alienate the
country from the Indians, but referred to the locali-
ties where certain bands of Modocs, Schas-tas, Schas-
ta-sco-tons, and Klamaths should reside. There was
also an agreement to keep peace with each other and
the Avhites.

It was in this council that Captain Jack was first
acknowledged as a chief, and then only after an election
was had by the band that had repudiated Schon-chin;
after w^hich Steele declared him a chief, and named him
"Captain Jack," on account of his resemblance to
a miner bearing that name. That the Steele treaty
was somewhat indefinite and unauthorized, was given
as a reason why it never was recognized by the gen-
eral Government.

There may have been other and more potent rea-
sons, however; for the Modoc country proper is about
equally divided between Oregon and California, though
the home of Captain Jack and Schon-chin was on the
Oregon side of the line. At that time the hearts of our
people were much moved in behalf of the " poor In-

WIGWAM AND WAKPATH.

303

tl^an." Each State was anxious to furnish a home for
him. Whether Steele's treaty reached "NVawhington
before or after, does not appear. The Superintendent
of Oregon was instructed to "negotiate a treaty with
all the Indians in the Klamath country, including the
Modocs."

This council met in October, 1801. The Klamaths,
and also the Modocs, were represented in the council
by their chiefs; the latter by Schon-chin and his
brother John, who was afterwards ar jociated with
Captain Jack.

Captain Jack was recognized as a sub-chief lie
participated in the council; and, when terms were
agreed upon, he signed the articles of treaty in his
Indian name, — Ki- m-te-poos. The idea that ho was
deceived in the meaning of the treaty is absurd;
though it has been repeated by good men, without
proper Imowledge of the facts.

An unwarrantable sympathy for Captain Jack has
been the I'csult, — unless, indeed, all the Indians who
were parties to the treaty are to be commiserated for
having sold their birthright for an insufficient com-
pensation. Old chief Schon-chin has never claimed
any other than the plain meaning of the words of the
treaty; which was, substantially, that what is kno^vn
as Klamath Reservation was to be the joint home of
the Klamaths and Modocs. All the other country
claimed by the two tribes was ceded to the United
States, on condition that certain acts should be per-
formed by the Government, in a specified time. All
of which has been, and is being done, to the satisfac-
tion of the Indians who have remained on the Reserva-
tion. I assert this to be substantially correct. That they

304

WIGWAM AND WAnPATH.

matlc a bargain that Captain Jack wished to repudi-
ate is true. I do not wonder that he should do so, in
view of liis inlierent love of royalty and his great
ambition to be a chief, and the imcertainty of his
tenui'e of ollice should he remain on the lieservation,
the discipline of which was humiliating for one whose
life had been free from restraint.

The head men of the Klamaths all agree and state
positively that the treaty was fully interpreted and
fairly understood by all parties, and that Captain Jack
and the whole Modoc tribe shared in the issue of
goods made at the council-ground by Superintendent
Huntington, at the time of making the treaty. The
plea that Captain Jack was deceived, as before-men-
tioned, is wholly unfounded. He not only understood
and assented to it, but took up his abode on the
Klamath Reservation, where he remained long enough
to realize that Keservation life was not healthy for
royalty.

Perhaps he had begun to see that he was to change
his mode of life; also that Schon-chin was recognized
as his superior in office; and it may be that he dis-
covei'fcd that Klamath was not as good a country for
Indian life as the Lost-river region. It is equally
certain that he raised the standard of revolt, and
finally Avithdrew from the Reservation, and took up
his abode at his old home on Lost river; soon after
which he stated to Mr. John A. Fairchilds that he
had been cheated, and that " the treaty was a lie ; "
that he had not sold his country.

He made the same statement to Esquire Steele, of
Y-re-ka, who is a man of a large and charitable heart,
and who exercised great power over the Indians, and,

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

305

lele, of
I heart,
and,

with his former knovvle(l«]fe of Captain Jaek, ac-
credited his story concerning th(! (swindle or cheat,
and probal)ly stated to Captain Jack that he would
try to have the matter adjusted for him.

Steele wi'ote several letters to the department at
Washington on this subject, and also gave letters to
Jack and his people, rei)eating therein Jack's story
about his being cheated, and commending him to the
fi'iendly consideration of white people with whom he
might come in contact.

Some of these letters arc still in existence. I
myself have read several of them, the tenor of which
was in kcei)ing with the statement already mtide, —
that Jack still claimed the country, and that he was a
well-disposed Indian, etc.; but there was not oiif line,
so far as I know, that could be construed to moan
that the treaty could or should he repudiated.

That Steele had friendship for Jack, there can be
no doubt; and that Jack recognized Steele as his
friend and adviser is equally certain; and whatever
influence Steele's advice may have had, it never was
intended to justify Jack in removing from the Reser-
vation to which he belonged. I have been thus
particular in this matter, because Jack has used the
name of Steele in a way to mislead public opinion in
regard to Steele's connection with the Modoc rebellion.
Jack's reason for leaving the Reservation in 18G4 was,
simply and substantially, that he had made a compact
with which he was dissatisfied. He not only miscon-
strued the friendship of Steele and others, but mis-
represented them in such a way as to rid himself of
the responsibility as much as possible.

Following his career, we find that, in 1865, at the

306

WIGWAJI AND WARPATH.

request of the citizens of Lost-river Basin, Capt.
McGreggor, commander of Fort Klamath, made an
unsuccessful attempt to return Jack's band to the
Reservation; and, also, that sub-agent Lindsay Apple-
gate sought to remove him in 18G6; also, that in
1867 Superintendent Huntington visited the " Modoc
country," and that Capt. Jack and his warri^ "s took
a position on the opposite side of Lost river, and said
to him that, if he attempted to cross over, he " would
fire on him." Huntington, being unsupported, made
no attempt at crossing. He reported the matter, as
others had done, to the department at Washington ;
but no action was ordered. It will be seen that this
same rebel chief had eluded and defied the authority
of the Government on these three successive occasions;
and yet the clemency and forbearance of the Govern-
ment were misconstrued by him and his misinformed
sympathizers.

In the latter part of 18C9, while on an official visit
to Klamath A^jncy, the Modocs first engaged my
attention; and hearing then the fact above referred
to, as a reason why he had refused to obey the com-
mands of the government, and believing that his return,
without military force, was possible, a consultation
with Agent O. C. Knapp was held. We decided to
make another effort; accordingly a courier was
despatched with a message that we would meet him
at Link river. The reply was to the effect that if we
wanted to see him we must come to his country; and,
further, that he did not 2are to see us.

Notwithstanding this nsul<, mq decided to visit the
Modoc country in person. Believing in the power of
the right to nccoraplish the purpose, even if force was

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

307

Capt.
ide an
to the
tVpple-
hat in
Modoc
•s took
nd said
^ would
1, made
itter, as
lington;
tiat this
iithority
casions ;
Grovern-
nfonned

cial visit
cred my

eferred
he com-
s return,
sultation
cided to

ier was
leet him
lat if we

ry; and,

visit the
)ovver of
brce was

necessary, we determined to go, " bearing the oHve
branch ; " and, also, at the same time, I'ecognized the
necessity of being prepared for personal defence
should any attack be made. A requisition was made
on Capt. Goodale, commander at Fort Klamath, for a
detachment of troops.

To the first request we received a doubtful answer,
because " he had not the men to spare." I did not
inquire of Capt. Goodale what the duties of the
soldiers were; but from others I learned that they
were required for " police duty," or sentry duty, which
meant, probably, that one-half the soldiers were
needed to guard the other half, and maybe were to
wait on the officers of the fort. A few days previous,
a number of enlisted men had deserted, and those
sent in pursuit "had failed to put in an appearance at
roll-call."

Finally, the Klamath Indians succeeded in arresting
the deserters and bringing them under guard to the
fort, receiving therefor a reward for so doing. This
fort was built, and has been kept up at an enoraious
expense, to secure the peace of the country. It has
been an advantage to both white men and Indians, —
the one finding a market for hay and grain ; the other,
a market for the articles manufactured by their
women, — moccasins, etc. ; and the men an oppor-
tunity to make greenbacks by hunting and arresting
deserters.

Capt. Goodale finally detailed a small squad of
men, under command of a non-commissioned officer,
for the purpose requested, as stated heretofore.

We left Klamath Agency on the mornijjg of the
third of December, 1869, destined for the home of

308

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

the Modocs, accompanied by Agent O. C. Knapp, of
Klamath, I. D. Applegate in charge of Yai-nax,
and W. C. McKay, together with teamsters, guides,
and interpreters; also, two Klamath Indian women.
Ordering the soldiers to follow us as far as Link
river, there to await further orders, we pushed on,
leaving the teams with our supplies to follow into the
Modoc country on the morning of the twenty-second
of December, 18G0.

The route from Link river is through a sage-brush
plain, and following down the west bank of Lost river.

Lost river is the outlet or connecting link between
Oear lake and Tule lake. After leaving the for-
mer, it flows under ground several miles, and again
coming to the surface, empties into the latter. For
this reason it was named " Lost river." It is a deep,
narrow stream, with but few fcrding-places. In March
of each year it is a great fishery, ^one of the same
species of fish are found elsewhere; it possesses the
appearance of a species of white trout, excepting the
head and mouth, which is after tiio sucker species.
The flesh is rich and nutritious, and so abundant are
they that the}' are taken with rude implements, such
as sharpened sticks and pitchforks, and are even
caught with the hand, when they are running over
the ripples or fords.

A courier sent by the Modoc Peace Commission,
with despatches to Yai-nax, having occasion to cross
Lost river while en r )ute, reported, on his return,
having difficulty in crossing this stream on account
of the immense numbers of fish running against the
horse's legs, and frightening him. A pretty big fish
story, but not incredible.

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

309

"When within a few miles of the Modoc camp,
we espied fom* Indians coming on ponies. As we
approached, they, forming a line across the road,
exclaimed " Kaw-tiikl " (Stop!) They were each
armed with a rifle and revolver. Our party carried,
each man, a Henry rifle and a navy six-shooter. A
short pai'ley ensued, they determining to know our
business, and would allow no farther advance until
their demand was recognized.

We stated, in substance, that we were anxious to
sec Captain Jack and his people on important business.

The Indians replied, " that they did not wish to
talk with us; they had no business with us, and that
we had better turn back." Three times had they de-
fied, intimidated, or eluded oflicers of the Government
previously, and were now trying to evade a meeting
by blufBng our party.

We had started to visit these people, and, in west-
ern parlance, "we v^ere going." Pushing past the
Indians, we started on a brisk gallop, they turning
around and running ahead of us. After a brisk ride
of four miles we came in sight of the Modoc town,
situated on the western bank of the river about one
mile above the " N^atural Bridge," and within sight
of the newly-made mounds of the State line.

The " Natural Bridge " is a ledge of rocks, twenty
feet in width, spanning the river. It was used in
early days of emigration, to cross the river. At the
time of our visit it was two feet under water, but on
either bank, approaching the bridge, were unmistak-
able evidences of wagon travel. On the western
side the old road leads out through the sage-brush
plains, and may be easily traced with the eye for sev-

)I8'il<

11:1

310

WiaWAM AND WARPATH.

eral miles. This " Natural Bridge " has been gradu-
ally smldng. The early emigrants crossed over it
when it was a few feet above the water; then, at a
later date, the water had risen one or two feet above
it; and yet neither the river nor the lake appear to be
higher than they were when first visited by white
men.

CHAPTER XX.

BLUE EYES AND BLACK ONES, WHICH WIN? -TOBEY RIDDLE.

The Modoc town was composed of thirteen lodges,
built after the model of Klamath's Indian houses. A
circular, oblong excavation, twenty or thirty feet in
length and twelve wide, is first made. Then posts,
two feet apart, are set in the centre and at each end.
On these posts are placed timbers running lengthwise
of the structure. Poles, or split logs, fifteen feet in
length, are placed, with the lower end resting on the
ground, while the upper end is fastened to the tops
of the posts. Matting, made of "tule grass," is
spread over the slanting timbers, and then the earth
thrown out, in making the excavation, is piled upon
the matting tc a depth of twelve inches, ^o win-
dows are made, and there is but one entrance which
openo between the timbers mentioned as resting on
posts at the top of the lodge. This long, narrow
opening is apf oached from the outside by steps made
in the earthen covering. From the inside hangs a
ladder made of rawhide ropes. The windows, door,
and chimneys are one and the same. The first glance
at these houses suggests war, and a second confirms
the idea that these people are always ready for an
attack.

On our arrival at the town it appeared to be de-
serted, excepting the few Indians who returned with
us. They having dismounted, one of them rushed up

^'1
n

312

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

the rude stairway outside the largest lodge, and dis-
appeared. This was the home of the " Chief." Our
party dismounted and prepared to follow our guide.
A watchman on the house-top said, " One man
come ! no more ! " I had partly ascended the steps
when the peremptory order came. It sounded omi-
nous, and recalled " Bloody Point," and " Ben
Wright." It was too late to turn back in the pres-
ence of savages.

When I reached the door, at the top of the lodge,
a.id through the opening met the eyes of fifty painted
warriors, I felt as if I was in the wrong place; but I
dare not then show any signs of fear, or retrace my
steps. I may not find words to express my thoughts
and feelings as I descended the rawhide ladder, half
expecting a shower of arrows, or bullets ; half- wonder-
ing how they would feel. / did not Tcnow then, — /
have learned since. On descending, I was met with a
cold reception, that froze my blood; a feeling I cannot
describe. Captain Jack looked in my face with a
sullen glitter in his eye, that no white man could im-
itate. He refused to shake hands, to speak, or smoke,
and in fact it was evident that I was not only an un-
welcome visitor, but was looked upon as an enemy.

Coolly lighting my pipe, I began trying to make
the best of a bad job; meanwhile enduring the stare
from all eyes, — and a stare of that kind that none can
understand who has never felt the same ; an expression
cold and scornful, but burning with hatred, was on
on every countenance. I have beheld but one other
scene that was more indescribable, and that was the
"Lava Bed" tragedy on April 11th, 1873. A terrible
kind of loneliness came over me, and for a while I

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

313

thought the chances about even whether I would get
out again or not.

Finally "Scarfaced Charley" broke the stillness
by asking, "What you want? What for you come?
Jack he not send for you I He got no business with
you ! He no don't want to talk ! He in his country !
What for you come here? You not him ty-ee! He
don't know you I Hal-lu-i-me-til-li-cum, — (you stran-
ger) ! Captain Jack want to see you, him come your
home ! He no want you come here ! You go away !
Let him 'lonel He no want talk you I You go

away

This is substantially the first Modoc speech I ever
heard. The result, however, was to break the ice, to
open the way for conversation. I stated then that I
was a new chief, sent by the President, to care for all
the Indians, Modocs included, and that I was their
ty-ee. I had some new things to talk about. Whether
they were my friends or not, 1 was their friend. I
had come to see my boys, and I wanted a hearing. I
was not afraid to talk, not afraid to hear Captain Jack
talk ; I was a big chief, and did not ask my own boys
when to talk." When I had ended my first speech
to the Modocs, Captain Jack replied: —

" I have nothing to say that you would like to hear.
All your people are liars and swindlers. I do not
believe half that is told me. T am not afraid to hear
you talk." I then proposed to have my frientls, who
were waiting outside, come in. This wai^ agreed to,
and Captain Jack produced a parcel of papers, that
had been given to him by various persons, including
letters from "Steele," also from Esq. Potter, and
John Fairchild. These were submitted to me, and

314

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

treated with consideration, thereby securing a certain
kind of respectful hearing, on the part of Captain
Jack, to the proposition for him to provide a camp
for our company.

Having thus started negotiations. Jack proffered
the use of his lodge, saying that he had no muck-a-
muck (meaning provision) that we could eat; that his
stores afforded only roots and dried fish, that he had
no flour, no coffee, no sugar, no wliiskey, and did not
think a white chief could get along without these
things, etc. He, however, ordered a camp prepared
for us, which was done by making small holes in the
ground, two or three feet apart, with " camas sticks,"
— a sharp-pointed instrument, of either iron, bone, or
hard wood, and about three feet long, with a handle
at the upper end, generally in the shape of a cross, and
is used very much as a gardener does a spade, by In-
dian women in digging roots. Into these holes were
inserted willows, eight feet in length, forming a circle
twenty feet in diameter, lapping past at one point, —
thus making an entrance, very much like the opening
of a circus pavilion, — the whole surrounded with
mattings, the upper part drawn in, thus contracting
the yielding tops of the willow poles until the camp was
made to resemble a huge bowl, with bottom out, in an
inverted position. This kind of work is usually done
by Indian women; but, to the credit of the young
men of the Modoc tribe be it said, that they, in this
instance at least, assisted them, and did not allow
their women to be mere help-meets, but principals in
mechanical enterprises of the kind named, including
also " getting wood." Sage brush is the principal fuel
in this region of country; and since so much of the

WIQMAM AND WARPATH.

815

Great Basin lying between the Rocky mountains on
the east, and Sierra Nevada and Cascade mountains
on the west, is covered with this kind of growth, and
since comparatively few of my readers may have ever
seen it for themselves, I may remark hei'c, by way of
explanation, that this "sage brush" is a soft, flexible
shrub, the woody part being porous, and filled with a
gummy substance ; the bark is of a grayish color, soft
and ragged, and easily stripped off; the leaf is small,
of such a color, shape and taste as very much resem-
bles the domestic plant, from which it takes its name;
the body is short, crooked and forked, seldom exceeds
four inches in diameter or four feet in height; bums
readily, either green or dry, making a very hot fire,
though of short life, yielding abundant ashes and
beds of coals.

A plentiful supply of this fuel \/a8 piled up around
our camp. A fresh fish was taken from the river by
the Indians, which, when roasted in the sage-brush
embers, made a not unpalatable meal. We spread
our saddle-blankets down for bedding, placed one of
the party " on guard," while the remainder slept, or
went through the motion of sleeping; for we would not
have cared for the Indians to know that we could not
and dare not sleep. The morrow came, and the wagons
having brought our supplies, we were prepared to
offer a feast of coffee and sugar, hard-bread, beef, and
bacon.

A^ Modoc would eat until our party had partaken.
Some folks may think their good-breeding had taught
them to defer to their superiors ; but such was not the
case. The reason was expressed in these few words :
" Eemember Ben Wright ; " which was said in the

310

WiaWAM AND WARPATH.

Modoc language, thus explaining why they did not
partake. When, however, they had witnessed that
the provisions prepared for the feast were eaten by
our party, they were reassured, and another point was
gained.

N^othing so quickly dissolves the ice in an Indian
breast as a feast. The council was opened with
Frank Riddle and his Modoc woman, Tobcy, as
intepreter. I mention this fact, because they have
become prominent characters in the history of the late
Modoc war. They had been sent for by Cap^^ain Jack ;
in fact, he was not willing to proceed without them.

Frank Riddle is a white man, about thirty years of
age, a native of Kentucky. He anticipated Greeley,
going West when a very young man, and engaged in
mining at Y-re-ka, Cal. Twelve years ago, on a bright
morning in March, an old Indian rode up to Frank's
cabin, and stopped before the door. On a small
pony behind the old man sat a young Indian girl, of
Modoc blood, twelve years of age.

The man was of royal lineage, being a descendant
of Mo-a-doc-us, founder of the tribe, and was uncle
of the now famous Captain Jack. After sitting in
silence, Indian fashion, staring in the cabin door for
a few minutes, he made a motion by a toss of his
head, and pouted out his lips toward the young
squaw behind him. This pantomime said to Frank,
"Do you want to buy a squaw?"

Frank was a line-looking, dark-eyed young fellow,
and withal a clever man, of genial disposition, with
native pride of ancestry, still holding to the memory
of his home, and the image of a fair-haired girl who
had " swung school-baskets " with him in the beach

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

819

woods of Shelby county, Kentucky. lie shook his
head. Tlie old man's face indicated his disui)noint-
nient. The girl on the pony slowly turned away, fol-
lowed by her father.

Four days passed, and thin Indian girl and her
father again appeared at Frank's cabin. In sign
languugt3 she made known her wish to be his slave,
and that he would buy her from her father. The
young Kentuckian, chivalrous as his people always
are, treated her kindly; but, remembering his fair-
haired girl, refused to instal this Indian maiden as
mistress of his home. Ten days passed ; the dark-
eyed girl came again, alone, bringing with her a
wardrobe, consisting of such articles as Indian women
manufacture, — sashes and baskets, shells, beads, and
little trinkets.

She was attired witii woman's taste, conforming to
tho fashions of her people. Her dark eyes, with long
lashes, smooth, round, soft face, of more than usual
pretensions to beauty, lithe figure, and dainty feet in
moccasins, all combined to give a romantic air to the
jaunty young maiden; and, when animated with the
promptings of love for the young Kentuckiaxi, made
her an eloquent advocate in her own behalf. The
chivalrous fellow hesitated. He pitied. He trembled
on the brink. The dark eyes before him pleaded.
The blue eyes, far away, dissolved reproachingly
from view. The hopes of youth, and the air-castles
that two loving hearts had built in years agone,
began to vanish. They disappeared, and — and in
their stead a rude cabin in romantic wilds, with a
warm-hearted, loving, dasky-faced companion, be-
came a living, actual reality.

320

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

»i I'

The day following, the father of this Indian woman
was richer by two horses. The cabin of Frank
Riddle put on a brighter air. The mistress assumed
charge of the camp-kettle and the frying-pan. The
tin plates were cast aside, and dishes of finer mould
mounted the tables at the command of a pair of
brovvu hands.

Riddle, having broken his vows, and forsaken his
boyhood idol, set to work now to make the untamed
girl worthy to fill the place in his heart from which
she had driven another. She was apt at learning,
and soon only the semblance of a squaw remained in
the dusky cheeks and brown hands. S«^ven years
pass, and Frank Riddle and his woman Tobey appear
in the ^lodoc council on Lost river, December, 1869.

We made the opening speech in that council, set-
ting forth the reasons for our visit and producing the
treaty of 1804:. Here Captain Jack began to mani-
fest the same kind of disposition that has been so
prominent in his subsequent intercourse with govern-
ment officials, — a careful, cautious kind of diplomacy,
that does not come to a point, but continually seeks
to shirk responsibility.

He deni'id that he was a party to the treaty of
October, 1801:, or that he signed the paper. Doctor
McKay, old Chief iSchonchin, and sub-Chief Bio of
Klamath were brought forward, and his allegations
disproved completely; we fully and. clearly establibli-
ing the fact that he was preejnt at that treaty council,
and that he put his hand to the pen, when JnH marh
was made; that he accepted and shared with the
other Indians the goods issuod by Superintendent
Hur.tington in confirmation of the treaty. The

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

321

fy of

doctor
Jloof
itions

IbliBl'-
Kincil,

,7.

amount of goods issued I cannot state; but I find
that Huntington had an appropriation of $20,000, to
meet tne expenses of said treaty council, and, I doubt
not, issued $5,000 or $10,000 worth of goods. All
agree that it was a liberal supply of goods, and I
believe it to be true.

Captain Jack, seeing that "he was cornered,"
began to quibble about what part of the Reservation
he was to go on to. This was met with the pi-oposi-
tion that he could have 2ny unoccupied land. Finding
his objections all fairly met, he finally said, that, if he
could live near his friend. Link-river Jack, he would
go. We began to " breathe easy," feeling that the
victory was ours, when the Modoc medicine-man
arose, and simply said, " Me-ki-gam-bla-ke-tu," (We
won't go there) ; when, presto ! from exultation
every countenance was changed to an expression of
anxiety, and every hand grasped a revolver.

The moment was fraught with peril. The least
wavering then, on our part, woiiid have precipitated
a fight, the result of which would have been doubtful
as to how many, and who, of our party would have
come out alive. It is quite certain that, had a fight
ensued, what has since startled our people would have
been anticipated, and that the name of Captain Jack
would have passed away with but little notice from
among the savage heroes.

It was there I first heard those terrible words, a
part of which have since become famous, uttered but
a moment before the attack on the Peace Commis-
sion, on April 11, 1873 — " Ot-wc-kau-tux-e," — mean-
ing, in this instance, "I am done talking ; " or, when
used in other connections, " All ready ! " or, " The time

322

WIGWAM AND WAKPATH.

has come ! " or, " Quit talking." The vocabularies of
all Indian languages arc very small; hence, a word
depends, to a great extent, on its connection, for its
meaning and power. It was just at this j^oint that
the woman, Tobey Riddle, who has since proved her
sagacity and her loyalty, arose to her feet, and said
in Modoc tongue to her people: "Mo-lok-a ditch-c
ham-konk lok-e sti-nas mo-na gam-bla ot-we," —
("The white chief talks right. His heart is good or
strong. Go with him now! ") Frank Riddle joined
the wonian Tobey in exhorting the Modocs to be
quiet, to be careful, using such words as tend to
avert, wbit we all saw was liable to happen any
instant, a terrible scene of blood.

Dr. McKay, whos > long experience had given him
much sagacity, arose quickly to his feet, saying in
English, " Be on your guard 1 Don't lot them get the
drop on us." Captain Jack started to retire when I
intercepted him, saying, " Don't leave me now ; I am
your friend, but I am not afraid of you. Be careful
what you do ! We mean peace, but are ready for war.
"We will not begin ; but if you do, it shall be the end of
your people. You agreed to go with us, and you shall
do it. We ai'C ready. Our wagons are here to carry
your old people and children. We came for you, and
we are not going back without you. You must go I "

lie asked " what I would do, if he did not." I told
him plainly that we would whip Mm until he was
willing. He then Avanted to know where my men
were that was to whip him. I pointed to my small
squad of men. I shall never forget his reply. " I
would be aohamed to figlit so few men with all my
boys." I replied, thai it was force enoupji to kill

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

323

some Modocs, before we were all dead ; that when we
were killed more white men would come.

;N^ot having very strong faith in his p7'ide about
fighting so few men, I informed him that I had soldiers
coming to help us, but that we came on to try tall:-
ing first, and then when that failed we would send for
them to come; finally stating to him that he could
make up his mind to go with us on the morrow, or
figJd, and that in the meanwhile we would be ready at
any time for him to begin, if he wished to. He saic>
then what he repeated many times to Peace Commis-
sioners on last spring, — that " he would not fire the
first shot," but if we did, " he was not afraid to die."
It was finally agreed that he should have until the
next morning to make answer what he would do, and
that at that time he should report his conclusion.

This ended my first oflScial council with the
Modocs. Captain Jack withdre^p■ to his lodge to
have a grand " pow-wow," leaving our party to deter-
mine what was the next thing for us to do. "We
realized that we were "in great danger." No one
dissented from the opinion that peril was menacing
our party. Our only hoijc wns to put on a brave front.
Retreat at that hour was impossible, with even
chances for escape. We despatched a messenger,
under pretence of hunting our horses, — we dared not
send him boldly on the mission without excuses, —
with orders for our military squad at Linkville,
twenty-five miles from Modoc camp, to rendezvous at
a point within hearing of our guns, and that, in the
event of alarm, to '' charge the camp," but in 7W other
event to come until the next 'norning.

Having despatched the courier, we carefully in-

824

WIGWAM AND WAEPATH.

epected our arms, consisting of Henry rifles and. navy
revolvers. Captain Knapp's experience as an officer
of the rebellion and McKay's longer experience as an
Indian fighter, together with the frontier life of the
remainder, made our little party somewhat formidable,
though inadequate to w^hat might at any moment
become a fearful trial of strength.

In this connection it should be understood that at
that time the Modocs were very poorly armed with
old muskets, and a few rifles and old-fashioned
pistols.

The Indians have great reverence and unlimited
faith in their " medicine-men." This is peculiar to all
Indians, but to none more so than the Modocs. While
our party were invoking Almighty ■: Id and pi'eparing
for the worst that might come, the Modoc medicine-
man was invoking the spirits of departed warriors
for aid. While the medicine-man was making medi-
cine, Captain Jack was holding a council with his
braves, discussing the situation, depending somewhat
on the impression to be made from the medicine
camp, and fully trusting therein. I have since learned
that the same man, who subsequently proposed the
assassination of the Peace Commission in the " Lava
Bed," in 1873, made the proposition to kill our party
in 1869, which, to the credit of Captain Jack, he
promptly opposed at that time as he did the other.

Now, if there had been a trial of strength between
the good and the bad, we should not have been
worthy to represent Elijah; but the Modocs filled the
position of Ahab, and they made medicine and called
loudly on their gods, but failed therein, as Baal did
Ahab. As men will do, our soldier squad disre-

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

829

isre-

garded or overlooked the instruction to await the
signal to " charge camp," for the charge was made
in a style that would ha\'^e done g' eat credit at any
subsequent period in the late Modo". war. There was
spirit at the bottom of this unexpected movement of
the soldiers; not such spirits as the Modoc medicine-
man invoked, but regular " forty-rod whiskey."

On leaving Link river, they had secured the " com-
pany of a bottle," and, the night being cold, they had
resorted to its warming influences. The consequence
was that, when they arrived at the appointed place to
await orders, they forgot to stop, and came into the
camp on full gallop. The horses' feet on the i'rozen
ground, the breaking of sage brush, rattling of
sabres, all combined, made a noise well calculated to
produce sudden fear in the minds of all parties.
Our men were all under ai*ms and discussing the
situation.

The medicine-man was going through his incanta-
tions, accompanied by the songs of the old women,
whose sounds still linger on my ear, as they came to
our camp, wafted by the breeze from the lake. It
was past midnight, and still the great council was in
session, debating the treachery pi'oposed; it had not
been voted on at that time. Subsequent reports de-
clare that Schonchin's John had spoken in favor of
the measure. Captain Jack was making a speech
against it at the time the soldiers appeared.

For a few moments the scene was one of inde-
scribable confusion; the medicine-man cut short his
prayers; the war co mcil was broken up; and Indian
braves came out of tl:;.^ lodge without waiting for the
ceremonies of even savage courtesy, but " pell-mell "

326

WIGWAM AND WAKPATH.

If <i'

;- ■ ■

they went into the sage brush, each one taking witli
him his arms. A guard was immediately placed, sur-
rounding the whole camp ; Capt. Knapp giving orders
to allow no one to pass the picket lines.

Few eyes closed in sleep that night; daylight dis-
closed a complete circle of bayonets, and inside about
two hundred men, women, and children; but the brave
Captain Jack was not there ; nor was " Schonchin's
John," or "Ellen's Man," or "Curly Head Doctor;"
they had retired to the " Lava Bed." "We issued an
order for all Indians to form in a line; they were re-
assured that no one should be harmed; that they
should be protected, clothed, and cared for, but that
all the arms must be delivered up. This request
brought out professions and promises of friendship;
but the order had been mad« and must be obeyed.

The Indians refused compliance, and a file of
soldiers was ordered to seize the arms; for a few
moments the excitement was intense; every man of
our party stood ready for "business," while the arms
of the Modocs were seized, and a guard placed over
them. The aspect presented by the Modoc camp was
one that will not soon be forgotten by our party ; the old,
the young, the middle-aged, the crippled, and ragged,
nearly all making professions of loyalty, and rejoicing
at the turn events had taken.

Provisions were issued for them, and order made
for them to gather up the ponies and prepare for
removal. This morning was the first time I heard
"Queen Mary's" voice; she is a sister of Ki-en-te-
poos, — Captain Jack, — and this fact gave her great
power over him. She has been pronounced " Queen
of the Modocs," on account of her beauty and power;

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

327

she was, probably, the most sagacious individual be-
longing to the band. This Indian queen has had
many opportunities for improvement^ having ^)een sold
to five or six white men in the last ten years.

While she has induced so many different men to buy
her of her brother, she has made each one, in turn,
anxious to return her to her people; but not until she
had squandered all the money she could command.
It has been denied that Captain Jack was ever a party
to these several matrimonial speculations; but more
strongly asserted, by those who ought to know, that
" Queen Mary " has been a great source of wealth to
him. I am of that opinion myself, after weighing all
the facts in the case.

On the morning in question Mary appeared to
plead for her absent brother, that he might be for-
given, saying that he was no coward, but that he was
scared; that he was not to blame for rmming, and
that she could induce him to return. It was finally
arranged that she should go to the " Lava Bed " in
company with our guide, Gus Horn, and assure her
brother that no harm had befallen the camp, and none
would fall on them.

One day was spent in collecting the Indian ponies,
taking Indian provisions from the "caches," and nego-
tiating with the runaways for their return, which was
not accomplished. The following morning the camp
was broken up, and all the Indians, big and little, old
and young, — as we supposed at the time, — were
started to the Reservation. Some were on ponies,
many of them on our wagons, and perhaps a few on
foot.

We reached Link river, where fires had been made,

328

WIGWAM AND WAKPATH.

beef and flour prepared, and by nine, P. M., every-
body seemed contented, except the personal friends of
the runaways.

Messengers were kept on the road between our
camp and the " Lava Beds " almost constantly for the
three days we remained at Link river. Finally the
great chief surrendered, and " came in," on assurances
that " the Klamaths should not be permitted to make
sport of him, and call him a coward for running from
our small force." This, then, was the ultimatum, and
was accepted, and, as far as possible, kept faithfully
on our part.

The sight presented by Captain Jack and his men,
when they arrived at Link river, if it could have been
witnessed by those who have taken so great an inter-
est in him, would have dispelled all ideas of a " Fen-
nimore Cooper hero."

I cannot forbear mentioning an incident character-
istic of the Modocs. While waiting for Jack and his
remairing braves, I accidentally learned that an old
woman had been left in camp on Lost river, antl, ask-
ing for the reason, was told that she was too old to dig
roots, or to work, and they had left her some wood and
water, and a "little grub," enough for her to die easy on.
A pair of new blankets, bread, sugar and meat, were
prepared to send her; also a horse to ride, and volun-
teers asked for, to bring the old woman in. Not a
volunteer came forward, save a "young buck," who
was willing, provided he could have the blankets and
pony, should he find her dead, or if she should die
on the road. It needed no reflection to understand
that that meant murder.

After much difliculty, the family to whom the old

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

329

squaw belonged was found, and a man and woman
sent after her, with the warning, that if they failed to
bring her they must suffer the consequences. They
insisted on being paid in advance for their labor.
They were not paid, but they brought her in alive,
but so weak that she had to be held on the hoi'se, the
squaw sitting behind her. It is said the Indian has
no gratitude, but this old woman refuted that assertion.

On the arrival of Captain Jack's party, arrange-
ments were made to proceed at once to Klamath Res-
ervation. On the morning of Dec. 27th we started
on our way. At the request of Captain Jack and his
representative men, the squad of soldiers were sent
forward to the fort; the Indians claiming that their
presence made the women and children afraid; and
that, having surrendered their aims, they were power-
less to do harm, and had no desire to turn back. It
may be thought a strange concession to make; but
w^ith their arms in our possession, we made it; thus
proving our confidence in Indian integrity, by reliev-
ing them of the presence of the soldiers. We were
safe, and had no fear of the result.

The morning was intensely cold, and the road led
over a high mountain covered with snow to the depth
of twenty inches. On the 28th we arrived at Modoc
Point, Klamath Reservation. "We were met by a
large delegation of agency Indians. The meeting
and peace-making of these people, who had been
enemies so long, was one of peculiar interest and full
of incident, worthy of being recorded. I pass over the
first day, by saying that the Klamaths were much
chagrined when we issued an order, at the request of
Jack, against gambling.

330

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

Had we ii >t done so, much confusion of property
and domestic relation would have ensued. These
people arc inveterate gamblers, and in fits of madness
have been known to stake their wives and daughters
on the throw of a stick, sometimes a card. The
second day we set apart for a meeting of reconcil-
iation. A line was established between the Modoc
and Klamath camp, and a place designated for the
forthcoming meeting, at the foot of a mountain and
beneath a wide-spreading pine tree.

The Klamaths formed on one side of the line, and
awaited the arrival of the Modocs, who came reluct-
antly, apparently half afraid; Captain Jack taking a
position fronting Allen David, — the Klamath chief, —
and only a few feet distant. There si* el these
warrior chieftains, unarmed, gazing with Indian stoi-
cism into each other's faces. No words were spoken
for a few moments. The thoughts that passed
through each mind may never be known, but, per-
haps, were of bloody battles past, or of the possible
future.

The silence was broken on our part, saying, " You
meet to-day in peace, to bury all the bad past, to
make friends. You are of the same blood, of the
same heart. You are to live as neighbors. This
country belongs to you, all alike. Your interests are
one. You can shake hands and be friends."

A hatchet was laid in the open space, a twig of
pine was handed each chieftain, — Allen David and
Captain Jack, — as they advanced, each stooping and
covering the axe with the pine boughs ; planting their
feet upon it, they looked into each other's eyes a mo-
ment, and shook hands with a long-continued grasp,

WIOWAM AND WARPATH.

331

but spoke no word. As each retired to liis position
outside of the line, the sub-chiefs and head men
came forward, two at a time, and followed the ex-
ample of the chieftains, unl 11 all had exchanged the
pledge of friendship, and then resumed their respec-
tive places. Allen David broke the silence in a speech
of great power, — and such a speech as none but an
Indian orator can make. I have listened to some of
the most popular speakers in America, but I do
not remember ever having heard a speech more re-
plete with meaning, or one much more logical, and
certainly none exhibiting more of nature's oratory.
It was not of that kind taught inside brick walls, but
that which God gives to few, and gives but sparingly.
I repeat it as reported by Dr. McKay.

Fixing his eye intently on Captain Jack, and raising
himself to his full proportion of six feet in height,
he began in measured sentences full of pathos: "I
see you. I see your eyes. Your skin is red like
my own. I will show you my heart. We have long
been enemies. Many of our brave muck-a-lux
(people) are dead. The ground is black with their
blood. Their bont i have been carried by the ' Cay-
otes,' to the mountains, and scattered among the
rocks. Our people are melting away like snow.
We see the white chief is strong. The law is strong.
We cannot be Indians longer. We must take the
white man's law. The law our fathers had is dead.
The white chief brought you here. We have made
friends. We have washed each other's hands; they
are not bloody now. We are friends. We have buried
all the bad blood. We will not dig it up again. The
white man sees us. Soch-e-la Ty-ee. — God is look-

(' !;?

I m

832

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

i'ng at our hearts. The sun is a witness between us;
the mountains are looking on ua." Turning to the
great tree, with a subUme gesture : " This pine-tree is
a witness, O my people I When you see this tree,
remember it is a witness that here we made friends
with the Mo-a-doc-as. Never cut down that tree.
Let the arm be broke that would hurt it; let the hand
die that would break a twig from it. So long as snow
shall Tall on Yai-nax mountain, let it stand. Long
as the waters run in the river, let it stand. Long
as the white rabbit shall live in the man-si-ne-ta
(groves), let it stand. Let our children play round it;
let the young people dance under its leaves, and
let the old men smoke together in its shade. Let
this tree stand there forever, as a witness. I have
done."

Captain Jack, on assuming an attitude peculiar to
himself, Avith his eye iixed intently on the Klamath
chief, began in a low, musical voice, half-suppressed,
half hesitatingly : " The white chief brought me here.
I feel ashamed of my people, because they are poor.
I feel like a man in a strange country without a father.
My heart was afraid. I have heard your words ; they
warm my heart. I am not strange now. The blood
is all washed from our hands. We are enemies no
longer. We have buried the past. We have forgot-
ten that we were enemies. We will not throw away
the white chief's words. We will not hide them in the
grass. I have planted a strong stake in the ground.
I have tied myself with a strong rope. I will not dig
up the stake. I will not break the rope. My heart is
the heart of my people. I am their words. I am not
speaking for myself. I speak their hearts. My

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

333

heart comes up to my mouth. I cannot keep it down
with a sharp Htlck. I am done."

Xo doubt that, at the time ol' making this speech,
Captain Jack really meant ah he said; and if he
failed to make good his promises, there were reasons
that may not entitle him or his people to censure for
the failure. Certainly no peace-making could have
been more sincere, or promised more for the settle-
ment of the Modoc troubles. The remainder of the
day was passed in exchanging friendships (ma-mak-
sti-nas). Preparations were completed for issuing
annuity goods to the Modocs.

Other Indians had been previously served, but this
was but the second time that the Modocs had ever re-
ceived goods from the Government, in conformity
with the treaty stipulations of 1864. For five years
the goods had been regularly furnished and distributed
to the Klamaths and the few Modocs who remained
faithful to the compact. If Captain Jack's band had
not received goods, it was not the fault of the Gov-
ernment or its agents, but because they wilfully re-
fused to obey the orders of Government officers, by
remaining away from the home they had accepted.

The goods provided were of the best quality, deliv-
ered on contract, and with packages unbroken, and
in presence of Capt. Goodale, U. S. Army, then in
command of Fort EJamath ; and they were distributed
among his people. Captain Jack and his head men
were seated in the midst of a semi-circle, with the
other men on each side, the women in front, in half-
circular rows ; the children still in front of these, on
either hand. When all were seated, the packages
were broken, and the goods prepared for issue. Cap-

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tain Jack and his sub-chiefs received two pairs of
blankets each, one pair to each of his head men, and
one blanket to every other man, woman, and child,
except six very small children, who were given one-
half a Uanlcet each. They were all-wool, "eight-
pound " Oregon blankets, and overweighed, by actual
test, nearly one-half pound per pair. In addition,
each man rcjcived a Avoollcn shirt and cloiih for one
pair of joants; each woman and child, one flannel
dress pattern, with liberal supply of thread, needles,
and buttons. I have been thus particular about the
facts concerning this issue, because much sympathy
has been manifested for the Modocs gn account of the
wrongs said to have been practised against them.
After the distributi'^ a, the Modocs, proud of their
new goods, retired to their camps, on the shores of
the lake.

The "Peace Tree," under which the issue was
made, was on a sloping hill-side, overlooking the val-
ley, fTid commanding a view of the camp of Captain
Jar '^. Let u i see them, as they trudge homeward,
with their rich prizes. They do not go like the In-
dians with their blankets around them, and feathers
streaming in the Avlnd. Sin oe their retreat from the
Reservation they have associated with and learned
many of the manners and customs of civilized white
people. Nevertheless they presented a picturesque
appearance, — old and young, loaded down with
goods, flour and beef, apparently happy; and I doubt
not they were happ}\

Their camps, scattered promiscuoasly along the
edge of the water, were constructed of various mate-
rials. A few were ordinary tents, others made over

IBHI

WIG VAM AND WAKPATH.

335

a frame of willow poles, covered with matting, blan-
kets, wagon sheets, and such other material as could
be pressed into service. The ponies are scattered
over the plain, crcpping the winter grass, or tied up
waiting for the owner's return.

The inside of the camps are always ' cluttered," —
a Yankee word, which means in. confusion and dis-
order. The women proceed to stow away the ti«'W
dresses in l)askets and sacks, or spread them for bed-
ding; the men to smoke and wait until the feast is
made ready from the supplies of flour and beef pro-
vided. They have been cheated out of what some
eastern people would consider the best part of the
beef, — the " hen d and pluck." That delectable part of
the animal had been captured by the waiting Klamath
squaws at the iJme of the slaughtering. Squaws
have the smelliug qualities of a war horse, " that
scents the battle from afar." xYt every slaughter they
were sure to arrive in time lo secure the aforesaid
" head and pluck," which, with them, means every-
thing except dressed meat. Even the feet are eaten.
First throwing them on the fire and burning themawhile,
they then cut off the scorched parts to eat. The foot
is again conveyed to the fire, until fairly charred;
again stripped, and so on, until but little is left, and
that little docs not resemble an ox's foot very much.

The head is cooked in bettor shape. A hole. is
dug in the ground, in which a fire is made, and, when
burned down, the embers are removed, and the head
of the old Government ox is dropped in just as it
left the butcher's hands. Hair, horns, and all are
covered up with ashes and coals, a fire made over it
and left to cook. After a few hours it is removed, and

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WIGWAM AND AVARPATH.

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is then ready to serve up; or rather it (the head) is
placed upon the ground, and the hungry Indians,
each armed with a knife, surround it and proceed to
carve and eat. Portions that may be too raw are
then tlirown on the coals and charred; even the
bones are eaten. Among the old and poor people,
they carefully preserve their respective ox's feet, and,
when in want, th'-jw them on the coals, and the meal
is prepared in short order.

Uncivilized Indians have no regular hour for meals,
but generally each one consults convenience, seldom
eating together except on feast occasions. N^either
have they regular hours for sleeping or rising, each
member of a family or tribe consulting their own
pleasure.

While we watch the novel scenes of Indians " get-
ting wood,'' water, cooking, and eating, we see the
enterprising young Klamaths — now released from
the order forbidding their hurrying down to the
Modoc camps — hasten there, some to renew old
acquaintance, others to tell in soft tones to the listening
ears of Modoc maidens: the tale that burdened their
hearts, and to negotiate for new wives ; or it may be,
through the mediation of a " deck " of greasy cards,
to persuade the Modocs to divide goods with them.

These Klamath boys had received their new clothes
a few days previous, and had soiled them enough to
make them comport well v/ith Indian toilets. While
we are engaged making observations, cast the eye
westward over the valley of the Klamath, and see the
huge shadows approach like great moving clouds,
until suddenly they start up tlie sloping hill-side
towards us. Look clcs(;ly now at the sun resting a

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

337

moment on the summit of Mount McGlaughlin. See
it settle slowly, as though splitting the crown of the
mountain in twain, until, while you gaze, he drops
quickly out of sight. Little children say he has
hurncd a hole in the mountain, and buried himself
there. But, oh, the shadows have crept over us, and
we feel the chill which ensues. Look above and
behind us, and see them climb the rocky crags until
we are all ' ' in the shadow."

AVe now see our teamster boys piling high tht
pitch-pine logs, and soon the crackling flames begin
to paint fresh shadows round us. The dark forms of
long-haired men gather in circles round the fire; for
we are to have a ^' cultus wa-wa," (a big free talk).
White men and Indians change their base as smoke
or flame compels, and all, in half gloomy silence, wait
the signal to begin. A white man speaks first of his
people, their laws, religion, and habits ; tells how law
is made ; how the white man foimd his religion ; the
history of the Bible; extols his own faith, and labors
to reconcile in untutored minds the difference betwixt
good and bad, right and wrong, and by simple lessons
to instil the great precepts of Christianity.

The red man listens with sober face and thoughtful
brow. AYhen opportunity is made, he puts queries
about iijany things they do not know. This is not an
ollicial council, so all feel free to speak. An old In-.
diji.n, ^'ith his superstitious habits and ideas clinging
to him, like a worn-out blanket in tatters, clutching
the old wdth one hand, and Avith the other reaching
out for the new, rises, and with great dignity tells
of the religious faith of his fathers, and makes apol-
ogy for their ignorance and his own; says, "I have

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338

WIGWAM AND WAKPATH.

long heard of this rchgion of the white man

I ]'dve

heard about the 'Holy Spirit' coming to him. I
wonder if it would ever come to my people. I am
old, I cannot live long. May be it has come now.
I feel like a new kind of lire was in my heart. May
be you have brought this ' Holy Spirit.'

"I think you have. "When you came here first we
were all in bad blood. Now I see Klamaths, Mo-
docs, Snakes, and Ya-hoo-skins, all around me like
brothers. No common man could do this. May be
you are a holy spirit. When I was a young man I
saw a white man on his knee telling the 'Holy Spirit'
to come, May be the Great Sj)irit sent you with it."

This old man, whose name was Link-river Joe,
had attended a meeting held by Rev. A. F. Waller,
at the Dallas Methodist Mission, twenty years before,
and had still retained some of the impressions made
at that time.

Old man Chi-lo-quin said he had often heard that
the white man could tell when the sun would turn
black a long time before it happened, — referring to
the eclipse, — and inquired how the white man knew
so much. This was explained until the old fellow
said he thought he knew how it was; but I doubt it.
Thus the last night of 18G9 wore away with questions
and answers. Finally we mentioned that "to-morrow
will be the New Year." The question was asked,
how we knew it was so. Never have I seen an au-
dience of five or six hundred persons so oager for
information. We proposed to explain, and, huKimg
up a watch, s-.id to them, that when all the " little
sticks" on its face were in a row together, the old year
would die in the west, and another would be born in

AViaWAM AND WARPATH.

339

the east. The watch was passed around while the
explanation was being made. Allen David requested
that, since all could not see the watch, we should lire
a pistol at the exact moment. After assurance that it
would cause no alarm, we held the pistol upward above
our lieads^ and announced, — '^five minutes more and
1839 will be dead, — four minutes now, — now but
Ju'ce." The stillness was almost pairful, — "Two
minutes more, — now but one," — and five or six hun-
dred red men were holding breath to catch the signal,

— all eyes watching the finger that was to announce,
by a motion, the event; the three hands on the face
of the watch were in range, — the finger crooked, —
a blaze of light flashed over the dusky faces, and a
report went reverberating up the rocky canons, and
before it died away, six hundred voices joined in
an almost unearthly farewell to " 18G9," and, quickly
facing to the east, another wild shout of welcome to
"1870."

The crowd slowly dispersed, leaving one white man
and an interpreter sitting by the smouldering fire,
talking over the wonders of the white man's knowl-
edge and power, accompanied by old Chief Schon-
chin. Captain Jack, Allen David, and O-chc-o. Thus
was begun the year 1870. I was surrounded then
with elements- of power for mischief that were only
waiting for the time when accident or mismanagement
would impel one of these chie^'tains — Captain Jack

— to open a chapter with his finger dipped in the
heart's blood of one of the noblest of the Ame-ican
army, the lamented Christian soldier, General Canby,
who wat, then quietly enjoying a respite I'rom the
labors of the rebellion, with the honors of a well-

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WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

spent life gathering in a clustering wreath aronnd
the great warrior's brow, settling down so lightly
that he scarcely seemed aware that he wore a coronet
made of heroic deeds and manly actions. He was
looking hopefully to a future of rest in the bosom of
his family, and consoling himself that life's hardest
battles were over, and that when, in a good old age,
the roll-call should be sounded for him, his friends
would answer in salutes of honor over his grave.

While we were shedding little rays of light on the
darkened minds of our hearers, a beardless Indian
boy, with face almost white, was sporting with his
fellows, or quietly sleeping in his father's lodge,
soothed to rest by the rippling waters of Klamath
lake. This boy — Boston Charley — was to send
the messenger of death through the heart of the
eminent divine — Dr. Thomas. That night Dr.
Thomas was with his friends, watching on bended
laiees before a sacred altar, waiting for the death of
1869 and the birth of a new year, little dreaming that
the crimson current of his life was so soon to mingle

recording the

with the blood of the other hero
tragic event of the year 1873.

He, too, had fought the good fight of the cross for
thirty long years, and now felt the honors of his
church gathering around his gray locks, and was look-
ing steadily forward to the hour when his Greiil Com-
mander should call him to his reward; hoping quietly
and peacefully to gather up his feet in God's own
appointed time, and, bearing with him his sheaves,
present them as his credentials to a mansion of eternal
rest. While old Chief Hrhon-chin, with his long gray
hair floating in the winds of the new-born year, was

WIGWAM AND ^TARPATH.

341

opening his heart to the influx of hght, sitting quietly
by the dying council fire, his brother John was brood-
ing over his broken hopes of careless life or high
ambition, sitting moody and gloomy over "his own
camp-fire, or dreaming of a coming hour Avhen he
might avenge the insults offered his race. It may
be he was living over the scenes of his stormy life,
while the hand that had that day received from my
hands pledges of friendship and Government faith
was in three short years to fire eleven shots at the
heart that beat then in kindliest sympathy with his
race.

The last hours of the dying year and the first of
the new one had I given from my life for the advance-
ment of a race, whose very helplessness enhanced the
zeal with which I labored for them. I could not
draw aside the veil that hid the future, and see the
gleaming eyes of Schon-chin John, nor his left hand
clutching a dagger while his right discharged re-
peated shots at my breast. I did not then see my
own body prostrate and bleeding in the rocks of the
Lava Bed, or my own beloved family surrounded
with sympathizing friends, eagerly watching the
electric sparks speaking words of hope and despair
alternately ; but I did see, somewhere ui the future,
my hand numing over whited page, telling the
world of the way I [)U8sed the watch-night of 1869.

'in

CHAPTER XXI.

BURYING THE HATCHET — A TURNING-POINT.

On the morning of January 1st, 1870, Captain
Jack's band of Modoc Indians was placed in charge
of Captain Knapp, under favorable circumstances.
Supplies of beef and flour were secured and issued
to them in sufficient quantities. Indeed, they were
better fed than other Indians belonging to the agency.
They had brought with them fish and roots, which, in
addition to rations issued as above referred to, was
altogether sufficient; and, having obtained from Agent
Knapp the necessary implements, they began work
in good earnest, by cutting saw logs, making rails,
and hewing house logs, preparing to make a per-
manent settlement at Modoc Point. The arrange-
ments had been fully explained to the Klamaths,
Wal-pah-pas, Snake Indians and Modocs, at the
peace-making under the great witness tree, and fully
agreed to by all parties.

It was further agreed and understood, with the con-
sent of the Link-river Klamath Indians, who partially
occupied the land so taken for the Modoc home, that
the Modocs were to share equally with them in the
use of the timber on the side of the mountains near-
est to the new settlement.

The land was designated lying adjacent, and the
Modocs were to select the particular tract that each
might desire for a home, with the understanding that

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

343

they were to be the owners thereof, and that, when
allotments of land in severalty should be made, by
order of the Government, as stipulated in the treaty
of 1864, the selection then made shoidd be ratified
and confirmed to the occupant. With this under-
standing, Jack and his people began imjjrovements
for a new home, and, I believe, with a full, settled
determination to make it permanent.

^o semi-savages ever went to work more cheer-
fully than did these people. Whatever may have
been their faults, or what of crime attached to them
since, this fact should be remembered, — that they did
then acknowledge the obligations of the treaty. Mark
the succession of events, and you will have some con-
ception of the motives and reasons why the late un-
fortunate Peace Commissioners, with the lamented
Gen. Canby, continued its labors, and protracted its
efforts, to secure peace with the Modocs, even when
hope seemed forlorn, and the public press were hurl-
ing denunciations against the " Peace policy," and the
Commissioners especially.

Gen. Canby knew all the circumstances, as did Dr.
Thomas and myself, and with a firm I'esolve to be
just, we maintained silence, recollecting a memorable
saying, "Let them alone ; they know not what they do."

The Modocs worked with a will, and had made sev-
eral hundred rails, and hewn logs for houses, when
avarice, stimulated by envy, bi'ought about quarrels
between the Link-river Indians and Modocs; the
former taunting the latter, calling them hallo-e-me,
tilli-cum (strangers) ; claiming the timber, though
admitting that they had agreed that the Modocs might
cut it, nevertheless, saying, " It is our timber ; you

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may use it, but it is ours. You make the rails, but
we want some of them."

Captain Jack's people recalled the understanding
on the day of peace-making. The quarrel grew warm,
and Agent Knapp was appealed to, by Captain Jack,
to settle the difficulties. This was one of the turning-
points of a history that is reeking with blood.

Cajjt. Ivnapp was an army officer who had been
assigned to duty as Indian agent. That he was a
brave soldier, and had made a good record, is beyond
question. In his official dealings with the Indians he
was honest, I doubt not. He is the only agent that
has ever had charge of Captain Jack's band since the
fall of 186i.

Captain Jack and his friends have published to the
world that they were starved and cheated by Govern-
ment agents while on Klamath Reservation in 1870.

I believe the assertion wholly unfounded. Agent
Knapp came to the work having no heart in it; no
knowledge of the Indian character; no faith in them
or their manhood; no ambition to elevate them. It is
not to be wondered at that he took but little pains
with them beyond seeing that rations were issued, —
which I believe was done promptly.

The position was unsought and undesirable, and
one he wished to vacate. Had Capt. Knapp been
every way qualified for this duty; had his experience
given liim knowledge of Indian character; had he
sought the position, or been selected for it on account
of his fitness for this kind of labor, and had his heart
been in it; had he been fired with an ambition to do
good, by elevating a poor, unfortunate race, — he would
have exercised more patience when appealed to by

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

345

Captain Jack in February, 1870, for redress ; he would
have prevented all these bloody chapters in Indian
history.

Had Agent Knapp promptly interA^red, tempering
his action with justice, by pimishing Link-river Jack
for annoying the Modocs, then the ^Modoc rebellion
would have been prevented.

AVhen Captain Jack appealed to Agent Knapp, the
latter refused to admit Jack within his oilice, heard
his complaints impatiently, and sent him away with
orders to "go on with his workj" "that he would
make it all right."

Jack returned to his home, and, naturally enough,
the quari'cl was renewed. The Link-river Khimaths,
having received neither repi'imand nor punishment,
were emboldened, and became more overbearing than
before.

Captain Jack again applied for protection from
further insult, and this time Agent Knapp proposed
to change the location of the Modocs to a point on
Williamson river, a few miles distant, and nearer the
agency.

For the sake of peace, and in obedience to orders,
the Modocs changed camp, and again began prepara-
tion for making homes.

This brought Klamaths and Modocs in contact, and
after Jack had made a few hundred rails, and prepared
a few hewn logs for houses, the Klamaths rehearsed
the Link-river speeches to them, — taunting them with
being poor, and claim; ng the country, though patron-
izingly saying, " Yc u can stay here; but it is our coun-
t,y" "Your horsef f'an eat the grass; but it is owr
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fish." When reminded by the Modoes of the treaty
and subsequent peace-making, the Klamaths replied:
"Yes, we know all that." "You can have timber,
grass, and fish; but don't forget they are ours."
"We will let you stay." "It is all right." Captain
Jack went a third time to Agent Knapp, who pro-
posed to move tliem again, remarking that " next time
he would stay moved,^^ he proposing to Jack to find a
new location.

Jack went to search for one ; but whether he could
not find a location, or whether the constant annoyance
on account of quarrels and removals had killed his
faith both in agents and Indian friendship, makes no
difiierence. He returned to his camp on WilUamson
river, called his people together, and laid the whole
matter before them.

I have a report of that meeting by " Charley," a
brother of Toby Riddle, — an Indian who commands
the respect of all who know him personally. Although
this report was made several months afterwards, I
believe it to be in the main correct. The substance
was, that after all were assembled, including the
women and children and Link-river people. Captain
Jack stated the case, mentioning the several points as
already recited, and saying that he had looked at all
the countiy, but did not find any that he liked as well
as Modoc Point, and that he had made up his mind to
leave the Reservation unless he could have that place
for a house.

Bio, a sub-chief of the Klamaths, said, "Tell Knapp
so." Jack replied that he had talked to Knapp
already three times; and that Knapp had no heart for
him; and that he was afraid he was a bad man; that

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

347

"he would not keep the superiritendent's words;"
"that he intended to leave the Reservation," and
asked, "Who will go with me? Who wants to stay
with a man who has no heart for us? "

Then ensued a protracted discussion, Charley
Riddle and DuiFy insisting on remaining. The dis-
cussion was a stormy one, and continued until a late
hour; but in all the speeches no charge of stamng
or cheating was made.

Finally the question went to a vote, and the propo-
sition to leave was carried by a large majority. It may
be here remarked that neither of the Schonchins was
present, Schonchin John being at that time loyal,
and opposed to the rebellion ; and that * is about the
only thing that can be mentioned in his favor, except
that he was a poor shot, as / can testify.

As soon as the vote was put and result known,
active preparation was made for departure ; in fact, the
result had been anticipated, for the horses were all
ready, the goods packed, and daylight next morning-
found Jack and his people retracing the road they had
gone over so hopefully eleven weeks before.

I will not spend time speculating on what were the
thoughts and feelings of that unfortunate band of
people, while fleeing stealthily from their new homes,
but will simply say, that the little cavalcade carried
with them elements that have developed into hatred
and revenge, which has since shocked the moral sense
of mankind by bloody deeds of savage warfare that
stand out on the country's history without a parallel.

Returning to the old home on Lost river, and feeling
that he was not under obligations to obey law any
longer, Captain Jack seems to hav^e begun where he

348

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

I) '

left oflf; his young men and women visiting Y-re-ka and
the mining camps adjacent.

A few weeks later Jack went to Y-re-ka himself,
meeting his old friends, who gave him welcome. The
Modoc trade may have had something to do with the
success of more than one merchant in Y-re-ka. The
presence of the Modocs was hailed with pleasure, no
doubt, by another class whose social status in society
was little better than the Modocs themselves. To
these people the Modocs told falsehoods about reser-
vation life, and received in return sympathy for their
reputed wrongs, and encouragement in repeating the
falsehoods. In this v/ay the belief that they were
misused by Government officials has obtained ; an un-
just censure has been publicly aimed against worthy
men. What more natural than the fact that the disso-
lute portion of the Y-re-ka people should espouse the
Modoc cause, and that the better part of society should
form their opinions from stories circulated by friends
of Modoc women?

Mankind are prone to be swayed in the direction of
self-interest, and, when encouraged, any poor mortal
may tell a ialsehood so often that he really believes
it to be true. That Jack, too, confirmed such I'eports
is true, because in the sympathy he found were
mingled words of justification. Indeed, a plain, truth-
ful statement of the facts, as they were, was enough to
insure him sympathetic advisers.

It is true, then, when Captain Jack returned to
Lost river, he was strengthened and confirmed in his
ideas of justification, and his determination to remain
oflf the Reservation.

!N^othing of grave impoi*t transpired until the spring

WIGWAM AND WAEPATH.

349

of 1871, although efforts were made in the mean
time by the Indian Department, and by old chief
Schonchin, to induce Captain Jack to return.

A home at Yi.i-nax was proposed, and in order that
no reasonable excuse on the part of Captain Jack
could be found on account of Klamath Indians, and
to remove every obstacle, the Heservation was divided
into distinct agencies; the western portion being as-
signed to " Klamath " Indians, and the eastern portion
to "Snakes," " Walpahpas," and "Modocs." A district
of country was set apart exclusively for the latter.
To this new home old Schonchin removed with liis
people; and a portion of Captain Jack's band,
meanwhile, also, taking up homes. Commissary Ap-
plegate, at one time, was hopeful that the whole
Modoc tribe could be induced to come to the new
home at Yai-nax. Captain Jack yisited it, and talked
seriously of settling on this location; but while he
was hesitating as to what he should do, an unfortunate
tragedy was enacted, so natural to a savage state,
which completely changed the current of events.

Captain Jack employed an Indian doctor to attend
a sick child, and paid the fees in advance, — whicti,
be it understood, secured from the doctor a guar-
anty; and in case of failure to cure, the life of the
Indian doctor was in the hands of the friends of the
deceased. The child died, and Captain Jack either
killed the doctor, or ordered him to be killed.

Under the old Indian laws this would have been an
end of the affair; but under the new order of things
it was a crime. The friends of the murdered man
claimed that Captain Jack should be arrested and
punished under white men's laws for the offence.

350

WIOW^lM AND WARPATH.

An unsuccessful attempt was made to arrest him.
The country was in a state of alarm; it was evident
that war would be the result.

Knowing all the facts in the case, I determined to
make one more etTort to prevent bloodshed. Capt.
Knapp had been relieved by an order of the Army
Department, and I Avas instructed by the Indian De-
partment to place a man in charge. Accordingly,
John Meacham was sent by me to take Capt. Knapp's
place. About this time I received a letter from Hon.
Jesse Applegate, in regard to Modoc matters. His
long experience as a frontier man gave his opinion
weight. He represented the Modocs with whom he
had met, as willing to meet me in council for the pur-
pose of settling the difficulties then existing. He
further suggested, that the only sure way for per-
manent peace was to give them a small Reservation
at the mouth of Lost river, — the old home of Captain
Jack. He, being a practical surveyor, furnished my
office with a small map of the proposed Reser-
vation.

Realizing how much depended then on conciliatory
measures, and having confidence in Jesse Applegate's
judgment, I forwarded his letter to Gen. Canby, com-
mander of the Department of the Columbia, with a
request that military action be delayed until another
effi)rt could be made to settle the difficulties then ex-
isting between Captain Jack's band of Modocs and
the Reservation Indians.

Gen. Canby issued the orders desired, and the
command to make the arrest was revoked.

The following letter of Instruction to Commissary
Meacham will explain the situation. I associated

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

351

with him on this mission, Ivan D. Applegate, who
was then in charge of Yai-nax station, Klamath
Reservation. I also requested Hon. Jesse Applegate
to go with them. He did not find it convenient,
however, and the Commissioners named proceeded
under the following letter of instruction, Ivan Ap-
plegate being notified of his appointment from my
office in Salem.

id the

Office SurERiMXENDENT Indian ApFAiits,

Salem, Oregon, August 2, 1871.

JoiEsr jVIeacham, Commissary, Klamath Agency: —

I wish you to proceed at once to the Modoc country,
and make one more effort for peace. I am induced
to make this request on reading a long and intelligent
letter from Hon. Jesse Applegate, who has had a
talk with Captain Jack and Black Jim.

It appears that they are anxious to see me, and
that they are willing to talk this matter over, and if
possible avoid bloodshed. It is impossible for me to
go at present, on account of " Umatilla Council."

You can say to them that you represent me, — my
lieart, my wishes, my ivords; and that I have au-
thorized you to talk for me.

You are familiar with all the facts in the case, and
do not need especial instructions, except on one or
two points: First, that I will try to get a small re-
serve for them in their country; but it will require
some time to bring it about, and until such time I
desire them to go on to any unoccupied lands on
Klamath Reservation; that I will lay the whole
matter before the department at Washington, and put
it through, if possible; that you will protect them

352

WIOWAM AND WABPATH.

1' i|

from insult or imposition from either Klamatlis,
Snakes, or whites, until such time as the authorities
shall order otherwise.

I mean by this that Captain Jack and men shall
be free from arrest until I am ordered to investigate
the affair, and that he shall, if ever arrested, have the
benefit of trial by his peers or white men, under civil
law; on the condition, however, that he and his people
return to Klamath, and remain there, subject to the
authority of the Indian Department; that, if ordered
to trial, he will surrender himself and accomplices.

You can say to him that, in the event I succeed in
getting a home for them on Lost river, they will be
allowed their proportion of the Klamath and Modoc
treaty funds, with the privilege of the mill at Klamath
Agency to" make lumber, etc.; that, if I fail in this,
they may elect to go into the Snake country beyond
Camp "Warner, on the new Reservation to be laid
out there this fall.

You can say further that, while I do not approve
of their conduct, I am not unmindful of their bad
treatment by Captain Knapp and the Klamaths,
and that I do not wish to have them destroyed; but,
if they refuse to accept these terms, they will be
under military control and subject to miUtary laws
and commands.

You will confer with I. D. Applegate, and also
with the commander at Fort Klamath. I will request
General Canby to delay any order now out for the
arrest of Jack until you have made this effort to
prevent war.

I have requested I. D. Applegate to accompany
you, and advise with you, but this you will under-

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

353

Drove
bad

laths,
but,
be
laws

also
jquest

stand, — that you are charged with the mission. I
think going as my brother may give you more influ-
ence.

The Modocs can appreciate that, inasmuch as
the Superintendent could not come, he sent his
Irother.

I have confidence in your coolness and sense of
justice, and, with I. D. Applegate as counsellor, I
hope you may bring this unhappy trouble (so heavy
latlcu with death to many persons) to a peaceful
solution.

Do not take more than two or three persons with
you, and, whatever the result of " the talk," you will
be faithful and true to yourself and the Indians.
Mr. Jesse Applegate is somewhere out in that
country. He is a safe adviser. I have no doubt
he will assist you in this hazardous undertaking.
You will report the result of this visit to this office
promptly.

In the event that the military commander at Fort
Klamath may have already gone after Jack and
opened hostilities, I do not wish you to take any
desperate chances.

This matter I leave to the circumstances that may
exist on receipt of this letter. I see clearly, from
Jesse Applegate's letter, that hostilities are imminent,
and that many good men may lose life and property
unless the threatened hostilities are prevented.

I have never seen the time when we could have
done otherwise than as we have; but I fully realize
that we may be held responsible by the citizens of
that country, who do not understand the power and
duties of the Indian Department.

854

WIOWAM AND WARPATH.

Go on this mission realizing that you carry in your
hand the Hvcs and happiness of many persons, and
the salvation of a tribe of people who have been much
wronged, and seldom, if ever, understood.
Very respectfully.

Your obedient servant,

A. B. MEACHAM,

8upt. Ind. Affairs.

Under the foregoing letter of instructions the com-
missioners appointed went into the Modoc country,
having previously arranged, through Indian messen-
gers, to meet Captain Jack and five or six of his men.
No agreement was made in reference to arms, each
arty following the dictates of common sense, — by
oing ready for peace, but prepared for war. The
commissioners took with them two persons, making
up a party of four well-anned men. It is humane
and Christian to carry always the olive-branch of
peace, but it is unwise to depend on its sanctity for
protection when dealing with enraged savages. Well
for Commissioner Meacham and I. D. Applegate that
they had forethought enough to go prepared to defend
themselves; for, had they not, the list of killed in the
Modoc war would have read somewhat different from
its present roll of names. There is no doubt that at
the time these two young men went out to meet these
people, "Schonchin John," "Hooker Jim," and "Cur-
ly-haired Doctor" were in favor of assassinating
them, and were only prevented by Captain Jack and
Scarface Charley. The information comes through
Indian lips, but I believe it to be true.

I desire the reader to note that this was the second

WIOWAM AND WARPATII.

855

time assassination was proposed by these people, and
each time frustrated by Captain Jack; and, further,
that I was subsequently infomied each time of their
intended acts of treachery by Tobey Riddle, through
her husband.

The council was held in a wild, desolate region of
country, many miles from the nearest white settle-
ment. Captain Jack and nearly all his men were
present, and all armed.

It should be understood that at that time, as after-
ward in the Lava Bed, the Modocs were suspicious of
Captain Jack's finnness in carrying out the wishes of
his people. This feeling was augmented by Sehon-chin
John who was ambitious for the chieftainship, and con-
stantly sought to implant distrust of Jack's fidelity in
the minds of the Modocs. This accounts for more than
the number agreed upon in this, and, in fact, in all
subsequent meetings. Jack, nevertheless, was the
acknowledged chief, but not on the old basis of theory
of absolute power ; he was only a representative chief.
That he had not absolute control over them was
owing to his own act of teaching them the republican
idea of a majority ruling; or it may be that the band
had demanded this concession on his part.

Kearly all of them had associated with white men,
and had thereby acquired crude ideas of American
political economy.

It wa,-;; in this case of the Modocs a curse, instead
of a blessing. Had Jack exercised the old despotic
prerogative of Indian chiefs, no war would have en-
sued, no great acts of treachery woula ever have been
committed. He could and would have buried in the
grave, with other wrongs, the "Ben Wright" affair;

356

WIOWAM AND WAKPATII.

and while he would have clamored for liberty, in its
common-sense meanin*^, he would have held his peo-
ple in check until such times as our Government
would have recognized his manhood and granted him
the priceless boon of a citizen's privileges.

Captain Jack c.'.me into this council simply as a
diplomatic representative chief, and was not at liberty
to do or say more than he was authorized by the In-
dians in council. He set forth the grievances of his
people, — which were principally against the Klamath
Indians, on account of ^he treatment he had received
while on the Tleservation ; and against the Govern-
ment, for not protecting him according to my promise
made to him in December, 1869, — arguing that, since
the Government failed to keep its compact, he was
released from his obligation to obey its laws; further,
that the crime of which he was charged — killing the
Indian doctor — was not a crime under the Indian
laws, and that he should not be held amenable to a
law that was not his law. He declared that he could
not live in peace with the Klamaths; that his people
had made up their minds to try no more, since they
had made two attempts.

He said he " should not object to the white men
settling in his country," and that he "would keep his
people away from the settlements, and would prevent
any trouble between white men and his Indians."

The commissioners again offered him a home on
any part of Klamath Reservation that was un-
occupied. This he positively declined. He was
assured of protection, but he referred to former
promises broken. A proposition was made, for him
to prevent his people going into the settlement until

WIGWAM AND WARPATU.

357

the whole subject could be submitted to the authori-
ties ut Washington, and that a recommendation would
be made to grant him a small home at the mouth of
Lost river. A rude map was made, showing the
proposed Reservation. AVith this he was satisfied,
and made promises of keeping his people away until
such time :is an answer could be had.

The proposition was fully explained, and he was
made to understand the uncertaiiiil^s ah to when a
decision would be made in this matter; he agreeing
that, if the decision was adverse to granting the new
home on Lost river, his people would ^^'o on to Kla-
math, at Yai-nax.

"With this agreement, well understood, the council
closed, and the two commissioners reported substan-
tially as detailed. They escaped with theii- lives
because they were prepared to defend them.

Hostilities were averted for the time being, and
would have been for all time had prudence and jus-
tice been exercised by those who held the power to
do this simple act.

Ignorance of the true state of the case cannot be
pleaded ; the whole matter was laid by me before
the authorities at Washington, and the recommen-
dation made in conformity with the promise to the
Modocs.

In my official report for 1871 (see Report Com-
mission Indian Affairs, pages 305 and 30G) I used
the following language : —

" The Modocs belong by treaty to Klamath Agency,
and have been located thereon ; but, owing to the over-
bearing disposition of the Klamath Indians, they
refuse to remain.

358

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

"Unavailing efforts have been made to induce them
to return ; but they persist in occupying their original
homes, and, in fact, set up claim thereto. During the
past summer they have been a source of annoyance
and alarm to the white settlers, and at one time hos-
tilities appeared imminent.

" The military commander at Fort Klamath made an
unsuccessful effort to arrest a few of the head men.
Two commissioners were sent from the Indian Depart-
ment, and a temporary arrangement made whereby
hostilities were averted. The Modocs cannot be made
to live on Klamath Reservation, on account of the
ancient feuds with the Klamaths. They are willing
to locate permanently on a small reservation of six
miles square, lying on both sides of the Oregon and
California line, near the head of the Tule lake. In
equity they are entitled to a portion of the Klamath
and Modoc annuity funds, and need not necessarily
be a burden to the Government; but, according
to the ruling of Commissioner Parker, they have
forfeited these rights. I would recommend that they
be allowed a small reservation at the place indicated
above, and also a pro-rata division of the Klamath
and Modoc treaty funds for employes and annu-
ities; otherwise they will doubtless be a source of
constant expense to the Government, and great an-
noyance to the white settlements near them. Though
they may be somewhat responsible for not com-
plying with the treaty, yet, to those familiar with
Indian superstition, it is not strange or unreason-
able that great charity should be extended to these
peojile."

Gen. Canby was also informed in regard to the

WIGWAM AND WABPATH.

359

arrangement made by the commissioners; the order
for their arrest was entirely withdrawn.

Thus matters were in abeyance until the spring of
1872. The Modocs, however, growing restless and
impatient for a 'decision, began to annoy the white
settlers in the Lost-river country, doing various acts
that were not in harmony with the compact made
with the commissioners in August preceding. The
white men, unwilling to endure the insolence of the
Modocs, petitioned for redress. These petitions were
addressed to the Indian Department, and to the Mili-
tary Department, also to the ci\dl authorities of the
State of Oregon. They recited the acts of which the
Modocs were accused, some of which were, " that
they demanded rents for the lands occupied by white
men; claiming pay for the use of the stock ranches;
demanding horses and cattle; visitiug the houses of
settlers, and, in the absence of the husbands, order-
ing the wives to prepare meals for them, meanwhile
throwing themselves on the beds and carpets, and
refusing to pay for the meals when eaten; feeding
their horses with the gi'ain of the settlers, and, in
some instances, borrowing horses without asking the
owners."

To the credit of Captain Jack be it tola that he
was never charged with any of these outrageous acts ;
but he was powerless to prevent his men from annoy-
ing these people who had settled the country at the
invitation of the Government.

This state of affairs could lead to but one result^ —
blood. The petitions could not be disregarded. Ac-
tion must be had, and that without delay. General
Canby was appealed to; having rescinded the order

860

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

iil

for the arrest of Captain Jack the previous summer,
he was slow to issue another looking to the same end.
He believed, as I did, that any attempt to compel the
Modocs to return to KJamath would endanger the
peace of the country. Captain Jack had failed to
keep his part of the late contract, and had thereby
forfeited any clabn to further clemency.

1 1

1 ;

CHAPTEE XXII.

U. S. SENATORS COST BLOOD — FAIR FIGHT — OPEN FIELD.

While matters were thus in suspense a change
was made in the oflBce of Superintendent of Indian
Affairs for Oregon, T. B. Odeneal, Esq., of Oregon,
succeeding to the Superintendency. He was a lawyer
of ability, but had a limited kaowledge of Indian
character, and still less of the merits and demerits of
this Modoc question.

When appealed to he laid the matter before his
superior in office at Washington City, who was also
a new incumbent, and had perhaps a elight knowledge
of the Modoc troubles.

In a letter, dated April 11th, 1872, he instructed
Superintendent Odeneal to remove the Modocs to
Klamath Reservation, or locate them on a new home.
In reply, Odeneal suggested that, since Klamath
was the home set apart for them in common with
other Indians, it was the proper place for them, and
suggested they be removed thereto. In compliance
with this recommendation, he was instructed, in a
letter of September 6th, 1872, to remove the Modocs
to the Klamath Reservation j peaceably if you can,
forcibly if you must.

Meanwhile the Modocs were kept posted by the
white men, who sympathized with them, of the pro-
posed movements.

362

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

Captain Jack and his men sought advice of Judges
Roseborough and Steele, of Y-re-ka. Both these gen-
tlemen advised them not to resist the authority of the
Government, but also promised, as attorneys, to assist
them in getting lands, provided they would dissolve
tribal relations. I have sought diligently, as a com-
missioner, for information on this subject, and conclude
that nothing further was ever promised by either
Roseborough or Steele. The hope thus begotten
may have caused the Modocs to treat with less
respect the officers of the Government, and made
them more insolent toward settlers; but nothing of
wilful intent can be charged to Steele or Rose-
borough.

It is in evidence that Superintendent Odeneal
despatched messengers to the Modoc camp on Lost
river, November 26th, 1872, to order Captain Jack
and his people to go on to the Reservation, with
instruction to the messengers that, in the event of the
refjisal of the Modocs to comply, to arrange for them
to meet him (Odeneal) at Linkville, twenty-five miles
from the Modoc camp.

They refused compliance with the order, and also
refused to meet Superintendent Odeneal at Link
river, saying substantially " that they did not want to
see him or talk with him; that they did not want any
white man to tell them what to do; that their friends
and advisers were in Y-re-ka, Cal. They tell us to
stay here, and we intend to do it, and will not go on
the Reservation (meaning Klamath) ; that they were
tired of talk, and were done talking." If credit
were given to these declarations, it would appear that
8ome parties at Y-re-ka were culpable. Careful inves-

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

363

tigation discloses nothing more than already recited,
so far as Roseborough and Steele were concerned,
but would seem to implicate one or two other parties,
both of whom are now deceased; but even then no
evidence has been brought forth declaring more than
sympathy for the Modocs, which might easily be
accounted for on the ground of personal interest,
dictating friendship toward them as the best safe-
guard for life and property; but nothing that could be
construed as advising resistance to legal authority;
and their statement in regard to advisers in Y-re-ka
should not be entitled to more credit than Captain
Jack's subsequent assertion that " no white man had
ever advised him to stay off the Reservation." This
latter declaration was made during the late trials at
Klamath by the "military commission," at a time
when the first proposition made to Superintendent
Odeneal's messengers in regard to Y-re-ka advices
would have secured the Modocs then on trial soiue
consideration.

The only thing said or done by any parties in
Y-re-ka that has come w^ell authenticated, that could
have had any influence with the Modocs in their
replies to Odeneal's message, is the proposition above
referred to as coming from Roseborough and Steele,
to assist them as attorneys to secure homes when
they should have abandoned tribal relations, paid
taxes, and made application to become citizens. The
high character both these gentlemen possess for
loyalty to the Government, and for integrity, would
preclude the idea that any wrong was intended.

On receiving Captain Jack's insolent reply to his
message. Superintendent Odeneal made application

ill

364

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

to the military commander at Fort Klamath for a force
to "compel said Indians (Modocs) to go upon the
Klamath Reservation ; " reciting the following words
from the honorable Commissioner of Indian Affairs:
" You are hereby directed to remove the Modoc In-
dians to Klamath Reservation ; i^eaceahly if you pos-
sibly can, but forcibly if you must," and saying : " I
transfer the whole matter to your department without
assuming to dictate the course you shall pursue in
executing the order aforesaid ; trusting, however, that
you may accomplish the object desired without the
shedding of blood, if possible to avoid it."
He received the following reply : —

Head-quaktebs, Fobt Klamath, November 28th, 1872.

Sir : — In compliance with your written request of
yesterday, I will state that Captain Jackson will
leave this post about noon to-day, with about thirty
men; will be at Link river to-night, and I hope
before morning at Captain Jack's camp.
I am, sir, very respectfully,

Your obedient servant,

JOHN gree:n^,

Major First Cavalry Commanding Post.

Mb. T. B. Odeneal, Superintendent Indian Affairs.

These movements were intended to be made with-
out the knowledge of the Modocs. Superintendent
Odeneal sent messengers to warn the settlers of the
proposed forcible expeHment. Complaint has justly
been made that there were several parties unwarned.

The Modocs had oue especial friend in whom they

WIGWAM AND WABPATH.

365

relied for advice and warning. This man's name was
Miller.

They called on him the day previous to Major
Jackson's appearance at the Modoc camp, and he, be-
ing ignorant of the movement told them, that "no
soldiers were coming." Some twelve settlers were
unwarned, who lost their lives thereby.

Neglect on the part of those having the manage-
ment of this matter resulted in much blood.

"When Major Jackson was en route to the Modoc
camp, some twenty-five white men from Link^^lle and
the surrounding country assembled and proposed to
accompany the expedition.

It has been said that they went for the purpose of
" seeing Major Jackson and his thirty-five men get
licked." At all events they were armed with Henry
rifles and revolvers.

Frontier men are fond of sport, and the more it is
embellished with danger the more captivating it is to
tliem. I do not say this with disrespect to frontier
men, but simply state a fact that is not generally
understood.

While it is true th.^t they 7J?ay with dangerous
weapons as carelessly as a city dandy does with a
switch cane or ivory opera-glass, they are, neverthe-
less, as a class, true, honest, enterprising, great
brave-hearted men, who would scorn to do a mean
thing.

They have among them men who are iiTCsponsiblc
vagabonds, reckless fellows who are driven from the
cities and towns on account of their crimes. These
latter characters beget strife among the people, and
when truth comes to the front and speaks out, it

366

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

declares that they are the sole cause of any difficulty
between good white men and Indians. They are the
first to volunteer on occasions like this. As a class
they are brave, fearless, desperate, having little re-
gard for human life, caring not how much bad blood
they evoke. But the idea that seems to prevail with
eastern people, that all frontier men are rough, bad
men, is outrageously false in the premises. Better
men, braver men, more honorable, more enterprising
men cannot be found on this continent than thousands
who ride on the swelling breakers of advancing emi-
gration. A moment's consultation with justice and
right would compel the law-makers, book-writers and
newspaper reporters, instead of constant, sweeping
insinuations against frontier men, to say encouraging
words in their behalf, and to offer them every facility
to successfully plant the foundations of prosperous
society on the verges of American civilization. Honor
to whom honoi* is due.

The party of citizens who went down Lost river on
the morning of the 27th of November, 1872, were, with
one or two exceptions, good, responsible settlers. Their
motives were honorable, their intentions were good;
and if serious results came out of the fact of their
presence it was not because they as a party were
" bloodthirsty desperadoes."

They went on the opposite side of the river, and
took a commanding position on a bluff overlooking
the Modoc camp ; which was located on the very spot
where my party met Captain Jack in 1869.

The Modoc camp was divided by the river, Cap-
tain Jack, and fourteen men with their families, occu-
pying the west bank, where the plain slopes gradually

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

367

down to the water's edge; the background being
covered with a growth of sage brush.

With Captain Jack was " Sclionchin John" so
named from being a younger brother of the " Old
chief Schonges;" " Scar-face Charley," so named on
account of a scar on his face; ^^ Black Jim." so named
on account of his dark color; " One-eyed Mose" so
called on account of defect in one eye; " Watchman"
who was killed in the first battle; ^^Humpty Joe" ^^Big
Ike," ''Old Tails," ''Old Tails' hoy," "Old Long-
face," and four others.

On the east side of the river was the " Curly-
haired Doctor; " "Boston Charley," named on account
of his light color; "Hooker Jim" had lived with old
man Hooker; " Slolax," and ten others, with theu*
families.

Major Jackson, with his force, arrived at Jack's
camp at about daybreak on the morning of the 30th
]^ovember, 1872. At the same time the citizen party
arrived opposite and near the camp of the Curly-
haired Doctor.

The Modocs were taken by surprise, — although
they had reason to expect the soldiers would come
within a few days.

They have since asserted that Odeneal's messen-
gers had agreed to come again before bringing
soldiers ; and, if possible, bring Supt. Odeneal with
them.

It was a mistake that he did not go in person, —
either with the messengers in the first instance or
after their return to Linkville.

He might not have accomplished any good, but he
would have prevented severe criticism, and much

368

WIOWAM AND WABPATn.

blame that was laid at his door; inasmuch as Jack
subsequently asserted "that he would not have re-
sisted, had Odeneal come himself to him and made
everything plain." Again, they had relied on Miller
for warning; hence his death.

When Maj. Jackson arrived at the camp, and while
he was placing his men in position, an Indian, who
was out hunting, made the discovery of Jackson's
presence, and either accidentally, or puriiosely, dis-
charged his gun. This called the Indians to their
feet, and they instantly grasped their arms on seeing
themselves so nearly surrounded by soldiers.

Maj. Jackson quietly commanded the Modocs to
lay down their arms. Captain Jack complied, and
told his men to obey the order of Maj. Jackson.

A parley ensued of half an hour. Captain Jack
pleading for Jackson to withdraw his men, while the
major was explaining his order, and assuring the Mo-
docs that ample preparation had been made for them
at Yai-nax. The whole affair seemed to be settled
satisfactorily, and I. D. Applegate, who was with
Maj. Jackson, went down to the banks of the river
and told One-armed Brown, the regular messenger of
the Indian Department, who was with the citizen
party on the east side, that " everything was settled."
Brown mounted his horse, and started to make known
the good news to Supt. Odeneal, who was awaiting
the result at Linkville.

All the Modocs on the west side of the river had
laid down their arms, except Scar-face Charley, who
was swearing and making threats. Maj. Jackson
commanded him, " Put down your gun." Scar -face
refused; the major ordered Lieut. Boutelle to dis-

ses:

WIOWAM AND WARPATH.

3G9

arm him, — who, on advancing to execute the order,
repeated it in emphatic words, not in harmony with
savage notions of decorum and decency. " Scarface "
was enraged at the vile epithets appHed to him, and
perhaps remembered just then that he had once seen,
from a chapparel thicket, a sight that had haunted
him from his childhood, namely, nothing less than
armed white men chasing his father with a lasso and
catching him. He saw them hang him without a
trial, or even any proof that he was guilty of any crime.
At all events, he drew his jDistol, and, sa^'ing that
he " would kill one white man," discharged it at the
advancing officer; but so nearly simultaneous with
Boutclle's pistol, that even the latter does not know
who fired first. This was the opening gun of the
Modoc war; the beginning of what ended on the
gallows on the third of ]tfovember, 1873.

Without stopping now to call up the intervening
pictures, let us see how the battle went. Very soon
the entire force of soldiers was firing into the Indian
camps, and the fourteen Indian men were fighting
back with muzzle-loading rifles.

The battle lasted three hours; the Indians, having
taken cover of the sage brush, finally withdrew, car-
rying with them the watchman who was killed, and
escaping with all their women and children.

Maj. Jackson lost ten killed and five wounded;
and on the reappearance of the Indians, a few hours
later, drew ofi" his forces, leaving the Modocs in pos-
session of tne battle-field.

While all this was enacting on the west bank of
Lost river, let us see how the boys who went down to
** take a look " got along as spectators. Mr. Brown,

370

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

hearing the report of arms, returned just in time to
take an active part in a perfbnnance that was not in
the programme of fun as laid out in the early morn-
ing.

The citizens and Modocs on the east side could not
stand the pressure, — looking on and seeing a fair
fight, within a couple of hundred yards, without tak-
ing a part. The Modocs caught up their guns and
rushed down to the river, intending to reinforce Captain
Jack. The citizens sought to prevent them getting
into their canoes; and, somelioio, they became very
much interested in matters nearer home than Maj.
Jackson's fight.

Who began the battle on the east side is a question
of doubt, — both parties denying it; but a lively fight
was the result, and the citizens drew off, leaving tlwce
or four dead friends on the ground and — and — one
dead squaw, with an infant corpse in her arms.

It is not in evidence who was victor, but there is
the record. The majoi* dispatched a messenger for
reinforcements, who run the gauntlet of Indian bul-
lets, and barely escaped.

From Indian lips I learn that in the first battle of
which I have spoken. Captain Jack did not fire a shot
himself, though he directed the fight.

On the occasion of the messenger being sent off by
Maj. Jackson, Captain Jack, who was secreted in the
sage brush, ran a*\er .'lim and fired one or two shots.

Let us look now to the Modocs wiLh Captain Jack.
They did not go on the warpath, but hastened to
gather up their women and horses, and retired to the
Lava Bed.

Scarface Charley remained behind, for a purpose

WIOWAM AND WARPATH.

371

)se

tlint can scarcely be credited. Those who doul)t any
real genuine manhood among Indians may wonder
when I declare that he remained to warn white men
of the danger threatening them. In two instances he
saw white men, who were his personal friends, going,
as he !:new, into certain death. In both instances
he laid hold of the bridle-reins of the riders' horses
and turned them around, and, pointing to the road
whence they carnc, bade them "ride for life."

They lost no time in heeding the warning given,
and also in notifying the settlers en route of the ex-
istence of open hostilities.

By this means John A. Fairchild was notified of
the dangers that surrounded him and his family.

Mr. Fairchild's name has become intimately con-
nected with the Modoc war; indeed, he played some
of the thrilling parts of this tragic drama. He is a
man of forty years of age, a native of Mississippi;
went West when a boy, and engaged in mining. In
the course of time he became a large stock-raiser,
and went, ten years ago, with his herds of cattle and
horses, into the Modoc country.

lie soon learned a lesson that our Government has
not, viz., that it is cheaper to feed Indians than to
fight them. Soon after his arrival he arranged a
treaty with the Modocs, paying them a small com-
pensation for the use of the country for stock uses.
During the time, he has made the personal acquaint-
ance of nearly every Indian of Captain Jack's band.

His home is situated on Hot Creek, near its rise at
the foot of the mountains that divide the Modoc from
the Shasta country.

It will be remembered that the head-quarters of the

ft': V

372

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

Peace Commission was at Fairchild's ranch during
the first days of its organization. This was also the
originrl home of a part of Jack's band.

At the beginning of the late Modoc war some
fourteen warriors and their families were living near
Mr. Fairchild's house; by his management of them
they were prevented from joining Captain Jack for
several days. He, together with Mr. Press Dorris,
who lives near him, and is also a stock-raiser, called
together these fom'teen men, including "Bogus Char-
ley" (who gets his name from his birthplace on
Bogus creek), "Shacknasty Jim" (so named from
his mother) , " Steamboat Frank " (so called in honor
of his squaw, whose name was Steamboat, because
of her great size and her habit of puffing and blowing
like the aforesaid vessel), Ellen's man George, and
ten others, — who all distinguished themselves in the
war, — and started with them and their families to
Klamath lleservation. They notified Agent Dyer, of
Klamath, of their coming, and requested him to meet
them and take charge of the Indians.

Dyer responded, and, hastening to meet them on Kla-
math river, passed through Linkville en route. While
there he heard intimations of the danger of passing
through the town with the above-named Mt^docs.

The news of the battle had reached Linkville, and
the people were aroused to madness at the sight of
the mangled bodies of the soldiers and citizens that
had been brought in. It is not strange that such
sights should call out a demand for vengeance ; that
the citizens, feeling outraged, should make threats.

It is certain that a party left Linkville before Agent
Dyer arrived, and went in the direction of Bob

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

373

Whittle's, where Fairehild and Dorris were guarding
the Hot Creek Modocs, now so anxious to reach the
Reservation that they might escape any kind of
entanglement with the rebels.

The party found Fairehild and Dorris fully pre-
pared to protect those under their charge, and no
attack was made, whatever may have been the first
intention. On Mr. Dyer's arrival at this time, he
stated his fears to Fairehild and Dorris, v>hich the
Indians overhearing, stampeded, and Avent directly to
the Lava Beds, thus adding fourteen warriors to Cap-
tain Jack's forces. All of them were brave men, and
bad men, too, as the sequel will show. The fright
they had received at Bob Whittle's appears to have
made their even more anxious for war than those who
had been engaged in the Lost-river battle, on the 30th
of ^November, 1872.

Indian proof is abundant that Captain Jack, in
anticipation of the coming of the soldiers, had ad-
vised his men to surrender rather than fight; but,
even if forced io resist, in no event to attack cit-
izens, saying, " If we must, we will fight soldiers,
not white men," meaning citizens.

It is a fact that, so far as he was concerned, he
sought to avoid conflict. The Curly-haired Doctor
was eager for blood — or, at all events, he was rebel-
lious, and constantly advised resistance to the author-
ity of the Government.

His interference in the council of December, 1869,
referred to in a former chapter, and his sanction to
the proposition to murder our party at that time, and
the subsequent proposal to assassinate the Commis-
sioners sent out in August, 1871, to arrange matters

ife'i

374

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

with tliein, aiJ stand against him previous to the
opening of the war.

But to return to the battle of Lost river. After a
eharp* fight, the citizens having withdrawn to Dennis
Crawley's house, the Modoc braves assembled, and,
through the advice of Hooker Jim, the Curly-haired
Doctor, with Steamboat Frank and three or four
others, started on a mission of vengeance.

The acts of savage butchery committed by them
are well known to the world, — how they went to Mr.
Boddy's house with their garments covered with the
life-blood of their victims, and, taunting the women,
boasted of their heroism, saying, "This is Boddy's
blood ; but we are Modocs ; we do not kill women
and children. You will find Boddy in the w^oods.
We will not hurt you."

Thus from house to house they went, after killing
the husbands and ftithers, until they had s! .ughtered
thirteen persons, — Brotherton, Schiere, Miller, and
others, including one small boy, who resisted them.

The reign of terror was complete. Who shall
ever find words to describe the horror of the night
following this treacherous butchery? The women
left tlieir homes to hunt for their mTirdered friends.
In one instance, the presence of a team without a
driver gave the awful tidings.

Leaving their dead, through the long dark night
that followed, they made their way through the track-
less sage-brush plains to the nearest settlement. Witii
these people the Modocs had been on friendly terms,
and had never had any misunderstandings with the
Indians. On the contrary, they had shown by many
acts of kindness their good will. They were person-

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

375

ally acquainted with the men who composed the
murderous gang. This was especially the case with
Mr. Miller; he had been their steadfast friend for years,
and had furnished them provisions and ammunition
but a few days previously, and had further interested
himself in their behalf, in conjunction with Esquire
Steele of Y-re-ka, in securing to them the right to take
up lands in common with other people.

The murder of Miller seems the more inhuman when
it is remembered that he was killed by Hooker Jim.
The latter declares that he did not know that he was
shooting at Miller. Otherwise he would not have
committed the treacherous deed. Miller had been on
especial good terms with this desperado.

With my knowledge of Indian character, I am of
the opinion that Hooker Jim designedly killed Mr.
Miller, because he believed that the latter had purposely
withheld from the Modocs the movement of Major
Jackson.

Loaded witli plunder, and mounted on the horses
they had captured, these bloodthirsty savages made
their way around the east side of Tule lake ; meeting
Captain Jack and his warriors in the Lava Bed. I am
indebted to the Modocs themselves for many items of
importance in this connection. I give them for what
they are worth, with the authority announced. Some of
them are doubtless correct, according to the authority
quoted.

On the arrival in the Lava Bed, Captain Jack
denounced the murderers for their bloody work, and
particularly for the killing of Mr. Miller; he then
declared that the men who committed this outrageous
crime should be surrendered to the white men for tiial ;

a
I

376

WIGWAM AND WAKPATH.

Ill

that a great mistake had been made; and that unless
these men were given up, the whole band would be
lost. The councils held were noisy and turbulent,
threatening strife and bloodshed. While this mat-
ter was under discussion, the Hot-Creek Indians,
who had etampcded from "Whittle's Ferry, while they
were en route to Klamath i^gency, arrived in the
Lava Bed, adding fourteen braves to the little band of
desperadoes. The Hot-Creek Mod ocs, having become
demoralized by the threats they had overheard made
against them, and being influenced by the Curly-haired
Doctor's promise of makirg medicine to protect them,
were ready to espouse the cause of the murderers.
The whole number of braves at this time was fifty-
three, including the chief himself. Thus, when the
discussion was ended and the question was submitted
to a vote, a large majority was opposed to the sur-
render of the Lost-river murderers.

CHAPTER XXIII.

!ii

MOURNING EMBLEMS AND MILITARY POMP.

Leaving the Modocs to wrangle over their troubles,
suppose we Hsten now to the wails of anguish and
grief that burdened the air of the Lost-river country,
and especially at Linkville, when the mutilated bodies
of the slain citizens were brought in for interment.

When the news of the Lost-river battle had spread
over the sparsely-settled country, a feeling of terror
pervaded the hearts of the people ; but when, on the
following morning, the grief-stricken, heart-broken
Mrs. Boddy, Mrs. Schiere and Mrs. Brotherton, ar-
rived at Linkville, after a long night of horrors, the
excitement became intense. Armed parties, taking
with them wagons, repaired to the scene of this awful
tragedy.

Let those whose lives are spent where they are pro-
tected by the strong arm of law, go with me for a day,
while we hunt up the victims of this wholesale mur-
der.

Perhaps, if we are honest, and our hearts are open
to conviction of truth, and we are actuated by the
impulses of Christian sympathy, wc may suspend our
charitable emotions for the " noble red man," by the
time we hear the dull thud of the clods at Linkville
cemetery mingle with the sobs and shrieks of the
widows and orphans.

From one who was with a party who went out on

m i

t 9

378

WIGWAM AND WAKPATH.

this sorrowful mission, I learned something of the
scenes that met them.

On arriving at the grove of timber where Brother-
ton was killed, they found his body lying stark and
cold, with his glassy eyes wide open. He had been
pierced by four Modoc bullets. Near him was found
his axe, with the handle painted with his own blood.
Then anothei- was found on a wagon, lying across the
coupling poles, with his face downwards. He, too,
was stripped of his clothing.

Another was found a few rods from his work, with
his bowels beside him, and his heart taken from his
body, and hacked to pieces. This was the work of
Hooker Jim.

Thus the party went on from one to another, until
thirteen bodies were found. Some of them were off
from roads, where they had evidently run in their
attempts to escape.

While the kind-hearted settlers were performing
this sad duty, they were continually on the lookout
for an attack. Let us follow this heavily-laden train
of wagons, and be with them when they arrive at
Linkvillc. Can human language depict the agony
of that hour? AVe may tell of the outburst of grief,
when the widows gather around that solemn train,
preparing to unload its ghastly freight, and how, with
frantic movements, they threw themselves on the
remains of husband, brother and father. But Ave may
not tell of the grief that overwhelmed their hearts in
that darkest hour, when beholding loved ones man-
gled and mutilated by the hands that had so often
received gifts from" them, now so stiff and cold in
death.

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

379

There are moments in life when the great fountains
seem broken up as if by some terrific explosion, until
even the very streams that otherwise would flow out
are dried up.

Oh, how dark the world becomes to the wife and
mother when the sunlights of life go out, and they
stand amid the gloom, unable to recognize the hand
of our heavenly Father !

Slowly and sadly the sorrowing friends start up
the hill with the remains of Boddy and Schiere,
while the bereaved and heart-broken widows follow
the sad funeral pageant.

How can we bear to hear the cry of anguish that
parts their lips when the first clod of earth falls, with
sepulchral noise, on the coffin lids that cover the faces
of their dead forever I

My humane, kind-hearted reader, who has a soul
overflowing with kindness that goes out for " Lo ! the
poor Indian," look on this scene a moment, and in
your mind exchange your happy home for a cabin on
the frontier wilds, where you meet these Indian
people, and where, from the fulness of a great heart

overflowing

with "good will to man," you have

uttered only kind words, while you shared your
homely fare with them in sympathy for their low
estate. Remember how often you have almost ruined
your own family that you might in part compensate
them for their lost homes; how you have dropped
from your hands your own duties as a wife or mother
that you might teach these dark, sad-eyed savage
women the little art of housewiferv. Think how
many hours you have labored teaching them the
ways of civil life in dress and manners; while your

380

WI0WA5I AND WARPATH.

liiJ^

memory of childhood's lessons in Christianity recon-
ciled you to the labor and the sacrifice with this com-
forting assurance, " Inasmuch as ye did it unto the
least of these, ye did it also unto me." Remember
all these, and then gaze on the dark emblems of
sorrow Hiat envelop Mrs. Boddy, Mrs. Schicre, Mrs.
Brotherton, and tell me, have you still Christianity
that enables you to say, " Thy will be done," nor let
your lips breathe out a prayer for power to avenge
your bursting heart? Will you censure now the
brave and manly friends on whose arms these widows
lean, while they go back to a home with the sunlight
gone? If these friends, in sympathy with the bereaved,
do swear to anticipate a tardy justice, do you still
have hard words for the pioneers who brave danger
and drink deeply from the fountain of bitter giief
when in madness they ciy for revenge?

It is one thing to sit through a life-time under the
persuasive eloquence of ministers who have never
walked side by side with such sorrow, and gradually
form an ideal or real monitor in the soul, until human
nature seems lost in the divine power that prepares
humanity for higher life, and until we think we can
at all times, when smitten on one cheek, turn the
other. It is quite another thing to break old family
associations, and, leaving the scenes of childhood
behind you, with strong and brave hearts, open the
way for emigration; plant way-marks that point to a
future of prosperity; sow the seeds of civilization in
unbroken wilds, fairly to represent your l-ace before the
savage, and live in the exercise of a religious fliitli
that honest dealings and the overshadowing exercise of
brotherly love will be a sure guaranty of final reward.

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

881

To go out on the bleak plains of Lost river, and by
industry and economy transform the sage-brush des-
erts into fruitful fields, to rear the unpretentious
cabins, and open your doors to the thirsty and hungry
of every race and color, and then, when you have
done all this, to stand in your cabin-door and smile
back at the waving fields, and listen to the lowing
herds, while you rejoice in your instrumentality in
making the great transformation ; looking hopefully to
a future, when, from neighboring valleys, shall come
up sounds of friendly recognition; longing for the
hour when you may catch sight of children returning
from the country school, and for the advent of the
itinerant minister, who will bring with him a charter
under which you may work toward a brotherhood,
whose ties will bind on earth and reunite in heaven, —
when, suddenly, more dh'eful than mountain torrents
or heaving earthquake, comes athwart your life a
scene like that enacted on Lost river, Novemher 30th,
1872.

That scene, with all its horrors, has been repeated
over and over again, and will continue to be until this
Government of ours shall come squarely up to the
performance of its duty, and shall have clothed worthy
men with power to do and make good its promises of
lair and impartial justice to each and all those who sit
down under the shadow of its flag.

Tell me truly, do you still feel scorn for the frontier
people, whose lives are embellished with episodes and
tragedies like these that I have here painted in plain-
est colors, and nothing borrowed from imagination, —
no, not even using half the reality in making up the
picture?

382

WIGWAM AXD WARPATH.

1*1

■ n

I
I

•I

My words cannot call back the dead, or flood the
rude cabins of the stricken and bereaved with sun-
shine and hope. No. There, on the hill, beside
Linkvillo, the thirteen little mounds lie out in win-
ter's storm and summer's sun; and they who prema-
turely sleep there will wake no more.

There, on the plains, stand the vacant cabins where
these once lived. There, walking with the spirits of
the departed by their sides, the widows go; while
orphans' faces wear reproach, in saddened smiles,
against a Government that failed to deal justly, and
who, with light and careless hand, pointed out its
ministers of law without thinking once how much of
hur:.an woe and misery might be avoided by a few
well-studied words of command.

The dead are buried, and the notes of coming strife
succeed those of bitter wailing; the winter's sun
gleams from the brass mountings of officers; the
zephyrs of the mountain are mingling with martial
music; the great plains of sage brush are glittering
with polished bayonets. The United States are at
length aroused. The State of Oregon, too, is waxing
very Avroth. The doom of the Modocs is sealed; and
war! war! war! is the word.

From the half-dozen little military posts in the
Lake country is seen coming a gi'and army of — well
— two hundred soldiers. " That's enough to eat up
Jack's little band. Ke p cool, my dear friends.
Let 'cm go for 'em. They need a iicJcin^ bad. There
wont be a grease-spot left of 'em."

(Such was the speech in a hotel not far from
Linkville, Oregon.)

" Look-er here, stranger, I'll bet you a hundred head

WiaWAM AND WARPATH.

383

of C0W8, that Captain Jack licks them there two
hundred soldiers like h — 1; so I will. I know what
I'm talking about, I do. I tried them Modoc fellows
long time ago; they won't lick worth a d — m; so
they worCt. If Frank Wheaton goes down there a
puttin' on style like a big dog in 'tall rye', he'll
catch h — 1; so he will. I'm going down just to
see the ftm."

" You're a crazy old fool. Frank Wheaton with two
hundred soldiers will wipe 'em out 'fore breakfast,"
suggested a listener.

"Look-erherc if I'm crazy the cows aint; come
come, if you think I'm crazy, come, up with the
squivlents, and you can go into the stock-raisin' busi-
ness cheap. You can.

" Major Jackson went down there tother day with
forty men, and Jack hadn't but fourteen bucks with
him, and he licked Jackson out of his boots in no
time, and that was in open ground, and Jackson had
the drap on the Ingens at that ; and by thunder he
got the worst lickin' a man ever got in this neck
woods; so he did. Then another thing. Captain Jack

aint on open ground now; not by a d d sight.

He is in the all-firedest place in the world. You've
been to the ' Devil's garden,' at the head of Sprague
river, haven't you ? Well, that place aint a patchen
to that ere place where the Injuns is now. I've been
there, and I tell you, it's nearly litenin', all rocks and
caves, and you can't lead a hprse through it in a
week, — and then the Injuns knows every inch of the
gi'ound, and when they get in them there caves,
why it taint no use talking, I tell you, you can't kill

384

WIGWAM AND WABPATU.

nary an Ingon, — you carCt. I'm a-going down just
to se,e tho fan^

The reporter who furnished mo the foregoing
speeches did not learn whether a l)et was made, or
whether any army oiheers overheard the tallc; Ijut
the truth is, those who had tliis nice little breakfast
job on hand were somewhat of the opinion of the
fellow whose "cows were not crazy, if he was."
They were willing to have help.

This little Modoc affair was a favorable thing for
Oregon and California, in more ways than one.
To the politician it was a windfall; for no matter what
the cause (jf war may have been, it is always i)opular
to have been in favor of the last war. It makes
opportunity for bi-ave men to win laurels and undy-
ing fame. It clothes their tongues with themes for
public harangue until the last war is supei'seded by
another. Then again it was a heroic thing to rush
up to the recruiting office and volunteer to whip the
Modocs.

It is not at all likely that the movement of armies
over railroads, or toll-roads, or steamboat lines, was a
desirable thing for a country where there was no
money in it. Tiicn no man was base enough to wish
for war for motives so mean; neither could it be pos-
sible that any sane man, with ordinary judgment,
could see any speculations or chai:.cec for greenbacks
in war.

Californians did intimate that the Oregonians were
a little mercenary in their anxiety for war; but
with what unaminity our press repelled the mean
insinuation I

WIOWAM AND WARI'ATII.

385

Our Governor very promptly sent forward two
or three companies of volunteers, — California, but
one.

Listen, yc winds, to the neighing steeds and clash-
ing sabres, and see the uniformed officers and the
brave boys, all with faces turned toward the Lava
Beds, going down to vindicate the honor of the State
whose soil had been invaded by a ruthless savage foe.

The regulars are in camp near the Modocs, wait-
ing for the volunteers to come up. They come, with
banners flying, and steeds prancing, and hearts beat-
ing triumphant at the prospect of a fight.

Some of these men were living several years ahead,
when they could from " the stump " tell how they
bared their bosoms to the Modoc hail; how they
carried away Modoc scalps; how the ground was
bathed in mingled blood of Modoc and white
men.

The army now numbering foui' hundred, all told,
of enlisted men, approaches the Lava Beds. One
or two companies encamp at Fairchild's. They
drill; they go through the mimic charges; they espy
a few Modoc women and children encamped on
the creek near Fairchild's house, — they propose
to take them in. "Knits make lice, — let's take
them, boys, — here goes."

A middle-sized grey-eyed man, with his whiskers
dyed by twenty years' labor on " the coast," steps out
and says, " No you don't, not yet. Take me first.
No man harms defenceless women where / am,
while I am standing on my perpendiculars."

""Who are you?" says one fine-looking young fel-
low.

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38G

WIGWAM AND AVARPATH.

" Try me, and you will find out that I am John
Fairchild." These brave fellows had not lost any
Indians just then, they hadn't. Bah !

" Who are your officers? " said Fairchild.

The information was furnished, and soon the grey-
eyed man was reading a chapter not found in the
Talmud, or the Bible either. As reported, it was
eloquent, though not classical.

Preparations were being completed for a forward
movement. One-half the army ,fas to move to the
attack from the south, while the other was to move
down from the north. The 16th of January, 1873,
the two wings were within a few milos on either side.
Orders were given to be in motion before daylight
the follo\dng morning. Some spicy little colloquies
w^ere had botween the members of the volunteer com-
panies; some, indeed, between officers.

One brave captain of volunteers said to another,
" I iiave but one fear, and that is that I can't restrain
my men, they are so eager to get at 'em; they will
eat the Modocs up raw, if T let 'em go."

" Don't fret," said Fairchild; "you can hold them;
they wont be hard to keep back when the Modocs
open fire."

" I say, Jim, are you going to carry grub? "

" ISTo. I am going to take Modoc Sirloin for my
dinner."

"/think," said a burly-looking fellow, "that I'll
take mixic rare.^^

Another healthy-looking chap said he intended
capturing a good-looking squaw for a — dishwasher.
(Good-looking squawb wash dishes belter than homely
ones.)

WIGWAM A>T) WARPATH.

S87

ended
asher.
omely

A number of humane, chivalrous, civilizing, kind
people intended to capture some little Ingens for ser-
vants. One fellow declared that Captain Jack's
pacing Jioss should be his.

To have hearl the camp talk the night before the
battle, you would have supposed that sundomi, next
day, would find these brave men loaded with Indian
plunder and military glory, going toward home in
fine style, with great speeches in rehearsal to deliver
to the gaping crowds, who would hang, w^ith breath-
less interest, on the words that they would deal out
with becoming modesty.

That night was a long one to ambitious, noisy men;
and, sad to say, a last one to some of the bravest of
the army.

But the guard is stationed for the night, thri coun-
cil of officers has been held, and the moon settles
slowly away; the soldiers sleep. The orders for the
morrow are understood, and quiet reigns throughout
the hopeful camp.

Xo doubt crosses the minds of the men, and, per-
haps, of but few officers, so sanguine are they of suc-
cess. The greatest fear expressed was, that the fight
would not last long enough t j give all a fair show
to win dii-tinction.

Eest quiet, my poor, deluded couitrymen! Some
of you arc taking your last sleep but one, — the sleep
of death.

If you had asked the opinion of Maj. Jackson and
John Fairchild, or Press Dorris, they would have set
your hearts at ease, about having an opportunity to
figiit a little on the morrow. You will have a chance
to tiy your metal, never fear, my dear friends.

CHAPTER XXIV.

PEACE OR WAR— ONE HUNDRED LIVES VOTED AWAY BY

MODOC INDIANS.

Leaving our soldier friends to dream of glory to
be won in the coming battle, let us pick our way from
their camp to the head-quarters of Captain Jack.

Our starting-point now is from a little grove of
mountain mahogany trees on a high plateau, a few
miles south of the California and Oregon boundary
line, and within a short distance of the extreme
southern end of lower Klamath lake. The trees are
dwarfed, stunted, and bent before the stormy winds
that have swept over them so continually.

As we leave this military camp, a long, high, sharp
ridge extends northward and southward, falling away
at either end to hills of lesser height. Climbing to
the top, and looking eastward, we see Tule lake,
named on the maps of this country Rhett lake. It is
a beautiful sheet of water, of thirty miles from north
to south, and fifteen from west to east. We see also,
with a field-glass, across the lake, the lone cabins
where the strong hands of Boddy, Brotherton, and
others have laid the foundation of future homes.
They Ftand like spirit sentinels on the nlain.

Look again at the trail leading out of the sage-
brush plains ; follow with your glass down to where a
high stone bluff crowds against the lake, and forces

WIGWAM AND WABPATfl.

389

the wagon trail into the edge of the water, until it
disappears in the high tule grass.

In September, 1852, a long train of wagons, drawn
by worn-out ox^n, driven by hardy, ventui'esome
pioneers, came down that trail.

They never came out again, save the two or three
persons, as related in a fonner chapter.

That place is Bloody Point.

Turn your glass northward, and see the trail
emerge from the tule grass; follow it until it turns
suddenly westward and reaches the natural bridge on
Lost river. Turn your ^lass up the river one mile,
and you see the favorite home of Captain Jack, where
we found him in 1869, and where Major Jackson
found him on the morning of "November 30th,
1872;" and, had you been looking at that spot at
4 P. M. of the 23d day of AprU, 1873, you would
have descried a four-horse ambulance, with a mounted
escort of six men on either side, and standing in the
front end of that ambulance a woman, with a field-
glass, eagerly scanning the surface of the lake. That
TV man shows anxiety in her blue eye nnd earnest
«':"!. while she changes the direction of the glass,
'.}c\mg each moment to catch sight of a boat
cro .-V g the lake. She is cool, calm, and self-
possessed, although no other lady is nearer than
twentv-fonr miles.

There is a reason for her presence there ; and she
will need all her self-command when the looked-for
boat arrives. Why, that lone woman is there, on that
23d day of April, we will tell you in good time.

Turn your glass back now to Bloody Point, and
follow down the shore of the lake. Ah ! there stands

390

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

11 1st

a white-looking object near a bluff that is black with
a low growth of trees. The white object is Miller's
house, just as he left it the morning before hia friend,
Hooker Jim, murdered him. The black-looking bluff
near it is where Ben Wright met the Modocs,
in a peace talk, in 1852. Swing your glass round to
the right, following the shore of the lake, and, at the
extreme southern end, you will see the cabins of
Lou-e Land and near them Col. Barnard's head-
quarters.

The white teii of the soldiers look like tiny play-
things, even under a field-glass. Col. Barnard is
there with one hundred " regulars," and one company
of " volunteers." Look closely, and you will see that
half the volunteers are red-skinned men. Their cap-
tain is a tall, fijie-looking white man, who addresses
them in the ancient jargon of the Klamaths, — this is
Oliver Applegate.

See the Indian soldiers, with each a white badge on
his heol; it is not an army regulation cap, but is
simply to prevent accident; that is, it is a mark to
distinguish the white man's ally from his enemy.

In this camp are men about as anxious to march on
the Modocs as those on the north side; some of
these red soldiers are the boys who made Jack's stay
on Klamath Reservation, in 1870, so uncomfortable-
They are loyal, though, to the Government, and are
willing to help the white men exterminate their
cousins (the Modocs) . Then the pro rata of annuity
goods will be so much the larger. They don't mean
any harm to the Modocs, although since 1864 they
have been receiving regularly the price the Gov-
ernment has paid for the home of the Modocs;

WIGWAM AND WAEPATH.

391

except on one or two occasions, when the latter were
present.

These red-skinned boys are anxious to capture the
Modoc ponies; for, running with Jack's band of
horses, are several that once carried these Klamath
boys flying over the plains; until, in an evil moment,
they were weak enough to stake them, as many a
poor, weak-minded, infatuated white man has done
his home, all on the hazardous chance of certain cards
turning up at the right time. Well, let these fellows
take rest, for they will need all their nerve before
another day pusses.

Move your glass round to the right, what a sight
do we see I A great flat-looking valley stretches out
south and w^est from the ragged shore line of the lake.
On the further boundary see the four low buttes
standing in a line; while behind Mount Shasta
raises his white head, overlooking the country around
on all sides for hundreds of miles.

This valley, lying so cold and cheerless, seems to
have been once a part of the lake. It is devoid of
timber, save one lone tree, that stands out on what
appears to be a plain, of almost smooth prairie ; but
we forget we are one thousand feet above this valley.

Let us follow now the zigzag trail that leads to the
gap just where the valley and the lake unite.

Better dismount, for wagons never have been, nor
ever will go down that bluff. Horses, indeed, need a
rough-lock to get down in safety. Oh I but this is steep ;
we are now half-way dowTi, — let us rest, and mean-
while take your field-glass and "see what we can
see." Whyl it don't look as it did from the top of
the biuff". Oh I I see now why you call this jjlace the

392

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

" Lava Beds." From this stand-point it presents the
appearance of a broken sea, that had, when in wild
commotion, suddenly frozen or crystallized; except
that the surface is a grayish color. Sage brush grows
out from the crevices of the rock, and, occasionally,
" bunch grass " may be seen.

Near the foot of the bluff is a small flat of a few
acres that is free from rocks. A bay from the lake
makes up into the rocky field; then a long point of
stony land runs out into the lake.

Follow the shore-line, and another bay, or arm of
the lake, runs out into the lava rocks. Look care-
fully, and, on the next point of lava rocks, running
into the lake, you will discover a gray smoke rising.
There, if you will steady your glass, you will see dark
forms moving round about the fire.

They are not more than two miles from our point
of observation, and this is the 16th day of June, 1873.

See that man standing above the others. He is
talking. Wonder who he is, and what he is saying.
Since we are talking of Indians, suppose we adopt
Indian spiritualism, and in that invisible capacity we
will hear and see what is going on.

"We will pick our way over the dim, crooked trail,
first in real person, and take items as we pass along.
The trail is very dim, it is true, — only seen by the
rocks misplaced to make footing for the Indian ponies.
"Now we wind around some low stony point, and pick
our way down into a rocky chasm.

Slowly rising, we climb up twenty feet of bluff, and
out on a plateau. Looking carefully for the road, we
follow a half-round circle of two hundred feet on the
left; and, sloping from every direction, the broken lava

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

393

rocks tend toward a common centre, forty feet below
the level of the plateau. As we pursue our way another
great basin is in sight, of similar character and pro-
portion; and thus this plateau, that appeared almost
smooth from the mountain-top, is made up of a suc-
cession of basins, all lined with broken rock, from the
size of a dry-goods box to that of a meeting-house.

Just ahead, we see rising above the rocky plain a
craggy ledge, standing like an immense comb, the
spikes of lava forming great teeth. On the right and
left it looks as if the teeth-like crags are broken mid-
way, and our trail is pointing to one of these breaks.

Before reaching it, we see on either hand where the
breaks are filled with stones, piled in such a way that
port-holes are left, through which the Modocs propose
to fire on the advancing foes when they come to the
attack.

Passing between upright spires of lava, we come
out on a smooth plain of fractured stones ; and, pass-
ing near the end of the second little bay, we find
rough, sharp ledges rising to intercept our way.

Picking om* steps, we stand on the summit of the
ledge. Shut your eyes now while we pass over a chasm
of thirty feet in depth, and with walls almost perpen-
dicular. Our bridge has been made by a gorge of
loose rocks that fill the chasm to its lips. Some of
these have been rolled in by Indian hands, and some
by old Vulcan himself, when he spilled the lava there.

Come, follow the trail, — now we stand a moment
and, looking right and left, we see great fissures and
caverns that look dark and forbidding; suggesting
ambush. ]No danger here now, — we left the Modoc
sentinel behind us, at the huge comb-like ledge. He

If I' ' * -

If£:^l

394

WiaWAM AND WAKPATH.

is not afraid of us, and all the other Modocs are in
council. Climbing a cliff that overlooks a deep, wide
chasm, we catch sight of the sage-brush fire, and
suddenly half a hundred warriors, in half dress of
"Boston," half of savage costume, — some of them are
bare-armed, and have curious-looking figm'es on them
made of paint.

This is not safe now, for sharp eyes scan the sur-
roundings, and while this council is going on, the
Modoc women are doing duty. Some of them are
piling on the sage brush to keep the fire going.
Others are standing, apparently pillars of stone ;
sphinx like, they gaze outward, for although this
council is being held in a place secure from gaze of
pale-faced man, the Modocs, Indian like, are ever on
the alert, and do not intend to be taken by surprise.
Since this is not safe for us, we had better play In-
dian spirit, if we would see and hear what is going
on. "What we lack in catching the words in the spirit
correctly, we will obtain from some friendly Indian
hereafter. See that fellow there; his face looks fa-
miliar; yet he is not a Modoc. Oh! yes; we
recognize him now ; we saw him at the peace meeting,
taking the Modocs by the hand then, and after-
wards taunting them with their poverty and cowardice
while they were on Klamath Reservation in 1870.
That fellow is Lirik-river Jack. He is a natural
traitor.

He has crept cautiously into the Modoc camp to
give them warning of the soldiers coming. He is
the Modocs' friend now; he tells them that a large
army is coming; that they are on the bluff almost
within sight.

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

395

This was not news ; for the Modocs had counted
the soldiers, man by man, and knew exactly how many
was in either camp. They knew, too, that half the
soldiers were citizens with whom they had dealt for
years. Link-river Jack tells them of the feeling out-
side against them ; that peace may be had on the sur-
render of the Modocs who killed the settlers.
"We did not hear him tell them that if they would
hold out a few days, the Klamaths and Snakes
would join them; but our friendly Indian asserts that
he did.

All eyes turn now to the chief. Captain Jack.
He rises with stately mien and says, "We have
made a mistake. We cannot stand against the white
men. Suppose we kill all these soldiers; more will
come, and still more, and finally all the Modocs
will be killed; when we kill the soldiers others will
take their places; but when a Modoc gets killed na
man will come to take Jiit} place ; we must make the
best terms we can. I do not want to fight the white
man. I want no war; I want peace. Some of the
white men are our friends. Steele and Rosebor-
ough are our friends ; they told us not to fight the
white men ; we want no war ; soon all the young men
will be killed. We do not want to fight."

Old Schonchin John arose; his face was full of
war; 7ie was in for a fight. He recalled the "Ben
Wright" massacre; he said, "We have nothing to ex-
pect from the white men. We can die, but we will
not die first. I won't give it up ; I want to fight. I
can't live long. I am an old man." Schonchin sat
down. He had no hope for his life; his crimes were
all aiTayed against him, and he knew it.

i"S,3

396

WIGWAM AND WABPATH.

Scar-face Charley rose to talk. He said, " I was
mad on Lost river; my blood was bad. I was in-
sulted. I have many friends among the white men.
I do not want to kill them. We cannot stand against
the white men. True, I am a Modoc. "What their
hearts are, my heart is. May be we can stop this war.
I want to live in peace."

Curly-haii'ed Doctor, who was with the murder-
ing gang in Lost river, arose and said, "I am a
Modoc. My hands are red with white man's blood.
I was mad when I saw the dead women and children
on Lost river. I want war. I am not tired. The
white men cannot fight; they Kr.ot in the air. I will
make a medicine that will turn the white man's bullets
away from the Modocs. We will not give up. We
can kill all that come."

The discussion is ended, and now comes the vote.
They divide ofi", — those who were for war walked out
on one side, and those who favor peace on the other.
These people are democratic; the majority imles.

The vote is of vast importance to others than the
Modocs. One hundred and fifty soldiers and many
citizens are interested in that vote. Gen. Canby, Dr.
Thomas, and your wi'iter, are to be very much affected
by that vote. Millions of dollars hang on the decision.

Hold your breath while each man elects for himself.
The chief. Captain Jack, walks boldly out on the
side of peace, but, O my God, few dare follow
him. The majority vote for blood, and gather around
Schonchin John, and the Curly-haired Doctor. The
die is cast, war is inevitable ; let us see who is with
Captain Jack. There goes " Scar-face Charley,"
"William" (the wild gal's man), "Miller's Char-

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

397

ley," "Duffcy," «Te-hc Jack," "Little Poney," "Big
Poney," "Duflfey's Boy," "Chuckle-head," "Big
Steve," "Big Dave," "Julia's man," — fourteen men,
no more.

The bloodthirsty villains who held the balance of
power are, " Schonchin," " Curly-head Doctor," " Bo-
gus Charley," "Boston Charley," "Hooker Jim,"
"Shacknasty Jim," "Steamboat Frank," "Rock-
Dave," " Big Joe," " Curly Jack," and the remaii\der
of the band, num^^ering thirty-seven, all told. There
are two strange Indians there, also; they are Pitt
river thieves, they do not vote. The doctor's speech
has done the work. These infuriated thirty-six men
believe in him, and his promise to make medicine that
will turn the bullets of the white men. This has
more power than the clear, logical reasoning of Cap-
tain Jack. Having turned the current of so many
lives, the doctor, exulting in his success, repaired to
his cave to fulfil his promise.

Suppose we follow him and see how this thing is
done. He calls the singing women of the band to-
gether, and, having prepared roots and religious meats,
he builds a fire, and, with a great deal of ceremony, he
places the sacrifice thereon; then inhaling the smoke
and odor of the burning mess, he begins his religious
incantations; calling down the good spirit, calling
up the bad spirit, and calling loudly for ^\c spirits of
the dead Indians to come; while the women, having
pitched a tune to his words, begin to sing, and with
their shoulders touching each other, they start off in
a rough, hobbly kind of a dance, singing meanwhile;
and a drummer, too, joins in with a hideous noise,
made on a drum of peculiar shape, with but one head

398

WIGWAJI AND WAUPATn.

of dried rawhide, or iintanncd buckskin, drawn tightly
over a roiigli-made hoop.

Round go the singing dancers, and louder grow
the voices of the doctor and the women; both in-
creasing in fury until exhausted nature gives proof
of the presence of the various spirits.

The braves stand looking on to see what the pros-
pects are ; satisiBed that the medicine is getting strong
enough, they saunter back to the cave of the chief,
where he sits with thoughtful brow, planning in a low
voice the defence of the morrow; repeating again,
" This is the last of my people; I must do what their
hearts say; I am a Modoc^ and I am not afraid to
die." Then giving orders for the fight, — desig-
nating where each man should be station^ ^, and
appointing women to carry water and ammi ik to
the various stations, while they fight, — he inspects
the arms, and estimates how long the powder and lead
will last, tells the women to mould bullets for the old-
fashioned rifles; he then tuiT^c sadly away to his
sister, Queen Mary, and declares that he is now going
to do what he thought he never would do, — " fight
the white man."

We leave the howling doctor and the sad chief and
return to the soldier camp on the top of the bluff.
The sentinels are walking the rounds; all is quiet, and
the boys are taking their rest, — some of them their
last rest save one. Ah I Jerry Crook, you jumped
down from a stage-driver's box to help whip the Mo-
docs. Your heart is beating steadily now; it will
beat wildly for a few minutes to-morrow afternoon,
and then its pulsations will cease forever. George
Koberts, too, has left a good position to come on this

.18

WIGWAM AND WAUPATII.

399

mission, promising, as he fondly hopes, a dream of
glory, which he will share with his conu'ades when
hereafter ho cracks his whip over the teams of the
Northwest Stage Company. Enjoy it now% my dear
fellow, for the vote in yonder camp has sealed yonr
fate. Others may tell how bravely you died, but you
will not live to tell of the shout of victory that the
M-o-d-o-c-s will send over your dead body to-mor-
row night. Sleep soundly, my soldier boys ; thirty of
you will not answer the roll-call after the battle of the
morrow.

Bravo Gen. Frank "Wheaton, why do you still walk
back and forth, arm-in-arm with Col. John Green and
Maj. Jackson? You do not feel so sanguine about
to-morrow. Jackson has said something that has
driven sleep from your eyes. You might find com-
fort in consulting Gens. Miller and Ross, and Col.
Thompson, of the " Salem Press," and Capt. Kelley,
of the "Jacksonville Times." They are State militia
oiRcers, it is true, but they are old Indian fighters, and
can tell you how quickly you can whip Captain Jack
in the morning. They are leading men, who may be
hard to restrain^ but they will take the advance.
Don't say a word to Capt. John Fairchild; he Imows
the Modocs, as does Press Dorris. They know the
Lava Beds, too ; they have hunted cattle over this
country, and understand the lay of it better than any
white men in the camp.

They are not so very confident. They said, to-day,
to some impatient boys, "Don't fret; you will get
enough to do you before you see your mother again.
The Modocs are on it sure I "

CHAPTER XXY.

MODOC STEAK FOR BREAKFAST -- GRAY-EYED MAN ON THE

WAllPATH.

Four A. M., January 11th, 1873. — The tattoo is
beaten, and the soldiers throw aside their blankets.
They dress themselves; the bankets are rolled to-
gether; the men sit around the mess-table on the
ground, and partake of coiFee and " hard tack." The
volunteer State militia also jump out from under their
bankets, and, making their toilets as soldiers do, pre-
pare for duty and glory.

The weather is cold, very cold. Breakfast is over,
and the order to " Fall in " sounds through the camp.
The blue uniforms take places like automatons; the
roll is called. " Here ! " " Here ! " comes out along the
line. Poor fellows I somebody else must answer for
some of you to-morrow ; you cannot do it for yourselves.

The line of march is taken. The California volun-
teers, under the gi'ay-eyed man, lead the way toward
the bend of the ridge. Cautiously they approach the
river. It is not daylight yet; they must go slow.
Look over the valley below us - ■ the day begins to
dawn. Oh, yes; you are looldng at the upper side of
a great bank of fog. The signal that was to be
given Col. Barnard " to move " cannot be made. But
he will come to the attack on the south at the same
time with the assault from the north.

The soldiers are unencumbered by blankets and

the

ivard
ch the

slow.
ms to
ideof

to be
But

same

i
t

r
i(

6
I]

di
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ro
th
th
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W(
TV
th

WIGWASI AND WARPATH.

403

knapsacks; they have left them with a guard at
camp, expecting to retm'n in a few hours. They ipovo
cautiously down the bluff into the misty scene below.
The cavalry-men arc dismounted, leaving their horses
in camp, and answer to the call of the bugle. The
two hundred men are at the foot of the bluff, at the
edge of the Lava Beds.

The lines arc formed; each company is assigned a
position. In the dim daylight, mixed with fog, they
look like ghostly mourners out on the rampart of the
spirit woi'ld. Kark ! " Forward — march ! " rings out
in the cold morning air, and the ^ugle repeats " For-
ward — march!" The line mo os^ stretching out
along the foot of the bluff. The regulars advance
very steady, for Maj. Jackson's company that was in
the Lost-river light were in no great hurry to hear
the music of battle again.

The volunteers start off rapidly^, while Gen. Ross
and Col. Thompson say, " Steady, bovs, — steady."
*' Steady, my boys," rep»,ats Capt. jLvulley, of the
Oregon volunteers.

" Go slow, boys, go slow. You il raise 'em
directly," says the gray-eyed man, who commands
the Californians. Cautiously the line moves over the
rocky plain. On, still on — noModocsyet. On again
they go through the thick fog. " Just as I expected;
they've left. I knew they wouldn't stand and fight
when the volunteers got after them." — " They knew
we was a comin'." Such speeches were made by men
who were hungry for " Modoc sirloin. ^^ " Steady
there; we'll raise them pretty soon," says gray eyes.
"They haint run; they're ihar sure. Go slow, boys;
keep down, boys — keep down low, boys."

404

WIGWAJI AKD AVARPATH.

■v.M

Hark I again; what is that rumble, like a train
crossing a great bridge? Bang — bang — bang —
bang comes thi'ough the fog bank. " Barnard's opened
or 'em. IS^ow we will go. Hurrah 1 We will take
'em in the rear. Hurrah ! huiTah ! hurrah for h — 1,"
sings out a Modoc-eating fellow.

" That's right ; every man hurrah for the country
he's going to," comes from a quiet regular on the left.

Through the mist a gleam shoots out, and then a
rattle of musk ts just in front of the advancing line.
Hey! what means that? Did Roberts stumble and fall?
Yes, he fell, but he cannot get up again; his blood is
spurting from his neck on the rocks. Look to the
right. Another has fallen to rise no more.

" Fire! " says Col. Green. "Fire! " says the bugle.
"Fire!" say the volunteer officers, and a blaze of
light burst forth along ^ the line. To see the flame
from the guns, one would suppose they saw the enemy
on some cliff above them, although the Modoc flame
was on a level.

Perhaps the Modocs have changed their base. N^o,
that cannot be, for, see! again it blazes out just in
front, and, oh, see the soldiers fall.

On the right of our line, among the rocks, a level
blaze follows the Modoc volley. There is somebody
there who knows what he is about. " Charge! " rings
out the voice of Green. " Charge ! " repeats the
bugle. The line moves forward at a double-quick,
over the rough waves of hardened lava.

On, on, still on the shattered line moves, for sev-
eral hundred yards. Still no howl of pain from Mo-
doc lips.

"They've run," exultingly shouts a voice; but before

WIOWAM AND AVARPATH.

405

sev-
M6-

sfore

the echo of that voice had repeated the lie, through
the rocky caves another blazing line appears in front.
Bang, bang, now comes from the fmther side; again
ii charge is ordered, and, climbing over chasms and
caverns, the now broken line move as best they can ;
no groan of agony tells of Modocs with bayonets or
bullets pierced. No eye has seen a redskin, but four
hundred pairs of ears have heard the Modoc's war-
whoop, and four hundred hearts have trembled at the
sound.

The line still moves forward, firing at the rocks,
and — and another brave white man falls.

The investment must be completed; junction must
be made with Col. Barnard. Where arc the volun-
teers? The gap in the line must be closed. Where
is Capt. ? The caves answered back, "Where? "

But Donald McKay, the scout, says " They are be-
hind the ledge yonder, lying down."

"Order them up," says Gen. Frank Wheaton.

An aide-de-camp fails to open communication with
them.

The gallant Green is trying now to close up the
line. " Forward, my men," he shouts. " Mount the
cliff." The foremost man falls back pierced with
Modoc bullets. Green quickly leaps upon the cliff —
a dozen rifles from the cave send flame and balls at
him. " Come, my men. Up, up," and another man
reels and falls. " Come up," again shouts the brave
colonel, still standing with the bullets flying around
him. Another blue blouse appears, and it, too, goes
backward; thus the little mound of dead soldiers
grew at the foot of the cliff, until, at last, the gray-
eyed man, taking in the situation, points out to his

40G

■VVIOWAM AND WAIIPATII.

men the Indian battery that commanded this position,
and then the sharp, quick rifles, mingle smolce and
bullets with the muskets and howitzers, and Green's
men pass over the cliff.

The fog is lifting now, but scarce an Indian yet
seen. Still the circle of bayonets contracts around
the apparently ill-starred Modoc stronghold.

Take a station commanding a view of the battle.
Do you hear, amid all this din of exploding gunpow-
der, the shrieks of mangled white men, and the exult-
ing shouts of the Modocs? Look behind you; the
Bun is slowly sinking behind Mount Shasta, tired of
the scene. The line is broken again, and, where a
part of it had stood, sec the writhing bodies in blue,
half prostrate, some of them, and calling loudly for
comrades to save them.

A council is called by Gen. AVheaton; the fighting
goes on; the line next the lake gives back. "Draw
off your men !" is the order that now echoes along
the faltering lines; the bugles sound "Retreat." The
men are panic-stricken. Hear the wounded, who un-
derstand the bugle-call, shouting to comrades, " Da
not leave us." The volunteers halt; they return to
the rescue. The IVIodoc fire is fearful. One of the
wounded men is reached in safety, but when two of
his comrades lift him up, one of them drops.

Fairchild's men now go to the rescue, crawling on
their faces; they almost reach the two wounded men;
one of the rescuers falls; they cannot be saved. One
wounded man begs to be killed. "Don't leave me
alive for the Modocs." The cry is in vain. The
army of joiLr hundred mm are on the r( treat. They
fall back, followed by the shouts and bullets of the

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

407

Modocs, and soon leave the voices of the wounded
behind them. Is it true that our army is retreating
now from fifty savages?

Is it possible that our heroes, who were to dine on
" Modoc sirloins,''^ are scrambhng over the rocks on
empty stomachs, after a ten-hour fight? Is it true
that the cries for help by wounded soldiers are heard
only by the Modocs? Yes, my reader, it is true.
Every cfibrt to save them cost other lives.

Our army grope their way in darkness over the
rocks they had passed so hopefully a few hours since.
They climb the bluff, expecting an attack each min-
ute; the wounded, who are brought off the field, are
compelled to await surgical aid until the army can be
placed in a safe position.

The camp on the north is reached, and, without
waiting for morning, they fall back to " Bremer's "
and " Fairchild's."

Wlien the roll is called in the several companies
thirty-five regulars and volunteers fail to answer.
Their dead bodies lie stark and cold among the rocks.
The Modoc men disdain to hunt up victims of the
fight. The squaws are permitted to do this work. It
is from Modoc authority, that they found two men
alive at daylight next morning, and that they stoned
them to death; finally ending this long night of horror
by one of the most cruel deaths that savage ingenuity
could suggest. Look now in the Modoc camp when
the squaws come in, bearing the arms and clothing of
the fallen United States soldiers. See them parade these
before the Indian braves. Sec those young, ambitious
fellows, with those curious-looking things. Here are
" Hooker Jim " " Bogus Charley," and " Boston Char-

M-:sJ-

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408

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

ley," "Shacknasty Jim," "Steamboat Frank," and
several others, holding aloft these specimens of God's
handiwork and their own.

You ask. What are they?

Go to yesterday's line of battle, scan the rocks
closely, and you will sec some of them are dyed with
human gore; look closely, and you will see a bare foot,
may be a hand, half-covered with loose stones; ex-
amine carefully, move the rocks, and you will find a
mutilated white body there, and if you will uncover
the crushed head you will see where the articles came
from that the Modoc braves are showing with so
much pride.

Suppose you count the Modoc warriors now. We
know they had fifty-three yesterday morning, for we
have the names of all the men of the whole tribe, and we
have taken pains to ascertain that every man who did
not belong to Captain Jack's band was at " Yai-nax,"
under the eye of the old chief "Schonchin" and the
Government agent, while the battle of yesterday was
going on, except three Modocs — Cum-ba-twas — and
they were with Capt. Oliver Applegate's company
during the fight. There is no miscount. Fairchild,
Applegate, Dorris, and Frank Riddle know every one
personally. Call the roll in Jack's camp, and evo^y
man will answer to his name, except one man who was
wounded in a skirmish on the 15th, with Col. Perry's
company of regulars. This statement is correct, not-
withstanding the Telegraph said the Modocs had two
hundred, men in the ficjht.

Listen to Curly-haired Doctor. He is saying, in
his native tongue, " I promised you a medicine that
would turn the white man's bullets. Where is the

WIOWAJjl AND WARPATH.

409

Modoc thai; has been struck with the white man's
bullets? I told you 'Soch-a-la Tyee,' the Great
Spirit, was on our side. Your chief's heart was
weak; mine was strong. We can kill all the white
men that come."

Schonchin John says : " I felt strong when I saw
the fog that our medicine-man had brought over the
rocks yesterday morning. I knew we could kill the
soldiers. We are 3fodocs"

The chief (Captain Jack) arose, all eyes turn
towu/d him, and in breathless silence the council
awaits his speech.

He does not appear to share in the general rejoic-
ing. He is thoughtful, and his face wears a saddened
look. He feels the force of the doctor's speech;
Schonchin's also. He knows they are planning for
his removal from the chieftainship.

" It is true we have killed many white men. The
Modoc heart is strong; the Modoc guns were sure;
the bullets went straight. We are all here; but hear
me, O muck-a-lux (my people) . The white men are
many; they will not give up; they will come again;
moi^e will come next time. No matter how many the
Modocs kill, more will come each time, and we will
all be killed after a while. I am your voice. My
blood is Modoc. I will not make peace until the
Modoc heart says ^jieace.^ We will not go on the
warpath again. Maybe the war will stop."

After the several braves have recoimted the various
exjjloits they have performed, the council adjourns.

See the squaws bringing great loads of sage brush.
They are ])reparing for a grand scalp dance. This is
to be a great demonstration. The women dress in best

\ i

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410

WIGWAJI AND WAUPATII.

attire and paint their faces, whik the men, now wild
with triumph, prepare for the ceremonies of rejoicing.

The drum calls for the dance to commence. They
form around the fire on the bare rocks, each warrior
painted in blacl: and red, in figures rudely made on
their arms and breast, indicating the deeds they may
boast of. Each bears on the ramrod of his gun the
scalps he has taken. The medicine-man begins a
kind of prayer or thanksgiving to the Great Spirit
above, and to the bad spirit below, for the success
they have won. The dances begin, — a short, upright
hop, singing of the great deeds of the Modocs, the
warriors meanwhile waving the ramrods with the
Bcalps.

Round and round they move, stepping time to the
rude music, until they are exhausted. The blood
of the warriors is at fighting heat.

The chief takes no part. lie is ill at ease; his
mind is busy with gi*eat thoughts concerning the
past and the future of the Modoc people.

Leaving the Modocs to exult and quarrel alter-
nately, let us hunt up our disappointed army. A
part of them have returned to Col. Barnard's camp
at Lone Lands; another part, the volunteers, have
collected at Fairchild's ranch. Great, unauthorized
councils are being held; a hundred men give wise
opinions. Gen. Frank Wheaton is declared " incom-
petent," and some underhand work is going on to have
him relieved of his command. It will succeed, al-
though he was brave and skilful, and did as well as any
other man could have done under the circumstances.

But that is not the question now, he must be re-
lieved; it is enough that he did not succeed, and it is

WKIWAM AXD WAUPATIJ.

411

necessary now to send a new man and let hiin learn
something of the country. True, Gen. Wheaton has
experience and would know how to manage better
than a new man. Political power is triumphant, and
this worthy man is humbled because he could not i)er-
form an impossibilittj. lie had raw recruits, that were
iniskilled in Indian wars, and he was attacking with
this force the strongest natural fortress ou the conti-
nent.

Let us listen to some of the pretty speeches being
made in the volunteer camp.

"I tell you aint them Modocs nearly thunder
though? But the ' regulars ' fired from the hip; they
could not get clown and draw a fine bead."

" It takes Volunteers to fight Ingens. Ruther have
one hundred volunteers anytime than a regiment of
' regulars.' *'

" The captain says he's going to raise a new corn-
pan}', picked men; and then the Modocs will get h — 1.
Won't they though?"

Our unpopular gray-eyed man strolled into the
volunteer camp. He is a little caustic sometimes.
Sauntering up to the fellow who was so brave a few
days before, he said : —

"How did you like your 'Modoc sirloin,' eh? putty
good, eh? didn't take it raw, did you? Where's that
feller who was going to bring hom^ a good-looking
squaw for a — dishwasher? Wonder how he likes
her about this time? Where's that other fellow who
was going to ride Captain Jack's pacing lioss?

" Wonder if those boys who were spoiling for a fight
are out of danger?

" Say, boys, there's some old squaws over there near

tti

412

WIOWAM AND WARPATH.

the spring; they alnt got any guns, aint no bucks
there; may be you can take them." Tossing his head
a little to one side, a habit of his when full of sarcasm,
he went on to ask the captain of a certain company,
" if he found any difficulty in holding his boys back.
Where was you during the fight, anyhov/? I heard
Gen. Wheaton asking for you, but nobody seemed to
know where you was, 'cept Donal' McKay, and he said
you was down on the point; said he saw your general
there with a mighty nice breech-loading bird gun, and
that once in a while some of you would raise your
heads and look round, and then Shacknasty Jim
would shoot, and you would all lie down again.

" Now, captain, let me give you a little bit of advice;
it won't cost you nothing. When you raise another
company to fight the Modocs, don't you take any of
them fellows that you can't hold back, nor them
fellows who want to eat Modoc steaks raw; they aint
a good kind to have when you get in a tight place.
Why, Shacknasty Jim could whip four of them at a
time. Them kind of fellers aint worth a continental
d — m for fightin' Modocs. Better leave them fellers
with their mammies."

CHAPTER XXVI.

OLIVE BRANCH AND CANNON BALLS — WHICH WILL WIN?

A FEW days after this battle Cajjtain Jack sent a
message to John Fairchild and Press Dorris, propos-
ing a "talk," telling them that they should not be
molested, and agreeing to meet them at the foot of
the bluft", near the Modoc cami). Messrs. Fairchild
and Dorris, accompanied by one other white man and
an Indian woman (Dixie), visited the Lava Beds.

The meeting, as described by Fairchild, was one of
peculiar interest. Those who had Iccn friends, and
tlita enemies and at war, without any formal declara-
tion of peace, coming together in the stronghold of
the victorious party, presents a phase of Western life
seldom witnessed. The white men, fully armed, ride
to the Indian camp with the squaw guide. The Mo-
docs had observed them with a field-glass while they
were descending the bluff, two miles away.

On their arrival, the men who had so earnestly
sought each others' lives stood face to face. A pain-
ful silence followed, each party waiting for the other
to speak first. The Modocs approach and oficr to
shake hands. " ^ b, you don't, until we understand
each other," said Fairchild; and continued, "We
came here because we learned that you wanted to
talk peace. We are not afraid to talk or to hear you
talk. We were in the battle. We fought youy and
we xvilljight again unless peace is made."

414

WIGWAM AND WAKI'ATII.

Captain Jack replied, that "the Moc'ocs knew all
about who was in the big battle, but that should not
make trouble now. We are glad you come. "We
want you to hear our side of the story. AVe do not
want any war. Let us go back to onr homes on Lost
rivei". We are willing to pay you lor the cattle we
have killed. AVe don't want to fight any more."

Such was the substance of Captain Jack's speech;
to whicli Fairchild and Dorris replied, that they were
not authorized to make any terms, but would do all
they could to prevent further war.

These men visited the Modoc camp from humane
and kindly motives ; yet tongues of irresponsible par-
ties dared to speak slanderous words against these
men who ventured where their vilifiers would not
have gone for any consideration. Their motives were
questioned, and insinuations unworthy the men who
made them, never would have been made had the
characters of Fairchild and Dorris been better under-

stood.

The results of the battle of Jan. 17th had startled
the public mind, and especially the authorities at
"Washington City. On investigating the cause of the
war, it was thought that some mistake had been made.
The citizer>= of Oregon who were then in Washing-
'^'^n, headed by Gen. E. L. Applegate, consulted with
Attorney-Genci-al Williams on the subject of the Mo-
doc troubles. Liasmuch as a vast amount of ink has
since been wasted in expressing indignation against
the Modoc Peace Commission, I herewith submit the
gubjoin^d letter from Gen. Applegate, of Oregon, to
the "Oregon Bulletin," which gives a fair, and, I be-
licv i, t'"^'3 statement of the circumstances attending

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

415

its conception. I was not present at the conference
referred \;o, neither was I consulted as to the propriety
of the movement, either by the Honorable Secretary
or the Oregon delegation. Secretary Delano is quali-
fied to defend his own action, and I only suggest that,
with the representations set forth, he acted wisely in
the course he pursued.

Although I did not advise the appointment of a
Peace Commission, I declare that it was right, and no
blame can be justly attached to either the Commission
or t ic appointing power, if it was not a success.

7. he principle of adjusting difficulties by such
m^ans ip in harmony with justice and right. Let
those who hurned the Honorable Secretary in effigy
remember the continued stream of denunciation that
was poured out against the Commission by a portion
of the secular press of the Pacific coast, and the
reason why the peace meaoures failed may be better
understood.

LETTER FEOM WASHESTGTON OITY.

How the ^^ Peace Commission^'' was formed — An
Account from General Applegate — His Agency in
the flatter.

Wasiiixgton, D. C, January 20tli, 1873.

Editors Bulleten": I "arise to explain" that, since
coming to this city I have been meddling somewhat
with public aff'airs. You krow the Indian question is
one which I think I have a right to express an
opinio'^ upon. I ought to know something of Indians
and Indian aftair^i; and, believing tliat a wrong ]~^olicy
in regard to the Modocs might involve the country

N+' ■4

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;l;lii

416

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

ill a tedious and expensive Indian war, without a
sufficient (Jegree of good being accomplished by it to
justify the losses, delays, and expenses incurred, I
could not avoid undertaking such action as I believed
might the most quickly hasten a settlement of the
t.ouble.

The fame abroad of Indian wars and dangers in
our State is very injurious to the cause of immigra-
tion. A great many good people are confirmed in
an opinion, which has been vci'y considerably enter-
tained heretofore, namely, that Oregon is yet an
Indian country, and that the settlements are at all
times in imminent danger of the tomahawk and
scalping-knifc.

My policy with Indians may be denominated the
"pow-wow" policy. A matter has not only to be
thoroughly explained to an Indian, but it must be
explained over and over; and the fact is, that thirty
years of observation convince me that Indians can
be talked into any opinion or out of it by the men in
whom they have confidence, and who understand the
proper style of Indian talk. Consequently, I was in
favor of sending some man as a Peace Commissioner
to the Modoc country to pow-wow with these Indians
and Sv.:;tle the difficulty. " Jaw-bone " is cheaper than
ammunition; and the fact is, that all comes round to
this at last, and always has. This might just as well
be done at first, it seems to me, as to go through all
the ups and downs, and expense of blood and treasure
and long-delayed peace, with the bad effects abroad
on the State, and then come to it.

I was, therefore, in favor of sending Mr. Meacham
to that country immediately as a peace officer, to turn

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

417

the whole thing into a " big talk," instead of letting
it go on and getting into a big war.

This policy was agreed upon by as many of the
Oregonians as could be got together. Styling our-
selves an "Oregon delegation," we called upon
Attorney-General Williams, and submitted the matter
to him. "We promptly received a note from the
attorney-general, stating that Secretary Delano would
be glad to see us in regard to this matter, and
on Saturday, the 25th, we called upon him. We
found him a pleasant gentleman, with a very serious
business expression about his face. He heard our
statements and opinions with great patience, and re-
quested a statement in writing of our views, for the
purpose of bringing the matter before the cabinet
and President. The following is the said document,
which was signed by the aforesaid Oregon delega-
tion: —

im
iru

Washington, D. C, January 27tli, 1873.

Hon. C. Delano, Secretary Interior: —

Dear Sir: We would most respectfully submit the
following notes or memoranda, in compliance with
your request, on the 2oth, that we should embody in
writing the views which we had just expressed on
the situation of affairs in the Klamath and Modoc
country, in Southern <')regon : —

The Indians and military are incompatible. They
cannot peaceably dwell in contact. Soldiers should
not be allowed to go on an Indian Reservation at all.
An agent in charge of an Indian Reservation should
have the right to determine who should be about the
Iteservation.

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418

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

The Modocs and the Klamaths have been at war
as far back as tradition knows. The Klamath's per-
secute the Modocs when the Modocs are on the
Klamath Reservation, because this Reservation is in
the country of the Klamaths. This is a most irri-
tating cause of discontent with the Modocs. The
near vicinity of the Modocs to the ancient home of
their fathers adds to their discontent. Moreover, the
Modocs do not understand that they have justly
parted ownership with their old home. The Modocs
are desperate. Their disposition now is to sell their
lives as dearly as possible; not to submit to the
military. Active military operations should be sus-
pended immediately. Soldiers should remain in guard
only (the regulars) of the settlements against a raid
by those Indians until a peace officer reports on the
situation.

Because to undertake to drive those Indians to the
Reservation by force would involve a considerable
loss of life and property, and great expense to the
Government.

Because war and bloodshed in such close proximity
to Klamath and Yai-nax would produce disaffection
among all those Indians, which would continually
augment the force of the insurgents, and even
endanger a general uprising and breaking up of
those Reservations; and discontented Indians from
everywhere would seek the hostile camp, and make
out of a little misunderstanding a great war.

Because to force Indians on to a Reservation by
arms, and keep them there against their will, would
require a standing army or a walled-up Reservation.

Because those Indians already know that the Gov-

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

419

trnment is able to annihilate them. There is nothing,
therefore, to be gained in merely making them feel
its power. Their extermination would not be worth
its cost. And, moreover, they look to the Govern-
ment to protect them against local mistake and wrong.

Because they cannot, under the present juncture of
affairs, be taught by force the justice of the Govern-
ment; for, to them, it is an attempt by force to en-
force an injustice — to force them to abandon their ow n
home and leave it unoccupied, while they are quartered
upon the Klamaths ; to use the wood, water, grass, and
fish of their ancient enemies, and endure the humilia-
tion of being regarded as inferior, because dependants ;
and particularly so since those Indians had been
quieted for some time with the assurance that their
request for a little Reservation of their own would be
favorably considered. They, therefore, considei-ed
the appeal to the military to be premature, as a defi-
nite answer to their petition had never been had. Dif-
ferent tribes of Indians can be better harmonized
together where none can claim original proprietorship
to the soil.

The Klamaths, Yai-nax, and Modocs all ought to
be removed to the Coast Reservation, a portion of
which, lying between the Siletz and Tillamook, west
of the Grand Ronde, capable of sustaining a large
population, remains unoccupied, abounding in fish,
game, and all the products of the soil to which
Indians are accustomed.

A peace commissioner should hasten to the scene
A trouble as coming from the "Great Father" of all
tb 0-- »!<!, both whites and Indians, with full author-
ity to hear and adjust all the difficulties.

420

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

On account of his personal acquaintance with those
Indians and their implicit confidence in him, we
would respectfully suggest and recommend Hon. A.
B. Meacham as a proper man to appoint as a peace
commissioner for the adjustment of difficulties with
those tribes and the carrying out of the policy herein
indicated. — [Signed as above stated.]

The day following the filing of the above set of
^ Becauses " and recommendations, I received a note
inviting me to the Interior Department. When noti-
fied of my appointment as Chairman of the Commis-
sion, I then expressed doubts of its success, giving,
as a reason, the intense feeling of the western peo-
ple against the Modocs and any peace measures ; also
as to the safety of the commission in attempting to
negotiate with a people who were desperate, and had
been successful in every engagement with the Gov-
eriiment forces.

Ii is well loiown at the department in "Washington
that I accepted the appointment with reluctance, and
finally yielded my wishes on the urgent solicitation
of the Hon. Secretary of the Interior. The fact that
I knew the Modocs personally, and that I had been
successful, while Superintendent of Indian Affairs for
Oregon, in managing them peaceably in 1869, was
given as one reason. Another was, the sympathy I
had for them on account of the treatment of them by
the Klamaths ; and another still, humanity for the sol-
diers whose lives were imperilled by the effort to
make peace through blood, and charity for a poor,
deluded people, whose religious infatuation and hot
blood had forfeited their right to life and liberty.

"WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

421

My heart was in sympathy, too, with the poor, be-
reaved wives and mothers, made so by Modoc treach-
ery; but I did not beheve that doubhng the number
of widows and orphans would make the griefs of
the mourners less, or lighter to be borne.

The sands of the sage-brush plains had drank up
the blood of a score of manly hearts; immersing the
lava rocks in blood could not make the dead forms
to rise again.

"With these feelings, and fully realizing the danger
attending, and anticipating the opposition that would
be raised agamst the commission, I left Washington
on the 5th of February, 1873, with the determination
to do my whole duty, despite these untoward circum-
stances. The other members of the commission were
Hon. Jesse Applegate, a man of long experience on
the frontier, possessed of eminent qualities for such a
mission, aside from his personal knowledge ^f exist-
ing hostilities, and personal acquaintance with the
Modocs, and Samuel Case, who was then acting Indian
Agent at Alsea, Oregon. Mr. Case has had long ex-
perience and success in the management of Indians ;
these qualities were requisite in treating with a hostile
people. Both these appointments were made on my
own recommendatio7i^ based on a personal acquaint-
ance with these gentlemen, believing them fitted for the
difficult task assigned the commission. I accepted
the chairmanship more cheerfully, when informed
that Gen. Canby would act as counsellor to the
commission, knowing, as I did, his great experi-
ence among Indians, and the ability and character
which he would bring to bear upon the whole sub-
ject of the Modoc trouble. I knew hhu to be

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422

WIGWAM AND WARPATII.

humane and wise, and I had not the slightest doubt
of his integi'ity.

The following letter of instructions was furnished
for the guidance of the commission.

"With these, and the appointment of Messrs. Apple-
gate and Case, I went to the head-quarters of Gen.
Canby, then at Fairchild's Ranch, twenty-five miles
from the Modoc camp in the Lava Beds.

I arrived at Fairchild's Ranch on the 19th of Feb-
ruary, where I found General Canby, Hon. Jesse
Applegate, and Agent Samuel Case.

The Commission was duly organized, and immedi-
ately began operations looking towards the objects
sought to be accomplished.

Communication with the rebel camp had been sus-
pended after the visit of Fairchild and Dorris. To
reopen and establish it was the first work. This was
not easy to do under the circumstances. There were
several Modoc Indian women encamped near head-
quarters; but it was necessary to have some messen-
ger more reliable. Livmg but a few miles distant,
was a man whose wife was a Klamath, and who was
on friendly terms with the Modocs. This man, "Bob
Whittle," was sent for, with a request to bring his
wife with him. On his arrival, we found him to be a
man of sound judgment, and his wife to be a well-
appearing woman; understanding the English lan-
guage tolerably well.

A consultation was had, and we decided to send
this Indian woman and her husband. Bob Whittle,
and " One-eyed Dixie," a Modoc woman, with a mes-
sage to the Modocs in the Lava Beds. The substance
of this message was, that a commission was then at

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

423

Fairchild's ready to talk over matters with them.
This expedition was very hazardous.

These messengers left head-quarters early on the
morning of the 21st of February, all of them express-
ing doubt about ever returning. Fairchild's Kaneh
(our head-quarters) is sitii.ated at the foot of a moun-
tain overlooking the route to the Lava Beds, for
several miles. "We watched the mounted messen-
gers until we lost sight of them in the distance, won-
dering whether we should ever see them again.

Talk of heroism being confined to race, color, or
sex! nonsense; here were two women and a man,
venturing where few men would have dared go.

They returned late on the same day, unharmed,
and reported having been in the Modoc camp; and
bringing with them, in response to our message, the
reply, that the Modocs were willing to meet Jolm
Fairchild and Bob Whittle, at the foot of the bluff,
for the purpose of aiTanging for a council talk with
the commission.

Messrs. Fairchild and "Whittle were despatched on
the following morning, accompanied by Matilda Wliit-
tle andi, " One-eyed Dixie." Mr. Fairchild was in-
structed to announce the object of the commission,
and, also, who were its members, and to arrange to
meet the representative men of the Modocs, on some
midway ground, with such precautionary measures
as he might consider necessary.

He was also instructed to explain to them the mean-
ing of an armistice, — that no act of war would he com-
mitted by us, or permitted by them, while negotiations
for peace were going on. The meeting with Captain
Jack was had by Fairchild and party; the object

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424

WIGWAM AND WABPATH.

stated, and the personnel of the commission made
known. Captain Jack's reply was that he was readt/
to make peace; that he did not ivisJi to fight^ but he
was not wilHng to come out of the Lava Beds to meet
us. " I understand you about not fighting, or killing
cattle, or stealing horses. Tell your people they need
not be afraid to go over the country while we arc
making peace. My boys will stay in the rocks while
it is being settled; we will not fire the first shot. You
can go and hunt your cattle; no one will shoot you.
"We will not begin again first. I want to see Esquire
Steele. I am willing to meet the commissioners at the
foot of the bluff, but I don't want them to come with
soldiers to make peace. The solcHers frighten my
boys."

The messengers returned, accompanied by two
Modoc warriors, who were to carry back our answer.
These Modocs were Boston Charley and Bogus
Charley. We refused to go to the foot of the bluff
unless accompanied by an escort of soldiers, but pro-
posed to meet them on open ground, " all armed " or
^^all unarmed.''^ It was agreed that Esquire Steele
should be sent for. Bogus and Boston returned to
the Modoc camp with the results of the interview.
Steele was invited to head-quarters. Gen. Canby re-
quested by telegraph the appointment of Judge A.
M. Roseborough as a conunissioner; the request was
granted, and, on the morning of the 23d, Steele and
Roseborough arrived.

The commission now nimibered four. The Modocs
had refused to accept all propositions for a meeting
that had been made them, so far. Communication
was now had, almost daily, between the commission-

W1GWA3I AND WARPATH.

425

ers and Captain Jack, Frank Riddle and his Avife
Tobey acting as messengers and interpreters. The
Modocs came to our camp in small numbers, — there
they c;imc in constant communication with "squaw
men" (white men who associate with Indian women),
whose sympathy was with them.

From these they learned of the almost universal
thirst for vengeance, — of the indictments by the
Jackson county courts against the "Lost-river" mur-
derers; the feelings of the newspaper press; the
l)rotest of the Governor of Oregon; all of which was
carried into the Modoc camp by such men as Bogus
and Boston Charley. I stop here to say that these
two men were well fitted for the part they played in

the tragic event of which I am writing. Bogus

Charley was a full-blooded Modoc, whose father was
lost in some Indian battle. This boy was born on a
small creek, called by the miners Bogus creek;
hence his name. He was not more than twenty-one
years old at this time. He had lived with white men
at various times, — knew something of civilized life, —
was natm'ally shrewd and cunning ; the Indians called
him a "double-hearted man;" and my r.aders will
honor them for their intelligence by the time we reach
the gibbet, where Captain Jack answered for this
man's crimes.

His counterpart may be found in civil life in finely
dressed and smooth-talking white men, — who are the
scourges of good society, — persons who are all things
to all men, and true to none. Boston Charley was
still younger, — not over nineteen at the time justice
caught him by the neck and suspended him over a
coffin at Fort Klamath, November 3d, 1873. He

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426

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

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was so named on account of his light complexion and
his cunning; and as the Indian said, "Because ho
had two tongues ; one Indian and one white." His
father, a Modoc, died a natural death. He had no
personal cause for his treachery, and perhaps charity
should have been extended to him, and his life spared,
because he was " a natural-horn traitor" according
to Modoc theology, and not to blame for his acts.

However, such were the two principal messengers
from the Modoc camp to ours, — plausible fellows, who
could lie without the slightest scruples. They came,
and were fed and clothed; they lyen^, with their hearts
full of falsehoods that had been told them by whiskey-
drinking white villains. They, too, were plausible

fellows; talked with the old-fashioned "D n-

nigger-any-how " sort of a way.

Under such circumstances it was a somewhat dif-
ficult thing to arrange a council with the Modocs on
reasonable terms. True, the Modocs did say that
they had been told by white men that if Gen. Canby
and the commissioners ever got them in their power
they would all be hung. But who would believe a
Modoc? This was simply an excuse; and, then, no
one in all that country would have done such a thing.
That was a Modoc lie. J^Tobody but Modocs ever tell
lies. On the contrary, every ivJiite man was honest.
They all wanted to stop the war. Of course they did.
Intimate anything else, and you would get a hundred
invitations to "target practice" in twenty-four hours;
or else you would fall in a fit, and never get up
again, caused by remorse of conscience for mjuring
some imnamed individual.

On the arrival of Judge Roseborough and Esquire

WIGWAM AND WAKPATII.

427

Steele the commission was convened; a canvass of
the situation was had. Tlic proposition was made for
Mr. Steele to visit the Modoc camp. He consented
to go, believing that he could accomplish the object
we had in view. lie was unwisely instructed to offer
terms of peace. This should not have been done.
!No terms ever shoidd have been offered through a
third 27(irti/, — Messrs. lioseborough, Case, and Ap-
plegate voting for this measure. No one questioned
Mr. Steele's integrity or his sagacity, but many did
question the propriety of sending propositions of
peace to the Modocs through a third party. This
gave them the advantage of refusal, and of the advan-
tage of discussion in offering alternatives. Mi'. Steele
was authorized to say that an amnesty for all offenders
would be granted on the condition of removal to a
new home on some distant Reservation, to be selected
by the Modocs; they, meanw^hile, to be quartered on
"Angel Island," in San Francisco harl)or, as j9?'isowers
of war, and fed and clothed at Government expense.
Mr. Steele was accompanied on this mission by
Fairchild and " Bill Dad " (correspondent of the
"Sacramento Record"), and also one or two other
newspaper correspondents, — Riddle and wife as in-
terpreters.

They went prepared to remain over night, taking
blankets and provisions. The Modocs received them
with evident pleasure.

After the usual preliminaries were over, the peace
talk began. Captain Jack made a long speech, re-
peating the history of the past, throwing all the
responsibility on to the messengers sent by Superin-
tendent Odeneal, denying that either he or his people

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WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

Ill

had ever committed crime until attacked by the sol-
diers; that he was anxious for peace. Mr. Steele
made the i)roposition to come out of the Lava Beds
and go to a new home.

Steele's speech was apparently v-ell received, and
an arrangement was made whereby several Modocs
were to return with him to the head-quarters of the
commission. Nothing of an alarming character
occurred. The party returned in the afternoon of the
second day, accompanied by " Queen Mary " (sister
of Captain Jack), "Bogus Charley," "Hooker Jim,"
" Long Jim," " Boston Charley," " Shacknasty Jim,"
" Dufly," " William," " Curly-haired Jask."

We were on the lookout, and when the now en-
larged party came in sight they made an imposing
appearance. Steele was in advance, and, raising his
hat, saluted our ears with the thrilling words, " They
accept peace," Couriers to ride to Y-re-ka were or-
dered, despatches prepared for the departments, and
the various newspapers. A general feeling of relief
was manifest everywhere around can)p. AYe felt that
a great victory over blood and carnage had been won,
and that our hazardous labors were nearly over.
Letters of congratulation were being prepared to
send to friends, and all was happiness and joy, when
our gray-eyed friend, who was with the party, put a
sudden check on the exuberant feelings, by saying,
" I don't tliink the Modocs agreed to accept the terms
offered. True, they responded to Steele's speech, but
7iot in that way. I tell you they do not understand
that they have agreed to surrender yet, oa any terms.^*

Mr. Steele repeated his declaration, and the s leechcs,
as reported by " Bill Dad," were read, from ;\ liich it

his

WIGWAM AND AVARPATH.

429

appeared they had greeted Steele's peace-talk with
applause. The Modocs, who came in with Steele and
his party, were called np and questioned as to the
understanding. They were reticent, saying they
came out to hear what was said, and not to talh.

!N'o expression could bj obtained from them. Of
the success of his mission, Steele was so confident
that he proposed to return the next day to Captain
Jack's camp, and reassure hin^-'.lf and the commis-
sion. He accordingly started early the next mornmg,
accompanied by the Modocs who came out with him,
and " Bill Dad " (the scribe) . Mr. Fairchild was
invited, but he declined with a peculiarly slow swing-
ing of his head from side to side, that said a great
deal; especially when he shut his eyes closely, whil",
so doing. Riddle, also, objected to going, but con-
sented to let his wife Tobey go.

The party left behind them eome minds full of
anxiety, especially when reflecting on Fairchild's
panto'uime.

The Modocs, who were returning with Steele,
reached the stronghold some time before he did. On
his arrival, the greeting made his " hair stand on
end,''^ — he saw fearful possibilities. It required no
words to convince him that he had been mistaken.
He realized, in a moment, the great peril of the hour.
The slightest exhibition of fear on his part would have
closed up his career, and the scribe's, also. Steele's
long experience with the Indians had not fully qual-
ified him to inidcrstand them in council; hut \t had
taught him that real courage commands respect even
I'rom infuriated savages.

He sought to appear indifferent to the changed

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430

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

ii ?■

manner, and extended his hand to the chief, who ex-
changed the greetings with great caution, though
giving Steele to understand that he was still his
friend.

The council w^as opened, the chief remarking that
they had not yet shown their hearts; that his friend
Steele had missed some of his words.

Steele replied that he was their friend, and that he
would not, knowingly, misrepresent them.

Schonchin accused him of being a traitor to the
Modocs, and of telling falsehoods about them; and,
more by manner than by word, intimated that he was
done talking peace, showing a bad heart in his action,
sufficiently to enlighten Steele on the most important
thing in the world to him, namely, that Schonchin did
not intend to give Steele another opportunity to mis-
represent the Modocs.

Steele's courage and coolness saved him. He said
to Schonchin, " I do not want to ^alk to a man when
his heart is bad. We will talk again to-morrow."

The council was dissolved, the Modoc j scattering
about the camp, or gathering in little squads, and
talking in low tones.

The indications w^ere, that the time for saying
prayers had come, at least for Steele and Bill Dad.

Captain Jack and Scar-faced Charley demonstrated
that manhood and fidelity may be found even in
Indian camps. They, without saying in words that
Steele and Bill Dad were in danger, told them to
sleep in Jack's camp, and proceeded to prepare the
night-bed. Our messengers trustmgly lay down to
rest, if not to sleep, while Scar-faced Charley, Jack
and Queen Mary, stood guard over their friends.

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

431

Several times in the night, Steele looked from under
the blankets, to see each time his self-appointed
guards standing sentinel in silence.

All night long they remained at their posts, and it
was well for Steele and Bill Dad that they did; other-
wise they would have been sent off, that very night,
to the other side of the " dark river. "

The morning came and the council reassembled ; the
signs of murder were not wanting. Angiy words
and dark hints told the feehng.

Steele, relying on the friendship of Captain Jack
and Scarface Charley, proposed that he would return
to the head-quarters of the commission, and bring
with them all the commissioners the next lay.

This strategy was successful. He was pei*mitted
to depart on his promise to lead the commission to the
Modoc slaughter-pen. On his arrival at our camp he
looked some older than when he left the morning pre-
vious.

He admitted that he had been mistaken, detailing,
without attempt at concealment, that he had escaped
only by promising that the commission should visit
the Lava Beds unarmed; but with candor declared
that if they went they would be murdered; that the
Modocs were desperate, and were disjDosed to recall
the Ben Wright affair, and dwell upon it in a way
that indicated their thirst for revenge.

The department at "Washington was informed by
telegi'aph, and also by letter, of the progress of
negotiations from time to time, and always, ivithout
exception^ hy the advice and approhation of Gen.
Canhy.

On Steele's return, as Chairman of the Peace Com-

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432

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

mission, I telegraphed the foots above referred to, and
that it was the opinion of trie commission, concurred
in by Gen. Canby, that treachery was intended, and
that the mission could not succeed, and that we were
awaiting orders; to which we received +he following
reply : —

Department ot- i*.B Interiob, March 5, l&(-5,

A. B. Meacham, Faircliild's Itancli,via Yreka^ CctL:
I do not believe the Modocs mean treachery. The
mission should not be a failure. Think I understand
now their unwillingness to confide in you. Continue
negotiations.

Will consult President, and have War Department
confer with General Canby to-morrow.

C. DELANO,

Secretai'y.

The camp wore a gloomy aspect. The soVlicrs
who had been with Maj. Jackson on Lost river, and
with Gen. "VVheaton in the Lava Beds, were anxious
for peace on any terms.

Another fight was not desirable. They were real
friends to the Peace Commission. The field-glasses
were often turned toward the trail leading to the
Lava Beds.

Late one evening, a small squad of Modocs were
seen coming. Hope began to dawn again on the
camp. When they arrived, " Queen Mary," speaking
for her brother, proposed, ^^^nt if Gen. Canby would
send wagons and teams to meet them half way, the
Modocs would all come out and sur)-ender.

The proposition was accepted, the commission

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

433

three to one, to turn the whole matter over to Gen.
Canby; meanwhile awaiting the confirmation of the
Secretary of the Interior of the above action.

Gen. Canby, accepting the charge conferred by this
unwarranted action of our board, assumed the man-
agement of affairs ; and the chairman could only look
on, giving opinions when requested by Gen. Canby,
though confident that it was not the intention of the
Department of the Inferior to transfer this matter to
the Department of War at that time. The telegi-aph
station was at Y-re-ka, sixty miles from head-quar-
ters ; hen<^'e two to three days were required to receive
replies to telegrams.

Gen. Canby, anxious for peace, — as, indeed, he
always was, from humane motives toward his soldiers
and the Indians also, because he believed in the prin-
ciple, — attempted to settle the difficulties, and, know-
mg it to be the policy of the President, accepted the
terms offered. Mary and the men who canie out with
her returned to the Lava Beds, with the distinct un-
derstanding that the teams would be sent witkont a
squad of soldiers to a point designated, and that on
the following Monday all the Modocs would be there.

When Gen. Canby assumed the control of this
affair, he conducted his councils without Riddle and
his wife as interpreters, although they were present,
and were in Government employ by the commis-
sion.

For some reason he became prejudiced against
them, and did not recognize them as interpreters.
This fact was observed by the Modocs, and they were
anxious to know why this was so.

Before leaving, " Boston," who was with Mary, sig-

^11

434

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

.-:, !S

nified to Tobey (Mrs. Riddle), that she would not
see him again, saying : " If you ever see me, I will pay
you for the saddle I borrowed."

Tobe;,, feeling incensed at the treatment received,
was reticent, and, Indian-like, kept quiet, saying
nothing of her suspicions.

The day before the time for surrender another mes-
senger came from the Modocs, saying that they could
not get ready, that they were burning their dead, but
promising that two days hence they would surely
come.

Gen. Canby accepted the apology, and assured the
messenger that the teams would be sent.

Meanwhile, the report went out that the war was
over, much to the disquiet of those who were anxious
to secure U. S. greenbacks.

The day previous to the proposed s'.iTender, Riddle
and his wife expressed to me their opinion, that if the
teams were sent they would be capturedy or that no
Modocs would meet them, to surrender.

I sought an interview with Gen. Canby, giving
him the opinions I had formed from Riddle's talk.

The general called Riddle and his wife to his quar-
ters. They repeated to him what they had previously
said to me. He consulted Gen. Gilliam, and concluded
that Mrs. Riddle either did not know, or was working
into the hands of the INIodocs, or, perhaps, was influ-
enced in some way by those who were opposed to
peace.

At all events, on the morning fixed upon, tlio teams
were sent out, under charge of Mr. Steele. Man) an
anxious eye followed them until they passed out of
siglit.

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

435

The hours dragged slowly by for their return; but
so sanguine were Gen. Canby and Gen. Gilliam that
tents were prepared for their accommodation, one
was designated as " Captain Jack's Marquee," another
as "Schonchin's,"and so on, through the row of white
canvas tents.

Mr. Applegate was so certain that they would come
that he left the head-quarters for home, and reported
en route : " The war is over. The Modocs have sur-
rendered."

The soldiers were ready and anxious to welcome
the heroes of the Lava Beds. The sentiment was not
universal that the wagons would return loaded with
Indians.

Our keen-sighted, gray-eyed man shook his head.
" I don't think they will come. They are not going
to Angel Island, as prisoners of war, just yet."

Riddle and wife were in distress; their warning
had been disregarded, their opinions dishonored, their
integrity doubted.

Every field-glass was turned on the road over
which the wagons were to come. Four o'clock P. M.,
no teams in sight. Five, — no Indian yet; and,
finally, as the shadow of the mountain fell over the
valley, the glasses discovered, first, Mr. Steele alone,
and soon the empty wagons came slowly down the
rortd.

Darkness covered the valley, and also the hearts
of those who really desired peace. But a new hope
was now revived in the hearts of those who, from
near and afar, were clamoring for the blood of the
Modocs.

Another delegation arrived from the Modoc camp,

430

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

saying, "The Modocs could not agree; they wanted
more time to think about it."

The truth is, that they failed to agree about cap-
turing the teams. Jack and Scar-face were opposed
to it. The authorities at Washington were informed
of this failure, also; and they replied to the commis-
sion, " Continue negotiations." Mr. Case resigned ;
Judge Roseborough returned to his duties on the
bench.

Gen. Canby notified the Modocs that no more
trifling would be tolerated. Recruits were coming
daily, — one company, passing near the Lava Beds,
captured about thirty Modoc ponies. Gen. Canby
moved his head-quarters to Yan Bremen's, a few
miles nearer the Lava Beds.

I suggested to General Canby, that the capture of
horses was in violation of the armistice, and that they
should be returned. The general objected, saying,
that they should be well cared for and turned over
when peace was made.

Dr. Eleazer Thomas, of California, at the request
of Senator Sargent, was added to the commission, as
was, also, Mr. Dyer, agent of the Klamath Indians.

Dr. Thomas brought with him a long and suc-
cessful experience as a minister of the Methodist
Church. He had lived on the Pacific coast for
eighteen years; but he had little experience or
knowledge of Indians. Being a man of great purity
of character and untiring energy, coupled with a
hiunane heart and active hand, he threw himself into
this new mission with earnestness, and was impatient
to begin to do something towards the accomplishment
of peace.

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

437

Gen. Canby was sending out exploring parties of
armed mounted men occasionally, — the ostensible
object of which was to obtain a better knowledge of
the country around the Lava Beds, with a view to
moving the army nearer the Modocs. The commis-
sion was not informed of these expeditions, or their
objects, by Gen. Canby, but through other parties.

On one occasion. Dr. Thomas went out with a
company, and while surveying the Lava Beds at a
distance, they met several Modocs, with whom he
talked, and succeeded in reopening communication.

A delegation of Indians visted the new camp at
Van Bremens. Every effort made through them to
secure a meeting with the Board of Commissioners
and Modocs failed.

Gen. Canby notified the Modoc chief of his in-
tention to change the position of the army, so that the
communications might be more easily made; and,
also, that he would not commence hostilities against
them unless they provoked an attack.

Captain Jack's reply was, that he would not " fire
the fii'st shot;" but, through his messengers, he asked
a return of his horses.

Indians have great love for their horses. "WTien a
small company of the Modoc v^omen came in asking
for their ponies, they were denied them, but were
permitted to go under guard to the coiTal and see
them. It was a touching scene, — those Indian women
caressing their ponies. They turned sadly away,
when compelled, by orders, to leave the corral.

The fact is, several of these ponies had already been
appropriated for the use of young soldiers, at home,
when the ^v^ar should be over.

!!!

11 ^1

438

AVIOWAM AND WAUPATH.

On the last day of March, 1873, the camp at Van
Brcmcns wus broken up, and the army was put in
motion for the Lava Beds.

I was never shown any order from either depart-
ment, at Washington city, that authorized this move-
ment, though I do not doubt Gen. Canby felt justified
in so doing.

The commission was notified — not consulted. "We
were under instructions " in no wise to interfere with
the army movement, but always, as far as possible,
to confer and co-operate with Gen. Canby."

Four days were occupied in moving. We arrived
at the top of the bluff overlooking this now historic
spot of rocks, about noon of the second day.

How little we knew then of the near future, when
Gen. Canby and Dr. Thomas would be carried, in
rough-made coffins, up the zigzag road that we went
down on that day!

Our new camp was pitched near the foot of this
high bluff, and immediately on the shore of the lake.
From it, with a field-glass, we could see Capt. Jack's
people moving around their rocky home, not more
than one mile and a half, air-line, though two miles
around by land.

While my memory is still green with the scenes
that followed, and I have not justified and will not
justify or seek to palliate the crimes of the Modocs,
still I cannot forget some of the meditations of the
half hour I sat with Dr. Thomas, when half-way down
the bluff, up which I was not to go at all, and the
doctor only as a corpse.

I have recollections yet of a part, at least, of the
conversation between us. We were representing one

WIOWAM AND WAUrAXn.

489

of the most powerful governments in the world, and
bearing peace and human kindness in our hearts,
while passing us, as we sat, were the sinews of war,
— armed soldiers by the hundred. Cannon were be-
ing dragged down the hill, tents were being erected,
and all the ch'cumstance of military power and display
was at our feet or above us, hastening to compel an
infuriated, misguided people to acknowledge the
authority of our Government.

Over yonder, within range of our glasses, were a half-
hundred men, unlettered, uncivilized, and infuriated by
a superstitious religious faith, that urged them to reject
the " olive-branch " which we came to offer them.

We could see beyond them another army of ten
times their number, camping nearer to them.

The doctor was moved by deep feeling of compas-
sion for them, and spoke very earnestly of their help-
less condition, — benighted in mind, without enough
of the great principles of Christian justice and power
to recognize and respect the individual rights of
others. Doomed as a race, hopeless and in despair,
they sat on their stony cliffs, around their caves, and
counted the men, and horses, and guns, that came
down the hill to malce peace with them, turning their
eyes only to see the sight repeated.

Look nearer at the boys with blue dress, as they
pass us, bearing camp equipage. Many of the men
are going down this hill to stai/y unless we can make
peace with the Modocs. Our hearts g'ow sick at the
thoughts suggested by our surroundings.

Mutually pledging anew to stand together for peace
a& long as there was a hope, we slowly followed down
to the camp.

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I cannot forbear mentioning an accident of the
evening.

Gen. Canby's tent was partly up when I passed
near him. He said, "Well, Mr. Meacham, where is
your tent?" — " It has not come," I replied.

The general ordered the men to pull up the pins
and move his tent to the site we had selected for ours.
It was only by the most earnest entreaty on our part
that he countermanded the order, and then only on
our promise to share his tent with him, if ours was not
put up in time for us to occupy for the night.

On the day following our arrival a meeting was
had with the Modocs. On our part. Gen. Canby, Gen.
Gilliam, Dr. Thomas, Mr. Dyer and myself, Frank
niddle and Tobey as interpreters. Some of our party
were armed; others were not. Riddle and his wife
Tobey were suspicious of treachery, and said, as we
went, " 3e sure to mix up with the Modocs; don't let
them get you in a bunch."

" Boston," who had come to our camp to arrange for
the meeting, led the way. "VVe saw arising, apparently
out of the rocks, a smoke. When we arrived we
found Captain Jack, and the principal men of his band,
and about half-a-dozen women standing by a fire built
in a low, rocky basin.

Dr. Thomas was the first to descend. He did not
seem to observe, indeed he did not observe, that we
were going entirely out of sight of the field-glasses at
our camp.

The place suggested treachery, especially after Rid-
dle's warning. I scanned the rocks around the rim of
the basin, but did not see ambushed men; neverthe-
less, I had some misgiving; but it was too late to re-

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

441

treat then, and to have refused to join the council
would have invited an attack. The greetings were
cordial; nothing that indicated danger except the
place, and the fact that there were three times as many
Indians as " Boston " had said would be there. One re-
assuring circumstance was the presence of their
women. But this may have been only a blind. After
smoking the pipe of peace the talk opened, each one
of our party making short speeches in favor of peace,
and showing good intentions. The chief replied in a
short preliminary talk; Schonchin also. We stated
our object, and explained why the soldiers were brought
so closely, — that we wanted to feel safe.

Thus passed nearly an hour, when an incident
occurred that caused some of our party to change
position very quietly.

Hooker Jim said to Mr. Riddle, " Stand aside, — get
out of the way! " in Modoc. Some of us understood
what it meant. Tobey moved close to our party and
reprimanded Hooker. Captain Jack said to him,
« Stop that."

This lava bed country being at an altitude of four
thousand five hundred feet, and immediately under
the lee of high mountains on the west, is subject to
heavy storms.

While we were talking, a black cloud overspread
the rocks and a rain-storm came on.

Gen. Canby remarked that "We could not talk
in the rain." Captain Jack seemed to treat the
remark with ridicule, though the interpreters omitted
to mention the fact. He said " The rain was a small
matter; " that " Gen. Canby was better clothed than he
was," but "he (Jack) would not melt like snow."

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442

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

Gen. Canby proposed to erect a council tent on half-
way ground, where subsequent meetings could be
held.

This proposition was agreed to, and just as the
storm was at its height.

No agreement was made for another meeting,
athough it was understood that negotiations would be
continued.

CHAPTER XXVII.

CAPTAIN JACK A DIPLOMAT — SHOOT ME IP YOU DARE.

On the following day the council tent was erected
in a comparatively smooth pioc of land, in the Lava
Beds, care being taken to select a site as far as possi-
ble from rocks that might answer for an ambuscade.

This place was less than one mile from our camp,
and a little more than a mile from the Modocs. Mean-
while the signal corps had established communication
between the two army camps. The signal station at
our camp was half way up the bluflf, and commanded
a view of the council tent, and of the trail leading
to it from the Modoc stronghold, as it did of the
entire Lava Beds.

Col. Mason's command being on the opposite side
of Captain Jack's head-quarters, from our camp, the
three were almost in a line. Communication was also
established between the army camps, with boats going
from one to the other, and, in doing so, passing in
full view of the Modocs.

The Modocs were permitted to visit the head-quar-
ters during the day, and to mix and mingle with the
officers and men. The object of this liberty was to
convince them of the friendly intentions of the army,
and also of its power, as they everywhere saw the
arms and munitions of war. They were also permit-
ted to examine the shell mortars and the shells them-
selves.

pi-

444

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

On one occasion Bogus Charley and Hooker Jim
observed the signal telegraph working, and inquired
the meaning of it. They were told by Gen. Gilliam
that he was talking to the other camp ; that he knew
what was going on over there ; they were also in-
formed that Col. Mason would move up nearer to
thc'r camp in a few days, and that he. Gen. Gilliam,
would move his camp on to the little flat very near
Captain Jack's. "But don't you shoot my men.
I won't shoot your men, but I am going over there to
see if everything is all right." Gen. Gilliam also
informed them that, ** in a few days, one hundred
Warm Spring braves would be there."

These things excited the Modocs very much. Bo-
gus Charley questioned General Gilliam, "What for
you talk over my home? I no like that. What for
the Warm Springs come here? " Receiving no sat-
isfactory reply, they went to Fairchild, who was in
camp, and expressed much dissatisfaction on account
of the signal telegi'aph, and the coming of the Warm
Spring Indians.

On the 5th of April Captain Jack sent Boston
Charley, with a request for old man Meacham to meet
him at the council tent, and to bring John Fair-
child along. This message was laid before the board.
It was thought, both by Gen. Canby and Dr. Thomas,
to be fraught with danger. I did not, and I assumed
the responsibility of going this time; inviting Mr.
Fairchild, and taking Riddle and his wife as inter-
preters, I went.

Judge Roseborough arrived in camp, and came on
after we had reached the council tent.

Captain Jack was on the ground, accompanied by

Wl-HB-MAH (ToBBT).

WIQWAM AMD WARPATH.

447

his wives and seven or eight men. On this occasion
he talked freely, saying, substantially, that he felt
afraid of Gen. Canby, on account of his military
dress; and, also, of Dr. Thomas, because he was a
Sunday doctor; but "now I can talk. I am not
afraid. I know you and Fairchild. I know your
hearts." He reviewed the circumstances that led to
the war, nearly in the order they have been referred
to in this volume, and differing in no material point,
except that he blamed Superintendent Odeneal for not
coming in person to see him while on Lost river, say-
ing, "that he would not have resisted him. Take
away the soldier, and the war will stop. Give me a
home on Lost river. I can take care of my people.
I do not ask anybody to help me. We can make a
living for ourselves. Let us have the same chance
that other men have. We do not want to ask an
agent where we can go. We are men; we are not
women."

I replied, that, " since blood has been spilled on
Lost river, you cannot live there in peace; the blood
would always come up between you and the white
men. The army cannot be withdrawn until all the
troubles are settled."

After sitting in silence a few moments, he replied,
" I hear your words. I give up my home on Lost
river. Give me this lava bed for a home. I can
live here; take away your soldiers, and we can settle
everything. Nobody will ever want these rocks;
give me a home here."

Assured that no peace could be had while he re-
mained in the rocks, unless he gave up the men who
committed the murders on Lost river for trial, ho

448

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

met me with real Indian logic: "Who will try them,
— white men or Indians?"

" White men, of course," I replied, although I knew
that this man had an inherent idea of the right of trial
by a jury of his peers, and that he would come back
with another question not easy to be answered by a
citizen who believed in equal justice to nil men.

" Then will you give up the men who killed the In-
dian women and children on Lost river, to be tried
by the Modocs?"

Isaid, "I^o, because the Modoc law is dead; the
white man's law rules the country now ; only one law
lives at a time."

He had not yet exhausted all his mental resources.
Hear him say: " Will you try the men who fired on
my people, on the east side of Lost river, by your own
law?"

This 'iry was worthy of a direct answer, and it
would aeem that no honest man need hesitate to say
"Yes." I did not say yes, because I knew that the prej-
udice was so strong against the Modocs that it could
not be done. I could only repeat that " the white
man's law rules the country, — the Indian law is dead."

" Oh, yes, I see ; the white man's laws are good for
the white man, but they are made so as to leave the
Indian out. No, my friend, I cannot give up the
young men to be hung. I know they did wrong, —
their blood was bad when they saw the women and
children dead. T/teydid not begin; the white man
began first; I know they are bad; I can't help that;
I have no strong laws, and strong houses; some of
your young men are bad, too ; you have strong laws
and strong houses (jails) ; why don't you make your

WIGWAM AND WARPAXn.

449

men do right? "No, I cannot give up my young men;
take away the soldiers, and all the trouble will stop."

I repeated again: "The soldiers cannot be taken
away while you stay in the Lava Beds." Laying his
hand on my arm, he said, " Tell me, my friend, what I am
to do, — I do not want to fight." I said to him, " The
only way now for peace is to come out of the rocks,
and we will hunt up a new home for you; then all
this trouble will cease. No peace can be made while
you stay in the Lava Beds ; we can find you another
place, and the President will give you each a home."
He replied, " I don't know any other country. God
gave me this country; he put my people here first. I
was born here, — my father was born here; I want to
live here ; I do not want to leave the ground where
I was born."

On being again assured that he " must come out of
the rocks and leave the country, acknowledge the
authority of the Government, and then we could live
in peace," his reply was characteristic of the man and
his race : —

" You ask me to come out, and put myself in your
power. I cannot do it, — I am afraid ; no, / am not
afraid, but my people are. "When you was at Fair-
child's ranch you sent me word that no more prepa-
ration for war would be made by you, and that / must
not go on preparing for war until this thing was set-
tled. I have done nothing; I have seen your men
passing through the country; I could have killed
them; I did not; my men have stayed in the rocks all
the time; they have not killed anybody; they have
not killed any cattle. I have kept my promis' - Jiave
you kept yours ? Your soldiers stole my horses, you

^9' {

450

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

did not give them up ; you say * you want peace ; '
why do you come with bo many soldiers to make
peace? I sec your men coming every day with big
guns; does that look like making peace? "

Then, rising to his feet, ho pointed to the farther
shore of the lake: "Do you see that dark spot there?
do you see it? Forty-six of my people met Ben
"Wi'ight there when I was a little boy. He told them
he wanted to make peace. It was a rainy day; my
people wore moccasins then; their feet were wet. lie
smoked the pipe with them. They believed him; they
set down to dry their feet; they unstrung their bows,
and laid them down by their s'^ !s; when, suddenly,
Ben Wright drawing a pistol with each hand, began
shooting my people. Do you know how many es-
caped? DoyoulcnowV^ With his eye fixed fiercely
on mine, he v/aited a minute, and then, raising one
hand, with his fingers extended, he answered silently.
Continuing, he said : " One man of the five — Te-he-
Jack — is now in that camp there," pointing to the
stronghold.

I pointed to " Bloody Point," and ashed him how
many escaped there f He answered: "Your people
and mine were at war then; they were not making
peace."

On my asserting that " Ben Wright did wrong to
kill people under a flag of truce," he said: " You say
it is wrong; but your Oovemment did not say it was
wrong. It made him a tyee chief. Big Chief made
him an Indian agent."

This half-savage had truth on his side, as far as the
Govermnent was concerned; as to the treachery of
Ben Wright, that has been emphatically denied, and

W^OWAM AND WARPATA.

451

just as positively affirmed, b}-^ parties who were cog-
nizant of the aft'air. It is certain that the Motlocs
have always claimed that he violated a flag of truce,
and that they have never complained of any losses of
men in any other way. I have no doubt that this
massacre had been referred to often in the Modoc

councils by the " Curly-haired Doctor " and his gang
of cut-throats, for the purpose of preventing peace-
making.

Captain Jack, rising to full stature, broke out in an
impassioned speech, that I had not thought hini com-
petent to make : —

"I am but one man. I am the voice of my people.
Whatever their hearts are, that I talk. I want no
more war. I want to be a man. You deny me the
rl<5ht of a white man. My skin is red; my heart is a
white man's heart; but I am a Modoc. I am not
afraid io die. I will not fall on the rocks. When
I die, my enemies will be under me. Your soldiers
begun on me when I was asleep on Lost river.
They drove us to these rocks, like a wounded deer.
Tell your soldier iyee I am over there now; tell
him not to hunt for me on Lost river or Shasta
Butte. Tell him I am over there. I want him to
take his soldiers away. I do not want to fight. I
am a Modoc. I am not afraid to die. I can show
him how a Modoc can die."

I advised hun to think well; that our Government
was strong, and would not go back; if he would not
come out of the rocks the war would go on, and all
his people would be destroyed.

Before parting, I proposed for him to go to camp
with me, and have dinner and another talk. He said

452

vriQWAM. AND WARPATH.

*^ he was not afraid to go, but his people were afraid
for him. He could not go."

This talk lasted nearly seven hours, and was the
only full, free talk had with the Modocs during the
existence of the Peace Commission.

I left that council having more respect for the Mo-
doc chief than I had ever felt before. No airange-
ment was made for subsequent meetings, he going to
his camp, to counsel with his people. We returned
to ours, to report to the Board of Commissioners the
talk, from the notes taken. Judge Roseborough, who
had been present a portion of the time, and Mr. Fair-
child, agreed with me that Captain Jack himself wanted
peace, and was willing to accept the terms offered;
but he, being in the hands of bad men, might not be
able to bring his people out of the rocks.

Gen. Canby, Dr. Thomas, and Mr. Dyer were of
the opinion that, inasmuch as Captain Jack had
abandoned his claim to Lost river, which he had
always insisted on previously, he might consent
to a removal. We did not believe that his people
would permit him to make such terms. We were all
more anxious than before to save Captain Jack and
those who were in favor of peace. Accordingly, it
was determined to make the effort, Gen. Canby
authorizing me to say, through a messenger, that, if
Captain Jack and the peace party would come out,
he would place the troops in position to protect him
while making the attempt.

Tobey Riddle was despatched to the Modoc camp
with the message, fully instructed what to say. On
her arrival, Captain Jack refused a private confer-
ence, saying, " I want my people all to hear." The

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

453

proposition was made, the vote was taken, and but
eleven men voted with Jack to accept the terms, the
majority giving warning that any attempt to escape
would be attended with chances of death to all who
dared it. Captain Jack replied to the message: "I
am a Modoc, and I cannot, and will not, leavo my
people." The reason was evident — he dared not,
knowing that his own life and that of his family
would pay the penalty.

This vote in Tobey's presence gave a knowledge as
to the number of peace men in the Modoc camp. On
her return to our camp, one of the peace men (the
wild girl's man), having secreted himself behind a
rock near the '. 'ail, as she passed, said to her: " Tell
old man Meacham and all the men not to come to the
council tent again — they get killed." Tobey could
not stop to hear more, lest she should betray her
friend who was giving her the information. She
arrived at the Peace Commission tent in camp in
great distress ; her eyes were swollen, and gave evi-
dence of weeping. She sat on her horse in solemn,
sullen silence for some minutes, refusing to ypeak
until her husband arrived. He beckoned me to him,
and, with whitened lips, told the story of the intended
assassination. The board was assembh ., and the
warning thus given us was repeated by Riddle, also
the reply of Captain Jack to our message. A dis-
cussion was iiad over the warning, Gen. Canby saying
that they " might talk such things, but they would
not attempt it." Dr. Thomas was inclined to believe
that it was a sensational story, got up for effect
Mr. Dyer and myself accepted the warning, accredit-
ing the authority.

454

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

On the day following, a delegation composed of
"Bogus," "Boston," and " Shacknasty," arrived,
and proposed a meeting at the council tent; say-
ing that Captain Jack and four other Indians were
there waiting for us to meet them. I was managing
the talks and negotiations for councils, and without
evincing distrust of Boston, who was spokesman,
said we were not ready to talk that day. Wliile the
parley was going on, an orderly handed Gen. Canby
a despatch from the signal station, saying, ^^ Five
Indians at the council tent, apparently unarmed, and
about twenty others, with rifles, are in the rocTcs a few
rods behind themP This paper was passed from one
to another without comment, while the talk with
Boston was being concluded. We were all convinced
that treachery was intended on that day.

Before the Modocs left our camp, Dr. Thomas un-
wisely said to Bogus Charley, " What do you want
to kill us for? We are your friends." Bogus, in a
very earnest manner, said, "Who told you that?"
The doctor evaded. Bogus insisted; growing warmer
each time; and finally, through fear, or perhaps he
was too honest to evade longer, the doctor replied,
"Tobey told it." Bogus signalled to Shacknasty
and Boston, and the three worthies left our camp
together; Bogus, however, having questioned Tobey
as to the authorship of the warning, before leaving.
Riddle and his wife were much alarmed now for their
own personal safety. Up to this time they had felt
secure. The trio of Modocs had not been gone
very long, when a messenger came demanding of
Tobey to visit the Modoc camp. She was alarmed,
as was Biddle. They sought advice of the commis-

WIGWAM AND WAEPATH.

455

I did

sion, — they thought there was great danger.
not.

A consultation was had with General Canby, who
proposed to move immediately against the Modocs
were Tobey assaulted. With this assurance she con-
sented to go. In proof of my faith in her return I
loaned her my overcoat, and gave her my horse to
ride. She parted with her little boy (ten years
old) several times before she succeeded in mount-
ing her horse, — clasping him to her breast, she
would set him down and start, and then run to him
and catch hrn up again, — each time seeming more
affected, — until at last her courage was high enough,
and, saying a few words in a low voice to her hus-
band, she rode off on this perilous expedition to meet
her own people. Riddle, too, was very uneasy about
her safety; with a field-glass in hand he took a sta-
tion commanding a view of the trail to the Modoc
camp. This incident was one of thrilling interest.
We could see that Indian woman when she arrived in
the Modoc camp, and could see them gather around
her. They demanded to know by what authority she
had told the story about their intention to kill the
commission. She denied that she had; but the denial
was not received as against the statement of Bogus.
She then claimed that she dreamed it; this was not
accepted. The next dodge was, "The spirits told
me." Believers as they are in Spiritualism, they
would not receive this statement, and began to make
threats of violence; declaring that she should give the
name of her informer, or suffer the consequences.
Rising to a real heroism, she pointed with one hand,
saying, "There are soldiers there," and with the

456

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

other, ** There are soldiers there; you touch me and
they will fire on you, and not a Modoc will escape."
Smiting her breast, she continued: "I am a Modoc
woman; all my blood is Modoc; I did not dream it;
the spirits did not tell me; one of your men told me.
I won't tell you who it was. Shoot me, if you dare!^^
On her retiu'n she gave an account of this intensely
thrilling scene as related, and it has been subsequently
confirmed by other Modocs who were present. Cap-
tain Jack and Scar-face Charley interfered in her
behalf, and sent an escort to see her safely to our
camp. She repeated her warning against going to
the peace tent.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

WHO HAD BEEN THERE — WHO HAD NOT.

Let us change the scene, and transfer ourselves to
the marquee of Gen. Gilliam. Gen. Canby is sitting
on a camp-chair, and near him Col. Barnard. On
the' camp-bedstead sits Gen. Gilliam, and by his side
Col. Mason; the chairman of the Peace Commission
on a box almost between the parties. The talk is of
Modocs, peace, treachery, Ben Wright, battle of 17th
January, the stronghold. Gen. Gilliam remarks,
addressing Gen. Canby: "Well, general, whenever
you are through trying to make peace with those fel-
lows, I think I can take them out of their stronghold
with the loss of half-a-dozen men^'' Canby sat still,
and said nothing. Gilliam continued : " Oh, we m. j
have some casualties in wounded men, of course ; but
I can take them out whenever you give the order."
Silence followed for a few moments.

Gen. Canby, fixing his cigar in his mouth and his
eye on Col. Mason, -sat looking the question he did
"j^^^ wish to ask in words.

Col. Mason, seeming to understand the meaning of
the look, said: "With due deference to the opinion
of Gen. Gilliam, I think if we take them out with the
loss of one-third of the entire commandj it is doing
as well as I eocpect"

The portly form of Col. Barnard moved slowly
forward and back, thereby saying, " I agree with you,

458

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

Col. Mason." Col. John Green came in, and, to an
inquiry about how many men it would cost, he re-
plied evasively, saying, "I don't know; only we got

licked on the 17th of January like . Beg your

pardon, general." Canby continued smoking his
cigar, without fire in it. Here were four men giving
opinions. One of them had fought rebels in Ten-
nessee, and was a success there; the other three
fought rebels also successfully, and Modocs in the
Lava Beds unsuccessfully. They knew whereof they
were talking. The opinions of these men doubtless
made a deep impression on the mind of the com-
manding general, and, knowing him as I did, I can
well understand how anxious he was for peace when
he had the judgment of soldiers like Oreen, Mason,
and Barnard, that, if war followed, about one in three
of the boys who idolized him must die to accomplish
peace through hlood.

Move over one hundred yards to another marquee;
the sounds betoken a discussion there also. Young,
brave, ambitious officers are denouncing the Peace
Commission, complaining that the army is subjected
to disgrace by being held in abeyance by it.

Their words are bitter; and they mean it, too,
because fighting is their business. Col. Green,
coming in, says, in angry voice, "Stop that! the
Peace Commission have a right here as much as we
have. They are our friends. God grant them suc-
cess. I have been in tJie Lava Beds once. Don't
abuse the Peace Commission, gentlemen." The fiery
young officers respect the man who talks; they say
no more.

Come down a little further. Oh, here is the Peace

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

459

Commission tent, and around a stove sits the majestic
Dr. Thomas, grave, dignified, thoughtful. Mr. Dyer
is there also, quiet and meditative, with his elbows on
his knees, and his face is buried in his hands;
Meacham occasionally recruiting the sage-brush em-
bers in the stove with fresh supplies of fuel. A rap
on the tent-pole. "Come in," and a fine-looking,
middle-aged officer enters. Once glance at his face,
and we see plainly that he has come for a growl.
After the compliments are passed, Col. Tom

begins by saying that he
some one, and he had selected
our camp as the place most likely to furnish him with

"Wright — for it was he
wanted to growl at

"All

right.

colonel, pitch in," says

a victim.
Meacham.

The doctor just then remembered that he had a
call to make on Gen. Canby. "Well," says the
gallant colonel, " why don't you leave here, and give
us a chance at those Modocs? We don't want to lie
here all sjDring and summer, and not have a chance
at them. !Now you know we don't like this delay,
and we can't say a word to Gen. Canby about it. I
think you ought to leave, and let us clean them out."

I detailed the conversa'ion had in Gen. Gilliam's
marquee, and also expressed some doubts on the sub-
ject.

"Pshaw!" says Col. Wright. "I will bet two
thousand dollars that Lieut. Eagan's company and
mine can whip the Modocs in fifteen minutes after
we get into position. Yes, I'll put the money up, —
I mean it."

"Well, my dear colonel, you might just say to
Gen. Canby that he can send off the other part of the

460

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

army, about nine hundred men besides your company
and Eagan's. As to our leaving we have a right to
be here, and we are under the control of Gen. Canby ;
and as to moving on the enemy, Gen. Canby is not
ready until the Warm Spring Indians arrive. I am
of the opinion that no peace can be made, and that
you will have an opportunity to try it on with the
Modoc chief." The colonel bade me "good-night,"
saying that he felt better now, since he had his growl
out.

It is morning, and our soldier-cook has deserted us,
and deserted the anny too. It seems to be now
p!*etty well understood that no peace can be made
with the Modocs, and several of the boys have de-
serted. Those who have met the Modocs have no de-
sire to meet them again. Those who have not, are
demoralb cd by the reports that others gave; and since
the common soldiers serve for pay, and have not much
hope of promotion, they are not so warlike as the
brave officers, who have their stars to win on the field
of battle. Money won't hire a cook, hence we must
cook for ourselves. "Well, all right; Dyer and I have
done that kind of thing before this, and we can
again.

"While we are preparing breakfast a couple of sol-
diers come about the fire. " I say, capt'n, have you
give it up tryin' to make peace with them Injuns
there?"

"Don't know; why?" we reply.

" Well, 'cause why them boys as has been in there
says as how it's neaJy litenin'; them Modocs don't
give a fellow any chance; we don't want any Modoc,
we don't."

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

4G1

" Sorry for you, boys; we arc doing all we can to
save you, but the pressure is too heavy; guess you'll
have to go in and bring them out."

Squatting down before the fire, one of them, in a
low voice, says, "Mr. Commissioner, us boys are
all your fre'ns, — we are; wish them fellers that wants
them Modocs whipped so bad would come down and
do it theirselves; don't you? Have you tried every-
thing you can to make peace ? "

" Yes, my good fellow, we have exhausted every
honorable means, and we cannot succeed."

"Bro. Meacham, where did you learn to make
bread? Why, this is splendid. Bro. Dyer, did you
make this coffee? It's delicious." So spoke our good
doctor at breakfast.

"Good-morning, Mr. Meacham," said Gen. Canby,
after breakfast. " "Who is cooking for your mess
now?"

" Co-pi, ni-ka, — myself."

"What does Mr. Dyer do?"

" He washes the dishes."

" Ha, ha I "Wliat does the doctor do? "

" Why, he asks the blessing."

The general laughed heartily, and as the doctor
approached, said to him, "Doctor, you must not
throw off on Bro. Dyer."

Explanations were made, and these venerable, dig-
nified men enjoyed that little joke more heartily than
I had ever seen either of them, on any other occasion.

CHAPTER XXIX.

UNDER A WOMAN'S HAT — THE LAST APPEAL.

The commission had on all occasions expressed
willingness to meet the Modocs on fair terms, saying
to them, " Bring all your men, all armed, if you wish
to; station them one hundred yards from the council
tent. We will place a company of equal number
within one hundred yards on the other side. Then
you chiefs and head men can meet our commission at
the council tent and talk." To this and all other offers
they objected. The commission and the general also
were now convinced that no meeting could be had on
fair terms. The authorities at Washington were again
informed of this fact. Dr. Thomas was a man of
great perseverance, and had great faith in the power
of prayer. He spent hours alone in the rocks, near
our camp, praying. He would often repeat: "One
man with faith is stronger than an hundred with in-
terest only." Few men have ever lived so constantly
in religious practice as did Dr. Thomas. The Modocs,
having been foiled in their attempt to entrap the
commission, sent for Riddle, saying they "wanted his
advice." Riddle went, under instructions, and talked
with them. Nothing new was elicited. Riddle again
warned the commission of the danger of meeting the
Modocs unless fully armed for defence. He confirmed
the opinion already expressed, that Captain Jack was
in favor of peace; but that he was in the hands of

WIQWAM AND WARPATU.

4G3

bad men, who might compel him to do what was
against his judgment. Gen. Canby, always acknowl-
edged as having power to control the commission,
nevertheless conceded to it the management of the coun-
cils. He never presided, and seldom gave an opinion,
unless something was said in whicli he could not con-
cur ; but no action was had, or message sent, or other
business ever done, without his advice and aiyproval.

On the morning. of April 10th I left head-quarters,
to visit Boyle's camp, at the southern end of the lake,
leaving Dr. Thomas in charge of the affairs of the
Peace Commission, little dreaming that action of so
great importance would be had during my absence.
After visiting Maj. Boyle's, I returned by Col. Mason's
camp, and there learned, through the signal telegraph,
that a delegation of Modocs was at the commission
tent, proposing another meeting. I arrived at the
head-quarters late in the evening, and then. learned
from Dr. Thomas that an agreement had been made
to meet five unarmed Indians at the council tent on
the following day at noon. I demurred to the arrange-
ment, saying, " that it was unsafe." The doctor was
rejoicing that "God had done a wonderful work in the
Modoc camp." The Modoc messengers, to arrange for
this unfortunate council, were not insensible to the fact
of the doctor's religious faith, and they represented to
him that " they had changed their hearts / that God
had put a new fire in them, and they were ashamed of
their had hearts. They now wanted to make peace.
Tliey were willing to surrender. They only wanted
the commission to jrrove their faith in the Modocs hy
coming out to meet them unarmed.'''^

This hypocrisy caught the doctor. He believed

4G4

WIOWAM AND WARPATH.

them; and, after a consultation with Gen. Cnnby, the
compact waa made. The doctor was shocked at my
remark, that " God has not been in the Modoc camp
this winter. If we ^2:0 we will not return aUve." Such

The

was my opinion,

13*

and I

gave

it unhesitating

ly.

night, though a long one, wore away, and the morning
of Ooocl Fridaij, April 11th., 1873, found our party
at an early breakfast.

While we were yet at the morning meal Boston
Charley came in. As the doctor arose from his

breakfast this imp of the d , from the Modoc camp,

sat down in the very seat from which the doctor had
arisen, and ate his breakfast from the same plate,
drank from the same cup, the doctor had used.

While Boston was eating he observed me changing
boots, putting on old ones. I shall not soon forget
the curious twinkle of this demon's eyes, when ho
said, "What for you take 'em off new boots? Why
for you no wear 'cm new boots? " lie examined them
carefully, inquired the price of them, and again said,
" Meacham, why for you no wear 'em new ^oots?"
The villain was anxious for me to wear a pair of
twenty-dollar boots instead of my old worn-out ones.
I understood what that fellow meant, and I did not
give him an opportunity to wear my new boots.

From Indian testimony it is evident tha;:c in the
Modoc camp an excited council had been held on the
morning of the 11th. Captain Jack, Scar-face Charley,
and a few others had opposed the assassination, Jack
declaring that it should not Jje done. Unfortunately,
he was in the minority. The majority ruled, and to
compel the chief to acquiesce, the murderous crew
gathered around him, and, placing a woman's hat upon

WIOWAM AND WAKPATU.

4G5

his head, anil thi'ovving a shawl over his shoulders,
they pushed him down on the rocks, taunting him
with cowardice, calling him " a woman, white-face
squaw;" saying that his heart was changed; that ho
went hack on his own words (referring to majority
rule, which he had instituted) ; that he was no longer
a Modoc, the white man had stolen his heart. Xow,
in view of the record this man had made as a milifary
captain, his courage oi* ahility can never l)e doubted,
and yet he could not withstand this impeachment of
his manhood. Dashing the hat and shawl aside, and
springing to his feet, he shouted, " I am a Modoc. I
am your chief. It shall be done if it costs every drop
of blood in my heart. But hear me, all my people,
— this day's work will cost the life of every Modoc
brave; wo will not live to sec it ended."

When he had once assented he was bloodthirsty,
and with coolness planned for the consummation of
this terrible tragedy. lie asserted his right to kill
Gen. Canby, selecting Ellen's man as his assistant.

Contention ensued among the braves as to who
should bo allowed to share in this intended massacre.

Meacham was next disposed of.

Schonchin, being next in rank to Captain Jack, won
the jfi'ize; glad ho did, for he was a poor shot with a
pistol. Hooker Jim was named as his second in this
ex parte affair; sorry for that, for he was a marksman,
and had ho kept the place assigned him, some one
else would have written this narrative.

Dr. Thomas, the " Sunday Doctor," was the next in
order. There were several fellows ambitious for the
honor, for so they esteemed it. Boston Charley and
Bogus wei-e successful. These two men had accepted

If-

466

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

from the doctor's hands, on the day preceding, each
a suit of new clothes.

To Shacknasty Jim and Barncho was assigned the
dut} of despatching Mr. Dyer. Black Jim and Slo-
lux were to assassinate Gen. Gilliam. Wlien Riddle's
name was called up, Scar-face Charley, who had de-
clared this " whole thing to be an outrage unworthy
of the Modocs," positively refused to take any part,
arose and gave notice that he would defend Riddle
and his wife, and that if either were killed he would
avenge their death.

These preliminaries being arranged, Bamcho and
Slo-lux were sent out before daylight, with seven or
eight rifles, to secrete themselves near the council
tent.

The manner of the assault was discussed, and the
plan of shooting from ambush was urged but aban-
doned, because it would have prevented those who
were to conduct the pretended council, from sharing
in the honors to come from that bloody scene. The
details completed. Captain Jack said to his sister
Mary, and to Scar-face Charley, "It is all over. I
feel ashamed of what I am doing. I did not think I
would ever agree to do this thing."

When this tragedy was planned, another was also
agreed upon. Curly-haired Doctor and Curly Jack,
and a Cumbatwas, were to decoy Col. Mason /row his
camp, and I'zll him also.

Bogus Charloy had come into our camp the evening
previous, and remained until the next morning. He
was there to ascertain whether any steps were taken
to prevent the consummation of the hellish design.
Boston's visit was for the same purpose. It is almost

WIGWAM AND WAEPATH.

467

eceding, each

past belief that these two men, who had received at
the hands of Gen. Canby, Gen. Gilliam, and the
Peace Commission, so many presents of clothing and
supplies, could have planned and executed so treach-
erous a deed of blood. Bogus was the especial fa-
vorite of Generals Canby and Gilliam ; indeed, they
recognized him as an interpreter instead of Riddle
and wife. He was better treated by them than any
other of the Modoc messengers. It is asserted, most
positively, that Bogus was the man who first proposed
the assassination of Canby and the Peace Commis-
sioners,

The morning wears away and the commissioner
seems loath to start out. The Modoc messengers are
urgent, and point to the council tent, saying, that
'" Captain Jack and four men waiting now." Look at
our signal station half way up the mountain side.
The men with field-glasses are scanning the Lava
Beds. Gen. Canby has given orders that a strict watch
be kept on the council tent and the trail leading to it
from the Modoc camp. The officers of the signal
corps were the^*e when the morning brokii. They have
been faithful to the orders to watch. The sun is
mounting the sky. It is almost half way across the
blue arch. Bogus and Boston are impatient; saying
that " Captain Jack, hun get tu'cd waiting." Gen.
Canby and Dr. Thomas have been in consultation.
Riddle is uneasy and restless, and as Canby and
Thomas walk slowly to Gen. Gilliam's head-quarters,
he says to Meacham, " Do not go. I think you wUl
all be killed if you do." — " Then come to Gen.
Gilliam's tent and say so there," suggests Meacham.

The commissioners approach the tent. Gen. Canby

468

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

meets Col. Green and one or two other officers, stop-
ping at the tent door, and continued talking, while the
remainder of the commissioners enter. Gen. Gilliam
is reclining on his bed, he is sick this morning, very
sick. Gen. Canby remarks from the tent door;
"Go on, gentlemen, don't wait for mej I will be in
presently.

Riddle again repeats the warning: "Gentlemen, I
have been talking with my wife; she has never told
me a lie, or deceived me, and she says if you go to-
day you will be killed. We wash our hands of all
blame. If you must go, go well armed! I give you
my opinionj because I do not want to be blamed here-
after." Riddle retires and Gen. Canby enters. Rid-
dle's warning is repeated to him. The general
replies : " I have had a field-glass watching the trail all
the morning; there are but four men at the council
tent. I have given orders for the signal jtation to
keep a strict watch, and, in the event of an attack, the
army will i^iove at once against them," — meaning the
Modocs. Dr. Thomas expressed his determination to
keep the compact, saying that he is in the hands of
God, and pro]^oses to do his duty and leave the result
with h'3 Maker. He thinks Riddle and his wife are
excited ; that they are not reliable. " I diflfer from you,
gentlemen; I think we ought to heed the warning. If
we do go, we must go armed; otherwise we will be
attacked. I nm opposed to going in any other way."

Mr. Dyer says: "I agree with Mr. Meacham; we
ought to go prepared for defence. We ought to heed
the warning we have had. Gen. Canby repeats,
" With the precaution we have taken there can be no
danger." Dr. Thomas also saying, "The agreement

WIGWAM AND WAEPATH.

469

is to go unarmed; we must be faithful on our part to
the compact, and leave it all in the hands of God."

Previous to starting, Dr. Thomas goes to the
sutler's store and pays for some goods bought for the
Modocs the day previous, when this compact was
made. From this act it would appear that he has
doubts about the result. Indeed, to another gentle-
man he says that he is not sure that he will return;
but " I will do my duty faithfully, and trust God to
bring it out all right." Gen. C.inby is holding council
with Gen. Gilliam and other officers. He leaves them,
coming to his own marquee, says something to his
faithful orderly, — Scott, — then to Monahan, his sec-
retary, and then, in full dress he walks to the "Peace
Commission tent," where he is joined by Dr. Thomas
and starts for the council tent. Side by side they
walk away.

The doctor is dressed in a suit of light-gray Scotch
tweed. The officers and men are standing around
their tents, talking of the danger ahead. They ditfor
in opinion, and all declare their readiness to fly to the
rescue in the event of treachery. Bogus is with the
general and the doctor. He carries a rifle ; it is his
own. In that rifle is a ball that will crush through
the brain of Dr. Thomas in less than two hours.
Having seen them start, Bogus hastens to the council
tent, scanning the route as he goes, to make sure that
no soldiers are secreted among the rocks.

A few moments since, Mcachum and Fairchild were
in earnest conversation. Meacham says, " John, what
do you think? is it safe to go?" — "Wait here a
minute, and let me have another talk with Bogus ; I
think I can tell," says Fairchild. After a few minutes

Jii

470

WIOWA3I AND WARPATH.

. he returns, whittling a stick. Slowly shaking his
head, he says, " I can't make out from Bogus what to
think. I don't like the looks of things ; still he talks
all right; may be it's all on the square." Meachara
replies, ^^ I must yo if the general and the doctor do."
Fairchild goes again to Bogus; but the general and
doctor are starting. Bogus *8 impatient, and cuts
6hoi*t the talk. Meacham is huri ving to the tent. He
seats himself on a roll of blankets, and with a pencil
writes, — let us look over his shoulder and see what:

Lava Beds, April 11th, 1873.

My dear Wife: —

You may be a widow to-night; you shall not be a

coward's wife. I go to save my honor. John A.

Fairchild will forward my valise and valuables. The

chances are all against us. I have done my best to

prevent this meeting. I am in no wise to blame.

Yours to the end,

ALFEED.

P. S. — I give Fairchild six hundred and fifty dol-
lars, currency, for you. A. b. m.

" Here, John, send these to my wife, Salem, Oregon,
if I don't get back."

Mr. Dyer approaches, and says, "Mr. Fairchild,
send this parcel to Mrs. Dyer." — " Mr. Dyer, why do
you go, feeling as you do? I would not if I were in
your place. I must go, since I am the chairman of
the commission, or be disgraced." Mr. Dyer replies,
^^ If you go, I am going. I will not stay, if all the
rest go^

By the tent door the Indian woman is weeping.

WIGWAM AND WAKPATH.

471

while holding a horse by a rope. Standing beside
her is a white man, and also a boy ten years old.
They are talking in Modoc, and we may not know
what they are saying. That little group is Frank
Riddle and his wife Tobey, and their little boy Jeff.
Their warning has been disregarded. They ai-e loth
to give up their efforts to save the commissioners and
Canby.

*' Tobey, give me my horse; we must go now."

"Meacham, you no go; you get kill. You no get
your horse. The Modocs m-^.d now; they kill all you
men." She winds the rope around her waist, and
throws herself upon the ground, and, in the wildest
excitement, shrieks in broken sobs, " Meacham, you
no go; you no go! You get kill! you get kill! "

Can the man resist this appeal to save his friends
and himself? His lips quiver and his face is white;
he is struggling with his pride. His color changes.
Thank God, he is going to make another effort to
prevent the doom that threatens ! He calls to Canby
and Thomas. They await his approach. Laying a
hand on the shoulder of each, he says, " Gentlemen,
my cool, deliberate opinion is that, if we go to the
council tent to-day, we will he carried home to-night
on the stretchers, all cut to pieces." I tell you, I dare
not ignore Tobey's warning. I believe her, and I am
not willing to go."

The general answers first : " Mr. Meacham, you are
unduly cautious. There are but five Indians at the
council tent, and they dare not attack us."

** General, the Modocs dare do anything. I know
them better than you do, and I know they are des-
perate. Braver men and wcrse men never lived

472

WIGWiVM AND WAKPATII.

on tills continent than we are to meet at that tent
yonder. "

The general replies, "I have left orders for a
watch to be kept, and, if they attack us, the army
■will move at once against them. We have agreed to
meet them, and we must do it."

Dr. Thomas remarks, "I have agreed to meet
them, and I never IreaTc my word. I am in the hands
of God. If He requires my llfe^ I am ready for the
sacrifice."

Mcacham is still unwilling to go, and says, " If we
must go, let us be well armed."

"Brother Meacham, the agreement is to go un-
armed, and we must do as we have agreed."

^^But the Modocs will all he doubly armed. They
won't keep their part of the compact; they never have,
and they wovH now. Let John Fairchild go with us,
him and me with a revolver each, and I will not inter-
pose any more objections to going. Do this, and I
pledge you my life that we bring our party out all
right. I know Fairchild. I know he is a dead shot,
and he and I can whip a dozen Indians in open
ground with revolvers."

" Brother Meacham, you and Fairchild are fighting
men. We are going to make peace, not war. Let us
go as we agreed, and trust in God."

"But, doctor, Ood does not drop revolvers down
just when and where you need themP

"My dear brother, you are getting to be very
irreligious. I*ut your trust in Ood. Pray more, and
donH thinh so much about fighting. ''''

" Doctor, I am just as much of a peace man as you
are, and I am as good a friend as the Indians ever

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

473

had on this coast, and I know in wJiom to put my
trust in the hour of peril; but I know these Modocs,
and I know that they won't keep their word, and I
want to be ready for trouble if it comes. I don't
want to go unarmed."

" The compact is to go unarmed, and I am not
willing to jeopardize our lives by breaking the com-
pact."

" "Well, since we must go, and I am to manage the
talk, I will grant to them any demand they make,
rather than give them an excuse ; that is, if they arc
armed, — as I know they will be, — and more than five
Indians will be there, too."

Gen. Canby replied, "Mr. Meacham, I have had
more or less connection with the Indian service for
thirty years, and I Jtave never made a promise that
could not be carried out. I am not willing now to
promise anything that we donH intend to perform.''^

" Nor I," breaks in the doctor. " That is why In-
dians have no confidence in white men. I am not
willing to have you make a promise that we don't
intend to keep."

" Hear me, gentlemen, I only propose doing so in
the event that the Modocs have broken the compact
by being armed. I don't believe in false promises
any more than you do, only in such an event ; and I
tell you I would promise anything an Indian de-
manded before I would give him an excuse to take
my life, or yours. I say that is not dishonest, and
my conscience would never condemn me for saving
my life by such strategy."

The general and the doctor both insist on making
no promise that is not hona fide. Meacham's efforts

474

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

to prevent the meeting fails. He turns slowly, and
with hesitating steps goes towards the peace tent in
the camp. Canby and Thomas start off side by side.
Meacham turns again: —

" Once more, gentlemen, I beg you not to go. I
have too much to live for now; too many are depend-
ing on me ; I do not want to die. If you go, I must
go to save my name from dishonor."

" That squaw has got you scared, Meacham. I don't
see why you should be so careful of your scalp j it is
not much better than my own."

"Yes, the squaw has scared Meacham; that's true.
I am afraid', I have reason to be. But we will see
before the sun sets who is the worst scared."

O my God! They refuse to turn back. Their
fate is sealed. The action of these few minutes in-
volves so much of human woe; so much blood, so
many valuable lives, so much of vast importance to
two races. Oh, how many hearts must bleed from the
decision of that hourl We feel sad as they walk
away. Is it true that the stately form of the gallant
Christian soldier is to fall on the rocks, pierced with
Modoc bullets, and that savage hands will in two
short hours rudely strip from him the uniform he so
proudly wears? Can it be that a Modoc bullet will
go crashing through the head that has worn well-
earned laurels so long? Must the noble heart that
now beats with kindest throbs for even those who are
to murder him so soon, beat but two hours more, and
then alone on the gray rocks of this wild shore cease
its throbbing forever? Can it be that the lofty fonn
of Dr. Thomas will fall to rise no more; that the lips
that have so eloquently told of a Saviour's love will

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

475

turn white until the blood from tils own wounds
smothers the sound of his la.^t prayer, while impious
hands strij) him of his suit of gray, and mock him in
hisi dying moments?

Let us not look at that pieture longer, but follow
the other commissioner back to the waiting, anxious
friends who gather around the door of the Peace
Commission tent. He does not step with his usual
quick motion ; his heart is heavy, and visions of a little
home, with weeping wife and children, enter his
mind. Funeral pageants pass and mourning emblems
hang now over his soul. But he is firm, and his
closed lips declare that his mind is made up.

"Fairchild, promise me upon your sacred honor,
one thing. Will you promise? "

The gray-eyed man with earnest face answered, —
" I promise you anything in my power, Meacham."
" Promise me, then, that, if my body is brought in
mutilated and cut to pieces, you will bury me here,
60 that my family shall never be tortured by the
sight. Do you promise? "
" O Meacham, you will come back all right."
" A^o, no ; I won't. I feel now that I won't; there is
no chance for that. I tell you, John, there is but one
alternative, — deaiJi or disgrace. I can die ; but my
name never has been and never shall be dishonored."
Fairchild draws his revolver from his side and says,
"Here, Meacham, take this; you can bang brun-
stone out of 'em with it."

"Xo, no; John, I won't take it, although I would
rather have it than all your cattle ; but if I take that
revolver, everybody will swear that I precipitated the
fight by gomg armed in violation of the compact.

47G

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

"No, John, I wouldn't take it if I knew I never could
come back without it, and taking it would save me.
I won't do it. My life would not be worth a cent if I
did. I wanted you to go, but the general and the
doctor objected; so there's no use in talking; I am
going."

A man passes close to Meacham and drops some-
thing in a side pocket of his coat. His hand grasps it,
and his face indicates hesitation. Tiic other says, in a
low tone, " It's sure fire; — it's all right." 'Tis a small
Derringer pistol, and it is not thrown out of the pocket.
Dyer caught sight of this little manoeuvri , and he goes
into his tent and quickly slips a Derringer into 7iis
pocket.

The Indian woman is weeping still. She refuses
to let go the rope of Meacham's horse, until the com-
mand is repeated, and then she grasps his coat, and
pleads again: "You no go; you get kill."

"Let go, Tobey. Get on your horse. All ready?
Mr. Dyer, there is no other way to do."

Riddle is pale, but cool and collected. He says,
"I'm a-goin' a-foot; I don't want no horse to bother
me." The Indian woman embraces her boy again
and again, and mounts her horse. Meacham, Dyer,
Kiddle, and his wife are starting.

Fairchild says, "Meacham, you had better take
my pistol. I would like to go with you, but I s'pose
I can't."

"No; I won't take it. Good-by. Keep your
promise."

" Good-by, Maj. Thomas. Cranston, good-by.
Good-by, Col. Wright. Be ready to come for us;
we'll need you."

"WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

477

" Don't go ofi' feeling that way. I wouldn't go if
I felt as you do," says one.

" "VVc will have an eye out for you," says another.

They are gone, and we will follow. Canhy and
Thomas arc just rising out of a rocky chasm near the
council tent. Mcacham and his party are going around
by the horse trail. "Words can never tell the thoughts
that pass through their minds on that ride. The
soldier who goes to battle takes even chances in the
line of his profession; the criminal may march with
steady nerve np the steps that lead him to the gal-
lows; but who can ever tell in words the thoughts,
feelings, and temptations of these men, going to meet
a people under a flag of truce that had been dishon-
ored by their own race within sight of the spot where
they are to meet these people, after the earnest
warning they had received?

if 1

CHAPTER XXX.

ASSASSINATION — " KAU-TUX-E " — THE DEATH PRAYER
SMOTHERED BY BLOOD — RESCUED.

"While these two parties are wending their way to
the council tent, let us see what is going on around
it. On the side opposite from the camp a small sage-
brush fire is burning. It is not at the same spot
where the fire was built when Meacham and Rose-
borough had the long talk with Captain Jack a few
days since. Why this change? Think a moment.
The council that day was in full view of the signal
station. This fire is behind the council tenty and can-
not be seen from the station. Around the fire loose
stones are placed. This looks suspicious. But who
are those fellows dressed like white men, sitting around
that fire? Ah I they are Modocs waiting for the
commissioners. That man with a slouched hat and
well-worn gray coat, nearest the tent, is Captain
Jack. He looks sad and half melancholy, and does
not seem at ease in his mind.

!N^ear him sits old SchonchiP, the image of the real
savage. His hair is mixed \\ ith gray. His face indi-
cates that he is a villain.

That fellow who appears restless, and walks back
and forth, is Hooker Jim. He is not more than
twenty-two J his face tells you, at a glance, that he is
a cut-throat. He is tall, stout-built, very muscular,
and would be an ugly customer in a fight. He is

WIOWAM AUD WARPATH.

479

accredited with being the best ^^ trailer y"^ and the
closest marksman in the Modoc tribe.

That other young fellow, with feminine face, and
hair parted in the middle, "is a brave and desperate
man. That is Shacknasty Jim.

That dark-looking man, who reminds you, at the
first view, of a snake, is Black Jim. He is of royal
blood, and half-brother of Captain Jack. His hair is
cut square below the ears, and, take hun altogether,
he is a bad-looking man.

The light-colored, round-faced, smooth-built man,
who stands behind the chief, is " Ellen's Man." He is
young, and is really a fine-looking fellow. He does
not appear to be a bad man, but he is; and you will
think him the worst of the company before we lose
sight of him.

The talk around that council fire would freeze your
blood could you hear it. They are making arrange-
ments for the carnival of death that they propose
holding.

The chief is nervous, and speaks of his regret that
this thing is to be. "Ellen's Man" proposes to take his
place if he lacks courage. " I do not lack courage,
but I do not feel right to kill those men. If it is the
Modoc heart, it shall be done," replies the chief.

Walk out towards the Modoc camp forty steps,
and lying behind a low ledge of rocks are two boys,
Barncho and Slolux. They are very quiet, but under
each one we see several rifles. They are both young,
and have volunteered to play this part in the tragedy
soon to be enacted.

Near them is another man, crouching low, and in
his hand he holds a gun, with its muzzle pointing

480

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

towards the tent. His face indicates a much older
man than he really is. He is not there to take a part
in the proceedings of the coming meeting, except in
a certain contingency. There is a something about
him that declares him to be a man of more than ordi-
nary stamp. This is Scar-face Charley, and if, in
the slaughter that is to ensue. Riddle or his wife
should fall, the rifle that that man grasps will talk in
vengeful tone, with deadly effect, upon the mur-
derer.

Look behind you at the council fire. Eight In-
dians are there now, and the new-comers have familiar
faces. They are Bogus and Boston, just arrived from
head-quartcis. They are telling the othprs who are
coming, that they are all iniarmed.

Boston intimates something like regret or faltering
in the purpose. Bogus declares that he will " Do it
alone, if all the others back out. Kill these men, and
the war Vy'ill stop. It will scare all the soldiers away."

Hist! here comes Gen. Canby, with the brass but-
tons on his coat glittering in the sunlight; and Dr.
Thomas, also, who is so well worthy to walk by the
side of the general. The Indians arise and greet
them cordially. Gen. Canby takes from his pocket a
handful of cigars, offering one to each. They ac-
cept them from his hand, while in their hearts they
have determined on his death. The gc.^^eral and all
the Indians are smoking now. The thoughts of the
gene 'al will never be known; not even whether he had
any suspicion of their intentions.

Meucham and his party are approaching. They
ride up very near the council fire, — Meacham to the
right, Dyer and Mrs. Eiddle to the left. Riddle

mur-

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: Mrs. Kiddie !;.> the led. liald!.

G li X . C A X B y .

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

481

passes to the left of the tent, looking in as he comes
to the council.

Meacham is taking off his overcoat before dis-
mounting. Why is this? The weather is not warm.
There is a reason for this strange action.

Before reaching the tent the matter had been dis-
cussed by the four persons of that party. Riddle
declared that if attacked he would save himself by
running, Mr. Dyer saying there was no hope of
escape in any other way. Meacham considered run-
ning impracticable and hopeless, and suggested that,
" if we stand together, we can, with the aid of the
Derringer, get a revolver for Riddle, and then we
can all be armed in quick time." Dyer and Riddle
adhered to the plan of escape they had proposed,
Meacham still saying that it was hopeless, and
adding, "I cannot run; but I will sell my life as
dearly as possible." The Derringer is in his under coat.

As they ride up, they see clearly that the council
fire is behind the tent, out of sight of the signal
station, and that the Modocs are all armed with
revolvers secreted under their clothing.

The Indians welcome the party with a cordiality
that is very suspicious. They are good-humored,
too; another confirmation of the worst fears. Even
before the party dismount, they are saluted by the
Modocs with hand-shaking and other demonstrations.

Dyer is the first to alight from his horse. He
looks a little pale. Tobey quietly dismounts, securing
her horse to a small sage brush near the council.
Meacham still sits upon his horse, apparently listless,
as if in doubt. He is fighting a battle with his pride.
His family are in his thoughts, and also another

482

WIGWA3I AND AVARPATH.

family of little orphans of a much-loved brother. He
glances at the face of Gen. Canby and Dr. Thomas.
His mind is made up. He dismounts, dropping the
halter of the horse upon the ground. He intends
that " Joe Lane " (the horse) shall have a chance for
escape. But " Joe Lane " is well known among the
Modocs. They have seen him before, and they fix their
eyes on him now, impatient to feel him flying over the
plains. Perhaps they are making a calculation of his
value as an offset to several of the ponies captured
from them by Maj. Biddle a few days previous.

See the manoeuvring going on by both parties.
The Modocs are seeking to separate themselves from
the white men, while Dyer, Meacham aijd Riddle are
seeking to prevent the formation of a tableau of
white men. Canby stands erect and firm, not seem-
ing to notice the game that is playing before his eyes.
His pride will not permit him to notice or to shun
what is evidently the intention of the Modocs. Dr.
Thomas does not see what is going on, or, if he does,
so strong is his faith in God that he does not fear.
Dyer and Riddle are outside on either hand, not
wishing to join the group.

Meacham, now satisfied that the party are en-
trapped, is walking carelessly a few steps towards
the camp. Perhaps he is going to make a signal to
those at the lookout. If that was his intention, he
abandons it; for just beside him are a pair of small,
bullet eyes that watch his every movement.

The party feel that not the motion of even an eye
is lost by the Modocs. They see everything, and,
while all are apparently on the best of terms, all are
on the lookout for any sign or intimation of <ianger.

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

483

Not a motion is made unobserved. Still, no unkindly-
words are spoken; indeed, all parties appear to be in
cheerful humor.

Appearances are deceitful sometimes, and especially
in this instance. One party is intending to commit
an unparalleled crime; the other, suspicious of their
intention, awaits the issue, not quite without hope,
but almost in despair.

The white men do not seem anxious to begin the
council. The Modocs are trying to appear careless.

What does that mean? Bogus is going out to-
wards a low cliff, carrying his rifle with him. Watch
him a moment. While standing on a prominent rock,
he is scanning the ledge that runs towards the
soldiers' camp. Ah, yes! he is looking for sage
brush with which to feed the fire. !N'ow he has laid
down his gun and breaks off the brush and returns to
the council. That, then, was the pretended object of
his trip. Curious that in all former councils the Mo-
doc women have performed this work, but that none
of them are here now!

Hooker Jim is on the alert, and if you will watch
his eye you will see that it glances often in the di-
rection of the soldiers' camp. Something excites his
suspicion, and the other Indians, except Captain Jack,
follow his gaze ; and the white men, too, discover some
one's head above the rocks. All arise to their feet.
Is the terrible affair to begin now? Wait a moment
and keep your eyes divided, watching the intruder
and the Modocs. The former is looking around him,
as if hunting for some lost article. The latter are
nervous, and a hateful fire is burning in their eyes.
The moment is one of intense peril. The least mo-

484

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

tioj^ of distrust now on the part of the white men
will precipitate the bloody scene, awaiting only for a
signal to begin.

Mr. Riddle recognizes the intruder as Mr. Clark,
who is hunting lost horses.

"AVhy fqr he come here? "We no want him," says
Boston Charley.

"Mr. Dyer, will you go out to Mr. Clark and send
him back? " requests Mr. Meacham.

Mr. Dyer rides out to the man, and, after explaining
to him the desire of the commissioners, returns to the
council fire. Oh, how near we were to witnessing a
horrible murder! But it is averted for the moment,
and we breathe again.

Meacham' is in charge of the council talk, and
finally sits down near the fire, and Captain Jack takes
a seat directly oj^posite him, and so close that their
knees almost touch. The council talk begins.

Meacham says, "We have come to-day to hear
what you have to propose. You sent for us, and we
are here to conclude the terms of peace, as your mes-
sengers of yesterday requested."

To this Captain Jack replies, " We want no more
war. "We are tired, and our women and children are
afraid of the soldiers. "We want them taken away,
and then we can make peace."

Meacham says, " Gen. Canby is in charge of the
soldiers. He is your friend. He came here, because
the President sent him to look out for everybody and
to see that everything goes on all right."

Captain Jack replies, " We do not want the sol-
diers here. They make our hearts afraid. Send them
away, and we can make everything all right."

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

485

Meacham continues, " Gen. Canby has charge of
the soldiers. He cannot take them away without a
letter from the President. You need not be afraid.
We are all your friends. We can find you a better
home than this, where you can live in peace. If you
will come out of the rocks and go with us, wc wull
leave the women and children in camp over on Cot-
tonwood or Hot Creek, and then we shall need the
soldiers to make other folks stay away, while we hunt
up a new home for you."

Kiddle and his wife are both essential to a careful
rendering of the speeches. Riddle is interpreting the
Modocs' speeches into " Boston talk," and Tobey is
translating the white men's speeches into the " Mo-a-
doc-us-ham-konk " — (Modoc language) . Hence they
are both giving closest attention. Riddle stands now
just behind the chairman of the commissioners. To-
bey is sitting a little to the left. Gen. Canby scats
himself upon a rock on Meacham's right, about three
feet distant. Old Schonchin sits down in front of
him. Dr. Thomas bends a sage bush, and, laying his
overcoat upon it, also sits on the left and in the rear
of Meacham.

Hooker Jim is restless and very watchful ; some-
times standing immediately behind Captain Jack, and
occasionally walking ofi" a few steps, he scans the
rocks in the direction of the soldiers' camj), and
saunters back again, always, however, in front of the
white men. Keep an eye on him; he is making now a
declaration by his acts that will stop your heart's l)lood.

"Joe Lane," the horse, is just behind Captain Jack,
standing a mute and unsuspecting witness of the act
now being played.

48G

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

Watch that demon, Hooker Jiml See him stoop
down, and while his eye is fixed on Meacham, he is
securing "Joe Lane" to a sage l)ush, pushing the
knot of the halter close to the ground. He slowly
rises, and, while jiatting the horse on the neck, call-
ing him by name, and telling him he is a " fine horse,"
still keeping his eye on Meacham, with his left hand
he takes the overcoat fi'om the saddle, and with a
stealthy, hall-hesitating motion, slowly inserts his
arm in the sleeve, and then without changing his
position or his eyes, quickly thrusts his right arm in
the other sleeve, and with a heavy shrug jerks the
coat squarely on his shoulders; and, haying buttoned
it up from top to bottom, smiting hi^ Licast with
his hand, he says, "Me old man Meacham, now.
Bogus, you think me look like old man Meacham?"
My dear reader, he does not fasten that horse for
Meacham. He does not put on the coat because he is
cold, nor merely as a joke. ISTo, he does not mean
anything of that kind. He intends to make sure of
the horse and coat, and, at the same time, provoke a
quarrel, and make the way easy for the bloody attack.

Meacham fully understands the import and intention
of this side-play, but, with assumed indifiercnce, re-
marks, " Hooker Jim, you had better take my hat
also," at the same time lifting it from his head. Watch
the play on that scoundrel's face as he replies, " No.
Sno-ker gam-bla sit-ka caitch-con-a bos-ti-na chock-
i-la " — (" I will, by-and-by. Don't hurry, old man.")

This speech completes the declaration of what they
intended to do. There can be no longer any doubt
as to the purpose of these bloodthirsty desperadoes.
O God I is there no help now ? Can nothing be

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

487

done to save our friends ? They read their fate in
Ilookcr's action. They realize how fearfully near the
impending doom must be. Every face is blanched ;
but no words of fear arc uttered. Dyer, with a face
of marble, walks slowly to his hoi'sc, now on the right
of the group, and, going to the farthest side of him,
l)retends to be arranging the trai)pings of his saddle
with his face towards the council fire, lliddle, pale
and aghast, makes excuse to change the fastenings
of the saddle on his wife's horse, which stands behind
Dr. Thomas. Tobey, who has been sitting in front
of the doctor, with a half child-like yawn throws her-
self carelessly at full length on the ground, resting on
her elbows. Every act tells, too plainly to be mis-
taken, how each one feels and what they arc expecting.
Botii Dyer and Kiddle intend to be covered by their
horses when they start on a run for life. Tobey evi-
dently does not mtend to be in the way of the bullets
that are now lying quietly on their beds of p^jwder in
the little iron chambers of the pistols under the coats
of the red devils. She sees clearly that the storm,
which is evidently coming up with a great black
hurrying cloud from the west, will precipitate the
effusion of blood that is now leaping and halting in
the veins of the doomed men who sit almost motion-
less, waiting, watching, listening for the signal of
death to be given, wondering how it will come.
"VYill it be from ambushed men, a volley, a sting, nd
a war-whoop ; and then, while the soul is making its
exit, will the eye, growing dim, behold the infuriated
monsters, with gleaming laiives uplifted, spring on
the helpless body ? Will the ear, as life ebbs away,
be lulled by streams of blood trickling on the rocks ?

488

WIOWAM AND WARPATTI.

Arc angels hovering near to convey their sonls awny ?
Is God omnipresent ? Is He omniscient V Is He
omnipotent ? Does he hear prayer ? Will not God
interpose now when hnman aid is beyond reach ?

Oh, how the mind recalls the past, ontstripping the
lightning flash, while it jiasses in review the scenes
from the cradle to this hour! — all the bright and
happy days ; the dark clouds and direful storms that
have swept over the soul, and realizing the still more
awful agony of the farewell greetings of sad-faced
Hope leaving the heart; for until this last act of Hooker
Jim's she had lingered lovingly on the threshold un-
decided. AVords may not tell the anguish, the gloom,
the terrible loneliness without her presence. Every
heart breathes a prayer for her return. " Oh, come
back to us now ; be with us in this expinng hour of
life's last midnight I "

Thank Heaven, she comes again clad in garments,
not as in days past, made up of ambitions and worldly
dreams, but in shining robes of spotless purity and
immortal light, and she whispers, " Be of guou cheer,
the journey is short, and it is but a change from one
life to another;" and though the voyage be stormy
and the night be dark it will end in a morning of
eternal day in the beautiful sunlit summer-land where
sorrows come no more.

Meacham turns towards Gen. Canby and invites
him to talk. Every movement is scrutinized by
the Modocs. Meacham has made an excuse to look
Gen. Canby in the face. He sees plainly that the
general understands the situation. "Will he, oh ! will
he not promise to remove the soldiers on the demand
that has been so often made ? It would avert the

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

489

tragody. It would save llio lives that ni'o hanging on
his words. Will he do it ? Surely, now, when con-
vinced, as he mUHt be, that the threat will be executed,
will he not feel justified in yielding V Kow that the
Modocs have absolved him from all obligations to
them, will he grant their request; or will the high and
extraordinary sense of honor that controlled his reply
to Meacham in the morning, when the latter ])i'<)posed
to grant " any demand made, rather than give the
assassins an excuse for murder," control him now ?
Every eye is on him. The Modocs imderstand that
he is chief.

He stands upright in form, and character as well.
He looks the great man he is. His face alone shows
the intensity of his feelings. His lip <[uivers slightly,
as it always does iinder excitement. He speaks
slowly : —

" Tobey, tell these people that the President of the
United vStates sent the soldiers here to protect them
as well as the white men. They are all friends of the
Indians. They cannot he taken away ivithout the
PresidenVs consent. Tell them that when I was a
young man I was sent to move a band of Indians from
their old home to a new one. They did not like me
at first, but when they became acquainted with me
they liked me so well that they made me a chief, and
gave me a name that signified ^Friend of the Indian.'
I also removed another tribe to a new home ; and they,
too, made me a chief, and gave me a name that meant
*The tall man.' Many years afterwards I visited these
people, and they came a long distance to meet me,
and were very glad to see me. Tell them I have
no doubt that sometime the Modocs will like me aa

490

WIGWAM AND WARrATH.

those people did, and will recognize me as their
friend "

As the generul sits down, Meacham turns to Doc-
tor Thomas, and invites him to speak. The doctor
drops fonuard on Ms Tcnees, and, with his right hand
on Meacham's left shoulder, says, " Tobey, tell these
people, for me, that I belie e the Great Spirit put it
into the heart of the President to send us here to
make peace. We are all children of one Father. Our
hearts are all open to Him. He sees all we do. He
knows all our hearts. We are all their friends. I
have known Gen. Canby eight years ; I have known
Mr. Meacham fourteen years, and I have known Mr.
Dyer four years. I know all their hearts are good.
They are good men. We do not want any more
bloodshed. We want to be friends of yours. God
sees all we do. He will hold us all responsible for
what we do."

The doctor resumes his seat. Captain Jack is ill
at ease. His men are watching him closely. They
evidently distrust him.

Meacham has almost decided in his mind that when
the attack is made Captain Jack will throw himself in
the breach, and, if he takes part at all, it will be with
the white men.

The chief is slow to give the signal to begin. He
is not in position according to the programme ar-
ranged in the morning. He had hoped thac the de-
mand for the withdrawal of the troops would be
complied with. He sits now with his hands on his
Imees, staring into Meacham's face. He meets a gaze
intense as his own. What are the thoughts of his
mind? He is wavering. Perhaps he may refuse to

WIGWAai AND WARPATH.

491

sanction the butchery. He feels that his own peop'c
arc watching him. Suddenly, rising to his feet, hv.
turns his back on the white men. He is walking
away from them. Seel he stops! Schoncb in springs
to the seat Captain Jack has left, and, with eyes
gleaming with the pent-up fury of hell, begins to
talk. His voice is loud, and betokens great excite-
ment. How savage he looks now, while he says,
"Give us Hot Creek for a home, and take the soldiers
away."

"Maybe we cannot get Hot Creek for y :)u," replies
Mr. Meacham.

Then Schonchin says, " I have been told we could
have Hot Creek."

Meacham asks, " Did Fairchild or Dorris say you
could have it?"

" No," replied Schonchin; "but ISTate Beswick said
we could have Hot Creek."

" Hot Creek belongs to Fairchild and Dorris," says
Meacham. " We can see them about i^, and if we can
get it you may have it."

" Tal:e away your soldiers and give us Hot Creeks
or quit talking. I am tired of talking. I talk no
more,-^ shouts Schonchin in loud tones, and with eyes
burning with passion.

The interpreter is rendering the spee""?, but, before
it is finished, Captain Jack, who has r* turned to the
group, and is standing a step behind Sclionchin, gives
a signal, and the Modoc war-whoop starts every one
present to his feet (except Tobc^y, who lays close to
the ground); catching the sound, and on! the sight,
too, of Barncho and Slolux coming with the riilos.

"Jack, what does that mean? " demands Meacham.

■■*

492

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

The answer came qnicldy. Captain Jack, thrust-
ing his right hand under the left breast of his coat,
draws a six-shooter, and shouts in a loud, voice, " Ot-
we-lcan-tux! " — (" All ready! ")

Holding the barrel with his left hand, and cocking
the pistol with his right, he points it at Gen. Canbj's
h\.ud, touches the trigger, and explodes the cap, but
does not the powder. Quickly he revolves the cylin-
der, and again presents it to the petrified general, who
stands unmoved. Wh}^, oh, why does he not close
on the monster, and wrench the weapon from him?
Quick, general, quick! He is too late. Anolher
instant, and a shot is passing through his ^lead. He
does not fall, but turns and flees. Jack an.l "Ellen's
Man " pursue him until he falls on the rocks. They
close on him. Captain Jack holds him by the shoul-
der, while the other cuts him across the neck. In the
foil his chin struck on the rocks and shattered his
lower jaw. The monsters strip him of every article
of clothing, while he is straggling in the agonies of
death. Barncho comes up now, and " Ellen's Man "
snatches a rifle from his hands, and, pointing at the
general, discharges it, and another ball passes entirely
through his head. They turn him on his face, and
leave him.in the last agony of a horrible de'ath, while,
wiih his uniform on their arms, they go back to the
council tent.

Look towards the soldiers' camp. Two men are
running. The foremost one is Dyer, and following
him is Hooker Jim, who fires repeatedly at Dyer, who
turns, and pointing his pistoi, Jim drops to avoid the
shot. Dyer resumes his run for life, and the other
follows until Dyer has widened the space between

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WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

49r.

them so much that Hooker Jim, fleet as he is, aban-
dons the chase, and returns to join the other mur-
derers.

Over towards the lake two other men are running.
The foremost one is Frank Riddle. The pursuer is
Black Jim, who fires rapidly at Kiddle; in fact, he is
not trying to hit him, because he knows that Scar-
face Charley is watching, and if Riddle falls by a
shot from Black Jim, Black Jim himself will fall by
Scar-face Charley's rifle.

Simultaneously with Jack's first attack on General
Canby, Boston Charley's first shot struck Dr. Thomas
in the left breast, above the heart. The doctor drops
partly down, and catches with his right hand, and
with the other uplifted towards his assassin, begs him
to shoot no more, as he has already received a death-
wound. Bogus joins Boston. They permit the doc-
tor to get upon his feet, and start to run, when they
trip him and he falls again. They taunt him with his
religion, saying, "Why don't you turn the bullets?
Your medicine is not strong." The doctor rises again
and walks a few steps, when they push him down,
still ridiculing him. Again he pleads for them to
spare his life. They laugh in his face and say, " I^ext
time you believe a squaw, won't you?" Once more
— and it is the last time that he will ever walk in that
bruised and mangled body — the doctor rises to his
feet, and, going a few steps, pleading with his inhu-
man tormentors for mercy, and with his Maker for
mercy on them, he falls to rise no more. Slolux joins
them, and Bogus, placing the muzzle of a gun towards
the doctor'b head, sends another bullet crashing
through it. The red devils now strip him of his

496

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

clothiiigj jesting and mocking his words of prayer,
and finally turn him face downwards, while through
the blood from the wounds on his lips he cries, " Come,
Lord — " and the prayer is smothered forever.

When the signal for the attack was given, Schon-
chin was in position, and, springing to his feet, he
draws a revolver from his left side, and, with his other
hand, unsheathes a knife. He is so near his victim
that he dare not trust to a pistol alone. He is very
much excited, and is not so quick as the others in
cocking his pistol.

Meacham draws his Derringer, and pushing the
muzzle squarely against the heart of Schonchin, pulls
the trigger, but, alas! it does not fire. Why? Oh!
why? He tries again, and still the hammer does not
fall. He now discovers that it is but half-cocked.
Too late I too late! Schonchin thrusts Ms pistol for-
ward, almost touching Mcacham's face. The latter
jumps back and stoops, while the ball from Si';hon-
chin's pistol tears through the collar of his coat, vest,
and shirt on the left shoulder, so close that the pow-
der burns his whiskers and the bullet bruises him.
He runs backwards with the pistol now ready for use,
but with Schonchin pursuing hun and firing as fast as
he can until his pistol is empty. IN^ow he drops it on
the ground, and, drawing another from his right side,
he continues the attack, but dare not close on the Der-
ringer still in the hands of Meacham. Why does not
the pursued man fire? He is a good shot. Why
don't he drop the old scoundrel? He was very much
frightened when the attack began, but, like a soldiei
in battle, he has passed that, and is terribly cool now.
He dare not risk his only shot, for fear of missing

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

497

Schonchin, and because of the danger of hitting
Tobey, for she is now interposing for his life, and,
putting her hand on Schonehin's pistol, turns it away
again and again, while pleading, "Don't kill him I
don't kill MeachamI He is the friend of the In-
dians." Slolux joins Schonchin, and, with his gun,
strikes the woman on the head, while Shacknasty,
snatching it from him, says, " I'll fetch him," at the
same time sitting down and taking deliberate aim.
Meacham, striking his breast with his left hand, shouts,
" Shoot me there, you cowardly red devil I " Tobey
strikes down the gun. Shacknasty threatens her, and
again takes aim and fires just as Meacham leaps over
a low ledge of rocks and falls. " I hit him, high up I
He is all right!" shouts Shaclaiasty.

Meacham now decides to fire his only shot, and
pushing the pistol up over the rocks, carefully raises
his head, with it thrown back, and just as his eye
comes above the rocks, he sees Schonchin sitting with
his revolver resting on his knee. Instantly a flash
and a sting, and a ball strikes Meacham in the fore-
head, betwecm th'^ eyes. Strange freak of the bullet
that passes imder the oye-brow and out over the left
eye, but docs not blind the other eye. Meacham now
fires at Schonchin, who leaps up and falls on the
rocks, wounded. Almost at the same instant a ball
passes through Meacham's right arm. The pistol
drops. Another liall cuts away the upper part of his
right ear, and still another strikes him on the right
side of the head and glances off. He quivers, and
his limbs are outstretched, denoting the death-strug-
gle. Shacknasty is the first to reach him, and he
proceeds to strip him of his clothing, first pulling hia

498

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

boots off, then his pantaloons, and, while taking off
his coat, tears the vest down at the side and throws
it away. Then he strips him of his shirt, for it is a
good one, and Shacknasty saves it for his own use.

While he is unbuttoning the shirt at the neck, Slo-
lux comes up, and, placing the muzzle of the gun
close to the temple of the wounded man, sets the
hammer, and as he raises it up to his face to get it in
range, Shacknasty pushes it away, saying in Modoc,
" You needn't shoot. He is dead. He won't get up."
Hearing the voice of Captain Jack calling, they leave
the scene, saying to Tobey, " There lies another of
your brothers, you white-hearted squaw I Go and
take care of him. You are no Modoc."

This hour seems to have inherited even the wrath
of the Almighty. The blackness of unnatural night
hangs over this scene of blood. Gen. Canby's limbs
have straightened on yonder rocks, but a few steps to
the west, and his stark body looks ghastly in the
awful gloom. Twenty yards to the east the form of
Dr. Thomas, his body half stripped and covered with
blood, is still convulsing, while his face presses the
cold rocks.

The chief calls again to the red-handed demons
and bids them flee to the stronghold. They gather
around him with the clothing of the slain still drip-
ping blood upon their feet. They are exulting by
wild shouts of half-satiated thirst for blood. While
glancing towards the soldiers' camp they reload their
arms.

" I am going to have old man Meacham's scalp to
put on my shot-pouch," says Boston, passing the
doctor's clothing to a companion standing near.

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

499

Ip to
the

" He has no scalp,^' breaks in Hooker Jim, " or I
would have it myself."

Boston now runs to where the bleeding man is
lying, and takes from his pocket a small two-bladed,
black-handled knife which had been taken from the
pocket of a soldier who was killed in the January
battle. The Indian woman is wiping the blood from
the mutilated face, now upturned with closed eyes.
Boston thrusts her aside, and with his left hand, still
red with the blood of Dr. Thomas, graspji the largest
locks, and makes a stroke with the knife. The woman
remembers that the prostrate man over whom Boston
is bending has been her benefactor, and that through
his official action, in 1869, he compelled Frank Kid-
dle to make her a lawful wife^ and that, had it not
been for this man, she would now, perhaps, be a cast-
off squaw. She cannot restrain her indignation, but
rushes against the red cut-throat and hurls him back
on to the rocks. He rises and threatens to take her life
if she again interferes, taunting her with being a
"white woman." Stamping on the prostrate man's
head, he places one foot on his neck, and renews his
attempt to secure an ornament for his shot-pouch,
swearing because he found no better scalp, but saying
that he would take one ear with it. With his left
hand resting on the head, he cuts square down to the
skull a long, half-circular gash preparatory to taking
off the side lock and ear, too, with his knife.

Tobey now resorts to strategy to accomplish what
she cannot do otherwise. Looking towards the sol-
diers' camp she claps her hands and shouts, " Bos-
tee-na soldiers. Kot-pumbla!" — (" The soldiers are
coming! ") Boston, without waiting to ascertain the

500

WIGWA3I AND WARPATH.

truth of the warning, starts suddenly and leaves the
woman alone with the dead.

Tobey's warning to Boston has reached the ears of
the band of murderers at the council fire, who, hastily
putting the slightly wounded old sinner, Schonchin,
on " Joe Lane," while the blood-stained uniform of
Gen. Canby and the gray suit of the doctor, together
with Meacham's clothes, are lashed on Dyer's horse,
turn away, leaving Boston behind, who grasps the
rein of Tobey's horse. She shouts to Jack, who turns
and orders Boston to leave him.

Jack and his party scamper over the rocks, looking
back, expecting to hear the guns of the white soldiers
who are coming to the rescue.

Tobey again wipes the blood from the face of her
benefactor, and, stoopii^g down, places her hand over
his heart. " It stop! It stop! " she cries. "With her
finger she opens his eyes. They do not see her.
They are overflowing with blood from the wound in
his face and on his head. Again with her dress she
wipes the blood from his face. She straightens his
limbs and body. Then, standing alone a moment,
with three dead men in sight, she sorrowfully mounts
her horse and starts for the soldiers' camp.

While this scene of terror is being enacted at the
council tent, another, a little less bloody, is in progi'ess
on the opposite side of the Modoc stronghold, the
plans for which have been mentioned. Curly-haired
Jack (Cum-ba-twas) and Curly-haired Doctor have
gone out towards Col. Mason's camp, with a flag of
truce, to decoy the "Little Tyee" (Col. Mason) among
the rocks. But he is an old Indian fighter, and can-
not be caught by such devices.

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

501

Maj. Boyle is there, and, notwithstanding the fact
that on the day before Meacham had told him of the
threatened treachery, he proposes to Lieut. Sherwood
to go out and meet the flag of truce. The major was
Indian agent at Umatilla, and had been successful in
managing peaceable Indians. He had been with Gen.
Crook in Arizona, also; and, having confidence in his
sagacity to manage still, he volunteered to go now.

Having obtained the consent of Col. Mason, they
leave the picket-line behind them and the guard of the
day on the lookout. They go cautiously, and, when
within hailing distance, the Modocs, under cover of
the flag of truce, ask for the "Little Tyee."

" He will not come," replies Boyle. The quick eye
of the major catches sight of a musket behind the
flag of truce. He turns and flees, calling on Sher-
wood to "KunI run for your life! "

They run. But see! Sherwood falls! A bullet
from the musket of Curly-haired Jack has broken
his thigh. The guard rush to the rescue. The Mo-
docs fire a volley, and then flee to their stronghold,
pursued by the guard. The signal-station at Mason's
camp says, " Boyle and Sherwood attacked, under a
flag of truce." Capt. Adams, of the signal corps, on
the blufi' above Gilliam's camp, receives and dictates
it to his secretary, who, after writing, sends it to Gen.
Gilliam, in the camp, one hundred yards below The
general reads the dispatch, and calls for Dr. Cabanis
to come in, while he writes a message to send by the
doctor, informing the commissioners of the attack on
Mason's men. The general has written but a line,
when Maj. Biddle, who has the other glass at the
signal station, shoui^,^^ Firing on the commissioners I ^''

502

WIOWAM AND WARPATH.

The officers order the men to " Fall in ! " Soon the
bugle repeats the assembly call. The men spring to
their arms, and in a few moments the five hundred
men are ready to rush to the rescue. Each company
forms in line in the order in which they arc encamped,
— Col. Miller's company occupying the left front,
Lieut. Eagan's next on the left, and Maj. Throckmor-
ton taking his position behind Eagan's company; the
cavalry companies are on the right.

Gen. Gilliam is astounded, petrified. He hesitates;
he does not give the order to march ; he seems bewil-
dered. Maj. Biddle rushes down from the signal
station and cries, "I saw Canby fall." The mon are
frantic. They do not understand the delay. The
ofiicers swear, and threaten to move without orders.

Gen. Gilliam now awakes from his lethargy, and
gives the order, "March, and deploy from the left in
skirmish line I "
. ^^ Forward I" shouts Col. Miller.

"Forward I" rings out along the lines, while Maj.
Biddle's bugle sounds "Forward!" Maj. Thomas is
ordered to remain with his battery and guard the
camp.

Now that the order to march is given, the men go
flying towards the scene of blood in skirmish line.
Behind the army are the surgeons with the stretchers.

The newspaper reporters are there, also, and fore-
most among them " Bill Dad " of the " Sacramento
Eecord." While waiting for orders Bill Dad says to
a citizen, " I will give you fifty dollars to carry my
message to Yreka ahead of all others. Yes, seveniy-
fivel"

"All right," responds the man, anxious to make

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

603

money out of the occasion. Other reporters engage
couriers.

Col. Miller nears the council tent, urging his men
on. He is behind them, pushing them forward, ex-
pecting every moment to see a Modoc blaze of lire in
front. They soon after meet Dyer, who, breathless,
says, " They are all killed but me." Soon after they
discover Riddle, who cries, hurriedly, "They arc
all killed." But now they meet Tobey, who sobs,
" Canhy, Thomas^ Meacham, all ' kill.' "

Thirty minutes have passed, and Meacham is strug-
gling to get upon his feet. He hears a voice. " Up,
on the leftl Forward, my boys I " Faintly the sound
reaches his ears. "Steady, right 1 Up I up on the

left, you d d scoundrels I " Distinctly and clearly

he hears the words, "Stea4y, right 1 Guide, centre!"
Then the sound of men's feet on the rocks mingles
with the words of command. The men near the
centre level their guns.

" That's an Indian," says one of the men.

"Don't shoot, he's a white man I" shouts Col.
Miller.

The line passes over the wounded man still in skir-
mish order, as they expect a Modoc volley. As they
pass, Dr. Cabanis comes up and says, "Bring a
stretcher here. Take Meacham. He's not dead."

" I am dead I I am dead I " murmurs the wounded
man.

The soldiers lift the mutilated body on a stretcher.

"Water I water! give me water!" moans the
wounded man.

The doctor puts a canteen of brandy to his lips.
The lips refuse.

lit

504

WiaWAM AND WARPATH.

" / can't drink brandy, I am a temperance man,"
says Meacham.

"Stop your nonsense, ^o time for temperance
talk now. Down with it I down wi'.h it!" cries the
doctor.

"Am I mortally wounded, doctor?" asked Meach-
am. The surgeon hastily thrusts his finger into
the several wounds and replies, " Not unless you are
wounded internally."

"I am shot through the left shoulder," said the
wounded man.

"Now, boys, for the hospital I Quick! Lose no
time, and wc will save him," cries the doctor.

" I hit Schonchin in the right side. He fell over
just in front of me," says the man on the stretcher.

"Never mind Schonchin," says the doctor. "We'll
look out for him. Here, take some more brandy.
Now, boys, quick! He'll stand it until you reach
the hospital."

Four pairs jf strong hands grasp the handles of
the stretchers, and four other pairs cany the arms,
and walk beside to relieve the carriers. A soldier
covers the man with his coat as they hurry along.
Listen, liow^ to the sad wail of young Scot<", Canby's
orderly, who was with him through the war of the
Rebellion. When he reaches the body of his beloved
general, who was more than a father to him, he
throws himself on the prostraic form, and, frantic
with grief, ravefj like a madman. " Bill Dad " and a
soldier lift him up and cover the body with their
coats.

Men ^vith stretchers comv3 up, and, while they lift
the general. Bill Dad cuts the side of the council tent

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

505

out and covers him over. Strange that this council
tent should become Gen. Canby's winding-sheet I The
body of Dr. Thomas is also placed on a stretcher,
and it, too, is covered with a part of the tent. It is
his winding-sheet, also.

While these affairs are taking place at the scene of
the terrible tragedy, the quartermaster, at the camp,
is putting the hospital in order for the reception of
patients, ordering cooks to prepare food for the men,
packing mules with supplies, stretchers, water-casks,
an^i such other things as are necessary for the men
while fighting, never doubting but that they will be
ueeded. The animals are ready and waiting for
orders from the general commanding.

But lo! behold! The glistening bayouv^ts above
the rocks come nearer I The army of five hundred
men are returning to camjp "Why is this?" ask the
men. " Why did we not follow the murderers to their
den?" demand the ofiicers.

" We shall not be ready to attack them until the
Warm Spring Indians come," replies tiie general, who
a few days since thought " he could take the Modocs
out with the loss of half-a-dozen men." Why did
not Col. Mason follow up the Modocs who attacked
Sherwood and Boyle? Because he could not move
without orders, and the orders were not given.

Three or foiu' horsemen are waiting while a dozen
pencils are rattling over paper. The burden of each
despatch is the assassination. "Modoc treachei'yl
Gen. Canby and Dr. Thomas killed; Meacham mor-
laMy wounded; Dyer and Riddle escape." How
much these hasty lines will tell, and how many hearts
will feel a dark shadow fall over them when the

50G

WIGWAM AND WABPATH.

electric tongue of fire repeats this message to the
world I

" Fifty dollars extra, if you get my despatch into
the telegraph office ahead of the others," says Bill
Dad, as he hands the paper to his courier. Away
goes the courier up the steep and rugged bluff.

" One hundred dollars if you get to the office in
Y-re-ka, first," says another reporter, in a whisper, to
his courier, who dashes off close behind the first.

Another rider is mounted and waiting for the word
to start. Gen. Gilliam's adjutant hands this man a
sealed envelope. It contains an official telegram for
the authorities.

" Lose no time ! Off with you I " says Adjutant
Rockwell. And now three riders are urging their
horses up the hill. Y-re-ka is eighty-three miles dis-
tant. A long race is before them. The evening is
dark and gloomy, but the clouds pass away, and the
moon shines on three men galloping together, mile
after mile. Sunrise finds two of them still together.
One of them, as they near a ranch, swings his hat and
shouts. A man in shirt-sleeves runs to a stable and
brings a fresh horse to the man who signalled him.
The rider dismounts, and, while changing the saddle
from his horse to the fresh one, tells the awful tidings.
The other rider urges his horse on, on, for he, too, has
a fresh horse but a few miles ahead. On he goes, and
looking behind him sees his rival coming. He comes
up and passes, saying, " Good-by, George I "

Twenty minutes more and both are mounted on
fresh horses, one leading, but now in sight of each
other. One is casting an eye backwards over his
she ilderj the other is pressing the sides of his horse.

WIGWAM AND WAEPATH.

507

The gap closes up. Y-re-ka is now in sight, and they
are galloping side by side. Both are sitting erect,
and the music of jingling spurs is in harmony with
the stride of the horses. One mile more, and some-
body wins. It all depends on " bottom." The spurs
cease to jingle. They are muffled in the bleeding
sides of the panting horses.

What a race! One is an iron-gray, the other a
Pinto horse. The rider of the gray, reaching back
with his spurs, rakes his horse from the flank forward,
leaving a vermilion trail where the spurs have j)assed.
With extended head and neck, and lengthened stride,
he goes ahead a few yards. With anotlier application
of spurs, the switch of the horse's tail touches his
rider's back.

"Ah, ha I I've got you now ! " shouts the rider of
the Pinto, as he comes up like the moving of a shad-
ow, and leaves the gray and his rider behind. One
hour more, and the lightnings of the heavens are re-
peating the messages, and sending them over moun-
tains and plains, to almost the farthest ends of the
earth.

Klllli

CHAPTER XXXI.

HARNESSED LIGHTNING CARRYING AWFUL TIDINGS — HE
"MAKES IT" — A BROKEN FINGER WON'T DISFIGURE A
CORPSE.

It is night, and in the soldiers' camp a wail of an-
guish is heard coming from the tent nearest Gen.
Canby's late quarters. Grief weighs down the heart
of Orderly Scott, who is giving vent to his anguish in
stifled sobs and vows of vengeance on the perpetrators
of the foul deed. He rises from his bed, and, with
face half buried in his hands, looks again on the man-
gled form of his benefactor, and, in renewed paroxysms
of grief, is borne away by his friends.

The sound of hammer and saw disturbs the mid-
night hour, while the carpenters are transforming the
wooden gun-cases into coffins for the dead. Two are
in progress, but the mechanics are econonizing the
rough boards, for the probabilities are that the tliird
will be needed on the morrow.

The steward is holding a lamp while Drs. Semig
and Cabanis are di-essing the wounds of the only
patient in the hospital tent. He is unconscious, while
the ugly, ragged wound in his face is being carefully
bound, and the long crooked cut on the left side of the
head is being closed with the silver threads, and his ear
is being stitched together. He flinches a little when the
flexible silver probe is following the trail cut through
his right . arm made by the pistol ball that struck it

WIGWAM AND WABPATH.

509

outside of the wrist, and, passing between the bones of
the fore arms, came out on the inside, midway between
the hand and elbow. The left hand is laid out on a
board, and the -VNOunded man is told that "the fore-
finger must come off."

" Make out the line of the cut, doctor," says
Meacham.

" There, about this way," the doctor replies, while
with his scalpel he traces a cut nearly to the wrist.

" I can't hold still while you do that, without chlo-
roform," says Meacham.

The doctor feels his pulse, and says, " You have
lost too much blood to take chloroform."

"Then let it stay until I am stronger," rejoins
Meacham.

For once doctors agree, one of them saying, "The
finger would not disfigure a corjDse very much."

"Please ask Gen. Gilliam to send to Linkville for
my wife's brother, Capt. Ferree," conies from the
bloodless lips of the wounded man.

" My dear fellow," replies the kind-hearted doctor,
" the general sent a courier for him hours ago."

This thoughtful act of kindness, on the part of Gen.
Gilliam, has touched the heart of the sufferer. When
he awakes again Capt. Ferree was bending over him
and remarking, "He will be blind if he recovers,
won't he, doctor? "

" He won't be very handsome, that's a fact," says
the nurse.

In the Modoc camp, when the murderous bands
u"rive w4th their scanty plunder, a general quarrel
cv- K ., and bitter reproaches are heard against Hook-
er Jiin for not securing Mr. Dyer, and against Curly

510

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

Jack and Curly-haired Doctor, for the escape of Maj.
Boyle, and on account of the clothing taken from the
murdered men. Captain Jack claims the uniform of
Gen. Canby. Bogus and Boston divide the clothing
taken from Dr. Thomas, and Shacknasty Jim, Hooker
Jim and old Schonchin are awarded the clothing and
effects of Meacham.

Preparations are making for defence, as the Indians
do not doubt that an attack will be made immediately.
Many bitter recriminations are uttered; but it is war,
war to the last man I They hush all their quarrels in
the necessity for united action. They jjledge them-
selves to fight until the last man is dead. The Cur-
ly-haired Doctor calls his assistants around him and
begins the Great Medicine Dance, All night long
the sound of drum and song is heard. The Modocs
expect every moment to hear the signal of their sen-
tinel on the outposts annoiuicing the " soldiers I " No
sleep comes to this camp to night.

The morning comes, but no blue-coats are seen
among the rocks. The army of one thousand men
are not ready yet.

The Modocs exult; they are jubilant; they have
scared the Government. " It is afraid. It will grant
us, 710W, all we ask." Captain Jack and Scar-face
Charley do not assent to this unreasonable view of
the situation.

" The soldiers will come. Our victory is not com-
plete. We must fight now until all are dead. The
Modoc heart says ^We must fight!'" Captain Jack
affirms.

Saturday morning, April 13th, finds the three camps
side by side, and each on the lookout for an attack.

WIGWAM AND WAKPATU.

511

Strong hands are bearing two rough-looking boxes
up the steep bluff. In the foremost one is the body of
Gen. Canby; in the other, all that is mortal of Dr.
Thomas. Slowly they mount the rugged hill. They
reach the waiting ambulances. The bodies are each
assigned an escort. Sitting beside Gen. Canby's coffin
are his adjutant, Anderson, and tliC faithful Scott.

How changed the scene I a few hours since all were
hopeful. Now, all are in despair, crushed under the
affliction of the hour. While they move cautiously
under escort, the terrible news is flashing along thou-
sands of miles of telegraph lines, over mountains, under
rivers and oceans. Before the sun sets the hearts of
millions of people are beating in sympathy with the
bereaved. Extras and bulletins are flying from a
thousand presses. The newsboys of America are
shouting the burden of the terrible telegram. The
Inaians along a thousand miles of the frontier have
already learned that something of dreadful import has
happened.

About the middle of the afternoon of this day a
woman sitting in her room on State street, Salem,
Oregon, raises her eyes, turning them towards the
street. Perhaps the sound of steps on the wooden
pavement attracts her attention. She sees two famil-
iar faces turned towards her window. "Oh, see her I
How pale she is I " She drops her work, and runs
hastily to meet the two gentlemen.

"Is he dead? Is he dead? Tell me! Has my
husband been killed by the Modocs?" the woman cries.

The gentlemen are speechless for the moment, while
the lady pleads. They dare not speak the truth too
plainly, now; she cannot bear it.

€??■

512

WIGAVAM AND WARPATH.

1 !

i III

One of them replies, " Gen. Canby and Dr. Thomas
have been killed by the Modocs, and Mr. Meacham is
sli — " " mortally wounded I " shrieks the lady sinking
to the floor.

Three young persons are coming home. The eldest
is a young lady of eighteen. The lad that walks be-
side her is her brother of sixteen ; and the other is an
auburn-haired girl of fourteen. There is something
in her appearance that connects our thoughts with the
mutilated, almost bloodless man who is lying in the
hospital in the Lava Beds.

They turn the corner leading out of the Plaza
and in sight of home. They see men and women hur-
rying across the front yard.

"Has father been killed by the Modocs?" bursts
from their lips as they fly.

Dr. Hall meets them and says, "Your father is
slightly wounded. He is not dead."

The three frightened children gather around the
tearless, pale-faced mother, who says, " Don't deceive
me. I am strong now. I tan bear it. Tell me the
worst."

The friends exchanged glances. Dr. Hall shakes
his head, slightly motioning towards the elder girl,
whose face is buried in the bosom of Mrs. Dr. Smith.
" George, run to the telegraph office and bring the
despatch," says the mother to her son. " I must know
the truth."

The boy bounds away towards the office, and is met
by Prof. Powell, who says, "Come back, George. I
will go home with you, and tell your mother all about
it."

The two return, nnd the professor, with faltering

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WiaWAM AND WARPATn.

513

voice reads the despatch: "Canby and Thomas killed.
Mcttcham mortally wouudcd." The marble-faced wife
arises, sayin<^, '*I am going to my hiiKbaiid." Ilcr
friends remonstrate wlih her.

" I am going to my husband. Do not hinder me,"
she repeats.

"My i'atherl my father I " cries the elder daughter,
as she is borne to her room.

" My father will not die. ITe must not die. My
father will Ihe" the younger daughter insists. Her
brother is trying to hide his tears while he talks
hopefully.

" Father is a very strong man. lie may get well.
I think he will," he says.

It is midnight, and sympathizing friends are in the
sitting-room and parlor. The daughters and son
have sobbed themselves to sleep. The mother and
wife, with bloodless face, is on bended knees, and, with
uplifted hands clasped, is whispering a prayer.

At this moment her brothei* is bending over her
husband three hundred miles away, watching his
breathing; while thoughts of a widowed sister and
her oi'plian children sadden the heart of the veteran
who has passed through the war of the Great Rebel-
lion. A silent tear drops on the mangled face
beneath him.

Donald McKay, " the scout," with seventy-two
picked men, is dismounting at Col. Mason's camp.
Jjcaving them, he is challenged by the picket guard
and, passing in, reports himself to the officer of the
day.

His men stand waiting his return. Meanwhile we
will go close enough to inspect them. They are

514

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

Ill'

1 1'

f '

ill

dressed in the uniform of the soldiers oi the United
States. Their arms are the same, and in the moon-
light they appf'ar to be "Regulars." If the womided
man in the hospital were here they would salute
him with, "Tuts-ka-low-a?" ("How do you do, old
man Meacham? ") And he would reply, "Te-me-na,
Shix-te-wa-tillieums." (" My heart is all right.")

These boys are Warm Spring Indians, and the same
men who were in the council tents in 185o, \^ hen the
Government swindled them and their fathers out of
their homes in the beautiful " Valley of the Tygh."
They were also in the revival meeting at the Warm
Springs Agency in 1871^ when the Superintendent
of Indian Aifairs, who now lies in yonder hospital,
ar J. Agent John Smith, took so many red hands in
their own and recognized a brotherhood with them.
They are the same men, too, who have for years past,
each Sunday morning, joined their beloved agent in
prayer and song. Th' have left behind them hum-
ble homes, in a poor country, where the Government
placed them, and where it still keeps them by the
strong arm of the law, without consulting their wishes,
— a home they cannot leave, even for a day, without a
" pass." Their manhood was acknowledged in mak-
ing a treaty; but denied as soon as the compact was
completed, until in 186G, Avhen the Government found
it had an e.:pensive war on hand with the Snake In-
dians, and then it offered these men the privilege of
volunteering to whip the Snake Indians. This oflfer
they accepted, and were rewarded for their services
with a few greenbacks, worth fifty cents on a dollar,
and an invitation to a new treaty counci. , in which
they were cheated out of a reserved right i ^ the fish-

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

515

nited

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eries on the Columbia river, near " The Dalles ; " and
then they were summoned back to their unsought
homes, subject to the whims and caprices of Govern-
ment officers, who were given positions as a reward
for political services. True, they agreed to the terms,
and they must be made to stand by them whether
their pledges were made freely and voluntarily, or
imder the shining bayonets of an army, and by reason
of the superior diplomatic talent of the Government
officials who outwitted them. It makes no diller-
ence. They are Indians, and three-fourths of the
people of the United States lelieve and say that
"the best Indians are all under ground."

Anxious to demonstrate their loyalty to a Govern-
ment that has been so good to them, and to establish
their right to manhood's privileges, when an oppor-
tunity offered, they enlisted by the advice and consent
of their agent, and, followed by his prayers, they are
here to night under the famous scout, Donald McKay.

He evidently is not a " "Warm Spring Indian," yet
they trust him, knowing, from their expei-ience with
him in the Snake campaign of 18GG, that he is thor-
oughly reliable. Donald McKay is half brother to
Dr. Wm. C. McKay. Ilis mother was a Cay use wo-
man. Being a man of extraordinary endowments,
which fit him for a leader, he has taken an active part
in all recent Indian wars of the Xorthwest. His
name alone carries a warning to refractory " red-siiins.*'

As Donald approached his men on his return from
head-quarters, several voices inquire if "old man
Meacham is dead." Quietly leading their horses in-
side the picket line, they unpack the kitchen, mule
and blanket ponies.

' iih<

516

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

jlllh

It is now Sunday morning, the 13th of April. The
sun finds couriers on the road to Y-re-ka, bearing de-
spatches announcing that " Meacham is sinking. The
surgeons have extracted four bullets from his wounds.
The Modocs cannot got away."

A sad, anxious woman is leaving the depot at
Salem, Oregon, destined for the Lava Beds. At
home her children are in tears, realizing how dark
the clouds of sorrow may become.

The childless widow of Gon. Canby sits with
hroTcen heart, in her parlor in Portland, Oregon.

The family of Dr. Thomas, in Petaluma, Cal., are
kneeling around the family altar, and a bereaved widow
is praying for resignation to this dispensation of
Providence, — is praying for strengtii to say "Thy
will be done on earth as it is in heaven."

Monday morning, April 14th, opens amid the noises
of eamfj life ; the drum and bugle calls, and human
voices join in songs of praise. They are strange
sounds for a military camp on the eve of battle.
There is an uncommon accent to them, but they sound
familiar. What ! The sounds come from the lips of
men who were born in wild camj^s among the moun-
tains of Eastern Oregon. Can it be that these red
men have so far advanced in Christian civilization that
they are now doing what not one of the five hundred
white men have the courage to do ? Yes, my reader,
it is true that the Warm Spring Indians, who havo
learned from Agent John Smith these songs of
praise and the honor that is due to God, are faith-
ful to their pretensions, and are worsliipping Ilim,
und seeking strength to sustain them in the coming
'itrife.

WIGWAM A.-.'JD WARPATH.

517

Blush, now, will you not, you who prate so loudly
of the superiority of the white men ! ol his sense of
right controlling his actions I Here are red men, who
are but a few years removed from savage life, lio'mg
the ^^new religion"' — Christians in real earnest, and
shaming the hypocritical pretenders whose cant and
whine make liberal-minded people turn away in dis-
gust. You Christian Indian-hater, look at these red-
skinned people, and learn a lesson m Christian honesty
and moral courage 1

The shadows of Van Bremers mountain come slowly
over the Lava Beds. In the Modoc camp the
"medicine-man" is conducting the vrar-dance and
working the blood of Modoc hearts up to fighting
heat. He promises his people that he will make a
medicine that w51] turn the soldiers' bullets away. He
points to the great battle of January, and its results,
to inspire confidence in him. The chief is saddened,
and fully realizes the situation. He is desperate, and
is resolved to fight to the bitter end. He has already
appointed the places for each of the warriors. He
tells his people that the hated Warm Spring Indians
are now in the soldiers' camp. He reminds them that
these j)eople are their enemies ; that it was the Warm
Spring and Tenino Indians who killed his father. He
counsels them to remember his father's death. He
knows that a thousand white soldiers are there and
that the "big guns" will reach his stronghold.

Some of his followers have superstitious faith
enough in the medicine-man to believe that they will
outlive the war, and to believe the white men are
conquered already. The chief knows better.

In the soldiers' camp preparations are making for

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5ia

T IGWAM AND WARPATH.

the assault. The Coehorn shell-guns are made ready
for putting on the backs of mules. Food for the sol-
diers has been prepared. The guard is stationed.
The soldiers in either camp well understand that the
morrow's sun will witness another bloody struggle.
Those of them who were in former battles shrink from
this one, knowing how neuily impregnable ho
" stronghold " will be.

" I say, old man, there is a little bit of fun going on.
I wish you could be up to see it." Thus spoke Capt.
Ferree to Meacham, and continued, " You know Long
Jim — a Modoc prisoner — is under guard. Well, the
boys are going to give him a chance to run for his life
without the knowledge of Gen. Gilliam. Thev have
everything all fixed, and I'll bet fifty dollars he ' makes
it!' They have him in the stone corral, and the plan
is to station the boys outside next to the Lava Pjds
and leave one or two men to guard him. Thev ,vill
pretend to sleep, and Jim will jump the wall, and then
the boys will let him have it. Two to one he gets
away! I thought I would just tell you, so you
wouldn't get scared to death, thinking the Modocs
were attacking the camp."

This man. Long Jim, had pretended to desert the
Modoc camp during the peace negotiations. He had
a bullet extracted from his back while in the commis-
sioners' camp, several weeks before. He was after-
wards caught while acting as an emissary to other
Indians, and, by order or ^en. CanbJ^ was being de-
tained under guard as a prisoner. Hence his pres-
ence. He stoutly denied having any desire to return
to Captain Jack's camp.

The officers are assembled in Col. Green's quarters.

WIGWAM AND WABPATH.

519

They are celebrating a half-solemn, half-sentimental
ceremony that is sometimes indulged in before an
engagement. To a listener who lies in a hospital it
sounds somewhat as does the m.edioine war-dance in
the middle camp. Indeed, its results are the same,
although the design is different. In the Modoc camp,
the dance and medicine are for the purpose of invok-
ing spiritual aid and stimulating the nerves of the
braves to heroic deeds. In the soldier camp the in-
tention is to celebrate the stirring scenes passed, to
exchange friendship, to blot out all the personal differ-
ences that exist, and pledge fidelity for the future.

They tell stories and pass jokes and witticisms
until a late hour. Before adjournment they join in
singing a song that is sung nowhere else and by no
other voices. The wounded man in the hospital tent
hears only the refrain. It sounds melancholy, and
has a saddening effect.

•• Then stand by your glasses steady,
This world's a round of lies —
Three cheers for the dead already,
And hurrah for the next who dies " —

rings out from the lips of brave men who dread not
the strife of battle under ordinary circumstances ; but
to meet an enemy who is so thoroughly protected by
chasms and caverns of rock does not promise glory
that inflates men's courage previous to battle.

Col. Tom A^'^right and Lieut. Eagan drop into the
hospital, and, sitting down beside the wounded com-
missioner, assure him that they will remember Canby
and Thomas, and will avenge his own sufferings.
They retire with expressions of hope for his recovery.
They meet Maj. Thomas and Lieut. Cranston coming

\^'~ '-'hm

520

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

fe-tf-

to pay a visit. Exchanges of sympathy and fiiend-
Bhip follow, and they return to quarters to sleep before
the battle, leaving behind them but one wounded man.
He is i^eering into the future, wondering ivho of all
the five hundred men and oJEcers will be hisj^rs^
neighhor.

The camp is quiet. Midnight has passed. The
relief guard has been stationed. In the corral Long
Jim is sleeping. He shows no sign of any intention
to escape. The guard is discouraged. The boys out-
side are impatient. What if Jim should not make the
attempt ? It would be a huge joke on the boys who
planned this little side scene. Truth is, nearly every-
body who is in the secret is cursing Jim for a fool
that he don't try to escape. A consultation is held.
Something must be done. " I'll fix it," s-^ys a " little
corporal." Going to the corral he says, ^ Don't go to
sleep and let the prisoner get away." Everything be-
comes quiet and the two guards sit down, one at each
side of the corral.

" I'm so d — d sleepy I can't keep awake," says one
to the other.

" Sleep, then. I won't say a word," rejoins his com-
panion. " He can't get away from me. He's sleep-
ing himself."

The first speaker soon hangs his head and sleeps.
Soon the other's chin restH on his breast and he be-
gins to sno'e. Long Jim slowly raises his head. All
is quiet. There sit the two guards, sleeping. One is
snoring. Jim listens. His love for his own piujplo
and for liberty burns in his heart. He has picked up
many items that would be valuable. He knows that
the attack will be made on the morrow. His friends

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

521

must be notified. lie listens a moment, and then,
cautiously laying aside his blanket, he stands erect.
One of the guards sits in the gateway of the corral.
The wall around him is higher than his head, lie
cannot see over it. Laving his hands on the stone
wall and summoning all his strength he sj)rmgs. A
blaze at either end of the corral, then bang ! bang I
go the guns outside like the firing of a string of China
crackers, only louder. Twenty shots are fired, and
still Jim does not falL He reaches the outer picket
line. Two more guns are fired off^ lighting up the
track for the runiway, and still he flies. The boys
reload and send a parting volley in the direction Jim
went.

"-He ' made it ' ; and a madder set of fellows you
never saw. I knew they couldn't hit him. I've tried
that thing, and it can't be done." I need not tell my
readers who uttered this remark.

You may suppose that this little episode, "just be-
fore the battle," roused the camp. .N^o such thing oc-
curred. Gen. Gilliam, it is true, jumped to his feet,
but was reassured when he was told that it was
nothing — only Long Jim escaping.

Before daylight this distinguished individual was
" a-tellin' the Modocs the news," as one of the sleep-
ing guard declared. So he was, with his clothing
[jjurced by half-a-dozen bullets, but "with nary a
wound."

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CHAPTEK XXXII.

HORIZONTAL PYROTECHNICS — THE SCALP MIRACLE— KILLED
IN PETTICOATS — THE PRESENTIMENT,

It is four o'clock on the morning of Tuesday, the
14th of April. The men are silently falling into line.
The mules aie groaning under the heavy weight of
" mounted pieces," or loaded with stretchers and other
contrivances for carrying the dead and wounded. The
soldiers do not seem to realize that some of their num-
ber will return on these mules, wounded and helpless,
or dead. Perhaps each one thinks and hopes that it
will be some one other than himself. From the im-
mense preparations for war it would seem that Cap-
tain Jack and his followers must be taken in a few
minutes. One thousand men and seventy-two Warm
Spring Indians are taking position around the ill-
starred chieftain's fortress. He is not ignorant of their
presence. His old women and children are hidden
away in the caves of the Lava Beds. The young
women are detailed to attend the warriors with water
and ammunition. The Modocs are better armed than
during the last battle. Some of their guns were cap-
tured from fallen soldiers on the 17th of January. A
large quantity of ammunition that was taken has
been changed to suit the old rifles.

The men are at the stations assigned them. They
are divested of all unnecessary clothing, and their
limbs are bandaged by folds of rawhide. They are

WIGWAM AND WARPATU.

523

awaiting the attack. Each warrior holds a position
made impregnable by the Ibniiation of the rocks, or
the condition in which the great convulsions of nature
which produced this indescribable country, left them.

The sun is driving away the darltness, and soon
the br ttle must begin.

In the hospital a veteran of the Second Iowa Cav-
alry is sitting beside the wounded man, and preparing
him for the shock that his nerves will feel.

" Don't get scared, old man ! It will begin very
soon, and you will presently have company enough,"
he says.

The hospital attendants are making ready to care
for the wounded. Mattresses are placed in rows on
either side. In a small tent, near by, a surgeon is
laying out lint and bandages.

The Iowa veteran is standing at the door, saying
to Meacham, " I will tell you when it opens. I can
see the fire, before you will hear the sound and feel
the jar. Don't get frightened, and think that the
mountain is coming down on you, old man. There
goes the signal rocket. N^ow look out I "

An instant more and the shells and howitzers join
in a suTiultaneous demand for the Modoc chief to sur-
render. The earth trembles while the reports are
reverberating around and through the chasms and
caverns of the Lava Beds, and before they have finally
died away, or the trembling has ceased, another sound
comes in a continuous roar, proceeding from the left,
and by the time the belt of fire has made the circuit,
it repeats itself again and again. But no smoke of
rifles is seen coming from the stronghold. " Charge ! "
rings out by human voice and bugle blast, and a re-

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524

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

turning series of bayonets converge. On they go,
nearing a common centre. IS^o Modocs are yet in
bight. The soldiers, now upright, are hurrying for-
ward, when suddenly, from a covert chasm and cav-
ern, a circle of smoke bursts forth. The Modocs
have opened fire. The men fall on the right and left,
around the circle. " Onward I " shout the officers.
"Onward I" But the men arc falling fast. The
charge must be abandoned. The bugle sounds " Ke-
treatl" The line widens again, the soldiers bearing
back the dead and wounded. They now seek cover
among the rocks. The wounded are sent to the hos-
pital, by way of the lake, in boats or on the mule-
stretchers. The battle goes on. The wounded con-
tinue to arrive. The shadows of the mountains from
the west cover the Lava Beds, and still the fight goes
on. A volley is heard near the hospital.

"What's that?" asked the startled patient.

" Burying the dead," quietly responds the veteran
nurse.

A few minutes pass, and another volley is fired, and
another soldier is being laid away to rest forever.
Still another, and another yet; until five volleys an-
nounce that five of the boys who started out with
United States rifles in the morning are occupying the
narrow homes that must be theirs forever.

At irregular intervals during the night the fight is
continued. The Modocs are constantly on duty.
The soldiers relieve each other, and are in fighting
condition when Tuesday morning comes. No cessa-
tion of firing through the day. No rest for the
Modocs.

One of the camp sutlers, well known all over the

WIOWAai AND WARPATU.

525

the

West as a game fellow, unable to restrain his love for
sport, and being PAT-rlotie, goes to quartermaster
Grier and demands a breech-loader, and also a chnrr/er
to ride, saying he wanted to do sonu'thing to help
whip the Modoes. Mr. Grier informed Pat that he
could not issue arms without an order. Pat was in-
dignant, and made ,'ip[)Heation sueeessfully to a citizen
for the necessary outfit for war. He mounted Col.
Wright's mule and repaired to the scene of action.

On reaching the line of battle he looked ai'ound a
few minutes, and, to a word of caution given him by
an officer, replied, "Divil an Indian do I see. I came
out to git a scalp, and I'm not goin' home without it."

The officer who had given him the friendly advice
watched the bold sutler as he kept on his way with
his " Henry," ready to pick off any Modoe Avho might
be imprudent enough to show his head. The soldiei's
shout, "Come back! come back!" but on goes the
fearless sutler, carefully picking his way. Look very
closely, now, and we can see what aj)i>ears to be a
moving sage-hush. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, it
creeps over the ledges. If Pat would only look in
the right direction he could see it and have a chance
at the travelling bush; and as he is a good shot, he
might scatter the leaves, besides boring'a hole through
Steamboat FranFs head. A puff of smoke comes
out of the now immovable bush, and the repoit min-
gles with the roar of battle. Pat's mule d)-ops under
him, and he slips off and takes cover behind a low
rock. The mule recovers its feet, and, with almost
human scjisc, makes its way back to the soldiers' line.
Pat, arixious to discover his man, raises his head
above lie rocks. Whiz! comes another bullet, so

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(716) 872-4503

526

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

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close that Pat drops back quietly, — indeed, so very
quietly that the soldiers report him dead; and noble-
hearted Pat is named among the slain. But let us
see how he really is. After lying contented awhile,
he again slowly lifts his head, and another shot comes
so close that Pat again drops behind the rock, and a
second time the soldiers shout, " They've got him this
time, sure I"

Not so, however. Pat is not hurt yet. Again
and again he attempts to move fi-om behind the rock,
scarcely large enough to protect him, and each time
Steamboat fires. 'No one who knows Pat McManus
ever doubted his courage, but he deserves credit, also,
for remembering that " Discretion is the better part
of valor." He finally arranges himself for a " quiet
snooze behind the rock," as he expressed it, and
a\>aited the welcome shades of evening. He then
crawls out to tLe soldier line. It is said that he stood
the fire of the soldiers who mistook him for an In-
dian, until he shouted to them, " Dry up, there ! It's
me I Don't you know a white man on his knees from
an Injun on his belly? "

Directly west of Captain Jack's stronghold is a flat
an almost level plain of lava rocks of six hundred
yards in width, but commanded by the stronghold,
while it does not offer protection to those who attempt
to hold it. To complete the mvestment it is neces-
sary to take this " flat." Lieut. Eagan is ordered to
the execution of this enterprise. He is a daring lead-
er, and, calling to his men to follow, moves forward.
It is known to be a hazardous undertaking, but Eagan
is just the man. Away he goes, jumping from one
rock to another, calling to his men : " Come, my

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

527

boys I come I" he cries. But suddenly the Lava
Eocks in front belch forth Modoc bullets, and the gal-
lant lieutenant drops. Then a soldier, and then an-
other. Eagan shouts, "Fall back I" Pell-mell they
go, stooping, jumping and shouting, leaving the brave
fellow alone, while his men take a position where
they can prevent the Modocs from capturing their
leader.

Dr. Cabanis, — who seems to bear a charmed life,
— hearing of Eagan's fall, goes to him. The Modocs
open fire on him. Steadily the gallant doctor moves
forward, sometimes taking cover as best he can, again
moving, half bent, from rock to rock, and when he
reaches the wounded man a shout goes up from the
soldiers. The wound is dressed, and the doctor, un-
able to carry his patient, leaves him and returns again
to the line.

While this battle is going on, two coaches of the
Northwest Stage Company meet, one going north
and the other south. Observing a custom common
among western stage people, they halt and exchange
news items. In the stage going north is the body of
Gen. Cenby, in charge of his adjutant, Anderson, and
Orderly Scott. In the other stage is Mrs. Meacham,
accompanied by a stranger. Indeed, she has found a
new escort at almost every station, who would an-
nounce himself as "your husband's brother." Mem-
bers of this brotherhood have been informed by tele-
graph all along the road that "A Brother's Wife is
en route for the Lava Beds. Look out for her wants.
See that she is escorted and send the bills to ]^o. 50,
F. A. M., Salem."

Anderson goes to the other coach. Mrs. Meacham

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II !■•

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528

WIGWAM AND WAKPATH.

anxiously inquires, " Did you see my husband after
he was wounded ? "

" I sat beside him half an hour," he replies. " He is
doing well."

" Will he recover ? " questions Mrs. Meacham.
" Is he mortally wounded ? "

"We hope he will get well. His wounds are not
necessarily fatal," replies the adjutant. "A great
deal," he continues, "depends on good treatment.
Your hrother is with him. Everything that can be
done is being done."

Anderson walks sadly back to his charge of the
lamented general.

The driver of the other stage dismounts and
accosts Mr. Anderson as he resumes his seat.

" Is there any hope for Mr. Meacham ? " he asks.

" Xot the least in the world ; but his wife must not
know it now," replies Anderson, in a low voice ; but
O my God ! loud enough for the quick ears of Mrs.
Meacham to catch the words.

The drivers take up the lines. The stages pass.
In one Gen. Canby's body is being borne to his heart-
broken wife. In the other a heart-broken wife is go-
ing to her husband, with the thought that she would be
northward borne in a few days, with her husband con-
iSned in a dark coffin. The southern-bound stage
reaches Jacksonville. The strange gentleman assists
Mrs. Meacham to alight, and attends to her baggage
while the change of coaches is being made. He then
introduces another stranger to Mrs. Meacham as
" your husband's brother, who will go to Y-re-ka with
you."

It is Wednesday evening when the stage is slowly

WiaWAM AND WARPATH.

531

climbing Siskiyou mountain. The occupants are but
two, one a lady. She does not speak. She has no
hope now. The gentleman is silent. He, too, has
lost hope in the recovery of the lady's husband.

Lieut. Eagan is being carried to his tent. The
hospital is full of patients groaning with pain. Near
the door lies a Warm Springs Indian scout. The
surgeons are probing his wound, while he laughs and
talks to the attendants, making sarcastic remarks
about " the Modocs using powder that couldn't shoot
through his leg."

The Iowa veteran announces to his brother-in-law
that his wife will be in Y-re-ka that night.

The Modocs are out of water. The ice they had
stored in the caves is exhausted. They determine to
cut their way to the lake, but a few hundi'ed yards
distant. They concentrate their forces, and, envel-
oped in sage brush, they crawl up near the line of
soldiers and open fire in terrible earnest. Soldiers
fall on right and left. The Modocs yell and push
their line. The white soldiers are massing to resist.
The fire is awful. Peal after peal, volley after volley,
and still the Modocs hold their ground. All night
long the Modoc yell mingles with the rattle of mus-
ketry, and the shouts of defiance from the soldiers.
One party is fighting in desperation; the other from
duty.

While this battle is raging, the stage-coach from
the IN'orth arrives at Y-re-ka, and stops at the hotel.
A gentleman says a few words to the driver. The
street-lamps before Judge Koseborough's door throws
its light on the faces of several ladies and gentlemen
who stand waiting to receive the lady passenger. She

532

WIOWAM AND WARPATH.

is met with warm-hearted kindness, although every
face is new. Supper is waiting. Every effort is
made for the lady's comfort. She weeps now, although
this great sorrow of her life had seemed to dry up
the fountain of tears until the warm hearts and kind
words of strange voices had touched, with melting
power, her inner soul. A short sleep, and she arises,
to find a four-horse carriage awaiting to bear her to
the Lava Beds. A new escort takes his place beside
her.

Just after daylight, and while leaving the Shasta
valley, a few miles out of Y-re-ka, the driver announces
a courier coming from the Lava Beds. As he ap-
proaches, he draws from his " cantena " — a leather
pocket carried on the saddle-front — a paper, and,
waving it while he checks his panting horse, says,
" For Mrs. Meacham." Oh, the power of a few words I
How they can change darkness into light! The let-
ter read as follows : —

Lava Beds, Tuesday Eve., April 15.

Deab Sister : — Your husband will recover. His wounds are

doing well, but he will never be very handsome any more.

Your brother,

D. J. FERREE.

This inveterate joker cannot resist the temptation
to mix the colors of the rainbow in all he does. But
we forgive him.

This morning, as the sun dispels the darkness, the
Modocs abandon the attempt to reach the lake. For
two days and nights they have fought without sleep.
They are suffering from thirst and long-continued
fighting; but no signs of surrender are anywhere vis-

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

533

tble. The chief has called a council. It is decided
to evacuate on the approach of night, and the braves
are ordered to hold their fire unless to resist a charge.

A few of the Modocs have passed outside the lines
by way of the " open flat," and are crawling towards
the soldiers' camp at the foot of the bluflf. Gen. Gil-
liam, Dr. McEldry and others have passed over the
route unharmed. The horse-stretchers have passed
and repassed with their mangled freight. The pack-
ponies are all busily engaged, and the team horses,
that were ordered by the quartermai^cer into service,
are employed in carrying the dead. The pack-trains
and teams belong to private citizens, and have been
employed by the Government in carrying and haul-
ing supplies. It was not expected, however, that
they would be required to carry bleeding and. man-
gled human freight.

" Necessity knows no law." In the beginning of
the -battle, the citizen teamsters were ordered to this
place for duty. Among them was a fair-haired boy
of nineteen years of age, who had trained his team
horses, on the first and second days of the battle, to
walk between the poles that made the mule-stretch-
ers. The poles were about twenty feet long, and at
either end a stout strap was attached to each. These
straps were thrown across the saddles on the horses,
one being immediately in front of the other, and
between them canvas was secured to the poles, thus
constituting a "horse-stretcher." This boy had
proved himself very efficient, and had won the com-
mendation of the officers, and the gratitude of the
wounded men. Dr. McEldry had requested the quar-
termaster to continue young Hovey in the service,

534

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

ill

because in managing the stretchers he was careful
and trustworthy.

A presentiment had this morning filled the mind of
this noble young fellow with dread. He made appli-
cation to Quartermaster Grier to be excused from fur-
ther duty with the stretchers, stating his reasons. Mr.
Grier expressed his sympathy with him and endeav-
ored to allay his fears, remarking that Dr. McEldiy had
paid him a high compliment for his efficiency and
requested him — Mr. Grier — to send him out again
this morning.

The boy — too hrave to refuse, although no law
could have compelled him to go, though his horses
might have been pressed into service — assented, re-
marking that, notwithstanding he had made several
t safely f he should not get hack from this one.

.er preparing his horses for this unpleasant labor
he goes to a citizen friend, and gives him his watch
and other valuables, saying that he did not expect to
retuim, as he had had a presentiment that he would
not; and he gave to this friend a message to his
father, another for his mother, and mentioning the
names of his brothers and sisters, left a. few words of
love for each. The grandeur of character and hero-
ism exhibited by this boy stand out among the few
instances that are given to mankind in proof of the
divinity that controls human action. Nothing but
godlike attributes could have sustained young Hovey
when calmly performing those manly actions which
entitle his name to be enrolled among the heroes of
the age. So let it be recorded, and let it stand with
the nineteen siunmers he had lived, accusing and con-
demning those who so wildly howled for blood when

WIOWAM AND WARPATH.

535

the Peace Commissioners were laboring to prevent
what might have been only a terrible phantasmagoria,
but which has become an awful reality.

Young Hovey, accompanied by one assistant only,
started on his way to the battle-field with four horses
and two stretchers. No guard was deemed necessary,
because it was understood that the Modocs were
surrounded and "could not escape," and it was so
reported, by the general commanding, to his superiors.
Hovey and his companion had passed by the scene
of the tragedy of the Peace Commissioners but a
few rods, and but a few hundred yards behind Gen.
Gilliam, when, from the cover of the rocks, a Modoc
bullet, shot by Hooker Jim, went with a death-
dealing power through his head. The monsters,
not content with his death and the captiu-e of his
horses, rush upon him, and while he is yet alive, scalp
him, strip him of his clothing, and then, with inhu-
man ferocity, the red fiends crush his head to a
shapeless mass with huge stones. His companion
escapes unhurt.

This outrage was committed almost within sight
of the army, which was investing the stronghold, and
the camp at the bluff.

Having despatched young Hovey, the Modocs then
turned towards the latter camp. Lieut. Grier, who
was in command, immediately telegraphed to Col.
Greene, in command at the Lava Beds, that " The
Modocs were out of the stronghold and had attacked
the camp." He, also, called together the citizens
and his own forces, as Assistant Acting Quarter-
. master, and, arming them, prepared to resist. But
a few shots were fired by the Lidians^ however, one

636

WIQWAM AND WAUI'ATH.

or two balls landed among the tents near the hospital.
The Modocs presently withdrew.

The day is passing away with the almost useless
expenditure of powder and shells. However, there
was a shell sent in yesterday that did not explode
when delivered, and the Modocs are anxious to sec
what is inside of it. How to do so is a question in
the Modoc mind. Several plans arc tried unsuc-
cessfully, until an old Cum-ba-twas, with jaws like a
cougar, taking it in his hands and clinching the plug
with his teeth, produces a combustion that he docn not
anticipate. That shell does execution. In fact, it is
worth about Jive hundr;d thousand dollars to the
Government, rating its services pro rata with the total
cost of killing Modoc Indians. AVhen the plug starts,
the head of the old fellow who is holding it goes off
his body in a damaged condition. Another younger
man, who stands by waiting the result of the exper-
iment, is blown all to pieces, cutting his scalp into con-
venient sizes for the soldiers to divide to advantage.

Two or three old Indian women pass through the
lines to th^ water. A young brave dons woman's
clothes and comes to the line. After slaking his
thirst he starts to return. Something in his walk
creates a suspicion.

" That's a man," says a soldier.

The Indian runs. A dozen rifles command, " Halt ! "
The Indian halts. The soldiers take five or six
scalps off that fellow's head, and would have taken
more, had the first ones been less avaricious. How-
ever, soldiers are kind-hearted and unselfish fellows,
and the scalps are again divided, so that, at last, ten
or twelve are happy in the possession of a scalp.

WIOWAM ANI> WARPATH.

537

It is now five P. M. Let us see how the several
parties are situated at this time. Couriers arc en
route to Y-re-ka with despatches, telling the world
about the terrible slaughter, and, by the authority of
the general in command, assuring the powers that be,
in Washington, " The Modocs cannot escape. They
are in our poA\ er. It is only a question of time. We
have them ' corralled.' "

In Portland, Oregon, an immense concourse of
citizens arc awaiting the arrival of the train bearing
the remains of Gen. Canby. The streets are hushed.
The doors of business houses are closed. A general
ferliug of sorrow is everywhere manifest. Officers
of the army and a delegation from a Great Broth-
erhood are there. On every hand flags are at half-
mast. Emblems of sorrow meet chc eye The grief-
stricken widow sits in her room, cold, comfortless,
inconsolable.

The Fraternal and Church Brotherhoods and
thousands of mourning friends crowd the whai-f in
San Francisco, eagerly watching the coming of a
steamer from Vallejo with flags at half mast. This
boat is bringing home for intennent the body of
another great man, whose spirit went to its Maker in
company with the Christian General, for whom the
city of Portland, Oregon, mourns. Nearest to the
dark tabernacle two young men are standing. They
are the sons of Dr. Thomas.

While the two cities of the western coast are
exchanging telegraphic words of sympathy, kind-
hearted friends are filling a parlor where three sorrow-
ing children are weeping without the presence of
parents. The friends are repeating the hopeful tele-

V «.

538

WIG'VAM AND WAKPATH.

grams of the Iowa veteran, and assuring them that
their mother is with their father bj that time as she
left Y-re-ka the previous morning.

At this hour a young physician is hurrjnng to the
bedside of an aged man, who has passed threescore
years and ten, near Solon, Iowa. A glance at his
face and we are reminded of the wounded Peace
Commissioner in the Lava Beds, three thousand miles
away. Five days ago he had read the telegram that
said, " Meacham mortally wounded." He threw him-
self on his bed then, saying, " If my son dies I never
can rise again, — my first-born son who went with me
through all my dark hours on the frontier, twenty-
five years ago. Must he die? Can I bear it? Thy
will be done, O Lord ! "

For five days has he laid hanging between life and
death. His physician has watched the telegraph,
and now, with the words of the Iowa veteran, he is
hurrying to the bedside of his patient.

"Your son will recover 1 " the doctor exclaims
before reaching him.

The white-haired man rises on his elbow, saying,
"Do I dream? Is it true, doctor? Will my son
Uve? "

About this hour, away up on Wild Horse Creek,
Umatilla County, Oregon, a young man is writing a
letter that seems to come from an overcharged heart
submerged in grief. The letter runs as follows: —

Meacham Ranch, Wiij> Hokbe Creek, April 17th, 1873.

Mt dear Nephew : — I have just heard of the death of your

father. . . . Eleven months since we kneeled with him beside

your Uncle Harvey's coffin and pledged our lives to care for his

widow and orphan children. . . . You and I, George, aie

WIGWAM AKD WARPATH.

539

all that are left to care for two widows nnci two families of orphans.

. . . The stroke is licavy to be borne. ... I will try

to be a fatlicr to tlicm. Wc must be men.

Your uncle,

JOHN MEACHAM.

Again we stand on the bluff, at this hour, over-
looking the Lava Beds. In a little tent among
the hundred others the Iowa veteran is telling his
brother-in-law that his wife will be in carap by seven.
A courier arrives saying that the Modocs are hanging
about the trail leading down the mountain. The
ofBcers are aware of the near approach of Mrs.
Meacham. They decide that she cannot come to the
camp with safety. A detachment is ordered to
escort Commissioner Dyer up the mountain to meet
her and take her to Linkville.

While he is working his way under escort, the
Modocs are seen creeping towards the road. At the
top of the mountains Dyer meets the ambulance.
He assures the woman that she cannot reach the
camp ; that her husband is well cared for, and that she
must go back to a place of safety.

She remonstrates, saying, " I must — I will go to
my husband." She alights from the ambula j and
starts on foot, but is intercepted and forced to go
again to the ambulance, with the assurance that " her
husband will h^. sent out to her within a day or
twor

No language can portray the feelings and emotions
of this woman when, after travelling three hundred
miles on stages and in ambulances over the Cascade
mountains, through a hostile country, she is compelled
to turn lack when within three miles of her wounded

540

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

husband, with those ommous words saymg, like a
funeral dirge, " Your husband will he sent out to you
in a few days."

While she is yet pleading for the privilege of seeing
him the mountain's sides reverberate with the sounds
of rifle shots coming up from a point halfway to the
camp, volley answering volley. While she is in a
half-unconscious condition, the team drawing the am-
bulance is turned about, and the guard take their
places on either side, and the team moves away to-
wards the frontier.

When the woman returns to consciousness, she
exclaims, " Take me to my husband 1 I must see him
before he dies."

The Mnd heart of Mr. Dyer is moved. He pleads
with her to abandon the attempt, consoling her with
Christian assurances that " God does all things well."
With the guard in skirmishing order the party hur-
ries away.

The mutilated body of young Hovey is lying stark
and cold, beside the road where he fell.

Sundown is announced by the repeated volleys of
musketry at the cemetery, as the bodies of the sol-
diers are laid away in their last sleep.

The friends of the young lad obtain permission,
and the necessary facilities, from the quartermaster, to
bring in his body. A coffin is prepared, and in it is
placed what was, a few hours since, a noble-hearted
youth full of life.

A part of the army is resting, and a part is bom-
barding the Modocs. Captain Jack has kept the
" flat " cleared, and now, while the shot and shell are
being tumbled in around his camp, he draws his peo-

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

541

pie out under cover of darkness, and leaves the sol-
diers to fire away at his empty caves until morning,
when another order to charge is made, and the lines
close slowly up with great care, like fishermen who
feel sure they have a big haul, until they land the
seine, and discover that a great rent has let the prize
escape. See the soldiers' line! How carefully it con-
tracts to the centre, the soldiers expecting each
moment that the Modocs will make a break, until, at
last, the lines come together like a great draw-string,
only to reveal th(3 fact that no Indians are thercy
except one old mm, whom all declare to be Schonchin,
who was wound id by Meacham's Derringer last Fri-
day. He shall not escape, and a dozen bullets pass
through him. He falls over, and the men gather
around and scalp the old fellow.

" Mcacham shall have a lock of his hair," says one;
and he cuts it from one of the scalps.

Then the old Indian's head is severed from his
body, and kicked around the camp like a foot-ball,
until a surgeon interferes, and saves it from further
indignities by sending it to the camp, where the face
was carefully skinned off, and "put to pickle" in
alcohol. The men shout and hurrah while exploring
the caves, expecting to find Captain Jack, like a wolf
at bay, somewhere, determined to " die in the last
ditch." Instead of Modocs, they find the remains of
soldiers who have been killed, ammunition that had
been captured, and dried beef that had not been
required; but no evidence of any " Modoc bodies hav-
ing been burned."

While they were rejoicing in the capture of this
great natural fortress of the Modoc chief, he was in a

543

WIOWAM AND WABPATH.

new position with his people, resting and recruiting
from the three days' battle, and so near his old
" stronghold " that he could hear the reports of the
soldiers' muskets when they finished up the supposed
Schonchin.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

MUSIC DONT SOOTHE A SAVAGE — FIGHTING THB DEVIL
WITH FIRE A FAILURE — "WE'LL BURY THE OLD MAN
ALIVE."

The expectant man has waited, watched, listened
for the sound of a voice that would bring joy to him.
His attendant carefully breaks the disappointment,
fearing the consequences.

Friday morning, and a "Warm Springs soldier is
sitting beside the commissioner. A look at his face,
and we recognize him as the man who stood out so
long in the meeting at Warm Springs Agency, in 1871.

Pia-noose had come in to vent his feelings and to
express his friendship. After the usual ceremony of
salutation on his part, he remarked that the white
men did not know how to fight Modocs. " Too much
music. Suppose you take away all the music, all the
big guns, all the soldiers, and tell the "Warm Springs,
* "Whip the Modocs;' all right. Some days we get
two men, some days wo get more, and by and by we
get ail che Modocs. "Warm Springs don't like so much
music," — referring to the bugle.

This morning Gen. Canby's remains are lying in
state in Portland, and a whole city weeps with the
widow who does not — cannot look on the beloved
face.

In San Francisco bells are tolling, and a vast con-
course of sad-hearted citizens are followmg the dark-

544

WIOWAM AND WAKPATH.

plumed hearse that convoys the Rev. Dr. Thomas to
his last resting-place in Lone Mountain Cemetery.

Mrs. Meaeham is sitting in a small jiarlor at Link-
ville, and expecting each moment the arrival of a
courier that will confii'm her worst fears. Mrs.
Boddy — whose husband was murdered last Novem-
ber by the Modocs — is with her. The two mingle
their tears. They are kindred, now that sorrow has
united them.

Gen. Gilliam has called a council of war, and plans
for future operations are being discussed. The hos-
pital gives out a sad murmur of mingled moans,
curses, and groans. Two soldiers are going toward
the burying-ground ; one carries a spade, the other a
small, plain, straight box, in which is the leg of a
soldier going to a waiting-place for him. Riddle and
his wife, Tobey, are cooking and washing for the
wounded. Riddle often calls on Meaeham, bringing
refreshments prepared by his wife. Col. Tom Wright
calls on Meaeham this morning. A spicy colloquy
ensues. He remarks that the Modocs are nearly
"h — 1." Meaeham says, "Where is your two thou-
sand dollars now? Suppose you and Eagan took
them in fifteen minutes, didn't you?" Col. Wright:
"Took 'em, not much, — we got the prettiest licken
ever an army got in the world." Meachaui : " What
kind of a place did you find, anyhow, colonel?"
Col. Wright: "It's no use talking; the match to the
Modoc stronghold has not been built and never will
be. Give me one hundred picked men, and let me
station them, and I will hold that place against five
tliousand men, — yes, ten thousand, as long as am-
unition and subsistence last. That's about as near

WIGWATII AND WARPATH.

545

as I can describe it. Oh, I tell you it is the most
impregnable fortress in the world I Sumter was
nowhere when compared with it." Meaeham : " "What
kind of a fighter is Captain Jack, colonel?" Col.
"Wright : " Fighter ; why, he's the biggest Ingen on
this continent. See what he's done; licked a thou-
sand men, killed forty or fifty, and has not lost more
than three or four himself. We starved him out, we
didiiH whip him. He'll turn up in a day or two.

I tell you. Jack's

a big

ready for another fight.
Ingen."

Let us see where this distinguished individual and
this gallant band of heroic desperadoes are at this
time. From the signal-station on the mountain side,
above Gilliam's camp, we can look over the spot, but
they are so closely hidden that we cannot locate them ;
not even a curl of smoke is seen. Follow the foot
of the bluff around three miles, and then strike off
south, or left, two miles more, and amid an immense
jumble of lava rocks we find them. Go carefully;
Indian women are on the picket-station, wliile the
warriors sleep. Since sundown last evenhig they
passed between the soldier '^amp and the council
tent and brought water to the famishing. A man
sits upon a jaded horse, at the gate of a farm-house,
near Y-re-ka. Children are playing in the front yard.
A watch-dog springs to his feet and gives warning
by loud barking. A stout-built man looks out from a
barn to ascertain the meaning, while a middle-aged
woman comes to the kitchen door. Tiie whole, to-
gether, is the picture of a western farmer's home, —
happiness and contentment. The horseman takes in
the scene, and while he views the photograph he recog-

'SI

546

WIGWAM AND WABPATH.

nizes in it the home of young Hovey. A painful duty
is his. He hesitates. He knows that his words will
send a dark shadow over this household. The farmer
comes towards hira. The dog is hushed; the children
cease their sports; the mother stands waiting, wait-
ing, listening, and the throbbing of her own heart
prepares her for the awful tidings. "Is this Mr.
Hovey?" the horseman says, while from his inside
coat pocket he withdraws a letter. " That is my
name," the fanner replies. " I have a letter for you,
Mr. Hovey? " The children gather around the father,
looking attentively at him and the horseman, while
the latter, with trembling hand," passes the envelope
that is so heavy ladened with sorrow. " Where's the
letter from?" asks the anxious mother, while the
father tears it open. " The Lava Beds," replies the
horseman, turning away his face. The paper shakes
in the hands of the farmer, while his face changes to
ashy paleness. " What is it, father? Oh, what does
the letter say?" cries the mother, as she comes to liis
side and glances over his arm. Let us not intrude
on this scene of sorrow.

Hanging to Hooker Jim's belt is a fair-haired scalp,
still fresh; the blood of young Hovey still undried
upon Hooker's clothing, giving him no more concern
than if it had come from the veins of a deer or an an-
telope. The lock of hair had once been blessed by
the hands of a tender mother, w^ho for nineteen years
had watched over her first-born son. Now it is
dishonored, used only as a record by which a savage
makes proof of excellence in performing feats of
fiendish heroism.

The " Iowa Yeteran," with an eye always out for

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

547

sport, remarks, " Old man, there's going to be some
lively fun in a few minutes; wish you could see it.
There's fourteen Indians going for water, and a com-
pany has started out to capture them. Two to one
the Modocs lick 'cm." Taking a station at the tent
door, he continued : " I'll keep you posted, old man ;
keep cool. The Modocs are taking position. They
aint more than eight hundred yards from here. Now
look out, — the fim will begin pretty soon." Bangy
hang, and there is a rattling of rifles mixed with the
Modoc war-whoop. " Here they come back, carrying
three men; but the Modocs are following up. Don't
that beat the devil and the Dutch? " remarks the irate
veteran; " you've seen a big dog chase a cayote until
the cayote would turn on him, and then the big dog
would turn tail and run for home with the cayote
after him, haven't you? AVell, that's exactly what's
going on out here now. This whacks anything I
ever witnessed, by Jupiter I Two to one, the Mo-
docs take the camp. By gorry, old man, don't
know what we are to do with you. You can't run;
you can't fight; you are too big for me to carry; wish
I had a spade, Fd bury you noio until tJie fun is all
over; but it's too late. Can't help it, old man, you
needn't dodge; it won't do any good; just lay still,
and if they come, play dead on 'em again. You can
do that to perfection, and there aint a darn bit of dan-
ger of their trying to get another scalp oflf of you.
Too big a prairie above the timber line for that,
'Boston' was a darn fool to try it before."

While this speech is being made, the Modocs are
coming towards the soldier camp, firing occasional
shots in among the tents. " By Goshens, we'll have

548

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

fun now. TheyVe a-going; shell 'em; ha! ha I ha I
Shell a dozen Modocsl Hal ha! ha! donH that
beat sulphur king out of his boots? Ilal ha I ha I
Steady, old man, steady now. Keep cool. They're
ready to fire. The Indians are in plain sight I Yip-
se-lanta; there it goes, screeching, screaming, right in
among the rocks where the Modocs are, and ex-
plodes." The smoke clears up. The Indians come
out from behind the rocks, and, turning sideways to
the soldier camp, pat their shot-pouches at the Bos-
ton soldiers. Shell after shell is fired and each time
the Modocs take cover until they explode, and then,
with provoking insolence, they pat their shot-pouches
at an army of five hundred men, — that is, what is
left of that army. "Cease firing!'' commands Gen.
Gilliam, from the signal-station. The shell guns are
covered with the nice canvas housing. The Modocs
now organize an artillery battery, and, taking position,
elevating their rifles to an angle mocking the shell
guns, Scar-faced Charley stands behind and gives the
order, " Fire I " and the Modoc battery is now play-
ing on a camp where there are no rocks for cover.
Several shots spit down among the Boston soldiers.

"I went with Gricrson through Alabama, with
Sherman through Georgia, but that whacks anything
ever I saw. Two to one they attack the camp, by
thunder! and if they do they'll take it sure. B'gins to
look pretty squally, old man. If they cOme, your only
show is to play dead. You can do it. I don't like
to leave you, but I'll have to do it, no other chance.
"We'll come back and bury what they don't burn ui5."

The gray-eyed man, Fairchild, comes to the tent-
door and engages the veteran in a talk. "I say,

WIGWAM AND WARTATH.

549

captain, don't you wish we had Capt. Kelly's volunteers
here now? "Wouldn't they have a chance for Modoc
steaks, eh? They're the fellows that could take the
Modocs. I've been out home and just come in. Where
arc the Warm Springs' scouts all this time?" The
veteran — Capt. Ferree — replies : " Oh, they are out
on the other side of the Lava Beds surrounding the
Modocs; to keep them from getting away." Fair-
child: "They aint going to leave here, no fear of
that. But did you ever see anything like this morn-
ing's performances? — fourteen Indians come out,
kill three men, insult the whole camp, mock the shell
guns, threaten the camp, scare everybody most to
death, and then retire to their own camp. That caps
the climax. Say, old man Meacham, how you
making it, anyhow? Going to come out, aint you ?
You wasn't born to be killed by the Modocs, that's
certain. That old bald head of yours is what saved
you, old man, no mistake." Veteran: "I've just
been telling him that I'll have a spade on hand next
time the Modocs come, so I can hury him until the
fun's over." Fairchild: " Bully 1 that'll do; just
the thing. I think you had better have the hole
ready. !No telling what might happen. Them Modocs
mighty devilish fellers; just like 'em to attack the
camp; and if they do they'll take it, sure; wish
we had the Oregon volunteers here now to protect

us."

Four P. M. --and a long line of carriages are
returning from Lone Mountain, leaving Dr. Thomas
with the dead.

Another long line of mourners are following a hearse
down Front street, Portland, to the steamer Oriflamme,

550

WIGWAM AND WAKPATH.

which has been detailed by Ben Holliday to bear the
remains of Gen. Canby to San Francisco. The widow
is supported by the arms of officers. Anderson and
Scott walk beside the hearse. A city is weeping, while
they pay respect to the memory of the noble-hearted
Christian General, who hears not the signal gun of de-
parture. Couriers are bearing despatches to Y-re-ka.
" The Modocs cannot escape ; we have them surround-
ed. The Warm Springs scouts are out on the out-
post. The Modocs cannot escape. Lieut. Shenvood
died last night. Lieut. Eagan, improving. Meacham
may recover, though badly mutilated and blind." The
salute of honor over the grave of young Hovey an-
nounces his burial by the kindly band of army officers.
" Extermination to the Modocs I " says Gen. Sher-
man. " Extermination, " repeat the newspapers.
" Extermination," says an echo over the Pacific coast.
Extermination is the watchword everywhere. "It
does look like extermination, that's a fact, with half
a hundred upheaving graves filled with soldiers "\ear
the camp; a hospital overflowing with wounded; an
araiy demoralized, and lying passive seven days after
the assassination of Gen. Canby and Dr. Thomas;
while every day the Modocs waylay and kill unguarded
men almost in sight of camp, strip and scalp them,
and then heap rocks on Iheir bodies. This looks like
extermination, but not of the Modocs. Perhaps it
suits those who were so free with denunciation of the
Peace Commission. But whether it does, or not, this
condition of the plan of extermination is to some ex-
tent attributable to the infuriated, senseless, cowardly,
and unmanly opposition that was made against Canby
and the Peace Commissioners, who saw and felt how

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

051

costly in human life a peace made through the death'
dealing hidlet? must he.

Saturday morning, and Modoc emissaries are crawl-
ing into the camps of the KlamathSy Snakes, and
Wall-pa-pahs, endeavoring to induce these people to
join the Modocs in the war. They paint in glowing
colors the great success they have had, and declare
that the time has come when red men should unite
against a common enemy. It cannot be denied that
in every Indian camp along the frontier line there
were sympathizers with the Modocs; but nowhere were
they, in sufficient force to precipitate a general war,
although the new religion proclaimed by "Smoheller"
had found followers everywhere, and was gaining
strength by every victoiy won by Captain Jack. How
nearly the frontier came to witnessing a great Indian
war is not understood by the jjcople of the Pacific
coast.

A "Wann Springs Indian, who does not belong to the
scouts, is going carefully along the northern shore of
the lake. His destination is Linkville. His mission
is to bear a letter to Mrs. Meacham. The letter con-
tains a message that will cause her almost to leap for
joy: —

Lata Beds, Saturday, April ^9, 1873.

• • • • Hire an escort and meet us at the mouth of Lost

river to-morrow at noon, and we will deliver your handsome Zim*-

band over to you in pretty good shape. . . We will cross the

lake in a boat. Be on time. . .

D. J. FERREE.

Saturday passes away without an episode that is
worthy of record. Not a Modoc has been seen. The
scouting parties have brought no tidings of them. The

Mpf ]■",.

'^km

U-

552

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

-.m^^

The surgeons are visiting

sentinels walk the rounds
the wounded. The hospital gives out moans, and fur-
nishes another victim for the gi'ave-yard, and a volley
of muskets says, "Farewell, comrade! " Meacham is
counting the hours as they pass. He is impatient.
The long night wears away, and morning breaks at
last. Another messenger is stealing away along the
lake shore. An ambulance, with a mounted escort
of citizens, is drawing toward the mouth of Lost river.
"Are you ready to take me to meet my wife?" says a
voice in a small tent. " l^o ; the surgeon says the air is
raw, and the lalce is too rough. "We have sent a mes-
sage to your wife that we can't go," replies Capt. Ferree.
After a few minutes' silence the disappointed man re-
plies, " That is not the reason. The wind does not
How." Very serious thoughts are passing through
the minds of both the hearer and the speakers. " I
want to know why I am not going." — " The doctor
says you could not stand it to go; the lake is too
rough." — "You and the doctor are cowardly. You
think T am going to die." — " If you force me to be
candid, I must tell you the truth. The doctor says
you have not more than twenty chances in a hundred
to recover."

Another silence of a few minutes, and the invalid
replies, "i'ZZ take the twenty chances, I must live; I
have so many depending on me."

" If you pass midnight, the doctor says you may
live."

The ambulance, with the mounted escort, is stand-
ing on the battle-ground of November 30th, 1872.
A woman is in the front end, with a field-glass, scan-
ning the lake. No boat is in sight. Her hopes and

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

553

lys you may

fears alternate, when she suddenly catches sight of
the messenger on the lake shore. The glass drops from
her hands, and she sinks down on the seat and waits
the coming of the messenger. He holds out the let-
ter. The woman grasps it, and as she reads, her lips
quiver. "Why, oh why is this? The air is not
cliilly. The lake is not rough. " Words are too
poor to express the torturing suspense that follows
while the ambulance carries her back to Linkville.
Hope sets alternately with despair in the heart. For
ten days has this woman felt the presence of each
as circumstances bade them come and go. Two
more days is she yet to walk beneath a sky that is
half bidden by dark clouds. 'Tis midnight, Sunday.
The surgeon, De Witt, and Capt. Ferree are sitting
beside the woman's husband.

" I can tell you in another hour. If he comes out
of this well, he is all right. " Dr. De Witt, with his
finger on the patient's pulse, nods to Ferree, " He is
all right. " The patient awakes, and finds the doctor
there. "How am I, doctor, shall I live?" — "I think
you will, my dear fellow. You have passed the crisis. "
" Thank God I " comes from every lip. " Keep quiet;
don't get excited. We can save you now, but you had
a very close call. If you had been a dnnhing man all
the surgeons in Christendom could not hax^e saved you.
Rest quiet until morning, and I will come in again. "
Oh, what a charge a few hours have wrought I Yes-
terday the sun went behind a dark cloud, and the in-
valid withstood the shock of " Twenty out of a hun-
dred " for life. Now the sun of life comes again, and
makes the vision clear of a loving family, home and
friends. The transitions from despair to hope have

I <!

554

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

been so frequent with this man that he can scarcely
reahze that he is again led by the angel of hope.

It is morning. Dr. De Witt and Capt. Ferree are
in council. " I think he is on the safe side if he is
careful," remarks the doctor. Another messenger
is despatched to Linkville, with a letter making
another appointment at the mouth of Lost river for
the next day.

Donald McKay is in camp to receive orders. He
reports that his scouts have circled the Lava Beds.
" The Modocs have not escaped ; they must be in there
somewhere." Couriers arrive bringing newspapers,
containing obituary notices of Gen. Canby, Dr.
Thomas, and A. B. Meacham. Fairchild, Riddle,
and Ferree were in Meacham's tent, reading. Ferree
remarks, "See here, old man, they have had you
dead. You can know what the world will say about
you when you do die. Some of them say /ery nice
things. Here's one fellow that knows you pretty well.
. . . *M<.'acham was a man of strong will and
positive character, who made warm friends and bitter
enemies.'" . . . *' There, that will do; when I
die I want th.se words put on my tombstone," re-
plies Meacham. "Here, how do you like this? .
. . ' Served him right. He knew the Modocs
better than any other man; why did he lead Canby
and Thomas to their death? On his skirts the blood
must be.' . . . Here is another that's pretty
good. This fellow has found out you aint dead, and
he is mad about it. It's a Republican organ, too,
at that. . . . *If Meacham could be made to
change places with Canby or Thomas few tears would
be shed. He is responsible for all this blood. He

WIGWAM AND WARPATK.

555

Tcnew the Modocs. They did not. We are not dis-
appointed. We expected that this fanatical en-
thusiast would do some foolhardy thing, and we can
only regret that he did not suffer instead of innocent
men. ' . . . There, how do you like that, old
man? That's what you get for not being a general or
a preacher. They pay you a high compliment, — send-
ing Canby and Thomas to their death. Big thing,
old man I You arc somebody. !N^ow, I'll tell you
if you don't get through to straighten this thing out
I'll do it, if it costs my life." — " Call on me, captain, I
Imow that Meacham did all in his power to prevent
the meeting," says Riddle. Fairchild remarks, " If they
had listened to Meacham, they would have been alive
now. I know what I am saying, I know all about
the whole thing, and I know that Meacham did his
best to keep them from going. I can tell those news-
paper men some things they would not like to hear.
They abused Meacham all the way through, while
Canby escaped their slander, when he was in truth as
much a peace man as Meacham, and more too. I have
been with the commission. All I have to say is that

it was a d d cowardly contemptible thing from

the beginning to the end the way the Oregon papers
' went for ' the peace policy. I guess they are satis-
fied now. They wanted war, and they've got it. The
Modoc-eatiny Oregon papers and volunteers haven't
lost any Modoc themselves. Better send some more
volunteers down here to eat up the Modocs, like Capt.

's company did the day that Shacknasty Jim

held a whole company for seven hours in check, d n

'em." Capt. Ferree replies, "Fairchild, you had
better go slow. Almost every editor in Oregon is a

556

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

fighting man. Two or three of them were down here
once, and they may come again for more Modoc
news, and if they run across you you're gone up. "
Fairchild : " Yes, they're ' on it; ' seen 'em try it.
Shacknasty tried 'em. One of them came down here
looking for Squire Steele, of Y-re-ka, and when a man
pointed out Steele to him, this fighting editor rode
out of his way to keep from meeting him. It's a fact!
Another one was going to scalp old Press Dorris. He
didn't fail for the same reason that Boston Charley
did on the old man there, — cause he hadn't any hair;
— no, that wasn't the reason. He rode too good a horse
himself; that's why. Press was around all the time.
He didn't keep out of the way; fact is. Press was
anxious for the scalping to begin. If any of those
fighting editors come down here, well, set Shacknasty
after them, and then you'll see them git. Bet a hun-
dred dollars he can drive any two of them before
him." — "Look here, here's something rich," says
Ferree, turning the paper: . . . "*Gov. Grover
will call out volunteers to assist the regulars. They
will make short work of it. The regulars are eastern
men, and cannot fight Indians successfully.' " Fair-
child says, " Thafs rich. One thousand soldiers
here now, and more Oregon volunteers coming, to
whijj fifty 3fodocs. All right; the more comes the
wore scalps the Modocs will take; that's about what
it'll amount to. "

Monday passes slowly away to join the unnumbered
days of the past. ISTo sound of war is heard. Quiet
reigns until the sunset volley announces that the de-
composed lava is covering up another one of the fruits
of the demand for blood, and the cry for vengeance

WIGWAM AND WAEPATH.

557

went up so loudly that even the Modocs in the Lava
Beds heard it.

Tuesday morning. The ambulance is leaving Link-
ville, escorted by a mounted guard of citizens,
destined to the Lost-river battle-ground. Hope is
leading the woman who is making this second jour-
ney to this historic place. The miles are long to her
who has been so many days alternating between joy and
sadness. Surely, she will not be disappointed this time.

"Old man," Dr. DeWitt says^ "?/om cannot go
this morning. I think it is imsafe, and it may cost
your life." — " Pm going; I'll take the risTc. I cannot
hear to disapjjoint my wife again." A stretcher is
brought to the side of the mattress whereon the
speaker lay. Strong arms lift the mattress and man
iT^on it. When he was carried on the stretcher, a
few days since, he weighed one hundred and ninety-
six pounds, less the blood he left on the rocks. Now
he weighs one hundred and fifty pounds. "Lieut.
Eagan's compliments, with a request for Mr. Meacham
to call on him before leaving." The stretcher is car-
ried into Lieut. Eagan's tent, and set beside the
wounded officer's cot. The salutations commonly
given are omitted, or half performed. Eagan lays his
hand on Meacham's arm and says, " How do you make
it, old man?" — "First-rate, I guess. I am going
home. Are you recovering from your wound?" —
"Very fast. Be about in a few days. Want to help
finish up this job before I go home." — "Good-by,
Eagan." — " Good-by, Meacham."

These men were old-time friends, and this parting
was suggestive of sad thoughts. Both wounded.
AVill they ever meet again?

558

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

As the latter is being borne to the shore of the
lake, a half cry is heard from Tobey. " I see him,
Meacham, one time more. May be him die. I no see
him 'nother time." A small white hull boat is waiting
in the little bay. Lieut. M. C. Grier, A. A. Q. M., is
managing the prei:>arations for the departure. With
thoughtful care every possible arrangement is made.
Mattresses, awnings, oarsmen, buckets for bailing,
and arms for defence are provided; and while many
officers of the army gather around the boat, the
wounded man is carried on the stretcher and care-
fully laid on a mattress. " Old Fields " is placed in
command. Dr. Cabanis sits in the stern; the vet-
eran beside the wounded. The departure is made
with " God bless you I " from the officers. A small
squad of armed men are starting up the lake shore to
prevent the possibility of the Modocs capturing the
party in the boat.

Steadily the soldier oarsmen pull along near the
land, while the inveterate jokers. Dr. Cabanis and
Capt. Ferree, beguile the time in story-telling and
witticisms ; some of them at the expense of the man
on the mattress. " Say, Meacham, what will you give
me not to tell how much hrandy you drank the other
day while you was on the stretcher at the council
tent? It's all right for you to humbug the Good
Templars by saying that you never drink; but you
can't pull the wool over my eyes. No man ever drank
a canteen full the first drinJcy as you did that day; it
won't do, Meacham."

Suddenly a dark cloud moves up, and a strong
wind comes off the shore. Landing is out of the
question; to put to sea in a white hall boat with eight

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

559

men in it, and nearly to the edge, is hazardous. But
there is no alternative. The prow cuts across the
waves, the water leaps over the bow. Fields, Ferree,
and two of the oarsmen, bail for life, now, while
Cabanis holds her head to the sea. " Steady, boys,
or we'll swamp her," says Fields. " Old man, jtlo^ying
dead won't save you this time; if we swamp her you
had better pray like old Joe Meek did. Promise
the Lord to be a good man if he will save us this one
time more." — " Save the brandy, doctor, we may need
it if we get out into the water," says Fields, and con-
tinues, " Steady, boys, steady I I'll be if she

don't swamp. Look out, boys, what you're doin'."
The waiting woman in the ambulance catches sight
of the boat as it rises on the crest of a wave and sinks
again into the trough of the sea. Language is not
competent to describe her emotions as she holds the
glass on the threatening scene before her. One mo-
ment, hope, — another, despair; there, again, as the
boat comes in sight, she thanks God; a moment more,
and prayer moves her lips. " Can it be that he could
live through all he has suffered only to be drowned?"

'' Fear not, brave woman, the Hand that was let
down out of the dark cloud that passed over the
bloody scene when your husband was in a storm of
bullets, will calm these waters. Your husband's work
is not yet finished! "

*' That was a close call, boys. I tell you it was;
but we are all right now," says old Fields. " They
are there waiting for us," remarks Fen*ee. " Is Mrs.
Meacham there? Can you see her? " — "Yes, yes, old
man; she is there, standing in the wagon, looking at
us with a glass. Lay still, old man, she is there.

ill
■" M mil

560

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

You'll be with her pretty soon." — ** Thank God I " goes
up from the mattress. "How far oflf are we now,
Fields V " — " 'Bout a mile. Be patient. Yes, old man,
there's your wife, sure. She is standing on the
ground now, looking through a glass. Be patient,
old man; I'll introduce you to her. She wouldn't
know who it was, — if I didn't tell her."

The "old man" was wondering if it is possible;
shall I see her again? Am I dreaming? Is this a
reality? Won't I wake and find it all a delusion?
Oh, how slow this boat I " How far now?" — " Only a
little piece; keep cool, you'll be there in a few min-
utes," quietly remarks Fields. Ferree, putting his
finger on his lips, nods and smiles at his sister.

That smile has lifted despair once more from this
woman's heart. But a moment since she had caught
sight of the whitened face of her husband, so mo-
tionless and pale. She felt a pain in her heart, for
she thought him dead. Now, her brother's smile has
reassured her; but "Why does my husband lie so
still? " The keel of the boat grinds on the gravelled
margin of the river. Fields jumj)s ashore, with rope
in hand. The woman stands beside the ambulance;
she does not come to meet the party. Her joy is
too great; she must not, dare not, now express her
feeling.

"AYell, Orpha, here's the old man; he is not very
pretty, but he's worth a dozen dead Modocs yet."
The " old man " is carried to the ambulance, and
placed on a mattress, and his wife sits beside him,
reunited after a separation of five months, during
which time one of them had passed so close to the

WIOWAM AND WARPATH.

5fi1

portals that death had left the marks of his icy fin-
gers upon him; and the other through a terrible
storm of grief and suspense. The driver mounts his
box; the veteran beside him. The escort mount
their horses and range themselves on either side. The
Modocs have not been heard of for several days and
may be looking around their old home to waylay trav-
ellers. "Old Dad Fields" calls his crew; Dr. Cabanis
cautions the driver about fast-driving, and also " the
old man " about humbugging temperance people. The
boat leaves the shore, the oars dip the waters. The
driver cracks his whip, and one party is returning to
the soldiers' camp; the other is crowding forward to
Linkville, half expecting to see a blaze of rifles
from the sage bush. Twenty-five miles yet to-
night. Over all the smooth road they go at a gal-
lop. At midnight a light glimmers in the distance.
It is Linkville. The moon is up, and shines now on
thirteen little mounds by the roadside, beneath which
sleep thirteen men who were killed by the Modocs
last [NTovember. Uncle George's nurse is waiting at the
hotel door to receive the old man Meacham once more.
Thank God for big, noble-hearted men like Uncle
George and his partner, Alex. Miller 1 " The old man "
is sleeping, but wakes up with a start as he has done
every hour since the eleventh of April. The glaring
eyes of old Schonchin, the horrid yells, the whizzing
bullets, all come fresh to the brain when left without
direction of his will. lie wakes with a sudden start
to find himself in a comfortable room, a soft hand on
his brow; a familiar voice of affection reaches his ear,
and he falls away to sleep again, soothed by the low
murmur of a woman's prayer.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

AMEN OUT OF

TIME — FRIENDLY ADVICE FROM ENE-
MIES — BETRAYED.

Tex o\locki Wednesday morning j April 22d,
Mcacham is being transported to Fcrree's ranch at
the south end of the Klaraatli 'ake twelve miles from
Linkville. We have been here before. It was on
the 27th of December, 1869, when conducting Captain
Jack's band on to Klamath Reservation. Then
Captain Jack acknowledged the authority of the Gov-
ernment and was endeaving to be a man. Now he is
an outlaw. After a stormy passage across Tulc
lake last night, Fields and Dr. Cabanis landed at
Gilliam's camp. The surgeons are visiting the hos-
pitals. Some of the patients are improving, but on one
poor fellow we see the signet of the grim monster.
The sunset gun to-night will not disturb him.

Lieut. Eagan is still improving. Fairchild is in
camp, and assuring Gen. Gilliam that as " soon as the
Oregon volunteers arrive, the Modocs will throw down
their guns and come right out and surrender;" Riddle
and wife in camp also, and assisting to care for the
sick. "Muybridge," the celebrated landscape artist,
of San Francisco, is here with his instruments, photo-
graphing the " Lava Beds," the council tent, and the
scene of the assassination. " Bunker," of the " San
Francisco Bulletin," is on the ground reporting for his
paper. ** Bill Dad," with his long hair floating in the

WiaWAM AND WARPATH.

wind and a pipe in his mouth, slipshod and sloven, still
hovers around to keep the readers of the " Record "
posted.

Gen. Gilliam is consulting with his officers; they are
indignant at the inaction manifested. Donald McKay
and his Warm Springs Indians are scouting under the
direction of army officers. Both Donald and his men
are disgusted with the red-tape way of Jiyhtiny
Modocs.

Captain Jack and his people are quiet this morning.
They are so closely hidden that even the sharp eyes
of Donald McKay cannot discern their whereabouts.
Captain Jack's men are anxious to be on the war-
path; but the chief restrains them. They, in turn,
reproach him with want of courage. He insists that
they must act on the defensive. Bogus, Boston, Shack-
nasty Jim and Hooker Jim are rebellious and threaten
to desert. Couriers are bearing despatches to Y-re-ka
announcing that " the Modocs cannot escape.''^

A gun from the deck of the '^ Orifiamme " tells the
people of San Francisco of her arrival with the remains
of Gen. Canby. An immense concourse of citizens
escort the hearse to the head-quarters of the army.

The widow sits in a carriage, with unmoistened
eyes, while the populace pay homage to the great
character of her husband. The body of Dr. Thomas
is quietly resting with the dead, while he in spirit is
enjoying the glories of eternal life; his last sermon
preached, his trials over.

The three children of Meacham are drying their
tears, and thanking God that they are not fatherless,
and fr r the love of a brotherhood that brings to their
home sunshine m the faces and words of Secretary

>'M

5C4

WIOWAM AND WARPATH.

Chadwick and Col. T. H. Cann, who have called this
morning.

Away up in Umatilla, a young man, who has been
bowed down with grief over a second great bereave-
ment, this morning reads to the little orphans that
climb on his knees, and their widowed mother, the
telegram signed by Capt. Ferrce, announcing the re-
covery of his brother. His joy is unbounded. A
great load has been lifted from his shoulders and his
heart.

Midway between the oceans and near Solon, Iowa, in
the sitting-room of an old homestead, a group is kneel-
ing around a family altar. The bent form of a silver-
haired man is surrounded by his aged second wife, his
two living daughters ; and perhaps, too, the invisible
presence of two daughters and two sons that have
gone before, and thei?' own mother, are also there. His
voice is tremulous while he leads in prayer and re-
counts that half of his family has gone and half
remains ; blesses God that the dark sorrow that threat-
ened them has passed away, and invokes Heaven's
blessings on the living loved ones.

Thursday morning, and we are in a cabin at Ferree's
ranch. The proprietor enters, holding a letter in his
hand. " See here, old man, I don't know but what you
have jumped out of the frying-pan into the fire. How
does this suit you?'*

Klamath Aoenct, Tlmrsday morning, April 23.
Friend Fekree: — Be on your guard. The Klamath Indians
were in war council last night. . . . We have sent our women

and children to Fort Klamath for safety

L. S. DYER,
Agent Klamath.

WIGWAM AND WARPATn.

665

"That don't look wholesome for us, old man; but you
are all right, you can j)lay dead on 'em again, and they
cavH sccdp you nohow. "We are pretty well stock-
aded and well armed. Wc can play them a merry
string, if they do come. If we have to fight, why, you
can't do much, that's so, except as old man Jones did
at the camp-meeting last year. He said he couldn't
jveach, he couldn't pray mucit, but he could say Amen
as well as anybody; and all through the meeting old
Father Jones was shouting 'Amenl' ^A-men!'' until
they stopped the old fellow. Didn't I never tell you
about that? AVcll, brother Congar was preaching
brimstone pretty lively, and Father Jones was shouting
Amen occasionally. Brother Congar was saying to the
congregation, ' If you don't repent and be baptized,
you'll all go to hell, shure as you're born.' — 'Amen I
Thank God ! — Amen I ' shouts Father Jones. Broth-
er Congar stops. ' Father Jones, you didn't under-
stand what I was a-sayin.' — *" Yes, I guess I did, Bro.
Congar, you told me if we come over here that, when-
ever you said anything powerful smart, I was to say
* Amen! ' You said you couldn't preach worlli a cent
unless I did, and I've done it, so I have. If it aint
satisfactory, I quit and go back home.' — *Amenl'
shouted brother Congar, and went on with the preach-
ing. ISTow all we will ask of you, 'old man,' is to say
*Amen,' but don't act the fool about it like Father
Jones did, that's all. We'll tend to administering
sulphur in broken doses, if they try to take us in.
Don't think there's any danger though. Dyer isn't
over the scare he got in the race with Iloolcer Jim
yet."

Fnday morning^ April 24tli. — The army at the

IBI

566

WIGWAM AND WABPATH.

Lava Beds is performing some masterly feats of inac-
tivity that would have been a credit to Gen. McClellan
on the peninsula. The wild fowls that fly over the
Lava Beds look down on the army of a thousand re-
cuperating after the big battle of last week. Col.
Miller is in charge of Captain Jack's stronghold. The
Warm Springs are divided up, and assigned to duty
with the different squadrons of cavalry. Quarter-
master Grier is having a coffin n^ade and a grave pre-
pared for a soldier that is dear to somebody some-
where, who is in blissful ignorance of his fate.

Fer Tee's HancJi, Sunday morning^ April 25, ^72. —
A horseman arrives, and, taking JFerree aside, he in-
forms him that a reliable friendly Indian had come in
to Link\ ille and reported that it was understood that
Meacham had killed Schonchin, and that aome of
Schonchin's friends had been to Yai-nax — an Indian
station on Klamath Reservation — and learned that
Meacham was at Ferree's. Further, that it was
thought advisable that he be immediately removed to
Linkville, lest the Modocs siiould .nake an attack on
the ranch, seeking revenge for the death of Schonchin.
The ambulance is ordered out, and the convalescent
Peace Commissioner was again on wheels. Here we
take leave of our inveterate joker — the Iowa veteran —
Capt. Ferree leaving him to administer ^^sal^netre and
hlue-pills " to the red skins in the event of an attack.

Lava Beds, Gilliarri's Camp, Sunday morning,
April 26th. — Something is to be done to-day. The
location of the Modocs has been ascertained through
the efforts of the Warm Springs Indian scouts. A
rcconnoissance of the new stronghold is ordered.
The detachment designated for tlij.s purjjosc consisted

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

56?

of sixty-six white men and fourteen Warm Sprinyj*;
Indians under McKay; the whole under command
of Capt. E. Thomas of 4:th Artillery. First Lieut.
Thomas "Wright — spoken of in this volume as Col.
Wright of Twelth Infantry, a son of the gallant old
General Wright — is of the party, and in immediate
command of his own and Lieut. Eagan's companies.

Lieut. Arthur Cranston and Lieut. Albion Howe of
Fourth Artillery, Lieut. Harris also of the Fourth,
Assistant Suigecn B. Semig, H. C. Tichnor as guide,
Louis Webber, chief packer, sid two assistants; the
whole, exclusive of Warm Springs scouts, Beventy-
six. I may be pardoned for making more than mere
mention of this expedition and the manner of its organ-
ization, because of its results; to understand it fairly,
it should be stated that the parties named, except the
Warm Springs scouts, were all of the army camp ai
the foot of the bluff, the head-quarters of Gen.
Gilliam, commander of the army in the Modoc cam-
paign.

The Warm Springs scouts were encamped near the
old Modoc stronghold, and had been ordered to
join the command of Capt. '^homa?.*, while en route,
or at the point of destination, which was a low butte
or mound-like hill, on the further side of the Lava
Beds, from the several camps. The outfit of this re-
connoitring party, aside from the men and arms, 'jon-
sisted of a small train of pack mules. This train of
packs was suggestive. Tacked on to the apparalios —
pack-saddles — were subsistence and medical stores
foi" the party, and also several stretchers. The object
of the reconnoissance was to ascertain whether the
field-pieces could be planted so as to command the

568

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

new position of the Modoc General^ Jack Kientpoos,
Shells had done wonderful execution in the three days'
battle, and, of course, were the thing to fight Modocs
with; provided, however, that the fools of the Modoc
camp were not all dead; for it is an undoubted fact
that out of only two or three hundred tossed into the
Modoc stronghold, one of them had done more execu-
tion than all Vie bullets fired by the soldiers in the
three days.

Capt. Thomas was instructed, in "no event, to
bring on an engagement." The point of destination
was in full view of the signal station at Gilliam's
camp, and not more than three miles distant. The
command proceeded with skirmishes thrown out, and
proper caution, until theu* arrival at the foot of the
butte. The "Warm Springs scouts had not joined
the command. Capt. Thomas remarked that, since no
Indians were to be seen, the command would take
lunch. Lieut. Wright replied, that " when yoiL douH
see Indians is just the time to be on the look out for
them" The sldrmish guards were called in, and the
whole command, except Lieut. Cranston and twelve
men, sat down to bivouac for an hour; Cranston, in
the mean time, remarking that he " was going to raise
some Indians," proceeded to explore the surround-
ings. In so doing he passed entirely out of sight of
the main party. The foot of the butte is similar to
other portions of the Lava Beds, thrown into irregu-
lar ledges, or cut into chasms and crevices.

Now Cranston has passed over a ledge, when
suddenly from the rqcks, that had been so quiet, a
volley of rifles opens on both parties. It is not
known whether Cranston and his men all fell on tlie

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WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

571

first fire; it is, however, probable that he did not, as
his remains were afterwards found several rods from
where he was last seen by the survivors. Capt.
Thomas's party were thrown into confusion. He
ordered Lieut. Harris to take a position on the hill-side,
and when the point was reached, Harris found that
the enemy was still above him and commanding his
new position. His men were falling around him, and
he was compelled to fall back, leaving two dead and
wounded.

In making the retreat, Lieut. Harris was mortally
wounded. The scene that followed is without a
precedent in Indian warfare. Every commissioned
officer was killed, except Surgeon Semig, who was
wounded; and of the sixty-six enlisted men but
twenty-three reached head-quarters.

Donald Mc Kay and his scouts hurried to the scene,
and arrived in time to prevent the annihilation of the
entire party. That the soldiers were demoralized at
the suddenness of the attack, there is no doubt. It
seems to have had an unusual combination of circum-
stances attending the carnage. That Capt. Thomas
should have permitted himself to be surprised by an
enemy, for whose destruction he was at that time seek-
ing a location for the batteries, is strange, especially
after the warning suggestions of Lieut. "Wright,
whose long experience on the frontier — of almost a
life-time — should have given weight to his views.
Strange, too, that every officer should have fallen so
early in the attack, and that Donald McKay, with his
Warm Springs, should have been thirty minutes be-
hind time, and then, when coming to the rescue, should
have been held off by the fire of the soldiers, who

572

WIGWAM AND WAKPATH.

mistook him and his men for Modocs, and compelled
them to remain out of range so long that the soldiers
were nearly all killed or wounded before Donald was
recognized.

Singular that this butchery should have continued

three hours in sisrht of the

signal

station before

reinforcements were ordered to the rescue. Indeed,
it is stated on good authority, that soldiers who
escaped made their way into camp one or two hours
before Col. Green was ordered to go to the scene
with his command. Singular, indeed, that fifty-three
men were killed or wounded by twenty-four Modocs,
on ground where the chances were even for once, and
not one of the twenty-four Modocs was wounded.

"What is still more unaccountable is, that the
Morlocs should have become surfeited with the
butchery, and desisted from satiety, calling out in
plain Boston English, — " All you fellows that aint
dead had better go home. We donH want to Jcill you
all in one dayJ'^

This speech was heard by soldiers who still live,
and for the truth of which abundant evidence can be
had. "We have it on Modoc authority that Scar-face
Charley made this speech, and repeated it several times,
and that he insisted that the Modocs should desist,
because his " heart was sick seeing so much blood,
and so many men lying dead."

Follow the advancing wave of civilization from
ocean to ocean, and no parallel can be found living,
on printed page, or tradition's tongue. Seventy-six
well-armed men, with equal chances for cover, shot
down by a mere handful of red men, until in charity
they permitted twenty-three to return to cam^) !

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

573

lO".

Can we understand how this was done ? It seems
incredible, and yet it is true. While we shudder, and
in our rage vow vengeance on the perpetrators, we are
compelled to admit that there was behind every
Modoc gim a man who was far above his white
brother in fighting qualities. Much as we are in-
clined to underrate the red man, we are forced to
admit that twenty-four men leaving a stronghold, and
going out among rocks that gave even chances
against them, was an act of heroism that if performed
by w^hite men would have immortalized every name,
and inscribed them among the bravest and most suc-
cessful warriors that this country has produced.
Performed by a band of red-handed Indians, it is
scarcely worthy of mention. While we do most
empliatically condemn all acts of treachery, no matter
by whom committed, we are not insensible to emotions
of admiration for acts of bravery, no matter by whom
performed. In speaking of this battle Gen. Jeflf. C.
Davis says, " It proved to be one of the most disas-
trous aflfairs our army has had to record. Its effects
were very visible upon the morale of the command,
so much so that I deemed it imprudent to order
the aggressive movements it was my desire and
intention to make at once upon my arrival, in ordor
to watch the movements of the Indians."

What, is it so, that with all the slaughter reported
from time to time. Captain Jack still has men
enough left to cause an army of one thousand to wait
for recuperation and reinforcements before again at-
tacking him?

This battle was fought on the 26th of April, ten
days after the three days' battle. Curious that " the

ill ■;■'■' tPSi

j" ■' i'. -.Ma IIS

574

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

press/' or that portion of it that was so loud in de-
nunciation of the Peace Commissioners, did not find
fault, and enter ^^protesV^ against the delay. The
commission has been " out of the way " since the 11th
inst., and three days' battle has been fought, and one
day's slaughter withstood, and it has not cost much
over half a hundred lives, that were required to satisfy
the clamor for vengeance, and now why not raise
your trumpet notes again, brave editors, and a pro-
portionate howl for vengeance? You are safely
seated behind your thrones, where no shot could
reach you.

Why don't you howl with rage because a few " cut-
throats " have murdered ten per cent, of an army of a
thousand, " wAo were liired to fight and die if need he "?
You did not want peace except " through war.^^ You
have done your part to secure the shedding of blood.
Are you satisfied now when, through the failure of the
Peace Commission, so many men have yielded up their
lives? This short apostrophe is intended for those
who appropriate it; not for the really brave editors
who were fearless enough to defend " The humane
policy of the President and Secretary Delano,'' in the
face of a clamor that filled the country from tlie 1st
of February to the 11th of April 1873.

BATTLE OP DRY LAKE.

Morning of the 10th, of May, 1873. — Fourteen
days have passed, and Gen.Canby has been placed in his
tomb, Indianapolis, Indiana. The widow, grief-stricken
and heart-broken, is with her friends. Orderly Scott
has been ordered to report at Louisville, Kentucky;

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

575

Adjutant Anderson, to head-quarters, Department
Columbia. The emblems of mourning arc every-
where visible around the home of Dr. Thomas.
Meacham is at his home in Salem, Oregon, recovering
rapidly, and with a heart full of gratitude and kindly
feelings to Dr. Calvin DeWitt, U. S. A., who brought
him safely through the hospital at the Lava Beds.
The mother of Lieut. Harris is sitting beside her
wounded son, in the hospital at Gil lam's Camp. Gen.
Jeflf. C. Davis has assumed command of the expedition
against the Modocs. Captain Jack and his people
have left the Lava Beds. Dissensions are of every-

day occurrence

among them.

Bogus and Hooker

Jim, Shacknasty, and " Ellen's man " are contentious
and quarrelsome.

Read the telegram of Jeff. C. Davis to Gen. Scho-
field, and we may know something of what has
occurred: —

Hbad*qcabter8 in thb Field, Tule Lake, Cal., May 8, 1878.
I sent two friendly squaws intotha Lava Beds daybolore yester-
day ; they returned yesterday, having found the bodies of Lieuten-
ant Cranston and partj', but no Indians. Last night I sent the
Warm Springs Indians out. They find that the Modocs have gone
in a southeasterly direction. This is also confirmed by the attack
and capture of a train of four wagons and fifteen animals yesterday
P. M. near Supply Camp, on east side of Tule lake. The Modocs
in this party reported fifteen or twenty in number ; escort to train
about the same ; escort whipped, with three wounded. No Indians
known to have been killed. I will put the troops in search of
the Indians with five days' rations.

JEFF. C. DAVIS,
Col. Twenty-Third Infantry, Com. De^.

In his final report, Nov. 1st, 1853, he says : — . .

,if'!ii'3

576

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

Hasbrouck's and Jackson's companies, with tlio "Warm Springs
Indians, all under command of the former, were immediately sent
out in pursuit, and signs of Indians were found near Sorass lake,
where the troops camped for the night. One the morning of the
10th the Indians attacked the troops at daylight ; they were not
fully prepared for it, but at once sprang to their anris, and returned
the fire in gallant style. The Indians soon broke and retreated in
the direction of the Lava Beds. They contested the ground with
the troops hotly for some three miles.

The object of this hasty movement of the troops was to overhaul
the Indians, if out of the Lava Beds, as reported, and prevent them
from murdering settlers in their probable retreat to another locality.
This object was obtained, and more. The troops have had, all
things considered, a very square fight, and whipped the Modocs for
the first time. But the whole band was -jain in the rocky strong-
hold. . . .

Gen. Davis does not state all the facts in the case.
While it is generally admitted that Captain Jack
was whijyped this iimCj it is also true that Donald
McKay and his Wann Springs Indian boys turn up
at the right time again and assist in driving the
Modocs three miles, recapturing the horses that were
taken from the escort a few days since. Two Warm
Springs scouts were killed in this fight, but their
names have never heen reijorted.

Captain Jack appears in this fight in Gen. Canby's
uniform. One Modoc was certainly killed this morn-
ing, because his hody was captured. There can be
no mistake ; several persons saw it with their naked
eyes, — so they did, oh I This Modoc, whose name was
George, "Ellen's man," was Captain Jack's assistant in
the murder v f Gen. Canbj'. His death was the signal for
new quarrels among the Modocs, which ultimated in
the division of the band, and made it possible for the

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

677

thousand mon to whip the remainder. The seceding
Modocs, who are double-dyed traitors, were Bogus
Charley, Iloolcer Jim, ShacTcnasty Jim, Steamboat
Frank, and ten othei's, mostly Hot Creek Indians,
and the same, except Hooker Jim, who were driven
back to the Lava Beds after they had started under
escort of Fairchild and Dorris to the Klamath Reser-
vation, last December, ten days after the Lost-river
battle, by the howl fo: blood that came up from every
quarter. At that time they had committed no crimes;
had not been in battle or butchery. After joining
Captain Jack they had espoused the cause of the mur-
derers who killed the Lost-river settlers. They were
net indicted, and had less excuse than any other Mo-
docs. Their home in " Hot Creek " was several
miles from any scene of slaughter on either side.
They had steadily opposed every peace measure
offered, while Bogus had played his part so well that
he was the favorite of the army officers, and had
friends among the white citizens ; he had instigated
the assassination of the Peace Commissioners, laid
the plans, and even slept in the camp of Gen. Canby,
and ate his breakfast off the general's table, and to
his friend Fairchild declared, even after Canb}^ and
Thomas had started for the Lava Beds, that there was
no intention of killing the Peace CommissiouLi s.

The cause of the quarrel between these men and
Captain Jack was the fact that the few deaths that
had occurred among the Modocs had been of those
who did not belong to Jack's immediate family or
band. They accused him of placing the outside In-
dians — Hot Creek and Cum-ba-twas warriors — in
the front of the battles.

578

WIGWAM AND WARPATH,

He replied that they had voted every time for war
and against peace proposals. The quaiTel increased,
and after the defeat at Dry Lake, Captain Jack rebn.ked
them for forcing the band into that fight again'jt their
will. The death of "Ellen's man " brought the crisis.
We see the band who started into the war with fifty-
three braves, after having accomplished more than any
band of an equal or proportionate number of men, of
any race or color, in any age or country, quarrelling
among themselves, now divided into two parties; one
of whom, with fourteen men, every one of whom had
voted for war, turning traitor to his chief, and oflfering
themselves as scouts against him without promise of
amnesty or other reward. Such perfidy s^'^nds un-
paralleled, and alone^ as an act that has nc ^cedent
to compare it with. The succeeding events are
clearly told in Gen. Davis' report.

The chief could no longer keep his warriors up to the work re-
quired of them, lying on their arms night and day, and watching
for an attack. These exactions were so great, and the conduct of
the leader so tyrannical, that insubordination sprang up, which led
to dissensions, and the final separation of the band into two parties ;
they left the Lava Beds bitter enemies. The troops soon discovered
their departure, and were sent in pursuit. Their trails were found
leading in a westerly direction, llasbrouck's command of cavalry,
after a hard march of some fifty miles, came upon the Cottonwood
band, and had a sharp running fight of seven or eight miles. The
Indians scattered, in order to avoid death or capture. The cavalry
horses were completely exhausted in the chase, and night coming
on he withdrew liis troops a few miles' distance to Fairchild's ranch
for food and forage.

Indians captured in this engagement expressed the belief that
this band would like to give themselves up if opportunity were
offered. When given this, through the medium of friendly Indians,

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

579

they made an effort to obtain terms, but I at once refUsed to enter-
tain anytliing of the Itind ; they could only be allowed safe-conduct
through the camp to ray head-quarters when they arrived at the
picket-line. They came in on the 22d of May, and laid down their
arms, accompanied by their old women and children, about seventy-
five.

To learn the exact whereabouts of the Indians was now very
important, and I determined to accept of the offered services of a
Modoc captive ; one who, up to the time of their separation, was
known to be in the confidence of his chief, and could lead us to the
hiding-place of the band. He was an unmitigated cut-throat, and
for this reason I was loth to make any use of him that would
compromise his well-earned claims to the halter. He desired eight
others to accompany and support him, under the belief his chief
would kill him on sight ; but three otlmrs only were accepted, and
these of the least guilty ones. The}' were promised no rewards for
this service whatever. Believing the end justified the means, I sent
them out, thoroughly armed for the service.

After nearly three days' hunting they came upon Jack's camp
on Willow creek, east of "Wright lake, fifteen miles from Apple-
gate's ranch, to which I had gone, after separation from them at
Tule lake, to await their return and the arrival of the cavalry.

The scoutjs reported a stormy interview with their angry chief.
He denounced them in severe terms for leaving him ; he intended
to die with his gun in his hand ; they were squaws, not men. He
intended to jump Applegate's ranch that night (the 28th), etc.

On the return of these scouts, I immediately sent Capt. E. V.
Sumner, aide-de-camp, back to the rendezvous, at Tule lake, with
orders to push forward Capts. H. C. Hasbrouck's and James Jack-
son's commands to Applegate's ranch, with rations for three days
in haversacks, and pack-mules with ten days' supply. All arrived
and reported by nine o'clock A. M. , the 29th, under command of Maj.
John Green, their veteran cavalry leader Hince the commencement
of the Modoc war, in excellent spirits. The impenetrable rocky
region was behind them ; the desperado and his band were ahead
of them, in comparatively an open countrj'.

After allowing the animals an hour's rest the pursuit was re-
newed, and about one o'clock P. M. Jack and band were "jumped"
on Willow creek near its crossing with the old emigrant road. This

■ u

580

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

stream forms the head- waters of Lost river. It was a complete
surprise. The Indians fled in the direction of Langell valley.
The pursuit from this time on, until the final captures, June 3d,
partook more of a chase after wild beasts than war ; each detach-
ment v;, ing with each other as t<: which should be first in at the finish.

Lieut. Col. Frank Wheaton, Twenty-fii'st Infantry, reported
to me, in compliance witu uis orders, from Camp Warner, on the
22d, at Fairchild's ranch. He was placed in command of the Dis-
trict of the Lakes, and the troops composing the Modoc expedition.

After making necessary disposition of the foot troops and cap-
tives at Fairchild's ranch, he came forward to Clear lake, and
joined mo at Applegate's with Perry's detachment of cavalry ;
these troops were at once sent to join the hunt. Most of the band
had by this time been run down and captured ; but the chief and a
few of his most noted warriors were still running in every direction.

It fell to the lot of these troopers to catch Jack. When sur-
rounded and captured he said his ' legs had given out." Two or
three other warriors gave themselves up with him.

Though called for, no reports have been received of these
operations from the u'fferent detachment commanders ; hence
details cannot be given.

As soon as the captives were brought in, directions were given
to concentrate the troops, and all captives, etc., at Boyle's camp
on Tule lake. There the Oregon volunteers, who had been called
into the field by the governor, turned over a few captives they had
taken over on their side of the line. It is proper to mention, in this
connection, that these volunteers were not under my command.
They conf. led their operations to protecting the citizens of their
own State. Yet on several occasions they oflered their services in-
formally to report to me for duty in case I needed them. No emer-
gency arose requiring me to call upon them.

By the 5th of June the whole band, with a few unimportant
exceptions, had been captured, and was asseinbled in our camp on
Tule lake, when I received orders from the General of the Army
to hold them under guard until further instructions as to what dis-
position wo'ild be made of them. It was my intention to execute
Liome eight or ten of the ringleaders of the band on the spot ; these
orders, however, relieved me of this stem duty, — a duty imposed
upjn mt; as I believed, by the t,pirit of the orders issued for the

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

581

guid'ince of the commander of the Modoc expedition, immediately
after the murder of the Peace Commissioners ; as well as by the
requirements of the case, judging from my stand-point of view, a
commander in the field. I was glad to be relieved from this grave
responsibility. I only regretted not being better informed of the
intentions of the authorities at Washington, in regard to these
prisoners after capture. In accordance with instructions, as soon
as the attorney-general's decision was received, I ordered a mili-
tary commission for their trial, and with that view moved them to
Fort Klamath, as a more suitable place to guard and try them.
Six were tried and convicted of murder ; four have been executed ;
two have had their sentences commuted to imprisonmeat for life by
the President.

A few da3'3 after these executions took place at Fort Klamath,
on the 3d ultimo, the remainder of the band was started to their new
homes in W3'oming territory ; they are probably there by this time.
The number of officers killed in this expedition is eight;
wounded, three ; total, eleven. Enlisted men killed, thirty-nine ;
woundt 1, sixt3'-one ; total, one hundred. Citizens killed, sixteen ;
wounded, one ; total, seventeen. "Warm Springs Indian scouts
killed, two ; wounded, two ; total, four. Grand total, killed and
wounded, one hundred and thirty-two. A largp number of the
killed were murdered after being wounded and falling into the
hands of the Indians. (See accompanying list of killed and
wounded, marked D.)

During the Modoc excitement many of the Indian tribes of
Oregon, Idaho, and Washington territory showed a very discontented
feeling, and strong sympathies with the hostile tribe. The set-
tlers seemed much alarmed in some localities. To meet this state
of affairs I thought it best to organize as large a for o as practi-
cable, and make a tour through the country' en row.', to the proper
stations of the troops. The march was made through Eastern
Oregon and Washington territory ; it was about six hundred miles.
The cavalry was commanded by Maj. John Green, the foot-troops
by Maj. E. C. Mason. The march was well conducted hy these
commanders, and well perfonncd by the troops. I was gratified to
see that with the capture of the Modoc band the excitement
ceased. All the tribes throughout the department are now per-
fectly quiet.

UIIB

/It *ij

I '1

CHAPTER XXXV.

h^i

LAST HIDING-PLACE — HANGING-MACHINE UNTRIED — MODOC
BUTCHERS OUTDONE.

For an account of the immediate circumstances at-
tending the final surrender of the Modoc chi<f'ftain. I
subjoin the following from the pen of iSamucl A.
Clarke^ of Salem, Oregon, who was on tl e ground, and
had abundant opportunity to learn the facts and inci-
dents connected therewith. He was correspondent
for the "New York Times," from which paper of
June 17, 1873, this graphic account of one of the most
importact events of 1873 is taken: —

Botle's Camp, Tdlk Lake, Modoc Country,

Tuesday, June 3, 1873.

The Modoc campaign is considered at an end. The eight or ten
of tlie lately hostile band who have not been captured dare not
commit any depredations, and efforts are being made to secure them
without further contest. It remains to sum up the last few days,
and present the facts of the capture of Captain Jack and his band,
and I am now prepared to give a full and comf lete statement of
the closing movments of the campaign.

The beginning of the end was when Bogus Charley and his band
of Cottonwoods and Hot Springs Indians, which means those
who were brought up in the vicinity of Dorris' and Fairchild's
ranches, which are on the creeks so called, came in and surren-
dered, about two weeks ago. The attempt made to surprise the
train and camp at Sorass lake, over three weeks ago, was a failure,
and though the Indians inflicted some damage, they still suflTered
defeat, being driven off with the loss of most of their own horses

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

583

and their loads. This discouraged them, and disaffection took
place. The troops followed them up persistently ; many who had
supported the war with reluctance complained of their fate ; bick-
erings led to separation, and Captain Jack was left with scarce
more than half his force to carrj' on the desperate struggle as he
could.

I have described the manner of the campaign in for oier letters,
and told how three squadrons of cavalry and artillery mounted,
accompanied by detachments of "Warm Springs Indians, have been
put in the field. Then came the startling proposition from Bogus
Charley, Steamboat Frank, Hooktr Jim, and Shacknasty Jim, that
they would join the troops and act as guides, and lead them to
Captain Jack. They gave it as their oninion that Jack and his
men would be either at Willow creek, in " '.e caiion east of Clear
lake, or at Cayote Springs, south-east, of luere, or at a place ten
miles from Boiling Springs, on Pitt river, hard to find and easily
defended ; or, fourth, at a canon near Goose lake, much further
off, on the very verge of Modoc territor3% They inclined to the
opinion that he was at Willow creek, because it is a strong natural
position, and in a good neighborhood for a supply of roots, herbs,
game, and fish ; and the result proved that their first surmise was
correct.

General Davis and a squad of v^avnlry left with tiiem tight days
ago, and proceeded to Boj'le's camp, east and sr h of the ■ .ava
Beds, whence the four renegades proceeded on their way Tuesday,
a week ago, to hunt for the Modoc trail. They were entirely suc-
cessful, and returned the next day with an interesting account of
their expedition. Striking out south of Tule and Clear lakes,
they found and followed the trail to Willow creek canon, fifteen
miles east of Applegate's ranch on Clear lake. As they ap-
proadied they found Modoc pickets out four miles in advance ; the
pickets went with them to within about a quarter of a mile of the
Modoc camp, and the Modoc warriors, twenty-four in all, came
out and formed a line. Jack ordered the spies to give up their
guns ; but they refused to do so, and retained their guns in their
hands during all the talk that followed. The Modocs wanted to
know what they came for, and who sent them ; they recognized
that they rode Fairchild's horses, and wanted to know how that
came. The four Peace Commissioners gave for answer the precise

1 w

584

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

facts that bad occurred ; stated the fact of the surrender of Fair-
child's place, of all the Cottonwoods, and the way they had been
treated, and advised them all to give up the war and do the same.

At that point Bogus Charley and his comrades wanted to have a
free talk with their old friends, but Captain Jack forbade it. He
said he would never surrender ; he didn't want to be hung like a
woman, without resistance, but was determined to die fighting with
his gun in his hand, as a warrior should. He told them not to talk
any more about surrender, to go back to the whites and stay with
them if they wanted to, but never to come back to him again, for
if they did he w Aild certainly kill them. He wanted to receive
no more messages and hear no more talk.

But Jack's power was evidcntl}' on the wane ; he was no longer
a dictator, with unlimited confidence and authority. Scar-faced
Charley and some of the rest ver}' deliberately declared thej' would
talk ; they told Bogus they were tired of fighting, and didn't want
to be driven around all the time, afraid of their lives, and obliged
to live like dogs. They complained bitterly of their hardships and
povert}', and that they could not see their friends as of old time.
Bogus told them that the soldiers and Warm Springs Indians were
coming right after them ; that Gen. Davis had ordered them to
hunt the Modocs down, and they would do so. Then they wanted
to know when the soldiers would come ; the answer was, at any
place and at anj-^ moment. Some of them bitterly asked if they
four were intending to bring the soldiers there ; but Bogus evaded
that b}' saying the soldiers would come anyhow. Despite Jack'«i
command, and his refusal to talk, the four spies had a long, free
conversation with their old associates, and the result was togreatl}'
increase the demoralization existing i u their ranks. The talk ended
without any promise being made, and the four spies returned the
next afternoon, and were intercepted at Applcgate's ranch, on
Clear lake, Gen. Davis having in the mean time removed to that
place. The spies were detained there, and word was sent to liave
the troops immediately move, and the next morning (Thursday) ,
at daybreak, they were in motion, bound for the last Modoc
stronghold.

The Modoc spies seem to Lave acted in the most perfect good
faith. Thej', with Fairchild in company, went with the trooi)S,
which were under command of Col. Green, and led them directly

WIGWA3I AND WARPATH.

585

to the place, warning them as they drew near that they might be
ambushed, and advising ever}'' necessary precaution. . The troops,
in three squadrons, each with a detachment of Warm Springs In-
dians, moved to within three miles of the Modoc camp about eleven
o'clock Thursday morning, and were then divided. Hasbrouck and
his command, guided by Hooker Jim, taking the north side of the
canon ; Col. Green and the remaining force, with Steamboat F.ank
as their guide, going on the south side ; Fairchild and the other two
spies being in company. The Modocs seem not to have dreamed
that the troops could reach them so soon, and had no strict watch
out. No one was seen until within less than a mile of Jack's cen-
tre, when the troops ran on four Modoc sentinels. Frank gave
advice to surround the camp by sending men around and over a
little mountain, and, this being done, a march was ordered and the
Warru Springs got within three hundred yards of three Modocs,
who hallooed not to shoot, and wanted to know what they were
bringing so many men there for ; they wanted to talk. Fairchild
and the Modoc guides were sent for, and a talk had. Boston
Charley came over to see Fairchild, and laid his gun down ; the
Warm Springs Indians all laid their guns down, and came over and
shook hands with him in the most amicable manner. Movements
were stopped to give opportunity for the surrender of the band, and
a talk was progressing, when an unfortunate accident made the
Modocs scatter in apprehension. Modoc Frank, one of the guides,
happened to have his gun accidentally discharged by the hammer
catching as he turned his horse. The Modocs evidently supposed
that Boston Charley, who had been sent to talk, had been shot,
and that caused a stampede, and prevented the surrender that
evening. Boston s-iid they all wanted to quit the fight, and he was
told to go back and tell them all to come in and lay down their
arms. "While he was attempting to do this, Ilasbrouck's men closed
up on the other side and made him prisoner, not knowing the errand
be was engaged on. Donald McKay sent word over to let him go
free, as the Indians wanted to come in ; but Boston had been delayed
an hour and a half, and he came back at dark with word that the
Indians had all run away, except seven squaws, including Captain
Jack's sister and some children, who were captured.

At early day, on Friday, the troops moved up each side of the
cailon, skirmishing for three miles, when scouts came in and rc-

jij ■■i^i.jiiSl

i';ip|

586

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

ported that the trail led off north, toward Gainox, and laid on high
ground, where it was difficult to track. The troops followed it
until noon, when they struck Langell's valley in twelve miles. The
Modocs were in scattered bands. About one o'clock Fairchild, the
Modoc guide, and some Warm Springs Indians struck a plain trail,
and followed it for about six miles north-cast, and discovered three
bucks ahead, who called back and then ran away. They were
headed off, and ran down into a canon and hid. During the day
thirteen bucks and a number of women got into the same canon,
and were discovered by the Warm Springs Indians. A few shots
were fired by Captain Jack himself, but it was thought that he
didn't try to hit anybod}', and only fired to keep them off. They
called to each other, and Scar-faced Charley came down off the
bluffs and talked with Dr. Cabanis. Scar-face said Captain Jack
was there, and they all wanted to give up. Dr. Cabanis went up
and talked with Jack, who wanted to know what they would do
with him. He said he would surrender the next morning ; it was
late then, and their women were tired. He said thej' were out of
food and clothes ; that their feet were sore, and that all hands
would come in in the morning and give up their guns.

That happened on Friday evening, the 30th of May. The
troops then went down to Lost river, five miles, and camped. Dr.
Cabanis and Modoc Mose, one of the captured Indians, after-
wards went back to the Modoc camp, and carried them a supply
of bread, and stayed all night. They returned the next morning
with the word that Jack had gone before their return, and left be-
hind some pretext that he went to find a better camp on the bluff.
But that morning Scar-faced Charley came in and laid his gun
down, and did it with an exceeding sorrowfulness, as if he felt and
understood all that he surrendered in doing so. Scar-face is more
respected than any other Indian, and there is much sympathy felt
for him among the whites, as he went to war unwillingly, and has
done his work in open warfare, and not been engaged in any sav-
age and merely murderous work. He is considered the best and
bravest of the entire Modoc band of braves. Next came Sconchin
John, the old villain, who drove the tribe to war more than almost
any other man, and who is considered responsible for many of the
inhuman acts committed. He laid down his repeating rifle, with a
look of the most profound and savage mistrust and gloomy sorrow.

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

687

His manner was untranslatable, for he had much to dread, and all
his fears and half his hate of white men were visible in his sullen
manner. The lesser lights then came up in turn, and went through
the form of surrender. There were twelve or thirteen in all who
gave up their guns, and all of them gave evidence of gloomy teiTor.
They were shown a place to camp on Lost river, in Langell's val-
ley, and the next morning were sent with Fairchild, Lieut. Taylor,
of the artillerj', and sixteen mounted light-battery men, to Gen.
Da\i3' quarters, at Jesse Applegate's, on Clear lake.

In the mean time Gen. Davis had sent Maj. Trimble, with his
squadron, including some Warm Springs scouts, with young Apple-
gate and Jesse Anplegate's nephew, Charley Putnam, as guides, to
intercept Captain Jack, in an easterly direction. They struck the
trail ten miles north-east, and followed it five miles south, back to
the Willow creek caBon, below the first Modoc place of retreat or
stronghold. Then part of the force crossed to the south side and
skirmished up the canon. The scouts soon discovered a Modoc
man, named Humpy Joe, a hunchback, who is half-brother to Cap-
tain Jack. He asked for Fairchild, and Charlc}' Putnam told him
he was on the other side of the creek, and asked where Captain
Jack was. Humpy said he was down the creek, hid in the rocks,
and would surrender to-morrow. Charley said they had him sur-
rounded, and he must surrender now. He and Maj. Trimble went
with Humpy Joe, who called for Captain Jack to come forth, and
the famous chief stepped boldly out on a shelf of rock, with his
gun in his hand. He showed no timid fear or trepidation, and his
conduct commanded the admiration of those who were his captors,
for a certain sort of native dignity was apparent, and even in de-
feat, and at the moment of his surrender, the great Modoc chief was
self-possessed, and acted a manl}' part. Major Trimble went up
to him and demanded his gun. He also asked if Fairchild was
there, and, learning tliat he was near, gave up his trusty Springfield
rifle, a remodelled breech-loader. Thus ended the Modoc war, for
its soul and leading spirit of evil stood there a captive, with his
arms given up, and powerless for future evil. There were two
others with him, and four squaws and their children made up the
list of prisoners taken at that time. Captain Jack had two wives,
and one of them had a bright little girl of six years old.

Captain Jack then walked coolly up to where the Warm Springs

tiiM;'

5? ' *:

i vife:^i

588

WIGWASI AND WARPATH.

Indians were, and they, with a commendable spirit of forbearance,
and no doubt with an appreciation of the heroism that had so long
and successfully resisted them, laid down their guns, and all
around shook hands with the Modoc chief. They talked some with
him ; but he is not much of a talker either in English or Chinook,
and his half brother. Humpy Joe, did most of the talking. Cap-
tain Jack then called up the squaws and children, and they were all
mounted behind tho Warm Springs Indians, and started for Gen.
Davis' camp, ten miles distant. It would seem as if the Modoc
chief must have felt crest-fallen, and have been humiliated to find
himself mounted in the same manner ; but those who saw it say that,
mounted behind a "Warm Springs Indian, he still bore himself with
dignity, and sat there like a Roman hero, as my informant gi'aphi-
cally expressed it. He never moved a muscle or bore evidence in
his look that he felt humiliated at his defeat. He Dowed to Fair-
child as ho passed him, but made no other sign.

Captain Jack was looking rather shabby when discovered, and was
allowed to don his better suit before being taken to head-quarters ;
for it is not too much to say that the chieftain was in a very dirty
guise ; his favorite wife, too, was looking rather untidy ; the wife
improved her attire by the very simple process of donning a new
delaine dress, not exactly made in the latest stj'le, but she put it
on over the plainer calico, which was too much soiled to be present-
able. I do not learn that any portion of Gen. Canby's dress was
found when he was taken.

He was taken, under guard, to the Modoc camp on Clear lake,
where the rest of tho prisoners were placed. This happened Sun-
day afternoon, June 1. The "Warm Springs Indians were jubilant
over the fact that they had finallj' run the fox to earth. Captain
Jack's stoical fortitude must have been sorely tried as he rode, a
captive, behind one of them ; for, as the procession moved, it as-
sumed the appearance of a triumph, and he formed a part of and
listened to tho triumphal chant, the song of victory, that swelled
along the line of his captors as they bore him awaj' to await his
fate. But they who saw it say he gave no token, by look, or word,
or act, that would have shown that he was interested, or that he
resented the rejoicing over his defeat. Again the song of triumph
rose and swelled as they approached the camp on Clear lake, and
rode into the presence of Gen. Davis and Gen. "Wheaton. The

ari

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SCHONCUIN AND JaCK IN CUAIMS.

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

591

commander-in-cbief can certainly congratulate himself that his well-
directed efforts have been successfully rewarded, and that the effi-
ciency of the army has been maintained under extraordinary circum-
stances. The Warm Springs band came up to head-quarters, ranged
in a long line, with their strange, wild chant ringing on the air, and
delivered their prisoners, who were ordered under guard with the rest.
A greater humiliation still awaited the discomfited Modoc chief.
Gen. Davis ordered leg-shackles to be made for Captain Jack and
Schonchin, and toward evening they were led out to be ironed.
Great excitement pervaded the Modoc camp as these leaders were
taken from it, and led away, they knew not where. They were
taken to the blacksmith under a guard of six men, and for the first
time Jack showed apprehension. As his guards passed where
Fairchild stood, he stopped and asked his old friend where they
were taking him. I allude to Fairchild here as his friend, because,
while he has never excused their war conduct, he has been always,
for many years, well acquainted with them, and has possessed
great influence over them. They have learned to place gi-eat con-
fidence in him, and have never found it misplaced. So in all their
movements of surrender they have wanted to have him present, and
have done it at his advice when otherwise no one could have induced
it. He gave Captain Jack no answer but to tell him kindly to go
on with the men, and he went on unhesitatingly. He may have
thought he was going to execution, but he went on nevertheless.
At Fairchild's suggestion. Scar-face Charley was sent for to act as
interpreter. Scar-face speaks good English, and he explained to
Jack and Schonchin that they were to be shackled to prevent any
attempt at escape. They made the most earnest protestations that
they had surrendered in good faith ; that they had no desire to get
awaj', and under no circumstances should make s" "h an attempt.
It was really an affecting scene to witness the gric. with which they
submitted to have the shackles placed on them ; but when they saw
that their fate was inexorable, they made no complaint or resist-
ance, though they keenly felt the indignity, but stood silently to let
the rivets tighten to bind them in chains they will never cease to
wear, for it is probable they will be tried by a military tribunal,
and that they will suffer the penalty of their crimes as soon as the
form of a trial and securing of evidence to convict them can be
gone through with.

'■•jlc^l

692

WiaW.UI AND WARPATH.

Tho short and decisive campaign that has resulted in practically
ending tho Modoc war has been a rough one. The troops were
fully ei^uipped, and the horses all shod and in good order ; but tho
ten da3's' scouting through a terribly rough country has left men
and horses considerably worse for wear. It is now ordered that
the troops under Col. Mason shall move to this place from Fair-
child's ranch. This place will bo head-quarters until the whole
matter is wound up. There are still eight or ten Modoc warriors
out ; but they will not undertake to make a fight, and only time and
good management are required to lead them also in and bring the
end.

Captain Jack maintains a gloomy reserve, and will not converse
with his captors on any subject. It is safe to say that he will make
no explanation or revelations, but die and make no sign. Bogus
Charley says all the men expect to die, and await their fate with-
out fear. Captain Jack himself has no fears of what the result
may be, and waits it with stoical fortitude. He will die heroieallj-,
I have no doubt, for he has evidently less regard for life than the
rest of the Modoc warriors.

This was substantially the end of the great Modoc
war. The closing scenes were very exciting. Some
of them are worthy of mention as having an im-
mediate bearing on the question of Peace and War
as between the superior race and the original inher-
itors of the soil.

Time, June 8th, 1873. Location of the scene,
Rocky Point, near the mouth of Lost river. —
Characters in this tragedy: first, Civilized Chris-
tianized white men; second, Helpless Modoc cap-
tives.

James Fairchild — a brother to John A., the " gray-
eyed man " — left Fairchild's ranch on the morning
of the 8th, with a four-mule team, and a wagon filled
with Modoc men, women, and children, who had sur-
rendered and were entirely unarmed.

WIGWAM ASH WARPATH.

593

Ycry little things sometimes turn the current of
great events. "Wiien leaving FairchiUVs ranch on the
morning in question, the entire party consisted of
seventeen Modoc captives and the brothers Fairchild.
Among the captives were Bogus Charley and Shack-
nasty Jim. Before arriving at Lost river the party
divided, James Fairchild driving the team and going
by a longer route, on account of crossing Lost river
at a wagon ford; John A. Fairchild, together with
Shacknasty Jim and Bogus on horseback, going by a
shorter route. The latter party, not mistrusting dan-
ger, continued on their way, not waiting for the team
to come up to the junction of the roads.

"While James was crossing the river he encountered
a body of Oregon volunteers, under command of Capt.
Ilizer. The soldiers gather around the wagon and
question Fairchild. He explains to them that the In-
dians under his care are Modoc captives, all of them
Hot Creeks; that he is taking them to the head-quar-
ters of General Davis on " the peninsula," to deliver
them up; that none of them have been accused of
being parties to any murder or assassination. This
seems to satisfy the soldiers, and they retire to their
camp. Fairchild passes on towards his point of des-
tination. After proceeding a few miles he sees two
men going towards the road, with the evident inten-
tion of intercepting him. The Indians in the wagon
also make the discovery, and beg Fairchild to turn
back, to save them. He feels that trouble is brewing.
He looks in vain for his brother John and the In-
dians that are with him. The two men have halted
by the roadside. Fairchild comes up to them. They
order him to halt, and accompany the order with a

I I.

594

WIGWAM AND AVAEPATH.

III

heavy ^^ persuader ^^ in close proximity to his head.
The music made by " spring steel " under the manip-
ulation of a man's hand lias but two notes, — a short
tick and a long click; and then the ^^ persuader'''* is
rccidy for business. Fairchild, hearing this kind of
music, halts, and to the " G et down, you old white

her.ded ," etc., demands, "By whose authority?"

" By mine. I am going tc >ill them Ingcns, and you

too, you I "

One of the civilized white men cuts the mules clear
of the wagon. Fairchild leaps to the ground, still
clinging to the lines. The unarmed captive women
beg for mercy. They plead with Fairchild to save
them. They raise imploring liarids and cry, "Don't
kill I don't kill 1 " The four Indian warriors are mute ;
they know resistance is in vain. Fairchild entreats
the white men to desist. The muzzle of a needle-gun
is within six inches of his ear. A shot, — and " Little,
JolirCs " brains are scattered over the women and
children. Another, and ^^ Te-hee JacJc^^ is flounder-
ing among them. Another, and ^^Poney^s^^ blood is
spurting over his wife and children. Still another
sh'^t, and ^^ 3fooch" falls among shrieking yquaws.
One r.iore, and ^^ Little JoJin's" wife is shot through the
shoulder. The five are writhing in the death agony
together, and the blood of the victims is streaming
throufjh the floor of the Wfi^ on and dropping in piid-
c'Jes on the ground beneath. A dust is seen rising
from the road. The civilized white murderers decamp
in hasto, leaving Fairchild holding to his mules, while
the uninjured Modoc women are extricating them-
sJ vcs from the dead bodies which had fallen on them.
The blood of this civilized hatchery still dropG from

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

the wagon. Sergeant Murphy and ten men, Battery A,
of the Fourth Artillery, came upon the scene. The
civilized hutchers are fleeing. iVb effort is made to
arrest them. Sergeant Murphy had not been ordered to
arrest them, and, of course, he had no right to arrest
wliite men without an order. Capt. Hizer's company
of Oregon volunteers is within a few miles also. The
country is open ; the murderers have but a few miles
the start. But Capt. Hizer has no orders to arrest
wlii*-e men either. He is not there for that purpose;
ani no one can censure him because he did not catch
the civilized wliite murderers. Those men were seen
by Fau'child before and behind the wagon. They
were on the 'vatch for John Fairchild. Had he and
his party been with the team when the attack was
made, the census return '"f that county would not
have been quite so large as it is, especially on the
Anglo-Saxon civilized list. Pity he was not there, for
he is " a dead shot." The commiseration is due, how-
ever, to the community that furnished homes for the
fellows who covered themselves with glory by perform-
ing this heroic feat. True, they dare not boast of it
now, but they will by and by. The grand jury of
Jackson County did not find bills of indictment
against them. No effort has ever been made to dis-
cover the names of the perpetrators of this deed.
True, there were those that claimed to know who the
persons were, but they never tell; neither would they
tell, if nlaced on the witness stand. I would not have
my reader suppose that the j^^oj^le of Oregon ap-
proved of the crime — very far from it. They con-
demned it in unstinted terms, and with one voice shout-
ed, " Shame I Shame I " So they would have done if the

PT' "4^

'■■■ '.iiH^flit

596

WIGWASI AND WARPATH.

tables had been turned. N^o State in the Union has a
more orderly, law-abiding, peace-loving people than
Oregon; none that venerates justice more highly.
True, they have sometimes been lenient to the white
men of bad character. But no more so than other
States where votes are necessary to elevate men to
power. Like all other peoples they are tender-
hearted towards all men who control votes. As a
people they are brave, v/ithout a doubt; but among
them occasionally may be found specimens of cut-
throatSj who kill unarmed people; and once in a
great while, just as in the States of Massachusetts or
N^ew York, an editor who does the same kind of work
with his pen, when he thinks he can do it with im-
punity. But the respectable editors, there as else-
where, have learned sense enough to let a man alone
when he is down, until they are sure he can't get up
before they kick him. With great unanimity those
of Oregon and the whole Pacific coast denomice the
killing of helpless, unarmed Indians, as they did the
killing of settlers after the battle of Lost river, i^'ov.,
1873, — only not quite strong enough to justify tlic
authorities in making any efibrts to bring the
offenders to justice.

The scene changes to a military camp on the " pe-
ninsula," at the south end of Tule lake. A hundred
white tents declare this to be the head-quarters of the
army that whipped the Modocs, — that is to say, the
army to whom the Modoc traitors turned over their
chief. One hundred and twenty poor, miserable speci-
mens of humanity are under guard. There is great
re,>ncing over the victory. Tlie Modoc women and
children are contented, in one sense at least, — they are

WIGWAM AND WAEPATH.

507

well fed, and have rest. The Government teams have
just arrived from the mountains with timber. The
quartermaster's forces are engaged in rough carpen-
ter work. Curious-looking building they are erecting,
— looks something like a country butcher's windlass ;
but it is not that, for there is more of it. The Modoc
captains wonder what it is for. They are unsophisti-
cated in civilized modes of appeasing outraged jus-
tice.

Scar-face Charley asks a soldier, " Wliat for that
thing they make?"

" To hang Modocs," laconically replies Mr. Soldier.

A wail of savage woe breaks the air. The medi-
cine-man says he " can beat that thing."

"May be so. Curly-haired Doctor; but miless some
other medicine interferes you can have a chance to
try it, and, in the mean time, to reflect on the inhuman
manner in which you and Hooker Jim killed Brother-
ton, Boddy, and others."

^N^ot far from the gallows we see an artist with his
camera, and going toward it two men under guard.
One of them shouted " Ivau-tux-ie " at the council
tent the 11th of April. The other one was his right-
hand man then. They are inseparable now, as they
have been for years past; but this time a few links of
log chain, as well as bluody crimes, unite them. They
cast anxious eyes towards the gibbet. They meet
John Fairchild, and ask him where they arc going.
" Go on; it's all light," he replies. They take places
before the camera. The artist lifts his velvet cloth,
and Captain Jack looks squarely at what ajipears to
him to be " a big gun." To his surprise the big gun.
is again covered up, and he is then assured that it

M m^ ...

if!'"" ■, n

m "%

598

WIGWAM AKD WARPATH.

will not shoot. It was under such circumstances that
the likeriess of Captain Jack, which accompanies
this book, was taken. Old Schonchin is next made
a target. They smile when led away, for they had
expected to die.

Some satisfaction to know that the old fellow en-
dured suspense, even if it was temporary. They arc
taken back to the guard-house, and, as they march
under escort, they see Hooker Jim, Bogus Charley,
Shacknasty Jim, and Steamboat Frank, walking
around unfettered, unguarded, well clothed, well fed,
and well armed. The chief restrains himself until he
arrives at the tent used for guard-house ; then he gives
way to a tempest of passion, and, in true Indian style,
declaims against the injustice of what he sees and
feels. True, Captain Jack, you are wearing chains
that properly belong to those villains. True, you
pleaded with all your eloquence for peace, and against
the assassination of the commissioners. True, they
voted against you. True, that Bogus first proposed
to idll Gen. Canby, and that he was also first to betray
you to your enemies. It is also true, that for this
double treachery he is now being rewarded with lib-
erty. True enough, that that cut-throat. Hooker
Jim, is the very man that put the woman's hat on your
head, and taunted you to madness, until at last you
yielded against your judgment, and consented to com-
mit the first great crime of your life. True, that he
was the man who followed your trail, day and night,
like a hound, until he pointed the steps of the soldier
to your last hiding-place. It is for this damnable act
of treachery to you that he is now being rewarded.
True, also, that Steamboat Frank and Shacknasty

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

509

Jim fired as many shots at the commissioners as you
did; and that they, too, voted against you while you
were trj-ing to make peace, and that they boast yet
of the number of soldiers they have scalped. They
joined Bogus and Hooker Jim in hunting you, carry-
ing each a breech-loading rifle, and wearing the uni-
form of the United States soldiers, and were with your
captors when your star fell. It is for these last-named
heroic acts that they are now enjoying the boon for
which you have pleaded all your life, from the same
Government that pets them, and almost fawns upon
them as heroes. Certainly your cup is full of grief,
while theirs runs over with joy. If you were a white
man we would commiserate you, and half the people
of America would join in an effort to save you;
but you are an Indian, l^o Indian can be an " hon-
orable man; " the idea is an insult to every Irishman
and German, and the whole Caucasian race besides.
You are simply unfortunate in being born in the land
of the free, and the home of the brave, with a red
sJcin. Better you had been born across the sea, and
with any brogue in the world on your tongue. If you
had only been blessed with a white shin, and had that
kind of manhood that would have permitted you to
wear some rich man's collar, fawn upon and toady to
the whims and caprices of your masters, at the sacrifice
of your own self-respect, and that of the rest of man-
kind, then your crimes might have been condoned.
But you are now a citizen, and you may enjoy a citi-
i.'^n's privilege of being punished for other men's
•••>. ^v ■;. vvell as your own.

Gen. Davis has invited the settlers of the Lost-
river country, to "come in and identify the mur-

i:".^' ■.

:;li''i

.,^,1^

600

WIGWAM AND WAEPATH.

derers, and stolen property captured from the Mo-
docs." Among others who availed themselves of the
opportunity are two women. We have seeii them
before, — the first time on the afternoon of November
29th, 1872, when the red-handed villain who walks
around camp, the lion of the day, — Hooker Jim, —
came to them with his hands red with the heart's
blood of their husbands ; and again, when a funeral
procession was slowly wending its way to the Link-
ville cemetery. We recognize them as Mrs. Boddy
and her widowed daughter, Mrs. Schiere. Gen. Da-
vis, with the heart of a true man and soldier, receives
them kindly, and assigns them to a tent; patiently
listens to the sad story of their great bereavement.

He calls on them again, taking with him Hooker
Jim and Steamboat Frank. Mrs. Boddy identifies
Hooker as one of the Indians concerned in the mas-
Bicre. When questioned as to the robbery of Mrs.
Boddy's house. Hooker Jim replies, "I took the
short purse, and Long Jim took the other purse."

The women are much excited and are crying.
They lose self-control. Mrs. Boddy, drawing from
her pocket a knife, dashes at Hooker Jim's breast.
Mrs. Schiere, with a pistol, attempts to shoot Steam-
boat Frank. The man who would not brook insult
from Gen. Nelson could not see these women commit
with * almost superhuman strength and

crime;

agility he disarms both women before they have
sipped from the cup of revenge, accidentally receiving
a slight wound in one hand from the knife held by
Mrs. Boddy. The savages stand unmoved and make
no effort to escape. Let the reader be charitable in
judgment on the actions of these widows. They

•WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

601

were alone in the world. Their protectors had fallen
by the hands that have since been washed by a just
Government, when in its dire necessity it accepted
their services as traitors. Ah! double traitors to a
reluctant, but brave leader. If the men who killed
the unarmed captives in Fairchild's wagon yesterday
can go unpunished after killing Indians that had not
harmed them, let charity extend to these broken-
hearted women, nor censure them for a thirst for
vengeance, especially when they realized that justice
has hid her face to these inhuman monsters w^ho are
reeking with blood, and guilty of the most damnable
treachery. True, these arc women; but the accident
of sex does not change nature, and never should be
urged against those whose Avrongs drive them to
desperation.

The. quarter-master's carpenters are putting on the
finishing strokes to the extempore instrument of a
jpartial justice to be administered without even the
farce of an ex-parie trial. The trap is being arranged.
Eight or ten ropes are hanging from the beam. Gen.
Davis is preparing a statement of the crimes com-
mitted hy the captives, and, also, his verdict, which he
proposes to read to these unfortunate subjugated war-
riors before he tests the strength of the dangling
ropes with live-weight. A courier arrives from Y-re-
ka. A message is received by Gen. Davis, oi-dcring
him to hold the prisoners subject to further instruc-
tions from "Washington.

The work on the hanging-machine is suspended.
The Modoc medicine-man assures his friends that he
has won another victory. Gen. Davis is thorough-
ly chagrined. The disappointment is great. Modocs

,|!\', r,

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602

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

enjoy it ; white man does not. The brittle thread of
life has been strengthened for the temporary benefit
of a few vagabonds whose existence is no blessing to
mankind outside of the Modoc blood; whose death
would cause a shout of joy over the civilized world.
Not because it would bring back the dead, and cause
them to stand in the flesh again, but because justice
has been done to a man with a red skin who dared
claim the privileges of manhood; and, being denied,
had resisted a good Government in which he had no
part.

The scaffold stands untried. iNobody knows
whether it is a good hanging-machine or not. The
camp is broken up; the war is over, and the Modocs
are now where they can be controlled. They are en
route to Fort Klamath, under guard.

The chieftain who, a few weeks since, was over-
matching the best military talent of the army, holding
in abeyance twenty times the number of his own
forces, and defying a great, strong Government, is now
a captive and in chains, compelled to travel under an
escort over the route he had passed so often in the
freedom of days gone by. Familiar objects greet liis
eyes as he raises them from the last look he will ever
take of the scene of his glory as a chief, and his
shame as an outlaw.

The first place of historical interest on this last ride
of the Modoc chief, as he leaves " the peninsula," is
where Ben "Wright killed nearly as many warriors as
Captain Jack has had in his command. If the angel
of justice accompanies this conquering army with its
dejected captives, she will cover her face while it
passes the spot where Modoc blood watered the

WIGWAM AND WARPATn.

603

gi'oiind under a flag of truce, when she remembers
that the perpetrators of that deed were honored for
the act. A few miles only, and the vacant cabin of
Miller stands, accusing Hooker Jim, the murderer
of its builder and owner, for Ms treachery, and
upbraiding a Government that excuses his crimes,
because he can be made useful in hunting to the
death the chief who led where such a villain forced
him to go.

Justice uncovers her face when this army reaches
Bloody Point, for now she remembers that it was
here that a train of emigrants were waylaid and
cruelly butchered, and she shows no favors to the de-
scendants of those who committed the crime. Again
the eye of the conquered chief glances over the scene
of his childhood, and, too, over the field where he
fought his first battle. Since it would be pronounced
sickly " sentimentalism " to ponder over the scenes of
such a man's boyhood, and lest we should oflfend
some white marCs fine sense of pride that he is a
white-skinned man, though he may have little else of
which to boast, we pass along up Lost river, with
simply recalling the fact, that this man's — Captain
Jack's — early home abounds with traditional litera-
ture connecting his name with the savage scenes of
the past, and linking it with the tragic events of
1872-3.

The conquering army marches over the spot where
the white murderers " wiped out " some of the wrongs
committed against our race. The tramping of sol-
diers' feet and the iron-shod hoofs of mule teams
erases the dark spots in the road, where the tokens
of requited vengeance were painted by the dropping

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604

WIOW.UI AND WARPATH.

wagon

on the

eighth

u ti

blood from Fau'child's
June.

This blood does not cry out loud enough to catch
the ear of the sober, honest-faced angel who has l)een
perching on the victorious emblem of the free wliite
American! No danger that those dark spots will
ever trouble that great angel. The blood that made
them was drawn from the wrong kind of veins for that.

While the army marches over the trail, effacing
footprints of the fleeing avenger, a shot is heard.
Quick almost as lightning flash every soldier's hand
grasps his arms. The thought that the Modocs
are attempting esc.t • passes through every mind.
" Halt ! " — rings out tiie cavalry bugle. Above one
of the Government wagons a small puff of smoke is
rising in the clear morning air, while behind and Ije-
neath it the spattered drops of blood announce that
another tragedy is now being enacted. The wagon
halts, and now through the floor the current runs in
streams, while its splashing on the ground makes
melody for ears of white men and. soothes the dyiug
senses of Curly-haired Jack.

A few words of explanation, and the fact is estab-
lished that treason is still among the Modocs, trea-
son to the Government of the United States, com-
mitted hy Curly-haired JacTc, in blowing out his own
brains, thus cheating the aforesaid government out of
the great privilege of hanging him for the murder
of Lieut. Sherwood, under a flag of truce, on the
eleventh of April, 1873.

Poor, conscience-stricken self-murderer I his body
is mixed up again with his native land, and his
friends are denied the privilege of mourning for hiin.

WI0WA3I AND WARPATH.

G05

The army, with its costly coterie of famous guests,
encamps at Modoc camp on Klamath Reservation.
This is the spot where Captain Jack and his people
settled in the heginning of 1870. How changed the
fortunes of this man! Then his linihs were free,
though his manhood was half disputed; now every
motion of his limbs rings clanking music in his car,
constantly reminding him that his manhood has
obtained recognition at the cost of life and liberty.
Then he was restless under the restraints of civiliza-
tion, because it denied to him a clear jiathway to its
privileges and blessings; now he is passive under the
persuasive influence of a power that compels his
crushed spirit to submission. Then he was the hero
chief of Hooker Jini and Bogus Charley, and the
daring band that surrounded him; lOW he is the
humbled, crest-fallen victim o^ their treachery.

Hg sits behind a guard whose glittering bayonets
warn him of the folly of resistance. His hetrayers,
unfettered, ramble over the ground where the Modocs
ha'^ begun their new home in ] 870.

He steals glances at the great witness tr(;e where
Modocs and Klamaths buried the hatchet. They
dance with joy over the results of its resurrection.

The army moves out of camjD. The captive chief
catches sight of four rough-hewn timbers on the left
of the road. These were once designed for use in
making that chief a house, wherein he was to have
passed through probation, looking toward his ulti-
mate attainment of citizenship under the " Humane
Policy of the Government."

The Klamaths, who badgered him into the aban-
donment of his new home in 1870, have not disturbed

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WIOWAM AND WAKPAXn.

tlio house-logs referred io. They never will; and the
probabilities are that these logs will remain as monu-
ments, marking the sepulchure of broken hopes.

A few miles before reaching Fort Klamath the
cavalcade passes through Council Grove, — the place
where Klamaths and Modocs made ^he treaty of 18GJ:
with the United States.

At last the shattered companies of soldiers reach the
fort, having left behind them many of their comrades ;
but having in charge a distinguished prisoner and his
companions. When they pass inside the irregular
circle of forest trees that shut Fort Klamath up into
a grand amphitheatre, the outside is shut out from
four, at least, of the prisoners forever.

CHAPTEE XXXyi.

TAKING A SAFE LOOK AT A SUBDUED LION --POWER BE-
HIND BAYONETS — WEAKNESS UNDER CHAINS.

A roRTiON of Fort Klamath, mentioned in the last
chapter, is used as a court-room. A long, narrow
table stands -near the middle of the hall. At the far-
ther end of the table sits Licut.-Col. Elliott, First
Cavalry, to his right Capt. Ilasbrouck of Fourth Ar-
tillery, and Capt. Robert Pollock, Twenty-first Infan-
try. On the left, Capt. John Mendenhall, Fourth Ar-
tillery, and Second Lieut. George Kingsbury, Twelfth
Infantry. These ofiiccrs arc all in new uniform, and
make a fine impression of power. At the other end
of the table sits Maj. H. P. Curtis, Judge Advocate;
also in uniform near him. Dr. E. S. Belden, short-
hand reporter. To the right of Col. Elliott, sitting
on a bench, four men, — red men^ — Captain Jack,
Schonchin, Black Jim, Boston Charley. All these
men were at the council tent the 11th of April last,
and participated in the murder of Gen. Canby and
Dr. Thomas. Lying on the floor are two others.
They are the men who jumped from the ambush with
the rifles, and uttered the yell that sent terror to the
hearts of the Peace Commissioners, — Barncho and
Slolux. Behind Maj. Curtis two other familiar faces,
— Frank Riddle and his wife Tobey.

At a side table reporters are sitting. At either end
of the room a file of soldiers stand with muskets

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■\TIGWAM AND WARPATH.

ornamented with polished bayonets. These are nec-
essary, for the prisoners might kill somebody if the
bayonets were not there ! Hooker Jim, Bogus, Shack-
nasty and Steamboat arc standing near the door, un-
fettered and unguarded. Thei/ don't need guarding,
for they are soldiers now themselves, and have done
more to close up the Modoc war than the " Army of
a Thousand."

They are real live heroes, and they feel it too. If
anything is yet wanting to make this scene complete,
it is fully made up by the soldiers, who now enjoy a
safe look into the eyes of the Mc:loc chief.

SECOND DAY.

FoBT Klamath, July 5, 1873.

The commission met at IC A. M., pursuant to adjournment.

Present, all of the members of the commission, the judge-advo-
cate, and prisoners.

Tlic ]M'occeding3 of the last meeting ^vere read and approved.

The judge-advocate then read before the commission the ordi r
convening the commission, which is inteq:)reted to the prisoners.

The commission then proceeded to the trial of the prisoners :
Captain Jack, Schonchin, Black Jim, Boston Charlej-, Barncho
(alias Ono-Eyod Jim), and Slolux, Modoc Indian captives, wlio
being called before the conunission, and having heard the order
convening it read, it being interpreted to them, were severally
asked if thoy had any objection to any member present named in
the order, to which they severall}' replied in the negative.

The members of llu; commission were then dulv sworn by the
jndge-advocate ; and the judge-advocate was then dul}' sworn by
tlie president i.>f the commission ; all of which oaths were adirm-
istered and interpreted in the presence of the prisoners.

The judge-advocate asked the authority of thv. commission to
employ T. F. Riddle and wife as interpreters, at $2 "> a day, which
authority was given by the commission.

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

609

T. F. Ridtlle and wife (Tobey) were then duly sworn to the faith-
ful performauce of their duty in the interpretation of the evidence
and proceedings aa required, in the presence of the prisoners,
which oath was interpreted to the prisoners.

The judge-advocate then prescated to the conimission E. S. Bel-
den, the official 8hort-hand reporter, who was then duly sworn to
the fjithful performance of his duty ; which oath was duly inter-
preted to the prisoners.

The prisoners were then severally asKC'i by the judge-advocate
if they desired to introduce councl ; to which they severally replied
in the negative ; and that they had been unable to procure any.

The prisoners were then severally duly arraigned on the follow-
ing charges and specifications : —

Charges and specifications preferred against certain Modoc Indians
commonly known and called as Captain Jack, Schonchin, Boston
Charley, Black Jim, Barncho, alias One^Eyed Jim, and Slolux,
aUas Cok.

Cu^uiGE First. — ' ' Murder in violation of the laws of war." The
specificatiou in substance was the murder of Gen. E. R. S. Canby
and Dr. Eleazer Thomas.

Chaug*: Second. — " Assault with intent to kill in violation of
the laws of war." Specification second. "Assault on the
Commissioners. Attempt to kill A. B. Meacham and L. S. Dyer."

" AH this at or near the Lava Beds, so-called, situated near Tule
Lake, in the State of California, on or about the 11th day of April,
1873."

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To which the prisoners severally pleaded as follows : —

To first specification, first charge, " Not guilty."
To second specificatiou, first charge, " Not guilty."
To first charge, " Not guilty."
To first specification, second charge, " Not guilty."
To second specification, second charge, " Not guilty."
To second charge, "Not guilty."

T. F. Riddle, a citizen and witness for the prosecution, being
duly sworn by the judge- advocate, testified as follows : —

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WIGWAil AND WARPATH.

its

:,■:

Question by judge-advocate. Were you present at the meeting
of the commissioners and General Canb}^, referred to in the
charges and speciflcations just read? Ansivej'. Yes, sir.

Q. On what day was it? A. On the 11th of April, I believe, as
near as I can recollect.

Q. "Were the prisoners at the bar present on that occasion?
A. Yes, sir.

Q. You identify them all? A. Yes, sir; I identify all but
Barncho and Slolux. I saw them, but I didn't know them. They
were some seventy- five yards behind me ; they came iip behind.

Q. Is Captain Jack the principal man in this Modoc band?
A. Yes, sir.

Q. What is he? Describe him. A. He is a chief amongst
them. He has been a chief since 18G1, I believe.

Q. What position did Schonchin hold among the Modocs ? A. I
never knew him to be anything more than just a common man
amongst them until, within the last j'ear, he has been classed as
Captain Jack's sub-chief, I believe ; the}' call it a " Sei'geant."

Q. Black Jim? A. He has been classed as one of his watch-
men, they cr.ll them.

Q. Boston Charley? A. He i3 nothing more than a high
private.

Q. Barncho ? A. He is not anything.

Q. Slolux? A. He is not anything.

Q. Are they all Modocs? A. Yes, sir; they are classed as
Modocs ; one of them is a Rock Indian, or a " Cumbatwas."

Q. Were they all present at this meeting of the 11th of April?
A. Yes, sir. Barncho and Slolux was not in the council. They
came up after the firing commenced.

Q. Wliat connection did j'ou have with the peace commissioners
from the beginning? A. I was emploj'cd by General Gillam lO
interpret, and then from that I was turned over to the peace com-
missioners ; but I acted as interpreter all of the time — all throu'^'j
their councils.

Q. Did you ever receive any information which led you to sup-
pose it was a dangerous matter for the commissioners to interview
these men? A. Yes, sir; the first that I learned was when I
stopped at Fairchild's. They agi-eed to meet the wagons out
between Little Klamath and the Lava Beds, and all of them come

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

Gil

in, women and children. They said Captain Jack sevt word that
if General Canby would send his wagons out there, they would
send his women and children in.

Q. Where you present at the killing of General Canby and Mr.
Meacham? A. Yes, sir.

Q. Had you received any information which led you to think that
it was dangerous? A. Yes, sir, I had ; my woman, some week or
ten daj'S before that, went to carry a message into Jack's cave,
where he was living, and there was an Indian called William — he
followed her after she started for home brck to camp, he followed
her out.

Q. How do you know this ? A. My woman told me.

Q. In consequence of some information which you received,
what did you then do ? Did you speak to the commissioners about
it? A. Yes, sir; I told them I received information, and then I
weni to the peace commissioners and told thena it was dangerous
to go out there any more to meet them, and I advised them not to
go. While I was at FaL'child's, this Hooker Jim, he came there
and took me out one side and told me, "If j'ou ever come with them
peace commissioners to meet us anj'' more, and I come to you and
push you to one side, j'ou stand back one side and we won't hurt
you, but will murder them."

Q. Do I understand you to say you then cautioned the conamis-
sioners ? A. Yes ; I told them of it.

Q. What did you say ? A. I told them what Hooker Jim told
me ; and I said I didn't think it was of any use to try to make
peace with those Indians without going to the Lava Beds, right
where they were. I said, " I think the best way, if 3'ou want to
make peace with them, is to give them a good licking, and then
make peace."

Q. Did j'ou tell them what Hooker Jim said? A. Yes, sir;
and at another time, I believe it was the very next time after we
were out in the Lava Beds — after General Gillam had moved over
to the Lava Beds — we met, and Hooker Jim came to me after we
got to the ground where we were to hold our council, and he took
hold of me and said, " You come out here and sit down ; " and he
pushed me as he said he would. I said " No."

Q. When was this? A- I don't remember the date; it was
some time in April,

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612

WIGWAM -STD WAEPATH.

Q. The fii'st or second meeting? A. The first meeting after
Hooker Jim had told me this at Fairchild's.

Q. Where they the same, or other commissioners? A. It was
General Canby, Dr. Thomas, and Mr. Dyer, and Judge Rose-
borourgh, I believe, was along, if I am not mistaken ; I won't be
positive. Hooker Jim came to me and caught hold of me, and
pushed me one side, and said, " You stand out here." I to' 1, him
" No ; " that I had to go and talk and interpret for them ; ana 'uy
woman here spoke up to him to behave himself, and not go :Toing
anything while he was there; and he then said, "Well, go and
sit down."

Q. Did j'ou visit the Lava Beds before the massacre ; and, if so,
did you go alone, or with some one else? A. The first time I
went in there was with Squire Steele. Fairchild —

Q. (Interrupting.) Very shortly before the massacre, did you?
A. Well, I was in there.

Q. State why j-ou went in there. A. I was in there on the 10th
of April. M}' woman and me went in there, and took a written
message in there from the peace commissioners. I read and inter-
preted it to Captain Jack, and I told him then, after I intei ireted
it to him, that I gave him a notice ; and I told him to briwg it the
next day when he met the commissioners, to bring it with him.
He threw it on the ground, and he said he was no white man ; he
could not read, and had no use for it. He woul.l meet the com-
missioners close to his camp — about a mile io} ond what they
called the peace tent. He said he would meet them there and no-
where else.

Q. A mile nearer the Lava Beds than the peace tent? A. Yes ;
he said that was all he had to say then. I could hear them talking
around, and sort of making light of the peace conamissioners — as
much as to say they didn't care for them.

Q. What was the tenor of this message you say you read? A.
It was a statement that they wished to hold a council with them at
the peace tent next day, to uu. . ' permuuent settlement of the dif-
ficulties between the whites and the Indians ; they wanted to make
peace, and move them off to some warm climate, where they could
live like white people.

Q. Where is that note you carried ? A. it is lost.

Q. Did Captain Jack say anything about arms in reference to

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

G13

the meeting? A. Yes, sir ; be said lie -svoukl moot thom five men
without arras, and he would do the same — he would not take any
arms with him.

Q. That he would meet them at the place he fixed — one mile
nearer the Lava Beds? A. Yes, sir; one mile nearer the Lava
Beds.

Q. Five men, without arms, and he would also go without
arras? A. Yes, sir.

The Court. Five, includinf^, hiraself? A. Yes, sir.

The Judge-Advocate. What did he say about the proposition
to move him from the Lava Beds ? A. lie said he knew no other
country only this, and he did not want to leave it.

Q. Did he say anything about a desire for peace ? A. Yes ; he
said if they would move the soldiers all away he would make peace
then, and live right there were he was, and would not pester any-
body else ; he would live peaceablj' there.

Q. Was Captain Jack alone in this interview when you talked
with him ? A. No, sir ; these other men were around with him,
sitting down.

Q. These prisoners here now ? A. Some of them.

Q. Did he do all or only a part of the talking? A. Tluxt even-
ing he done all of the talking — that is, he was the onlj one that
had anj'thing to say to me in regard to this affair.

Q. Did 3'ou see anything there which led you to suppose that
they intended hostilities? A. Yes, sir; I did; I saw that they
had forted up all around the cave.

Q. Did they seem to be well provisioned? A. They had just
been killing several beeves there that dr^y.

Q. Which of these men M'ore there at the time ? A. Boston
was there — most all of those that are here.

Q. Can't 3'ou name them? A. Tuore was Boston, Black Jim
was there, and Barncho ; I don't remerabor whether Sohoncliiu
was there or not at the time the conversation was going ou.

Q. Did you go back < J the commissioners then? A. Yes, sir.

Q. State the facts about it. State what followed after your re-
turn to the commissioners. — A. I went back and went to the
peace commissioners' tent with Jack's message that he would meet
them five unarmed, and he would do the same ; he would have five
men with himself, and go without arms ; and I told him they were

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■VVIGWAM AND WARPATH.

fortecl all around there, and they had be?n killing beef; and I
thought it was useless to try to make peace any longer ; and if
Captain Jack Avould not agree to meet at the tent, and if I were in
their places I would not meet them any more.

Q. What did the commissioners then reply or decide upon?
What decision did they come to ? A. They held a council between
themselves. I was not at their council.

Q. Was your visit the day before the assassination ? A. Yes,
sir; I soju General Canby that evening; and I told him I had a
proposition to make to him. He was out, and I met him, and he
wanted to know what it was ; I told him that if I was in his place,
if I calculated on meeting them Indians, I would send tweuty-nve
or thirty men near the place were I expected to hold the council,
to secrete themselves in the rocks there ; that the;- would- stand a
good show to catch them, if they undertook to do anything that
was wrong. General Canby said that that would be too much of
an insult to Captain Jack ; that if they knew of that, they might do
an injury then ; he would not do that.

Q. Did you hear him say that? A. Yes.

Q. Did they determine to meet him, or not? A. they sent to
me the next morning, then, to come down to the peace commis-
sioners' tent.

Q. Was Captain Jack informed that thej' would not go to that
place one mile nearer? A. Yes, sir; Bogus Charley went in that
evening before the murder, right ahead of me, into General Gilliam's
camp and sta^-ed all night. He staid at my camp, and the next
morning the peace commissioners decided that the}' would not
meet Captain Jack in this place where he wanted to meet them, and
sent a message out by Bogus and Boston for them to meet him at
the peace commissioners' tent, tlie peace tent, and they were goiio
about an hour ; and they cm ne buck again and said that Captaiu
Jack WO' there with five men.

Q. (Interrupting). You heard it? A. Yes.

Q. Jack was to meet them where ; he was where ? A. He was
at the peace tent.

Q. Captain Jack sent back a message then by Bogus and Boston
<lint he would meet them at the peace tent with live nu'U ? A. Yp-^,
sir ; but they were not armed, and he wanted the peace commw-
s loners to go without arms.

WiaWAM AND WAEPATH.

615

Q. lie sent that message, and j'ou heard it? A. Yes, su".

Q. What advice, if any, did 3011 then give the commissioners ?
A. My woman and me went down to the peace commissioners*
tent and she went to Mr. Meachara ; I saw her myself at the first,
thougli I told liim not to meet them.

Q. "Were 30U at the peace commissioners* tent when you gave
them this advice ? A. The peace commissioners* tent in General
Gillam's camp.

Q. Not the large peace tent? A. No ; the peace commissioners'
tent. He wanted to know vfhy, and I told him they intended to
mm'der them, and that the}- might do it that day if everything
was not right ; and my woman went and took hold of Mr. Meacham
and told him not to go ; and held on to him and cried. She said,
"Meacham, don't you go!" — I heard her say so mj'self — "for
they might kill you to-day ; they may kill all of 3-ou to-day ; " and
Dr. Thomas, he came up and told me that I ought to put ray trust
in God ; that God Almighty would not let any such bod}' of men
be hurt that was on as good a mission as that. I told him at the
time that he might trust in God, but that I didn't trust any in
them Indians.

Q. Did any of the other commissioners make any repl}-?
A. Mr. Meacham said that he knew there wf.s diinger, and he
believed me, every word I said, and he believed the Avoman, and so
did Mr. D3'er. He said he believed it ; and he said that he felt
like he was going to his grave. I went then to General Canb}' and
asked him if General Gillam was going out. He said "No." I
said, I want your commissioners then to go to General Gillam's
tent with me.

Q. Did they go? A. Yes, sir.

Q. Was Tobey with j-ou? A. No, sir; she was not with me
tlii!|i I she was standing holding her horse.

Q. State what occurred at (icneral Gillam's tent. A. We went
down willi Mr. Meacham, General Canby, Dyer, and Dr. Thomas ;
and General Canby walked down with us. General Canby did not
go into the tent, but the other three went in ; that is, Mr. Dx'cr,
Meacham, and Dr. Thomas, and I went in to General Gillam and
said, "General Gillam, these men are going out to hold council
Avith them Indians to-day, and I don't bclieAC it is safe. If there
is anything happens to them, I don't want no blame laid on me

III

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WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

hereafter, because I don't think it is safe for them to go, and after
it is over I don't want nothing laid on me;" said I, " I am not
much afraid of the Indians ; but I will go before I will be called
a coward."

Q. State what followed then. A. Well, before wc got through
the conversation there, General Gillam — that is, there was not
anj'thing more — and then General Gillam gave a big laugh, and
said if the Indians done anything, that he would take care of them,
and we started out, and General Canby and Dr. Thomas started
on ahead ; Mr. Meacham went to Tobcy (my wife) , and asked her
if she thought the Indians would kill him, and she said, "I have
told you all I can tell you ; " she said, " they may kill you to-da^-,
and they may not."

Q. You heard this? A. Yes. "But," says she, "don't go."
By that time General Canby and Dr. Thomas had got some one
hundred yards ahead of us. Bogus Charley walked out ; General
Canby and Dr. Thomas walked ; Mr. D^'er, Meacham, and Tobcy
rode horseback.

The CooKT. Did Bogus Charley walk out with you? A. Yes;
him and me were behind.

The Judge-Advocate. Where was Boston Charley at this time ?
A. If I am not mistaken he was with General Canby and Dr.
Thomas.

Q. Did you finally arrive at the peace tent? A. Yes, sir.

Q. And whom did you find there ? ^4. I found Captain Jack,
Schonchin, and Black Jim (Ellen's man) , who is dead, they say,
Shacknasty Jim, and Hooker Jim.

Q. Were there any others ? A. There were no others ; well,
Boston, he went out with us, and Bogus Charley ; there were eight
of them there.

Q. Eight were there in the party? A. In the council; yes,
sir.

Q. What took place after you met these Modocs whom you
have named — between the commissioners and thej'? A. Well,
we all sat down around a little fire we had there, built, I suppose,
some twenty or thirty feet from the peace tent. There was soine
sage brush thrown on, and we were all sitting around the little
fire, and General Canby gave them all a cigar apiece, and they all
sat around there and smoked a few minutes, and then they went to

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

G17

talking ; General Canby, I think, thougli I won't bo certain, made
the first speech, and told them that ho had been dealing with the
Indians for some thirty years, and he had come there to make
peace with them and to talk good ; and that whatever he promised
to give them that he would see that they got ; and if they would
come and go out with him, that he would take them to a good
countrj', and fix them up so that they could live like white people.

Q. Did you interpret all of this to the Indians? A. Yes, sir.

Q. So that they understood it ? A. Yes, my wife and me did
together.

Q. "Was that the summary of General Canby's speech? A.
That was about the substance of his speech, with the exception
that he told them that he had a couple of Indian names ; that he
had taken Indians on to a reservation once before, and that they
all liked him, and had given him a name.

Q. General Canby said that ? A. Yes. They sat and laughed
about it. I disremember the name now.

Q. Do you know who spoke next? A. Mr. Mcacham spoke
next, and he told them he had come there to make peace with
them ; that their Great Father from Washington had scut him
there to make peace, and wipe out all of the blood that had been
shed, and to take them to some country where thej- could have
good homes, and be provided with blankets, food, and the like.

Q. That was Mr. Meacham's speech ? A. Yes, sir. Dr. Thom-
as, he said a few words. He said the Great Father had sent him
there to make peace with them, and to wipe out all the Ijlood that
had been shed, and not to have any more trouble, to move them
out of this country here, — that is, the place where they were
stopping.

Q. Mr. Riddle, do you know whether the Lava Beds are in the
State of California? A. Yes, sir ; thej' are. I could not be cer-
tain what the extent of them is ; it may be possible a small portion
of them is in Oregon.

Q. How near the Lava Beds was General Gillam's camp ? A.
It was about two miles and a half from Jack's stronghold.

Q. IIow near to the Lava Beds was the peace tent? A. It was
right on the edge of it.

Q. What distance from General Gillam's quarters or camp ? A.
I think about three-quarters of a mile.

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G18

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

Q. Did any Modocs reply to those speeches? A. Captain
Jack spolvc.

Q. "What did ho say; can you remember? A. Yes, I can
recollect some of what he said. He said tliat he didn't want to
leave this country here ; that lie knew no other country tlian tliis ;
that he didn't want to leave here ; anil that he had given up Lost
river ; and he asked for Cottonwood and Willow Creek ; that is
over near Fairchild's.

Q. Id Cottonwood Creek the same as Hot Creek? A. Tliey
are two difrerent creeks.

Q. What did he mean by giving up Lost river? A. lie said
there was where the fight had taicen place ; and that he didn't want
to have anything more to do there. He said he thought that was
■what the fight took place about, — that country there ; he said the
whites wanted it.

Q. What fight do you refer to ? A. The first fight, where Major
Jackson went down to bring them down on the Reservation ; that
was in November, 1872.

Q. Did Captain Jack demand Willow Creek and Cottonwood
Creek? A. Yes, sir.

Q. That is, the land around this place? A. Yes.

Q. To live on ? A. Yes, sir ; he wanted a reservation there.

Q. Then what was said, or what occurred? A. Mr. Meacham,
then he made another speech, and he told Captain Jack: "Jack,
Ictus talk like men, and not like children," and he sort of hit him
on the knee or shoulder, — probably hit him on the shoulder once
or twice, or tapped him, — he said, "Let us talk like men, and
not talk like children." He said, " You are a man that has com-
mon sense ; isn't there any other place that will do you except
Willow Creek and Cottonwood ? " And Mr. Meacham was speak-
ing rather loud, and Schonchin told him to hush, — told him in In-
dian to hush ; that he could talk a straight talk ; to let him talk.
Just as Schonchin said that. Captain Jack rose up and stepped
back, sort of in behind Dj-er's horse. I was interpreting for
Schonchin, and I was not noticing Jack. He stepped a few steps
out to one side, and I seen him put'his hand in his bosom lilce —

Q. (Interrupting). Did you perceive, as soon as you got there,
that these men were armed? A. Yes, sir; I did; I could see
some of them were.

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

G19

Q. In what way (lid you observe that? A. I saw these sticking
out of their clothes.

Q. You saw what? A. They were revolvers.

Q, Did Captain Jack at this interview represent this band?

A. Yes, sir.

Q. And these other men listened and appeared to concur?

A. Yes, sir.

Q. Were they there as representatives of the band ? A. Yes,
sir ; I suppose they were.

Q. You say Captain Jack got up and went to the rear, and you
saw him put his hand to I>is breast? A. Yes, sir.

Q. Wliat then occurred ? A. "Well, he stepped back and came
right up in front of General Canby, and said, in Indian, "All
ready, boys," — and the cap burstcd, and before you could crack
your linger he fired.

Q. You say this? A. Yes, sir; and after the cap bursted,
before you could craclc your finger, he fired and stioick General
Canby under the ej'e, and the ball came out here (showing).
I jumped and ran then, and never stopped to look back any
more. I saw General Canby fall over, and I expected he wag
killed, and I jumped and ran Avith all my might. I never
looked back but once, and when I looked back Mr. Meacham
was down, and my woman was down, and there was an Indian
standing over Mr. Meacham and another Indian standing over
her, and some two or tliree coming up to Mr. Meacham. Mr.
Meacham was sort of lying down this way (showing) , and had
one of his hands sticking out.

Q. You saw General Canby fall, you say? A. Yes, sir.

Q. Did he continue to lie where he fell? A. He was not when
they found him ; he was about thirty or forty yards from there. I
did not see him get up.

Q. As soon as Captain Jaclv fired, what then occurred? A.
They commenced firing all around. I could not tell who was firing
except Schonchin here ; I see him firing at Mr. Meacham, but the
others M'cre kind of up in behind me, and they were firing, and I
did not tuin around to look to see who it was. I thought it was
wariii. time" there,

Q. Eid any other Indians come up? A, Just as the fire com-
menced I see two Indians coming up packing their guns.

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WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

Q. What do you mean by "packing their guns"? A. They
were carrying them along in their arms.

Q. How many had each man ? A. I could not tell ; it looked
like they had some two or three apiece.

Q. Can you identify those men? A. No, sir, I cannot. I
did not stop to look to see who they were. I saw they were
Indians.

ToBEY, Riddle's wife, an Indian, called for the prosecution, being
duly sworn, testified as follows : —

Qtiestion by the judge-advocate. What is your name ; is your
nameTobey? Answer. Yes.

Q. Did you think they were going to kill the commissioners
that day? A. Yes.

Q. What made you think so ? A. There was one of the other
Indians told me so.

Q. Who told you ? A. William ; Whim they call him.

Q. How long before the meeting did Whim tell you this ? A.
It was about eight or ten days.

Q. What did Whim say to you? A. He said not to come back
any more ; to tell the peace commissioners not to meet the Indians
any more in council ; that they were going to kill them.

Q. Did you tell General Canby not to go? A. I did not tell
General Canby ; I told Meacham and Thomas.

Q. Did Mr. Meacham believe 5'ou ? A. Yes, sir.

Q. Did he say he believed you ? A. Yes.

Q. What was done with the bodies of Dr. Thomas and General
Canb}- ? A. They stripped their clothes off of them.

Q. Did you see them do that ? .4. I seen them strip Dr. Thomas.
I saw Steamboat Frank taking Dr. Thomas's coat. Steamboat
Frank was one of the three that came up.

The above questions and answers were duly interpreted to the
prisoners by the sworn interpreter, Riddle.

The judge-advocate then asked the prisoners severally if they
desired to cross-examine the witness, to which they replied in tlie
negative.

The commission had no question to put to the witnesa

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WIOWAM AND WABPATH.

623

L. S. Dyeb, a citizen, called for the prosecution, being duly
sworn, testified as follows : —

Question by tTie ,'^idge-advoccUe. State your name. Answer. L. S.
Dyer.

Q. What is your business? A. I am a United States Indian
agent.

Q. Of the Klamath agency? J Yes, sir.

Q. Docs that include the Modou^ .^ A. Yes, sir

Q. Do you recognize the prisoners at the bar? A. I do.

Q. Do you recognize them all? A. No, sir.

Q. Who is that one with a handkerchief on his head? A. Cap-
tain Jack.

Q.' Who is the next one this way? A. John Scbonchin.

Q. And this one ? A. Boston, — sometimes called Boston Charley.

Question by commission. I understood you to say that Superin-
tendent Meacham got these Modocs back into the Reservation once
or twice before. Answer. Once before.

Question by commission. With or without the assistance of the
military? Answer. He had a few soldiers. I only know this from
the records and reports in the office.

The foregoing questions and answers were all duly interpreted to
the prisoners.

The commission thereupon adjourned to meet on Monday nc^c,
the 7th instant, at 10 A.M.

H. P. CURTIS,
Judge-Advocate of Commission,

THIRD DAY.

FoBT Ki.iJtATH, Obiooh, July 7, 1878.

The commission met pursuant to adjournment.

Present, all the members named in the order, the judge-advocate,
and the prisoners.

The proceedings of the previous session were read and
approved.

624

WIGWAM AND WAEPATH.

Shacknasty Jim, a Modoc Indian, a witness for the prosecution,
having been first cautioned by the judge-advocate of the punish-
ment of false swearing, was then duly sworn.

Question by jiidge-advocate. What is your name? Answer.
Shacknasty Jim.

Q. Do you remember when General Canby was killed ? A. Yes ;
I know.

Q. Were you present. A. Yes.

Q. Did you know that he and the commissioners were to be
killed. A. Yes.

Q. How did you know it? A. They had a talk at night.

Q. When was this talk? How long before? A. The evening
before.

Q. Who talked? A. Most of the Indians ; the two chiefs were
talking.

Q. What two chiefs ? A. Captain Jack and Schonchin.

Q. Did 3'ou hear them state they meant to kill them? A. I
didn't hear them say they were going to kill them.

Q. What did you hear them say? A. I heard them talking
about killing the commissioners : thct is all I heard them say. I
didn't hear them say who was going to do it.

Q. How long before the meeting of the peace commissiouers
when General Canby was killed was this talk? A. I almost
forget. I don't want to lie. I have forgotten how many days it
was.

Q. What Indians were at that meeting of April 11, when
General Canby was shot? A. Schonchin, Captain Jack, Ellen's
man (dead). I was there, and Black Jim, Boston, B >gus Charley,
and Hooker Jim ; there were eight.

Steamboat Frank, a Modoc witness for the prosecution,
duly sworn, being duly warned against the consequences of
perjury.

Question by judge-advocate. What is your name ? Answer. I
am called Steamboat Frank.

Q. Were you present at the death of General Canby? A. Yes.
Q. How did you get there? A. I was about as far as from here

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

625

to the end of the stables (about four hundred yards) when the firii^
commenced.

Q. Whom, if any one, were you with there? A. With Scar-
faced Charley.

The judge-advocate now called Boons Chablet as witness for
the prosecution, who, being first cautioned of the consequence of
perjury, was duly sworn, and testified as follows : —

Question by judge-advocate. What is your name as comnM}nly
called? Answer. Bogus Charley.

Q. Were you present at the death of General Canby?
A. Yes.

Hooker Jm, a Modoc, a witness for the prosecution, being
first cautioned of the consequence and punishment for perjury,
was duly sworn.

Question. What is your English name? Answer, Hooker Jim.

Q. Were you present when General Canby was killed 1 A. 1
was.

Q. Did you know he and the commissioners were to be killed?
A. I did.

Q. Are you now a friend tc Captain Jack? A. I have been a
friend of Captain Jack, but I don't know what he got mad at me
for.

Q. Have yon ever had a quarrel or fight with hiui? A. I had
a quarrel and a little fight with him over to Dry lake, beyond the
Lava Beds.

Q. How did you know the commissioners were going to be
killed? A. Captain Jack and Schonchin — I heard them talking
about it.

Q. Where were they when yon heard them? A. At Captain
Jack's house.

Question by commission. What part were you detailed to take in
it, if any, in murdering the commissioners? Answer. I ran Dyer
and shot at him.

Qnation by oommission. Had you agreed to kill one of the par-

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626

WIOWAU AND WABFATH.

ties before the attack? Answer. I said I would kill one if I
could.

Question by judge-advocate. Do you like Captain Jack now, or
dislike him? Answer. I don't like liim very well now.

The judge-advocate then asked each one of the prisoners, suc-
cessively, if they desired to cross-examine this witness, to which
they replied in the negative.

WnxiAM (Whim) , Modoc, called for the prosecution, and warned
against the penalties of perjury, was then duly sworn.

Question by judge-advocate. What is your name? Answer. Whim,
or William.

Q. Were you with the Modoc Indians in the Lava Beds ? A. Yes.

Q. Do you remember when General Canby was killed? A. Yes,
I know that they went to kill him.

Q. Did you know that he was going to be killed? A. Yes, I
knew they were going to kill him.

Q. Did you know they were going to kiU the peace commissioners ?
A. Yes.

Q. Were you at the killing? A. No, I didn't go.

Q. How did you know they were going to kill them ? A. 1
heard Jack and Schonchin talking about it.

Q. Any one else? A. That is all that I heard say anything
about it.

Q. How long was this before the killing? A. I don't know
exactlj', but it was eight or ten days.

Q. Did you speak to anybody about it ? A. Yes, I told about it.

Q. Whom? A. I told this woman here (Tobey, Riddle's wife).

Q. What did you tell her? A. I told her to tell the peace com-
missioners not to come ; that I did not want to see them killed.

The judge-advocate then asked each prisoner, successively, if he
desired to cross-examine this witness ; each answered in the negative.
The commission desired to put no questions.

While this man is under examination as a witness,
A. B. Meacham enters the court-room. The prison-

WIOWAM AND WAEPATH.

627

ers fix their eyes on him steadfastly. Until now,
they had doubted his recovery from his wounds.

A. B. Meacham, citizen, called for the prosecution, duly sworn,
testified as follows : —

Question by judge-advocate. What is your name? ^watocr. Alfted
B. Meacham.

Q. Are you a citizen of the United States 7 A. I am.

Q. What position did you hold in connection with the late war
with the Modocs ? A. 1 was appointed by Secretary Delano as
chairman of the peace commissioners, . , special commissioner.

Q. Now state what occurred next.

A. During the day the propositions that were made by Boston,
that is, on Thursday, were accepted by Dr. Thomas, and an agree-
ment made to meet Captain Jack and five men, unarmed, at eleven
o'clock ; all parties unarmed at the council tent on Friday. I
knew this agreement to have been made by Dr. Thomas on the
evening of the 10th, on my return from Boyle's camp that night.

Q. Did he give it toyou ofl^cially?

A. Yes, sir. When I started on the visit to Boyle's camp, I
said to Dr. Thomas, if occasion requires my presence in any busi-
ness, you will act in my capacity as chairman of the commission ;
and as acting chairman of the commission he made this arrange-
ment, and so notified me.

Q. After that what followed?

A. I protested against the meeting, but subsequently yielded
to the opinions of Gen. Canby and Dr. Thomas, — Mr. Dyer and
I dissenting.

Question by judge-advocate. Had General Canby a weapon on
his person?

A. Not that I am aware of.

Q. Had Dr. Thomas?

A. I know he had not.

All the foregoing testimony was faithfully interpreted to the
prisoners.

The commission thereupon adjourned to meet at 9.30 A. M.
to-morrow morning.

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WiaWAM AND WARPATH.

The prisoners are remanded to the guard-house.
They hesitate, and cast anxious glances at Meacham,
who is exchanging salutations with members of the
court.

Meaoham. " Have the prisoners no counsel ? "

Col. Elliott. ** They have been unAble to obtain
counsel. The usual question was asked them."

Meacham. " It seems to me that, for the honor
and credit of the Government, and in order to have
all the facts drawn out and placed on record, counsel
should have been appointed."

Col. Elliott. "We are perfectly willing, and
would much prefer it; but there is no lawyer here,
and we must go on without."

Meacham. "I have no disposition to shield the
prisoners from justice, but I do feel that to close up
all gaps, and make the record complete, all the cir-
cumstances should be drawn out. Not because any-
thing could be shown that would justify their crimes,
but because it is in harmony with right and justice.
Sooner than have it said that this was an ex-parte
trial, I will appear myself as their counsel, — by your
consent."

Col. Elliott. " Certainly, we are willing, and if
you say you will appear as their counsel, we will have
your name entered on the record. Certainly, Mr.
Meacham, we are more than willing. It would be an
act of magnanimity on your part that is without a pre-
cedent. You know all the facts in the case and could,
perhaps, bring them out better than any other man."

Meacham. " I know that my motives would be
misconstrued, and I would have another storm of in-
dignation hurled upon me by the press. But that

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

629

does not intimidate me; I only fear my strengtli is
not sufRcient. It is only sixty days since the assassi-
nation, and I have been twice across the continent,
and am still feeble. However, I will report to yoii
to-morrow morning my conclusion."

Judge- Advocate Curtis remarks : *' Mr. Meacham,
I wish you would take hold of this matter; there is
no one else that can; and, if you will, every courtesy
shall be extended to you. The witnesses can be
recalled for-cross examination. I should be better
satisfied to have counsel for the prisoners."

Meaciiam. "I will take the matter under con-
sideration, and in the mean time I desire an interview
with the prisoners."

Col. Elliott. ** Most certainly, you can apply to
the * officer of the day,' and he will make the
necessary order."

In the guard house, Captain Jack and Schonchin
are brought out of the cell chained together. There
is music in the clanking chain that sounds harsh,
severe, and causes a shudder, which soon gives way
before the logic of justice. These chieftains come
with slow steps and eyes fixed intently on Meacham.
They extend their hands in token of friendly greeting.
Meacham refuses. " !No, Captain Jack, your hands
are red with Canby's blood; I cannot, now."

Schonchin still holds out the same hand that fired
repeated shots at Meacham.

" 'No, Schonchin, your hands ar*^ "'^d with my own
blood; I cannot, I will not now."

Schonchin places his hand on Meacham's arm. He
presses it slightly. An Indian grunt signals his
satisfaction with his experiment. He now realizes

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630

TVIOWAM AND WARPATH.

that Meacham is not dead. Up to this time he had
been doubtful. He looks with intenso interest at the
wounds he had made in his effort to kill this man ou
the 11th April.

Captain Jack is anxious to talk about the trial.
Meacham inquires, " Why did you not have a lawyer
to talk for you? "

Captain Jack. *' I don't know any lawyer that
imderstands this affair. They coukl not do mc
any good. Everybody is against me; even the
Modocs are turned against me. I have but few
friends. I am alone.

Meacham. " You can talk yourself. The news-
papers say, ' Captain Jack has spoken for his race;
now let extermination be the cry.' "

Captain Jack. " I know that the white man has
many voices: they tell one side, they do not tell the
other."

Meacham. " Tell the other yourself. You can talk:
iN'ow speak for your race. Tell the other side. The
world will read it."

Fixing his eye on Meacham very intently Captain
Jack says, " Meacham, you talk for me."

Meacham. " No, Captain Jack, I cannot talk for
you. I saw you kill Gen. Canby. I cannot talk for
you. If you had shot me as Schonchin did, I would
talk for you. As it is, I cannot. I will not talk for
Schonchin; he was all the time in favor of blood."

Schonchin breaks in, saying, "I did not kill you;
you did not die. I am an old man. I was excited; I
did not shoot good. The others all laughed at me; I
quit. You shoot me. You don't want me *o die.
You did not die."

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

631

Captain Jack. **I cannot talk with the chains
on my legs. My heart is not strong, when the
chain is on my leg. You can talk strong. You talk
for me."

An hour later, Meacham is in consultation with his
friends, including the army surgeon. There is but
one opinion in regard to Meacham offering himself as
counsel for the Modoes, aside nom the newspaper
comments, — that it will cost bim iiis life. He is not
sufficiently recovered from tho shot^^ of the Lava Bed
tragedy of April 11th.

JULY EIGHTH. FOURTH DAY.

Military commission assembled. Meacham has de-
cided that he cannot appear as counsel for the
prisoners.

They are brought into court; proceedings of
previous meeting read and approved; H. R. Ander-
son, lieutenant of Fourth Artillery, duly sworn. His
evidence was chiefly in regard to Gen. Canby's re-
lation to the Government, the Army, and the Peace
Commission.

Q. What command did he hold, if any, at the time of his death ?
A. Department of the Columbia, and adviser to the peace commis-
sion under telegraphic instructions from Washington.

Q. Was he in receipt of instructions from any source as to the
course ho was to pursue ; was he receiving instructions from time
to time ? A. Yes, sir, from time to time ; from commanding
General of the Army.

Q. What kind of instructions were they ? Did yon see them
yourself? A. Yes, sir ; generally teleg^r&phic instructions.

Q. What was their nature ? What did they instruct him to do ?
A. Instructed him to use his utmost endeavors to bring about a
peaceable termination of the trouble.

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632

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

Q. What relation did he hold with the peace commissioners?
A. He was ordered down there to consult and advise with them.

Q. Do you remember General Canby's initials? A. E. R. S. ;
his full name was Edward Richard Sprigg Canby.

Henry C. McEldert, assistant surgeon U. S. A., called for
prosecution, sworn, testified as follows : —

Question by judge-advocate. Did you see the body of General
Canby after his decease ? A. 1 did, sir ; I saw it on the field on
the evening of April 11.

Q. Was the general dead? A. Yes, sir; he was quite dead
when I saw him.

Q. Please describe his condition. A. He had been entirely
stripped of every article of clothing. He had three wounds on his
body, and several abrasions of the face. One of the wounds, ap-
parently made by a ball, was about at the inner canthus of the
left eye. The edges of that wound were depressed, as if the ball
had entered there

Q. Did you see Dr. Thomas's body? A. I saw him. There
were several gunshot wounds in his body, but I don't recollect suf-
ficient to swear to the exact locality of each one.

Q. What was your opinion as to the cause of his death ? A. J
think the gunshot wound over his heart was the cause of his death.

Q. Did he die of wounds received on that day? A. I think
the wounds that I saw were sufficient to cause his death ; yes, sir.

Testimont for Defence.

Scar-face Charley is sworn, and testifies at length;
the main feature of which is that they have been en-
couraged by the Klamath Indians to resist the Gov-
ernment.

Dave — a Modoc — is next called. His testimony
is of similar character, endeavoring to involve other
Indians with the Modocs. . . .

One-eyed Mose is sworn for defence; nothing new
is elicited from this witness. Captain Jack states that

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

633

he had no further testimony to oflfer. He is informed
by the court, that he is at liberty to make a statement.
He rises with some hesitation; first casting his eyes
at his chains, he mutters in his native tongue, that he
" cannot talk very well with the irons on his legs ; " he
proceeds to scan the court and spectators deliber-
ately. The sight of uniforms and bayonets does not
inspire the chieftain. It is evident that he feels the
hopelessness of his cause; that he is no longer the
brave, strong man that he was when free and untram-
melled. There were elements in this man's character,
before his subjugation, that qualified him to make a
strong effort He is now unmanned, and the chief
who has made so gi*eat a name as a warrior is now a
mere pettifogger. Few passages in his speech are
worthy of a place in history. The whole burden of
it is to shift the responsibility from his own shoulders.
He does not refer to his troubles on Klamath Res-
ervation; censures his own people; censures Major
Jackson for the manner of the first attack, exonerates
Roseborough and Steele of ever giving him bad advice ;
asserts positively that he was always in favor of peace,
that the Hot Creek squaws reported that the Peace
Commissioners intended burning him and his men;
that he had reason to believe that they intended to
kill him. Hooker Jim was the leader of the war-
party; asseics that he was constantly ridiculed by
Hooker and others; called a "squaw" and a coward;
that the scouts, Hooker, Bogus, Steamboat Frank
and Shacknasty, were all in favor of killing the
commissioners; Hooker especially "wanted to kill
Meacham ; " finally, that the majority of the tribe
have overruled him and di'iven him against his

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634

WIGWAM AND WABPATH.

judgment into crime. Take his speech all in all, it
was not up to the record he made as a fighting man.
He concludes by saying he did not know how to
talk in such a place with irons on his feet.

Schonchin makes a short speech, blaming others
for his misfortunes, especially the Klamath Indians.
Major Curtis reviews only so much of the testimony
and speeches as refer to Maj. Jackson, clearing his
name from unfair imputation.

The court again adjourns, a few minutes after which
Col. Lewis, a lawyer of Colusi, Cal., arrives, and is much
chagrined to find " the trial over," as he intended to
offer his services as counsel for the prisoners. Too
late. The trial is closed. It would not have changed
the result, although it might have changed the record
of testimony. So ends the trial of the murderers of
Canby and Thomas. The findings of the court can-
not be doubted, although they are not made known.
This trial has been conducted with fairness on the
part of the Government; but it was, after all, a one-
sided tribunal, from the fact that the prisoners had no
counsel. Those who constituted the court were all
men of character ; exhibited no partiality or injustice
toward the unfortunate red men, whose lives were in
their hands. While no censure rests on the court, it
is, nevertheless, a cause of complaint that Hooker
Jim, Bogus Charley, Steomboat Frank, and Shack-
nasty Jim, who were the worst men of the Modoc
tribe, should be allowed to go free from arrest and
trial. Gen. Davis had made no promises. He ex-
pected they would be tried and convicted, and sen-
tenced to imprisonment for life. The argument that
was used by Judge Advocate Curtis, that they had

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

635

been of invaluable service as scouts, and had done so
much to bring the Modoc war to an end, is not based
on sound principles of right; but for these very men
Canby and Thomas would not have died; peace
would have been made, and more than one hundred
lives would have been saved. That it was policy to
pardon these men as an encouragement to other In-
dians to betray their people is not good logic, when it
is understood that they were the real instigators of
the treacheroTis deeds of the Modocs. If the Modocs
were a nation at war with the Government, all were
alike entitle'! to be treated as prisoners of war. If
they were cimply part and parcel of the people of
the United States, then they were not enemies, and
no action of a military judge-advocate could absolve
them from the crime of murder, committed on the
citizens of Oregon in IS'ov., 1872.

As the matter was settled, no one had a voice in
regard to putting them on trial except the judge-
advocate, and he exercised only a presumptive pre-
rogative.

The finding of the court has been approved. Cap-
tain Jack, Schonchin, Black Jim, Boston Charley,
Barncho and Slolux, are sentenced to death. The
thh'd of October has been designated as the day for
the execution.

Gov. Grover, of Oregon, has demanded the atten-
tion of the Government to the subject of the indict-
raento. If any action has evtr been taken it has not
been made public.

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iiii;

isi Villi

CHAPTER XXXyil.

THE EXECUTION — THE ROYAL CHIEF OUT OF CHAINS.

The Modocs, men, women, and children, who
were not placed on trial, were confined in a stockade
near the fort, except the traitor scouts, who enjoyed
the liberty of the camp, and were the heroes of the
day.

At various times between the trial and the execu-
tion, the prisoners were permitted to visit the stock-
ade. Their families were also allowed to visit them
occasionally in the " guard-house."

On leaving Fort Klamath, after the trial and before
the execution, I visited the prisoners, and shook
hands with them, in token of forgiveness as far as I
was concerned.

I was satisfied that justice would be meted out to
those who had been placed on trial. Captain Jack
seemed to correctly anticipate the result, and ques-
tioned me as to his fate, expressing a great dread of
being hanged.

He said that but one side of the story had been
told; that he had no friends to talk for him. I
assured him that he had been fairly dealt with; that
the officers who had tried him were all good men
and had not done and would not do him injustice,
and that I would write out a fair statement of all
the facts for everybody to read.

He clung to m^ hand to the last moment. I left

WIGWAM Am) WARPATn.

637

him with feelings of commiseration for him, and with
a firm resolution to keep my promise, to tell his story
for him.

It is now October 2d, 1873. A long scaffold is
erected; a more finished machine than the one on
the peninsula. Ghastly and gloomy, it stands out
on the open plat of meadow, with six ropes hanging
from the beams.

The traitor scouts seem to take great interest in
this instiounent of death, which they have unjustly
escaped.

Whether conscience troubles these worthies is a
matter of some doubt; but that they were exempt
from execution was a very satisfactory arrangement
to them, — though to no one else, except their own
families.

On the day before the execution. Gen. Wheaton,
accompanied by a Catholic priest (Father Hu ^em-
borg). Post Chaplain, with Oliver Applegate and
Dave HIW, a Klamath Indian, as interpreter, visited
the prison for the purpose of informing the doomed
men of the sentence.

The venerable father opened the painful interview
by shaking hands with the convicts. He told them
'.hat Chiist died for all men; that if they accepted
him they would be saved. The prisoners listened
attentively to every word. This was especially the
case with Captain Jack, and Schonchin.

Gen. "Wheaton then requested the chaplain to in-
form them of the decision of the President. He did
BO in a few feeling words. While it was being inter-
preted to them not a muscle moved; no sound was
heard save the voice of the speakers.

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638

WiaWAM AND WARPATH.

The scene was a very impressive one. After a few
moments of awful silence, the lips of the fallen chief
began to move. His voice was soft, low, and scarcely
audible: —

" I have heard the sentence, and I know what it
means. When I look in my heart I see no crime. I
was in favor of peace: the young men were not
ready for peace, — they carried me with them. I
feel that while these four men — * Bogus, Shacknasty,
Hooker, and Steamboat — are free, they have tri-
umphed over me and over the Government. When
I surrendered I expected to be pardoned, and to live
with my people on Klamath land."

When asked by Gen. Wheaton, which member of
the tribe he wished to take charge of the people, he
evinced some emotion. After a short pause, he replied,
"I can think of no one; I cannot trust even Scar-
faced Charley." He asked if there was no hope of
pardon. When assured that the sentence would be
executed, he again asked if both sides of the case had
been laid before the President.

On being told that the President had been informed
of all that had been done, an ^ that he need not enter-
tain any hope of life, but to pay attention to what the
chaplain said, he replied, " I know that what he says
is good, and I shall follow his advice. I should like
to live until I die a natural death."

Slolux, one of the young Modocs who carried the
rifles to the council tent on the morning of the assas-
sination, w^s next to speak. He denied any part in
the terrible crime, as did Bamcho.

Boston Cuablet.

iiiii

p:;i

•M

Bla(
He wa
the tril
and S(
Jim cc
guilty
I am i
spirit n

Capt
laved u
dent, ai
stigatec
quest a
speaker

You al

two hearts

and 3''et yt

like a mar

other men

man in tl

Steamboat

half a wor

Bogus. 13

sioners me

said, "Id

"All right

and bid th(

to see them

amount to

chief men

not take s

men. I kn

know it.

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

641

Black Jim, half-brother to Captain Jack, spoke next.
He was anxious to live that he might take care of
the tribe ; saying, " I don't know what Captain Jack
and Schonchin think of it." Jack shook his head.
Jim continued, " If the white chief's law says I am
guilty of crime, let me die. I am not afraid to die.
I am afraid of nothing. I should like to hear the
spirit man's talk."

Captain Jack again asked that the execution be de-
layed until his speech could be laid before the Presi-
dent, as perhaps he did not know who it was that in-
stigated the murder of Canby and Thomas. This re-
quest also was denied. Boston Charley was the
speaker; he created a sensation: —

A ODILTT INDIAN.

You all know me ; during the war it seemed to me that I had
two hearts — one Indian and the other white. lam only a boy,
and 3'^et you all know what I have done. Although a boy I feel
like a man, and when I look on each side of me I think of these
other men as women. I do not fear death. I think I am the only
man in the room. I fought in the front rank with Shacknastj-,
Steamboat, Bogus and Hooker. I am altogether a man, and not
half a woman. I killed Dr. Thomas, assisted by Steamboat and
Bogus. Bogus said to me, " Do you believe that these commis-
sioners mean to try to make a peace? " I said, " I believe so." He
said, "I don't; they want to lead us into some trap." I said,
" All right — I go with j^ou." I would like to see all my people
and bid them good-by to-day. I would like to go to the stockade
to see them. I see that if I were to criminate others it would not
amount to an}i;hing. I see it is too late. I know that other
chief men were not at the bottom of that aflfair, and they did
not take so prominent a part in the massacre as the 3-ounger
men. I know but little, but when I see anything with my eyes, I
know it.

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642

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

boston's reasons for the massacre.

Boston was then asked why they killed Canby. He said that all
the presents they had received had no influence on them, and they
suspected Canby and the commissioners of treachery, and their
hearts were wild. After the young men had decided to kill the
commissioners, he told Bogus he was afraid. Bogus said, " Don't
bo afraid ; I can kill him." After that Captain Jack said he would
go and prevent it. The object of Bogus going in that night to
camp was to remove any suspicion from General Canby's mind.
The young warriors thought that Canby, Thomas, Meacham, and
Gillam were powerful men, and that the death of these tyeos
would end all further trouble. When they saw Dyer coming in
place of Gillam, they decided to kill them all. When Bogus came
into the soldiers' camp ho told Riddle's squaw that he was going
to kill Canby and the commissioners. She said, " All right ; go
and kill them." I am tolling what I know to be the truth —
nothing more.

Boston's reference to the part taken by the chief
caused Captain Jack to speak once more, and it was
his last that has found record. He seemed anxious
to have Hooker and Bogus put on trial, — finally
concluded, " If I am to die I am ready to go to see
my great Father in the spirit world." Schonchin
was the last to speak: —

The Great Spirit, who looks from above, will see Schonchin
in chains, but He knows that this heart is good, and says, " You
die ; you become one of my people."

I will now try to believe that the President is doing according'
to the will of the Great Spirit in condemning me to die. You may
all look at me and see that I am firm and resolute. I am trying
to think that it is just that I should die, and that the Great Spirit
approves of it and says it is law. I am to die. I leave my son.
I hope he will be allowed to remain in this country. I hope he will
grow up like a good man. I want to turn him over to the old chief
Schonchin at Yainax, who will make a good man of him. I have

This wai
victs.

WIGWAM AND WAKPATH.

643

always looked on the younger men of our tribe as my especial
charge, and have reasoned with them, and now I am to die as the
result of their bad conduct. I leave four children, and I wish tliom
turned over to my brother at Yainax. It is doing a great wrong
to take my life. I was an old man, and took no active part. I
would like to see those executed for whom I am wearing chains.

In the boys who murdered the commissioners I have an inter-
est as though they were my own children. If the law does not
kill them, they may grow and become good men.

I look back to the history of the Modoc war, and I can see
Odeneal at the bottom of all the troiible. He came down to Link-
ville with Ivan Applegate ; sent Ivan to see and talk with Captain
Jack. If Odeneal came by himself, all the Modocs would go to
Yainax. I think that Odeneal is responsible for the murder of
Canbj', for the blood in the Lava Beds, and the chains on my feet.
I have heard of reports that were sent to Y-re-ka, Ashland, and
Jacksonville, that the Modocs were on the warpath, and such bad
talk brought Major Jackson and the soldiers down.

I do not want to say my sentence is not right ; but after our
retreat from Lost river I thought I would come in, surrender, and
be secure. I felt that these murders had been committed by the
boys, and that I had been carried along with the current. If I had
blood on my hands like Boston Charlc}-, I could say, like him, " I
killed General Canby " — "I killed Thomas." But I have nothing
to say about the decision, and I would never ask it to be crossed.
You are the law-giving parties. You say I must die. I am sat-
isfied, if the law is correct.

I have made a straight speech. I would like to see the Big
Chief face to face and talk with him ; but he is a long distance off,
— like at the top of a high bill, with me at the bottom, and I
cannot go to him ; but he has made his decision, — made his law,
and I say, let me die. I do not talk to cross the decision. My
heart tells me I should not die, — that you do me a great wrong
in taking my life. War is a terrible thing. All must suffer, — the
best horses, the best cattle and the best men. I can now only
say, let Schonchin die I

This was the last speech made by the Modoc con-
victs.

644

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

The chaplain came forward and offered a most elo-
quent prayer, full of pathos and kindly feeling for
the condemned.

Let us look on this scene a moment; it may
humanize our feelings. The prison is but a common
wooden building, 30 by 40 feet, and known as the
"guard-house." It is on the extreme left of and
facing the open " plaza " or " parade-gi'ound," in the
centre of which stands a flag-pole, from whose top
floats the stars and stripes. A veranda covers the
door-way, before which are pacing back and forth
the sentries.

Before entering cast your eye to the right, about
one hundred yards, and a square-looking corral arrests
your attention. This is the stockade. It is con-
structed of round pine poles, twenty feet long, stand-
ing upright, with the lower ends planted in the ground.
Through the openings we see human beings peeping
out, who appear like wild animals in a cage. A par-
tition divides this corral. In the further end Captain
Jack's family and a few others are encaged; in the
nearer one the Curly-haired Doctor's peopld. In
front walk the sentinels. Outside, at the end of the
stockade, nearest the guard-house, there are four army
tents ; in these four tents are the families of Hooker
Jim, Bogus Charley, Steamboat Frank, and Shacknasty
Jim, and these Modoc lions are with them, probably
engaged in a game of cards. Scar-faced Charley
also enjoys the privilege of being outside; but he does
not engage in sports, or idle talk, oftenest sitting
alone in gloomy silence.

Passing the guards as we enter the room, a board
partition stands at our right, cutting off one-third of

■P'

WIOWAM A^D WABPATU.

645

the guard-house mto cells; the first cell has been the
home of Boston, Slolux and Barncho, since their
arrival at the fort. The next is where Captain Jack
and Schonchin have passed the long, painful hours of
confinement, meditating on the changes of fortune
that have come to them.

In front, and running alongside the opposite walls,
are low bunks raised twenty inches from the floor.
Sitting around on these bunks are the thirteen Modoc
Indians, — prisoners, — six of whom have just learned
from official authority their doom.

Gen. Wheaton is in full uniform. The white-haired
chaplain is near the centre of this curious-looking
group. Oliver Applegate and Dave Hill are with
him. Officers and armed soldiers fill up the remain-
ing space. Outside the building are soldiers, citizens,
and Klamath Indians, crowding every window.

The tremulous voice of the kind-hearted chaplain
breaks the solemn stillness with a short sentence of
prayer. Applegate translates the words into Chinook
to Dave Hill, who repeats them in the Modoc tongue.
Sentence after sentence of this prayer is thus repeated
until its close.

The good old man who has performed this holy
ministry bursts into tears, and bows hie head upon
his hands. In this moment every heart feels moved
by the eloquence of the prayer, and a common emo-
tion of sympathy for those whose lives were closing
up so rapidly.

Gen. Wheaton terminates this painful interview by
assuring the convicts that, as far as possible, their
wishes should be respected.

In the name of humanity, do we thank God for

646

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

noble-hearted men like Gen. Wheaton, who rise supe-
rior to prejudice, and dare to extend to people of low
degree the courtesies that all mankind owe the hum-
blest of our race, when, in life's extremities, the heart
is dying within the body. The women and children
are coming to take a last farewell of their husbands
and fathers. "Who that is human could look on this
grief-stricken group, while listening to the notes of
agony making a disconsolate march for their weary
feet on this j^ainful pilgrimage, and not bury all feel-
ings of exultation and thirst for revenge toward this
remnant of a once proud, but now humbled race ;
notwithstanding to the ear come despairing sobs of
woe from the lips of Mrs. Boddy, Mrs. Brotherton,
Mrs. Canby and Mrs. Thomas, on whom the great
calamity of their lives burst like a thunder-bolt from
a clear sky, shattering their hearts, and leaving them
sepulchres of human happiness, illuminated only by
the rainbow of Christian faith and hope, spanning the
space from marble tomb to pearly gate?

These semi-savage Modoc women, with crude and
jumbled ideas, made up of half-heathen, half-Christian
theology, had not the clear, well-defined hopes of im-
mortality that alone bear up the soul in life's darkest
hours.

True, they had been cradled through life in storm
ai.d convulsions. For eleven months they have heard
the almost continuous howl of a terrible tempest surg-
ing and whirling around and above them. They have
listened to rattling musketry, roaring cannon, and
bursting shells. They have seen the lightnings of
war, flashing far back into their beleaguered homes in
the rocjky caverns of the " Lava Beds j " but with all

WIGWAM AND WAEPATH.

647

these terrible lessons, they were not prepared to calmly
meet this awful hour.

Human nature, unsupported by a living, tangible
faith, sunk under the overshadowing grief, and strug-
gled for extenuation through the effluence of agony
in wild paroxysms of despair.

"We might abate our S3mipathy for them in the re-
flection that they are lowly, degraded beings, incapa-
ble of realizing the full force of such scenes ; but it
would be an illusion, unworthy of a highly cultivated
heart.

God made them too, with all the emotions and
passions incident to mortality. Circumstances of
birth forbade them the wonderful transmutation that
we claim to enjoy. "Wlien we pass under the clouds
of sorrow, the angel Pity walks beside us, arm in
arm with sweet-faced Hope, whose finger points to
brighter realms ; with themy -Pity, alone.

The sun is setting behind the mountains; the grief-
stricten group are returning to the stockade, leaving
behind them the condemned victims of treachery.

Their betrayers — Hooker, Bogus, Shacknasty and
Steamboat — are invited by the officers to an interview
with their vict'ms ; all decline, save Shacknasty Jim.
This interview roused the nearly dead lion into life
again ; the meeting was characterized by bitter crimi-
nations. The other heartless villains, after declining
the interview, requested Gen. Wheaton to give them a
position where they could witness the execution on
the morrow.

Let us drop the curtain c^er this sad picture, and
turn our attention to the quartermaster and his men,
who are just in front of the gnard-house. He has a

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W.H

648

WIGWAM AND WASFATH.

tape line in his hand, and, with the assistance of one
of his men, is measuring off small lots, squaring
them with the plaza ; see him mark the spot, while a
soldier drives do^vn a peg ; and then another, about
seven feet from it. He continues this labor until six
little pegs are standing in a row, opposite another
row of like number.

Hooker, Steamboat, and Bogus Charley are lean-
ing on the fence, looking at the men who are now
with spades cutting the F.oil in lines, conforming to
the pegs.

Bogus asks, "What for you do that?" — "Making
a new house for Jack," answers a grave-digger,
lifting a sod on his spade.

This is a little more than Bogus could stand un-
moved. He turns away, and, meeting the eyes of
Boston, who looks out between the iron bars of his
cell, Bc>gus mutters, in the iModoc tongue, a few
words that bring Barncho and Slolux to the
window.

The three worthies look out now upon a scene
that very few, if any three men in the world ever
dia — that of the digging of their own graves. It is
but a thin partition that separates these convicts from
their chiefs. Captain Jack and Schonchin, who are
aroused from the condition into which the parting
scene had left them, by a tapping on the wall. If
the last trial was crashing on them, what must have
been the force of Boston's speech, through that wall,
telling them that the earth was already opening to
receive their bodies.

The sheriff of Jackson County, Oregon, is on
hand, and he has a business air about him too.

WIGWAM AND WABPATH.

649

Justice sent him on this mission, after the red
demons, who want a front seat at the show to-
morrow. "Will justice or power triumph? We shall
see, when he presents his credentials to Gen. Wlieaton,
whether a State has any rights that the United States
is bound to respect.

An offer of ten tJiousand dollars is made to Gen.
"Wheaton for the body of Captain Jack. He indig-
nantly spurns it. This accounts for the future home
of the Modoc chief being located under the eyes of
Uncle Sam's officers. It is now nearly ready for
occupation; the mechanics are putting on the finish-
ing touches to his narrow bed; he is not quite ready
yet to take possession; he is waiting for Uncle Sam
to arrange his neck-tie^ and read to him his title-deed.

Boston looks out through the iron bars, and sees
the sods up-thrown, that are to fall on his lifeless
heart to-morrow.

What a contemplation for a sentient being ; watch-
ing the gi'ave digger hollowing out his own charnel-
house!

Bamcho and Slolux also share in this unusual
privilege. How the thud of the pick, with which the
earth was loosed, must have driven back to the
remotest corner of each heart the quickened blood !

The retreat sounds out far and wide over the
camp and fortress, and sweeps its music through the
cracks of the stockade and prison cells, mingling
with the weird, wild shrieks of the despairing Modoc
women and children.

Midnight comes, and still the prayers are offered
up, and incantations are going on; sleep dees not
come to weary limbs.

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650

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

The morning breaks. Fortress and camps, stock-
ade and i^risor cells, are giving signs of life.

The sun is climbing over the pine-tree tops, and
senu'mg rays on the just and the unjust, the guilty
and the innocei t.

The roads le iding to the fort are lined with the
curious, of all colors, on wheels and horse. At 9.30
A. M., the soldiers form in line, in front of the guard-
house.

Col. Hoge, officer of the day, enters and unlocks
the doors of the cells, and bids the victims come forth.
Every day, from the 20th of February to the 11th
of April, had this command, and even invitation, been
extended to them. Then it was to come forth to live
free men; now it is to come forth to die as felons.
To the former they turned a deaf ear, and answered
back with insult, strange as it may appear. To the
latter they arose with chains rattling on their limbs,
and, with steady nerve, turned their backs on their
living tombs, to catch a sight of their new-made
graves yawning to receive them.

Then they were surrounded with daring despera-
does, whose crimes bade them resist. ISTow, by no
less brave men, whose polished arms compel submis-
sion. Then the chief was pleading for his people,
surrounded, overruled by traitorous villains. IsTow,
he is surrounded by men who will soon take his life,
and let the villains live to chide justice by their blood-
covered garments and double-dyed treason.

A four-horse team stands in front of the guard-
house, in which are four coffins; the six prisoners
mount the wagon. The chief sits down on one of
these boxes, Schonchin on another, Black Jim on the

WIOW^VM AND WARPATH.

651

thinl, and Boston Charley on the fonrth, Bamcho
and Slolux beside him. A glance over the heads of
the guards shows six open graves; there are but four
cofBns in the wagon. Wliat means this difference?
But few of all the vast assembly can tell. The chiers
thoughts are busy now trying to solve the problem.
Perhaps he is not to die; an uncertain glimmering of
hope lights up his heart. The cavalcade moves out
in line passing near tho stockade. The prisoners
catch sight of their loved ones; they hear the cries
of heart-broken anguish.

Gen. "WTieaton refrains from the use of the Dead
March. The column goes steadily on, marching for
one hundred yards, then turns to the right, and the
scaffold comes in view ; it marches square to the front,
then turning to the left, directly towards it, and when
within a few yards, the column opens right and left,
while the team with the victims of crime drives to
the foot of the steps that lead to the ropes dangling
in the air above. It stops. Again the stem, manly
voice of Gen. Wlieaton commands. The first time
the Modocs heard that voice was on the 17th of June,
1873, Avhen supported by loud-talking guns. Then
they answered back defiance from the caverns of the
stronghold. AH day long he coaxed them then with
powder and shell; now he sponkswith the silent power
of a hundred glittering sabres backing his words,
and the Modocs answer with the clashing chains on
their legs. " The first shall be last, and the last shall
be first."

This royal-blooded chief wab the last to enter the
vortex of crime; he is the ^rst to rise on the ladder
of justice.

652

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

The chains are now cut from his limbs. He stood
unmoved when they were riveted there; he is equally
fii'm now.

Again the problem of the four coffins and six graves
engages his mind, while the chisel parts the rivets.
Schonchin is next to stand up while his fetters are
broken. Then Boston, next Black Jim ; and the good
blacksmith wipes the perspiration from his brow with
his leathern apron, straightens himself ready for this
kindly work to Barncho and Slolux.

Behind are six graves, — above are six ropes, — in
the wagon are four unchained men and four empty
coffins. The suspense is ended by a word from
General Wheaton to the blacksmith, and a motion
with his sword towards the ladder, while his eyes
meet first the Chief, then Schonchin, next Black Jim,
and rest a moment on Boston Charley. Steadily
the four men march up the seven steps that lead to
the six dangling ropes. Barncho, with Slo-lux, still
sits in the wagon below.

The mourning Modoc captives in the stockade
have an unobstructed view of the scene, three hun-
dred yards away; they count four men going up
the ladder, — they see six ropes hanging from the
beam above them.

" Four loyal Modoc lions, who did so much to bring
the war to a closej^ are standing with folded arms
within the hollow square near the scaffold. Scar-
faced Charley is sitting on a bench on the opposite
side of the stockade, with his face buried in his hands.
He will not witness the death-struggles of his dying
chieftain.

It is now 10 A. M., October 3d, 1873. The four

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

653

men are led on to the drop; their arms and legs are
pinioned. Captain Jack is placed on the right ; next
to him, Schonchin, then Black Jim, and then Boston
Charley. Four hempen cords hang beside them. —
two swing clear to the left; the two villains who
broke the long armistice on the eleventh of April
with a war-whoop are resting on other men's coffins
in the wagon below.

The four men are standhig on a single strand that
holds the drop. One stroke of an axe would end
this ten'ible drama, now. The polished blade is
waiting for the dreadful work. Justice perches
with folded wings on the beam above. Her face is
blanched. She says, " My demands would be satis-
fied with imprisonment for life for these helpless,
blood-stained men, — 'twould be more in harmony
with my Father's wishes ; but those whom he has sent
me to serve, clamor for blood, for life. If this must
be, why the two men in the wagon below? TVhy the
four unfettered villains yonder? I cannot understand
by what authority I am compelled by my masters to
witness this partiality. Here^ over these hetrcujed vic-
tbns do I enter my solemn 'protest. I see before me
another power that evokes my presence, the State
of Oregon, represented by Sheriff McKenzie, in
whose hands I see a paper signed by Gov. Grover,
and bearing my own countersign." With faith
in the power of the general Government, she folds
her wings and sits calmly watching Coi-poral Ross
of Co. G, twelfth Infantry, adjust the mstrument
of death to Captain Jack's neck. It differs from
the one used by this chief on Gen. Canby, bat
is equally sure; and the chief's nerves are even

i '** I

654

WiaW.UI iVND WAUPATU.

steadier now than they were when he shouted,
*' Kau-tux-a."

Corporal Killien measures the diameter of Schon-
chin's neck with the end of another rope. The old
chief's eyes do not glare now as they did when he
drew from his side a knife with one hand, and a pistol
with the other, and shouting, "Blood for blood!"
— chock-e la et chock-e la, — fired eleven shots at
the chairman of the " Peace Commission." He was
excited then; he is cool now.

Private Robert "Wilton is putting a halter on Black
Jim's neck, while Private Anderson is fixing a "neck-
tie " that will stop the voice that taunted Dr. Thomas,
in his dying moments, with the failure of his God to
save him.

Justice smiles on Anderson's hand while he per-
forms this worthy act in vindication of her honor.

The ropes are all adjusted; the soldiers who have
performed this last personal act walk down the
steps.

Forty millions of people, through a representative,
read a long list of "wherefores" and "becauses," in-
eluding the finding and sentence of the courts, to the
patient men standing on the drop, thousands of eyes
watching every movement.

At last the adjutant reads the following short
paper from the /or^y million, to the four men on the
scaffold; the two men in the wagon.

ExBCirriTB Osncs, Aagnst 22, 187S.

The foregoing sentences, in the oases of Captain J. ick, Schonchin,

Black Jim, Boston Charley, Barncho, alias One-eyed Jim, and

Slolux, alias Cok, Modoc Indian prisoners, are hereby approved ;

and it is ordered that the sentences in the said cases be carried

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

655

into execution by the proper military authority, under the orders

of the Secretary of "War, on the third day of October, eighteen

hundred and seventy-three.

U. S. GRANT,

President,

Wliile the words are being interpreted the adjutant
draws another paper from a side pocket in his coat.
In a clear voice he reads sentence by sentence, while
the majestic form of Oliver Applegate repeats, and
Dave Hill interprets into the Modoc tongue : —

(General Court Ntartial Orders, No. 34.)

WAB DlPARTMENT, AdJDTANT-GeNERAL'S OfFICE,

Washington, September 12, 1873.

The following orders of the President will be carried into effect
under the direction of the major-general commanding the Division
of the Pacific : —

ExBcctrvE Office, September 10, 1873.

The executive order dated Aug. 22, 1873, approving the sentence of death of
certain Modoc Indian prisoners, is iicrcby modified in the cases of Barnclio,
alias One-eyed Jim, and of Slolux, alias Cok ; and the sentence in the said
cases is commuted to imprisonment for life. Alcatraz Island, harbor of San
Francisco, California, is designated as the place of confinement.

U. S. GRANT,

President.

By order of the Secretary of "War.

E. D. TOWNSEND,

Adjuta nt- General.

Justice whispers, " What does that mean? " Those
two men voted for the assassination on the morning
of the 11th of April, and volunteered to bear the guns
to the scene of slaughter.

The chaplain offers a prayer, the last notes of Dave

656

AVIOWAM AND WARPATH.

Hill arc dying on the air as he finishes the words in
the Modoc tongue.

A flash of polished steel in the sunlight and the
axe has severed the rope that held the trap, and the
thread oi four stormy lives at the same instant, and
four bodies are writhing in mid-air. An unearthly
scream of anguish rises from the stockade, much
louder, though no more heart-rending, than escaped
the lips of Jerry Crook and George Roberts on the
17th of Jan., or from young Hovey on the 18th of
April, while Hooker Jim and Bogus Charley were
scalping him and crushing his head with stones.

The four bodies are placed in the four c .ffins, and
Barncho and Slo-lux ride back to the guard-house
beside them.

The sheriff of Jackson County presents to the com-
manding officer the requisition of the governor of
Oregon for Hooker Jim, Curly-haired Doctor, Steam-
boat Frank, and other Modocs. The following tele-
grams explain the result : —

Jacksonville, Oregon, October 4, 1872.
To Jeff. C. Davis, U. S. A., Commanding Department of Oolum'

bid, Portland, Oregon : —

At the liour of the execution of Captain Jack and his co-mur-
derers at Fort Klamath, on yesterday, the sheriff of Jackson Coun-
ty was present with bench-warrants and certified copies of the
indictments of the Lost-river murderers, and demanded their sur-
render to the civil authorities of this State for trial and punish-
ment. A writ of habeas corpus lias also been issued by Justice
Prime, of the circuit court of Jackson County, commanding that
the indicted murderers be brought before him, and cause be shown
why they are withheld from trial. I respectfully ask that you com-
municate the proceedings to Washington, and that final action in
the premises be taken by order from there.

L. F. GROVER, Governor, Oregon.

rf!k'%*!dSl&S)F>v.

S c A u - F A c i; r

II A RI-EY.

1,!^ i

V-

WI0WA3I AND WARPAXn.

To which was received in reply: —

Shown by the Secretary to the President in Cabinet to-day.
It is understood, the orders to scud all the Modocs to Fort E. A.
Russell, as prisoners of war, given the 13th September, 1873,
will bo executed by Gen. Schofleld, and no further instructions are
necessary. Signed, E. D. TOWNSEND,

Adjutant-Oeneral.

Thus was the matter disposed of, no further action
being taken in regard to this question.

Gov. Grover expressed what he believed to be the
wishes of the people of the Pacific coast, when he
demanded the surrender of the Indians who had been
indicted by the local authorities. The President and
cabinet were actuated, doubtless, by humane and char-
itable motives in thus disposing of a serious question.

Knowing all the facts in the case, I do not believe it
was just, or wise, to cover the worst men of the Modoc
tribe with the mantle of charity, for turning traitors to
their own race, and at the same time to sanction the
sentence of death on the victims of their treachery.

The terrible tragedy is closed, — it only remains to
dispose of the survivors, after having placed the
four dead bodies in the gi'ound, and filling up the two
empty graves, sending the intended occupants to San
Francisco Bay. The living are ordered to the Quaw-
Paw Agency, Indian Territory. Here is the official
statement: —

FoBT McPhebson, Neb., November 1, 1873.
Edward P. Sjinn, Indian Commissioner, Washington, D. C. : —
Modocs consist of thirty-nine men, fifty-four wc'siicn, sixty
children. Detailed report by families forwarded to Department
head-quarters October 30.

J. J. REYNOLDS, Colonel Third Cavalry.

^11

m
III

i.i

660

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

Thirty-nine men I Why, Captain Jack had never
more than fifty-three men with him, all told. Call
the roll, let us see where they are now: —

1. Captain Jack. A voice from — well, it's uncer-
tain where, — a slanderous rumor says, from a medical
museum, Washington city, — answers, " J3ere."

2. Schonchin. " Here^'* comes up from one of the
graves in the parade-ground. Fort Klamath.

3. Boston Charley, "^^re," whispers a spirit,
hanging over one of the graves in the same cemetery.

4. Black Jim. "JTere," comes up through the
thick sod beside " Boston."

5. Mien's Man. "^ere," answer scattered bones
that "v^'ere drawn off the Dry-lake battle-ground, by
a Warm Springs scout, with a reatta, and now
bleaciii^ig in among the rocks of the Lava Beds.

6. Shacknasty Jake, from a skull which furnished
several scalps during the three days' battle, when its
owner was Mlled in petticoat, comes in hollow voice,
''Here:'

7. Shacknasty Frank ; the abhes of a warrior who
was wounded in a skirmish on the fifteenth of Jan-
uary, and died in the Lava Beds, answers, " Here.''

8. Curly-haired Jack. The answer comes from
the bones of a suicide, muttered up through the blood
of Sherwood, ''Here."

9. Big Ike. The remnants of a brave who stood
too n'var the valuable shell, on the third day of the big
battle, answers in broken accents, " H-e-r-e."

10. Greasy Boots. " Here^' is answered by the
ghost of the brave killed the day bafore the battle of
January 17th.

11. Old Chuckle Head. On a shelf, in a certain

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

661

doctor's private medical museum, a skeleton head
rattles a moment, and then answers, " J3ere."

12. One-eyed Riley. The bones of the only brave
who fell in I ost-river battle answer, " Here. I fell
in fair battle, I don't complain."

13. Old Tales. The ghost of Old Tales answers,
that he was killed by a shell, and mmmurs, '^Here^^

14. Te-he Jach —

15. Mooch —

16. L'dile John —

17. Poney —

A dark spot in the road between Fairchild's ranch
and Gen. Davis camp shakes, upheaves, and with
thunderous voice proclaims in the ears of a Chris-
tian nation, ^' Here we fell at the hands of your sons
after we had surrendered. ' Yengeance I ' "

Fifty thousand hearts, in red-skinned tabernacles
on the Pacific coast, respond, " Wait."

Seventeen voiceless spirits have answered the
roll-call who were sent oflf to the future hunting-
ground by United States sulphur, saltpetre and
strong cords.

Seventeen from fifty-Cee, leaving thirty-six, —
the returns say, thirty-nine.

How is this ? Look the matter up, and we shall
find that " Old Sheepy " and his son Tom Sheepy,
who never fired a shot during the war, — in fact, was
never in the Lava Beds, — ^are compelled to leave
their home with Press Dorris and go with the party
to Quaw-Paw.

Another, — a son of Old Duffey, — who remained at
Yai-nax during the war, sooner than be separated
from his friends, joins the exiles on their march.

1 1
III

ill

662

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

Kow all are accounted for, and the record here made
is correct.

The other side we have told from time to time in
the progress of this narrative. The cost of this war
has not yet been footed up.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

THE TWO GIBBETS.

A GLOOMY picture fills the eye from the height of
the bluff whence ^

took

first

view of the Lava
Beds, Jan: 16th, 1873. The whited tents are there
no more. The little mr ands at the foot rest heavy
on the breasts of the fallen. No curling smoke
rises from savage altar, or soldier camp. The hcwl
of cayote and cougar succeed the silver bugle,
calling to the banquet of blood. Wild birds, instead
of ascending ghosts, fill the air above, and their
screams follow the weu*d wild songs of the medicine-
men. The caverns answer back to bird and beast —
no more to savage war-whoop, or bursting shell.
The cannon are cooled by a winter's frost, while a
1 inter's storms have given one coating to the scars
-it\, on the lava rocks by the iron hail. The dark
Sj^f!-:', painted by mad hands, dipped in the blood of
her- &, grow dim. A rude, unfinished gibbet stands
out on the deserted promontory of the peninsula, a
reproael^ful proof of a soldiers unwarranted haste, a
token of a nation's prudence ; while another rude scaf-
fold, which justice left half-satisfied, also remains at
Fort Klamath, defiant and threatening, and upbraiding
her ministers for unfair dispensation in sparing the
I lore guilty, while wi'iting her protest on the blood-
stained hands of the felons who provoked her wrath,
as she follows them to the land of banishment.

664

WIGWAM AND WAKPATH.

The lone cabins, made desolate by the casualties of
war, are again inviting the weary traveller to rest.
The ranchmen of the Modoc country follow the
cattle trails without fear. The surviving wounded
are trying to forget their scars, or hobbling on crutch
or cork. Tall grasses meet, fern and flowers bloom
over the gi*aves of loved ones, bedewed with the
tears of the widows and orphans of a nation's mis-
take iii r '*' \ng to recognize a savage's power for
revenge, i. recorded by scars on the maimed hands
and mutilated face of his biographer, and proclaimed
by the marble shaft whose shadows fall over the
breast of the lamented Canby, near IndiancCs capital,
and by the tomb of the no less lamented Dr.
Thomas, which keeps silent vigils with those of
Baker and Broderick, on the hallowed heights of
Lone mountain, San Francisco.

The broken chains of the royal chief hang noise-
IcFS on the walls of his prison cell. His bones, de-
spised, dishonored, burnished, sepulchred in the
crystal catacomb of a medical museum, represent his
ruined race in the capital of a conquering nation;
and the survivors of his blood-stained band, broken-
hearted, mourn his ignominious death, shouting their
anguish to listless winds in a land of exile. He lives
in memory as the recognized leader in the most
diabolical butchery that darkened the pages of the
world's history for the year eighteen hundred and
seventy-three.

The Congress of the United States devotes itself
to the payment of the cost of the war; while
the results stand out ghastly monuments, calling in
thunder-tones on a triumphant nation to stop, in its

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

665

mad career; to think; upbraiding it for the inhuman
clamor of power for the blood of heroic weakness,
until it thwarted President Grant's policy of doing
right, hecause it was right; at the same time applaud-
ing him for his courage in proposing, and his success
in consummating, a settlement on peaceful terms with
a powerful civilized nation, with whom we had cause
of estrangement.

If it was bravery that courted the accusation of
cowardice, while it grandly defied impeachment by
proposing to settle a financial difference, involving
questions of national honor, in the case with England,
on amicable terms; it was infinitely more patriotic,
more humane, more just, and more godlike, boldly
to declare that a weak and helpless people should be
treated as men, — should be tendered the olive-branch,
while the cannon were resting from their first
repulse.

The civilized world joins in honoring him in the
former case ; cowardly America burns in effigy his
Minister of the Interior for failure in the Ijitter ; while
on neither magistrate nor minister should fall the
blame. On whom, then, should it fall? Where it
belongs, — on the American people as a nation. If you
doubt it, read the history written by our own race,
and you will blush to find from Cape Cod bay to the
mouth of the Oregon, the record of battle-grounds
where the red man has resisted the enci'oachments of
a civilization that refused him recognition on equal
terms before the law. You will find that these battle-
grounds have been linked together by trails of blood,
marked out by the graves of innocent victims of both
races, who have fallen in vindication of rights that

■)■■ a

!i!'

666

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

have been by both denied, or have been slain in re-
venge by each. You will find scarce ten miles square
that does not offer testimony to the fact that it has
been one continuous war of races, until the aborigines
have been exterminated at the sacrifice of an equal
number of the aggressive race. ,

You will find that in almost every instance where
the white man and the Indian have met in conference,
the latter has been overmatched with diplomatic
schemes, plausible and captivating on the surface,
while behind and beneath has always lurked a hidden
power, that he dared not resist in open council.

You will find that notwithstanding the Indian has
made compacts under such circumstances as have
alienated his home and the graves of his fathers, he
has been almost always true and faithful to his agi*ee-
ments, until justified by his ethics, in abandoning them
on account of the breach by the other party to the
compact.

You will find that a few bad white men, who have
always swung out in the van of advancing immigra-
tion, and have without commission or authority repre-
sented the white race socially, have offered the Indian
the vices, and not the virtues, of Christian civilization ;
and when the facts are known, you will find that these
few bad white men have been the real instruments
of blood and treachery, nearly always escaping un-
punished, while the brave and enterprising frontiers-
man has unjustly borne the stigma and censure of
mankind; if, surviving the tomahawk and scalping-
knife, he has stood up in defence of a home, to which
his government invited him.

As I proposed in the outset to confine myself to

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

66;

facts of personal knowleclge, or those well authenticated
from other sources, and to "vvrite of'the Indians of the
!Xorth-west, and of Oregon especially, I leave it to
others to review the history of other portions of the
country, and, in pursuance of my own plan, I beg to
introduce a witness to sustain the assertion, that civili-
zation has refused the Indian admission on ei^ual
terras with other races, — a w itness who was bom and
raised on the frontier line ; whose whole life has been
spent in Oregon; one whose statement will not be
questioned w here he is known, — Captain Oliver C.
Applegate, who has given me, on paper, a few of the
many incidents coming under his own personal obser-
vation, w^hich he has in times past related to me around
camp-fires in the wild region of the lake country of
Oregon.

Swan Lake, Oregov, Sept. 10, 1873.
Hon. A. B. Meacham : —

Dear Friend, . . A Klik-a-tat Indian, named Dick Johnson, came
to vay father's house in the Willamette valley, and worked for him
on his farm, prior to the year 1850. In that year my father re-
moved to the Umpqua valley, and soon alter Dick Johnson, with
his wife (an Umpqua) , and mother and step-father, called the •• Old
Mummy," followed up and asked permission to cultivate a small
portion of my father's farm. This the}' were allowed to do. They
cultivated these few acres in good stj-le, and found time to la^>o^
for father and other farmers, for which they received good rema-
neration.

In 1852, Dick Johnson, under the encouragement of my father.
Uncle Jesse, and other friends, took up a claim in a beautiful little
valley about ten miles from Yoncalla, where m}' people resiJed-
This place was so environed by hills that it was thought the whites
would not molest Dick there. Aided by the old man and his broth-
er-in-law, Klik-a-tat Jim, who came from the upper country to join
him, Dick Improved his farm in good style, built gooil houses and
out-buildings, and fenced hundreds of acres. lie was frugal, en-

668

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

terprising and industrious, and emulated the Iwttcr white people in
every way possible, and was so successftil in his farming enterprises
that ho outstripiKid many of his white neigljl)ors. His character
was above reproach, and, beside sending his little brother to school,
he was always seen with his family at cluirch on the Sabbath day.
Unfortunatel}-, there were greed}', avaricious white men living in
the vicinity of Dick Johnson, who coveted his well-improved 11' tie
farm. Eight of them — disguised — went to his place late one
afternoon, and found Dick chopping wood in the front yard. They
shot him in cold blood, and, as his lifeless body fell across the log
on which he was chopping, his step-father ran from the house
unarmed, and was shot also. The women, after being beat over
the heads with guns and revolvers, finally' made their escape to the
woods, and took refuge under the roof of a friendly neighbor.

Klik-a-tat Jim — who came from mill about the time the old man
was shot — was fired on several times, some bullets cutting his
clothing, but, jumping into his house at a window, he got his gun,
and the cowardly assassins fled. Although there was immense
excitement throughout the countrj' when this outrage was commit-
ted, and a hundred men assembled to bury Dlek Johnson and the
old man like white men, as they deserved, an ineffectua! attempt
was made to bring the offenders to justice, and they) actually lived
fur years vpon thefai'm^ eyijoying the henejits of poor Dick Johnson's
labor. Our laws then scarcely recognized the fact that the Indian
had any rights that were worthy of respect, and this most atrocious
crime hrd to go unpunished, thus encouraging the Columbia Indians
to greater desperation under Old Kam-i-a-kin, in the war of 1866-
1867. Well it would be, for the good name of the American people,
if we could point to but one isolated case of this kind ; but truth
and candor compel us to admit, that too many Indian wars have
been occasioned by the greed and ruffianism of our own race.

Many j-ears ago, during tlie first Modoc war, the Klamaths say
that a band of Modocs was pursued b}- troops from the Modoc
countrj', out bj' Yainax, and to the vicinity of Silver lake, where
the Modocs managed to elude their pursuers. The troops (prob-
ably a detachment of Gen. Crosby's California Volunteers), not
liking to be foiled in their efforts to take a few scalps, returned by
Klamath marsh, "Williamson river, and Big Klamath lake, butcher-

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

GG9

ing in cold blood several unresisting Klamatlis. Even this did
not occasion trouble witli the Klaraaths, many of whom tried to
incite the nation to a war of revenge. .....

Ever truly yours,
(Signed) O. C. APPLEGATE.

To sustain the declaration that the Indian has been
ovennatched and outwitted in treaty council, I pro-
pose to introduce a witness whose long life on the
frontier qualifies him to speak; whose great talents,
and intimate acquaintance with the politics and wants
of the ^orth-west, secured him a seat for six years in
the Senate of the United States, and who is now
(1874) a member of Congress; one who was also a
Superintendent of Indian Affairs in Oregon, and
knows whereof he speaks. I refer to Hon. James
W. ^esmith. In his official report for the year 1857,
page 321 Commissioners' Report, he says : —

My own observation in rislation to the treatic-s which have been
made in Oregon leads me tc the conclusion that in most instances
the Indians have not reeeiv3d a fair comp'insation for the riglits
which they have relinquished to the Goverr.ment.

It is too often the case in such ncgotiacious that the agents of
the Government are over-anxious to drive a close bargain ; and
when an aggi'cgate amount is mentioned, it appears large, witliout
taking into consideration that the Indiana, in the sale and surrender
of their countrv, are surrendering all their means of obtaining a
living ; and wiien the small annuities come to be divided throughout
the tribe, it exliibits but a pitiful and meagi-e sum for the supply
of their individual wants. Tlie Indians, receiving so little for the
great surrender which the}' have made, begin to conclude that they
have been defrauded ; they become dissatisfied, and finally resort
to arms, in the vain hope of regaining their lost rights, and tlie
Government expends millions in the prosecution of a war which
might have been entirely avoided by a little more liberality in their

670

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

dealings with a people who have no very correct notions of the
value of money or property. A notable instance of this kind is
exhibited in the treaty of September 10, 1853, with the Rogue-
river Indians. That tribe has diminished more than one-half in
numbers since the execution of the treaty referred to. They, how-
ever, number at present nine hundred and nine souls.

The country' which they ceded embraces nearly the whole of the
valuable portion of the Rogue-river valley, embracing a country
unsurpassed in the fertility of its soil and value of its gold mines ;
and the compensation which those nine hundred and nine people
now living receive for this valuable cession is forty thousand dol-
lars, in sixteen equal annual instalments of two thousand five
hundred dollars each, a fraction over two dollars and fifty cents
per annum to a person, whiv-1: is the entire means provided for
their clothing and sustenance.

When those Indians look back to the valuable country which
they have sold, abounding, as it does, with fish and game and rich
gold fields, it is but natural that they should conclude that the
$2.50 per annum was a poor compensation for the rights they
relinquished. It is true that the Government can congratulate it-
self upon the excellence of its bargains, while the millions of
dollars subsequently spent in subduing those people have failed to
convince them that they have been fairly dealt with.

Even the treaties which have been made remain, with but few
exceptions, unratified, and of the few that have been ratified but
few have been fulfilled.

Those, delays and disappointments, tCo'ether with the unfulfilled
promises which have been made to them, have had the efifect to
destroy their confidence in the veracity of the Government agents ;
and now, when new promises are made to them for the purpose of
conciliating their friendship, they only regard them as an extei^sion
of a very long catalogue of falsehood already existing. . . .

That the Indian has been overcome by power may
be established by the fact, that in the treaty council
of 1855, whereby " The Confederate Bands of Mid-
dle Oregon^^ were compelled to accept Warm Springs
Reservation as a home, by the threats and presence

WIGWAM AND WABPATH.

071

of an armed force of the Government. This I state
on the authority of Dr. Wm. C. McKay, who was
secretary for the council.

That the Indian has been faithful to his compacts,
I submit the testimony of a veteran, who has fought
them forty years, — General Harney.

HVBIANE TREATMENT OF TUE INDIANS.

General Harney, before the House Committee on Military
Aflfairs, to-day, gave his opinion that if the Indians were treated
faii'ly there would never be any difflcultics with them. He had
ki!i.own but two instances in which they ever violated the treaty
stipulations, and in these the Indians were to bo excused, for the
treaties had grown old before they were sought to be enforced, and
the chiefs and head men who made them were all dead. The
troubles with the Indians were principally caused by fraudulent
agents and by whiskey dealers.

That the Indian has not been the aggressor in the
wars of Oregon, I refer to one of the bloodiest that
has ever cursed this young State, in proof.

From Hon. George E. Cole, now Postmaster, Port-
land, Oregon, I learned some of the facts in this case.'
No man stands fairer than Mr. Cole as a man of in-
tegrity and honor. In proof of this assertion his
present position, in one of the moh' respectable fed-
eral offices in the State, is cited.

In the fall of 1851, a party of miners, returning from a suc-
cessful gold-hunting expedition to California, encamped on an
island in Rogue River. All was peace and quiet. No war, no
blood, no treachery. The Indians were in joint occupation of the
beautiful valley of Rogue river with the white men, whose cabins
and farms dotted the more beautiful portions of the country.

672

WIOWAM AND WARPATH.

After tbo miners have made camp two Indians visit them, — a
common tiling for Indians to do. They are invited to partake of
the supper, — an act of courtesy never omitted in wild life, — and
they accept. The day passes into night. The Indians prepare to
return to their own camps. The miners object, and, through fear
that they might be surprised in the night, demand that the Indians
remain. The Indians remonstrate. The miners are more solic-
itous for them to stay, their anxiety to leave being construed as
ominous of intended treachery. The Indians, also, suspecting the
same thing on the part of the miners, break to run, and both of
them are shot down and scalped.

The miners resume their journey. The friends of the Indians
miss them. Their scalpless bodies are found on a timber drift in
the river below. The Rogue-river war, with all its horrors, was
the result.

That it was the nost terrible that ever devas-

tated Oregon, let us call to the stand another unim-
peachable witness, — Gen. Joel Palmer, — and we shall
leani something of the reasons why it was so. Gen.
Palmer, in his annual official report as Superin-
tendent of Indian Affairs for the year 1856, page
200, says in speaking of this Rogue-river war : —

In every instance where a conflict has ensued between volun-
teers and hostile Indians in southern Oregon, the latter have gained
what they regard a victory. It is true that a number of Indian
camps have been attacked by armed parties, and mostly put to death
or flight ; but in such cases it has been those unprepared to make
resistance, and not expecting such attack. This, though lessening
the nuraher of the Indians in the country, has tended greatly to ex-
asperate and drive into a hostile attitude many that would other-
wise have abstained from the commission of acts of violence against
the whites.

The avowed determination of the people to exterminate the Indian
race, regardless as to whether they were innocent or guilt}', and the
general disregard for the rights of those acting as friends and aiding

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

673

in the subjugation of our real and avowctl enemies, have Imcl a
powerful influence in inducing tliese tribes to join the warlilte
bands.

It is astonishing to know the rapidity with which iiiti'lligcncc ia
carried from one extreme of tlio country to another, unil tlio com-
mission of outrages (of which there have been many) by our peo-
ple against an Indian is heralded forth by the hostile parties,
augmented, and used as evidence of the necessity for all to unite in
war against us.

These coast bands, it is believed, might have been kept out of
the war, if a removal could have been efil'Cted during the winter ;
but the numerous obstacles indicated in my former letters, with
the absence of authority and means in my hands, rendered it
impracticable to effect it.

Continuing the subject, he further says : —

A considerable number of the Lower Coquille bands had been
once induced to come in, but by the meddlesome intotfereiice of a
few squaw men and reckless disturbers of the peace, thoy were
frightened, and fled the encampment. A party of minors and
others, who had collected at Port Orford, volunteered, pursued,
and attacked those Indians near the mouth of Coquille, killing
fourteen men and one woman, and taking a few prifioners. This
was claimed by them as a battle, notwithstanding no resistance
•was made by the Indians.

This witness clearly establishes the fact, that un-
armed and unresisting Indians were attacked and
shot down like wild beasts, and that " extermination "
was the war cry of the white men. He confirms, too,
the statement in regard to the rapidity with which
intelligence is transmitted from one tribe to another,
and its effect.

Do you wonder at the Modocs refusing to surren-

674

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

der, with so much to remind thein of the white man's
bloodthirsty deeds? See the last quotation from
Gen. Palmer, and remember that these fourteen men
and one woman were killed after the surrender, and
in the attempt to escape.

"White meix were accustomed to regard the Indian
as the synonym for treachery and savage brutality.
Let us see how this matter stands in the light of
what has been already written, after adding one or
two other instances from the many that crowd thickly
forward for a place on the '•.vitness-stand.

Judge E. Steele, a lawyer of high character, a
resident of Y-re-ka, Cal., since 1851, and also an ex-
superintendent of Indian Affairs, in reporting an
Indian difficulty in 1851, relates : —

That while hunting i "»r two Indians who had committed some
offence, we fell in with Ben "Wright, who, learning from a squaw
with whom he was living that the Indians had taken that course,
he, with a band of Shastas, had started in pursuit and intercepted
and captured them. "We came in together, and took the Indians
to Scott vallej', and there gave them a fair trial, proving their
identity by both white men and Indians, and the Indian testimony
and their own stor\-, all of which was received in evidence. One
was found guilt\-, and the other acquitted and set at liberty. Our
present superintendent of public instruction. Professor Q. K. God-
frey, was one of the jury. During our absence the people remained
under great excitement, as all kind of rumors were afloat ; and our
company was so small, and I had started into a country inhabited
by hordes of wild Indians, and those of Siskiyou mountain and
Rogue-river valley notoriously hostile and warlike. Old Scar-
face, learning of the difficulty at R'.gue river, contrary to advice
given him when we left, had come out from the caiion, appeared on
the mountain 13'ing cast of Y-re-ka, u;^ the Indians afterward told
mo, for the purpose of letting thf whites know the trouble, as the
'/cads were guarded by the Indiana on the mountains, so that trav-

WIGWAM AND WAEPATH.

^i5

ellers could not pass. As soon as he was seen, a wild excitement
ensued, and a company started in pursuit. Scar-face, seeing the
danger, fled up the Shasta vallej-, on foot, his pursuers after him,
well mounted. After a race along the hills and through the valleys
for about eighteen miles, he was finally captured and hung upon a
tree, at what is now called Scar-face Gulch.

In speaking of a trip to Rogue-river valley he
says : —

"We had got out of provisions, and when, at the mouth of Salmon
river, we made known our destination to the chief, Euphippa, he
tool: his spear and caught us some fish, but would take no paj'.

In 1854 or 1855 there was one more excitement in Scott's valley
by the whites fearing an attack from the Indians, from the fact that
they had held a dance and gone back into the hills. Here it may
be well to state a custom among all those upper country Indians,
which, not being generally under.stood by our people, has led to
much difficulty. It is, at the commencement of the fishing season,
and at its close, they hold what is callod a fish-dance, in which they
paint and go through all the performances of their dances at the
opening and closing of war. They also hold a harvest dance, when
the fruits and nuts get ripe, but this is o, a more quiet character,
more resembling their sick dance, when they tr}' to cure their sick
by the influence of the combined mesmerism of a circle of lucUans,
in which tlic}- are in manj- instances very successful. But to retiim
to my subject. Hearing of the gathering of the whites, and know-
ing the danger to our people and property if a war was then inau-
gurated, I got on my horse and rode to the place of rendezvous.
After consulting, it was determined to fall iv -^n the Indian camp at
about daylight next morning, as it was thought that at that hour
they could be mostly killed and easily c nquered. I returned to
my house, took my j'oung Indian, Tom, and started, by a cir-
cuitous trail in the mountains, for the Indian camp, and before
morning had them all removed to a safe jjlace. In a few days all
fears were quieted and harmony restored witaout the loss of any
Uvea or destruction of propertj'. About this time a young Indian
from Humbug creek, visiting the Scott-vallcj- Indians, had stopped
at an emigi'ant camp and stolen two guns. Word was brought to
me. I sent for Chief Johu, and roquired him to bring the guns and

lis.

:'?

676

WIGWAM AND WAEPATfl.

Indian, which he did. I tied and whipped the Indian, and then
let him go. Late in the fall, afterwards, I was sitting near
the top of the mountain back of my hoase, witnessing a deer
drive by the Scott-valley Indians on the suiTounding hills, when I
heard a cap crack behind me in a clump of small trees. Getting
up and immediately running into the thicket, I discovered an
Indian running down the opposite slope of the mountain. I
returned to my house, and sent Tom after Chief John, and from him
learned that when he left, this Humbug Indian was there. I directed
him to bring him to my house, which he did next morning. The
Humbug Indian told me it was not the first time he had tried to
kill me, but that his gun had failed him, and now that he and all
the Indians thought that I had a charmed life. T s^ave him a good
talk, which impressed him much, and then ur Dound him, and told
him to go and do well thereafter. He was ufiver known to do a
bad act afterward, but was finally killed by the Kiamath-lake
Indians, about a year afterwards.

Of another affair, occurring in 1855, he says : —

Learning of the difficulty, and judging the Indians were not
wholly to blamo. I proposed to Lieutenant Bonicastle, then sta-
tioned at Foil Joues, and Judge Roseborough to accompany me,
and with Tolo, another Indian, to visit their company, and arrange
terms of peace. We went and spent two days witli them before
arriving at a solution of the difficult}'. During this time they sev-
eral times pointed their guns at us with a determination to shoot,
but as often were talked into a better turn of mind, and finally
agreed to go and live at Fort Jones, and remain in peace with the
whites. The third day thereafter was settle \ upon for their re-
moval, when Bonicastle was to send a company of soldiers to es-
cort and protect them. In the next day a white man, who had a
squaw at the cave, went out, unknown to us, and told the Indians
he was sent for them, and thereupon the}' packed up and started
for Fort Jones with him, one day ahead of time agreed upon. On
their way in at IClamath river, about twenty miles from Yreka, they
were waylaid, and their chief. Bill, shot from behind the brush and
killed. They kept their faith, nevertheless, and came in, when I
explained it, so they were satisfied. This was known to the

WIGWAM AND WAKPATH.

677

Modocs, and they talked of it on our last visit to tlie car? Occasion-
ally thereafter I was applied to only on matters of trifling mo-
ment and easily arranged, until my appointment to the Indian
superintendency, in the summer of 1863, for the northern district
of California. In this narration I have passed over several Rogue-
river wars without notice, as I had nothing to do with them ; also
the Modoc war of 1852, which took place whilst I was away at
Crescent City ; therefore all I know of that was hearsay ; but I
know it was generallj' known that Ben Wright had concocted the
plan of poisoning those Indians at a feast, and that his interpreter
Indian, Livile, had exposed to the Indians, so that but few ate of
the meat, and that Wright and his company then fell upon the In-
dians, and killed forty out of fort}- ,-fJven and one other died of the poi-
son afterward. There is one of ^hL conpany now in the county who
gives this version, and I heard Wright swearing about Dr. Ferrber,
our then druggist (now of Valejo), selling him an adulterated ar-
ticle of str^-chnine, which he said the doctor wanted to kill the
cayotes. That the plan was concocted before they left Yreka de-
feats the claim now made for them, that they only anticipated the
treacherj' of the Indians. Schonchin was one of the Indians that
escaped, and in late inter\'iew then he mndc this as an excuse for
not coming out to meet ♦^he commission The story of the In-

dian corresponds so well with that I have frequently heard from
our own people, before it became so i ch of a (L^grace by the
reaction, tliat I have no doubt of the correction in its irencral de-
tails. At the time others, as well as mj'sclf, told Wright that (he
transaction would at some time react fearfully upon some innocent
ones of our people ; but so long a time had elapsed that I li id
concluded that matter was nearlj' forgotten hy all, and nothing W' i Id
come of it, until the night of my second visit in the cave, wlicii
Schonchin would get ver}' excited talking of it as an excuse for not
going out. The history of that night you have probably seen a^ if
was given by an article in the "Sacramento Record "and "San Fran-
cisco Chronicle," for which paper he was corresponding ; he was
made wild ; he was with me the whole time after.* A final peace
was mride with the Modocs, but the year is now out of my mind ;
but about 1857 or 1858 they came to Yreka with horses, money, and

I j

't!«l i

■

* Refers to the Ben Wright massacre.

678

WIGWAM AND WAKPATH.

furs to trade and get provisions and blankets. On their way out
they were waj'laid at Shasta river, as was claimed by Shasta In-
dians, and seven killed, robbed and thrown into the ri\'er. Many
of our citizens thought white men were connected with this mur-
der, and it is probabl}' so. The Shasta Indians retreated ; they
claim that but few of their people were engaged in the massacre,
but it was mostly done by the white people, in their negotiations
for peace in the spring of 1864, mentioned hereafter.

Col. B- C. Whiting, another ex-superintendent of
Indian AflFairs, says, " In 1858 a party of white men
went to an island in Humboldt bay, California, and
murdered, in cold blood, one hundred and forty-nine
men, women, and children, who were suspected of
being connected with other Indians who were at war
with white men; " and that "no effort was ever made
to bring the murderers to justice."

One more witness, — one whose statement was made
with chains on his limbs, and while he was on trial
for his life at Fort Klamath, July, 1873. Captain
Jack says: —

I vanted to quit fighting. My people were all afraid to leave
the cave. They had been told that they were going to be killed,
and they were afraid to leave there ; and my women were afraid
to leave there. While the peace talk was going on there was a
squaw came from Fairchild's and Dorris's, and told us that the
peace commissioners were going to murder us ; that they were
trying to get us out to murder us. A man b}' the name of Nate
Beswick told us so. There was an old Indian man came in the
night and told us again.

The Interpreter. That is one of those murdered in the wagon
while prisoners by ihe settlers.

Captain Jack (continuing). This oV Indian man told me that
Nate Beswick told him that that day IMeacham, General Canby,
Dr. Thomas, and Dyer were going to murder us if we came to the
council. All of my people heard this old man tell us so. And

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

679

then there was another squaw came from Fairchild's, and told me
that Meacham and the peace commissioners had a pile of wood
ready built up, and were going to bum me on this pile of wood ;
that when they brought us into Dorris's they were going to burn
me there. All of the squaws about Fairchild's and Doms's told
me the same thing. After hearing all this news I was afraid to
go, and that is the reason I did come in to make peace.

Add to all this the fact, that the popular cry was
war, of which the Modocs were aware, as they were
of all the incidents referred to in this chapter; and the
ftu'ther discouraging knowledge that no efforts had
ever been made to punish offenders for crimes com-
mitted on their race; and a candid mind may be
enlightened as to the cause of the failure of the Peace
Commission sent out by President Grant in 1873.

The seed was sown while he was carrying on busi-
ness at Galena, or fighting rebels around Yicksburg.
The harvest came while he was in power. It was
rich in valuable lives. It was costly in treasure.

It was a natural yield. It came true to the plant-
ing. The seed was sown broadcast, and harrowed
deep into hiunan hearts by the constant repetition of
insult and wrong, irrigated often by the blood of the
Indian race. It slumbered long (sometimes appar-
ently dead, save here and there an outcropping
giving signs of life), so long, indeed, that Judge
Steele thought " the matter was nearly forgotten by
all," until Schonchin called it up during one of
Steele's visits to the Lava Beds in 1873.

If the harvest was delayed in part, it was none the
less prolific when it came. The reapers were few, but
+heir sheaves were many, and bound together with the
lives of the humble, the great, the noble, the good.

i« I i

lit-
hi I

iii

680

WIOWAM AND WARPATH.

Docs my reader yet understand why the policy,
under wliich we settled a great matter of difference
with a great nation, was not successful in settling a
small matter with a small nation? Does he see, now,
on whom the blame rests?

I liear some one answer : —

" On the frontier men, of course."

Not too fast, my friend. While it is true that each
succeeding wave of immigi'ation to the border line has
borne on its crest a few bad men mixed with the good,
it is also true that the great majority of the frontier
men were of the latter class, — brave, fearless pioneers
as God has ever created for noble work ; rough, un-
polished men and women, with great hearts that
opened ever to their kind. I assert here, in reiteration,
that nowhere in all this broad land can be found men
and women of larger hearts and nobler aims than
frontier people. As far as their treatment of the
Indian tribes is concerned, I assert, fearless of contra-
diction, that three-fourths of them are the Indians*
best friends; and that^ ii dissensions arise, they are
caused by bad white men, who mix and mingle with
the Indians, and, by their wilful acts of dissipation,
provoke quarrel and bloodshed, thereby involving
good citizens. "When once blood is spilled, the Indian
too often feels justified, by his religion, in wreaking
vengeance on the innocent. They retaliate ; and hence
border warfare reigns, and the bloody chapter is re-
peated over and over again, until " Extennination "
rings along the frontier line, and both races take up the
cry.

The question has been asked twice ten thousand
times, What is the remedy? For two hundred years,

WIOW^UI AND WARPATn.

681

political economists, statesmen and philosophers have
been proposing, experimenting, and luiling in schemes
and plans for the Indian. Xever yet have they come
squarely up to duty as American citizens and Christian
patriots should, and recognized the manhood of the
Indian, treating him as a man, dealing justly and
fairly witli him, redressing his wrongs, while punish-
ing him for his crimes.

In plain words, we have never, as a nation, experi-
mented in our management of the Indian race of
America, with a few plain laws that were first written
on the marble tablets of Sinai, and sent along down
succeeding ages, between the 12th and lihh verses
of the 20th chapter of Exodus. Xor have we always
remembered the 31st verse of the sixth chapter of
St. Luke: —

" And as ye would that men should do to you, do
ye also to them likewise."

If, as we proudly assert, we, as a nation, are the
rich inheritors of the priceless boon of Uberty, then
lev. us be the champions of human rights.

If we are the friends of the weak and oppressed,
let us protect those whose claim upon us is based
upon a prior inheritance, and whose weakness has
been our strength.

If we would welcome the exiled patriot from other
lands, let us give the hand of fellowship to those
whose birthright to this land cannot be disputed.

If our civilization is the most exalted on the face
of the earth, then let us be the most magnanimous in
our treatment of the remnants of a people who gave
our fathers the welcome hand.

If we would be just, then let us remember that

682

WIGWAM AND WAKPATH.

our civilization has refused them, and them alone, its
benefit.

If we honor bravery, let us remember that they
have resisted only when oppressed.

If we reverence the high and noble principles of
fidelity in a people, let us not forget that, of all the
nations of the earth, the Indian is the most faithful to
his compact.

Let us as a nation, reading our destiny in the
coming future by the light of the hundred stars upon
our flag, be true to God, true to ourselves, and true
to the high trust we hold.

"While we shake hands with the Briton and our
brothers of the South, over the battle-fields of the
past, let us not withhold from these people our
friendship.

While we forget the crimes of others, let us bury
in one common grave all hatred of race, all thirst for
revenge.

While we are strong enough and brave enough to
defy the taunts of the civilized world for proclaiming
the advent of the hour when the song of the shep-
herds on the plains of Bethlehem shall become the
motto of a Christian nation, — " Peace and good will
to men," — let us not live a lie, and prove our cow-
ardice by shouting " extermination " against a race
fast fading away.

Let us not fall from our high estate by debasing a
grand national power in a triumph over a civilization
inferior to our own.

Let us gather up and care for these people, redeem
the covenant of our lathers, fulfilling our high mis-
sion.

WIGWAM AND WAKPATH.

683

Let us uphold the hands of our rulers who declare
a more humane policy, and let it be the crowning
glory of the American statesman to proclaim to the
world that the glad time so long foretold has come,
when " The wolf, also, shall dwell with the lamb, and
the leopard shall lie down with the kid; and the calf
and the yoimg lion and the fatUng together; and a
little child shall lead them."

APPENDIX TO CHAPTER SIX.

Oneatta, Yaquina Bat Aoenct, October 1, 1871.

Sm : — I have the honor of submitting this my eighth and last
annual report of the affairs of Siletz agency.

I closed my term of service as agent on the 1st day of May,
1871, at which time, as you are already aware, I turned over the
agency to my successor, Hon. Joel Palmer. Since tlien I have
been busily engaged in making up my final papers. This task, I
regret to say, is not j'et entirely finished. Tlie delaj' has been
owing to some irregularities, occasioned by a change of employes,
and to other causes over which I have had no control. I shall
now, however, push the work forward with all possible dispatch,
and shall soon have my papers fully completed. I ask, for that
purpose, your indulgence, and that of the department, for a short
time.

I presume it will hardly be expected that I should at this time
enter into the usual details concerning the affairs of the agency.
All the important facts which have not been communicated to the
department by myself heretofore will, undoubtedly, be embodied
in the first annual report of my successor. He will find it con-
venient, if not necessary, in introducing himself oflScially to the
department, to give some sort of 3ummary of the condition of the
affairs of the agency at the time He took charge. I feel, therefore,
that it would be altogether a work of supererogation for me to go
over that ground in detail. As this is my last report, after a some-
what protracted term of service in charge of Siletz agenc}', I think it
not inappropriate that I should present here a few statements of
facts in the history of the dealings of the Government with these
Indians, in order to show some of the difficulties with which I
have had to struggle. I shall also presume somewhat upon j'our
indulgence by offering some suggestions, prompted by my own

686

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

experience, concerning the future management of the Indians over
whom I luive so long had control.

I have had charge of Siletz agency for eight j'cars, and in that
time have had to encounter many stubborn obstacles to the suc-
cessful management of its concerns. I think, too, that I may say,
without vanity, that I have overcome many auch obstacles, il is
not an easy matter, even under the most favorable circumstances
and with all possible helps, to conduct successfuU}' the afl'ajrs of
an Indian agency. To a race accustomed, as the Indians hivo
been, to the licentious freedom of the savage state, tlio restraints
and dull routine of a reservation are almost intolerably irksome.
It is not wonderful, therefore, that they should be often fractious
and impatient of control, or that, even when reduced to complete
submission to the regulations imposed ujjon them, they should, in
many instances, become sullen and unteachablc. To manage such
a people in such a condition M-ith any degree of success; requires
unceasing, anxious labor. Yet this is the duty imposed upon
almost every Indian agent in the United States. But ' i addition
to these difficulties, which are incident to Indian "^^ igement
everywhere, there are some which are peculiar to Siletz agency.
There are at this agency some fourteen tribes and parts of tribes
of Indians, numbering, in the aggregate, at the time I took
charge, about 2,000. Separate treaties were made with all of
these different tribes in 1855, at the conclusion of what is known
as the "Rogue-river War," in Southern Oregon. Some of these
treaties have been, in part, confirmed and complied with by the
United States Government, but most of them have been entirely
and persistently disregarded. In expectation, however, of the
immediate ratification of all the stipulations entered into, the
Indians were all removed from their lands in the Rogue-river
country to Siletz reservation at the close of the war above refeiTed
to. Here they have been kept ever since as prisoners of war,
supported by a removal and subsistence fund, appropriations for
which, varying from $10,000 to $30,000, have been annually
made by Congress. For sixteen years this scant, irregular, and
uncertain charity, doled out to them from time to time, has been
the only evidence they have received that they were not utterly
forgotten by the Government. For sixteen years they have been
fed upon promises that were made only to be broken, and their

APPENDIX.

687

heart; have sickened wiih "hope dcfon-ed." For sixteen jears
they have seen the white man gathering in annually his golden
han't sts from the lauds which they .surrendered; and for all those
sixteen loMg, weary j'ears they have waited, and waited in vain,
for the fulfilment of the solemn pledges with which the white man
bought those lauds. What wonder is it that, suspicious and dis-
trustful as they are by nature, the}' should, under such tuition,
cease to have any faith in the viliitt; man's word, or to heed his
solemn preachments about education and civilization? "Who can
blame them if, after such an experience, they come to regard the
whole white race, from the Great Father down, as a race of liars
and cheats, using their superior knowledge to defraud the poor
Indian? And is it amiizing that, with such an eminent example
before them, they should grow treacherous and deceitful as they
gi'ow in knowledge ; or that they should use everj' possil)le exer-
tion to escape from the restraints which, as they believe, tlie white
man has imposed upon them only for the purpose of defrauding
them? In my judgment it is safe to assert that by far the greater
part of their restiveness and indocility is justly- altrilnitable to this
cause. I am fully satisfied that it has more than doubled the dif-
ficulty of controlling and managing them for the past eigiit years.
So thoroughly have I appreciated this fact, that I have again and
again urged, in my annual reports, the necessity of entering into
treaties with the Indians at this agency who are not now parties
to anj* stipulations. Feeling as I do that the neglect with which
these Indians have been treated in this particular has been most
unwise as well as grossly unjust, I cannot permit this last oppor-
tunit}' of expressing myself otficially on the subject to pass with-
out again earnestly urging a speedy correction of this gi-ievous
error ard wrong.

Notwithstanding the many embarrassments with which I have
had to contend in the management of the afl'airs of this agency, I
am fully satisfied that no Indians on this coast have made any
more rapid advancement than those under my charge, in industry
and civilization. When I entered upon the discharge of my duties
as agent, eight years ago, I found the Indians in almost a wild
state, kept together and controlled by military force. This con-
dition of things rapidly disappeared ; and for the past four or five
years I have succeeded in keeping the Indians generally upon the

688

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

reservation, and in controlling them without nny other aid than a
very small corps of employes. And when I turned over the
agency to ray successor the otate of discipline was far better thaa
it was at any time when the f gent had the assistance of a detach-
mei^t of soldiers to enforce his orders. Besides, the Indians have,
many of them, attained a comparatively high degree of pr'^ficiency
in the useful arts. About all the mechanical work needed on the
reservatica can now be done by them. Indeed, so great has been
the improvement amon^ them in every respect that, in my judg-
ment, many of them are to-day capable of becoming citizens of
the United States, and should be admitted to citizenship as soon
as circumstancss will permit. Knowing as I do the liberality of
your views ou the subject of the cqualitj' of men, I feel confident
that you will spare no effort in j-our power to bring about this
state of things at as early a day as possible.

Before closing this report permit me to make one suggestion as
to the mrnagoment of the Indian agencies under the sj'stem lately'
adopted by the Government. I am satisfied that, under this sys-
tem, it would be a matter of ecoijomy, as v.oll as a benefit to the
Indians, to place the whole subject under the immediate control of
the superintendent, doing away with agents entirely. Each reser-
vation could be managed by a sub-agent appointed by the sup ma-
teudent, and subject to his supervision and control. The superin-
tendent should then be held strictly responsible for the management
of the reservations or agencies within his jurisdiction, and the
various sub-ag?nts and employes ehould be made accountable to
him alone. The disbursements could be made by the superintend-
ent, and the accounts for the Avhole superinteudency could bo kept
in his ollice. The advantages of this system would, undoubtedly,
be great. It would reduce considerably the machinery of the
Indian Department, and would simplify all its processes. Besides,
it would render those an > had the management of the dilferent
loservations amenable for theu' conduct not to a distant authority,
but to one at home. Their acts would thus be judged, and con-
demned or approved, as the case might require, in every instance
by one who would have, to a great extent, a personal acquaintance
with all the circurattcnces. Under the present arrrangement the
Indian Department 's little better than a gigantic circumlocution
ofiice, in which everything is done by indirect and circuitous

APPENDIX.

689

methods. Every agent renders his account, and is responsible
(nominally) to the central office at Washington, and not to his
immediate superior. J.n this labyrinth of routine and red-tape
official incompetency and dishonesty may often hide securely. On
the other hand, wise management and worth frequently escape
notice altogether, or receive censure instead of commendation. In
fact, there are in each superintendcncy so many different centres of
power and influence, each of which must be watched from the head
of the department, that the view is distracted and bewildered, and
official accountability degenerates into a mere farce. The super-
intendent, thougii he has a sort of supervision of the different
agencies, is yet really powerless to correct abuses which may come
to his notice. His subordinates are not responsible to him, and
he can do no more than report their incompetence or misconduct
to the common superior of all, and then await the tedious processes
of circumlocution. His jurisdiction is, in fact, merely formal,
rather than actual, anu he is not responsible for the conduct of his
subordinates ; there is but little motive for him to exercise even
the slight power which he has The only remedy is to give liim
full authority over all tLv. agents and sub-agents, and to make him
personally accountable for their official acts.

I think that the necessity for this change m now more urgent
than ever before. As a religious element has been infused into
the mauagement of Indian affairs, and as agents are appointed
upon the recommendations of the different churches, there is
danger that, in the search for piety in those who aspire to office,
certain other very respectable and necessary qualities may be lost
sight of. It is quite as needful that appointees should have some
talent for affairs as that they should have the spirit and form of
godliness ; yet the former does not always accompany the latter.
Many very good and pious men are but children in the business of
the world. It is also a fact of common experience that if religious
bodies are left to select men for responsible positions of any sort,
they are apt to choose them more on account of their zeal in the
service of God or of some gift of exJiortation or prayer, than on
account of capability for business. I know that thus far the
President has been very fortunate in his selections of men to carry
out bis new " Indian policy ; " but depending, as he must, upon
the recommendation of church organizations in these matters, ho

690

WIGWAM AND WAEPATH.

is liable hereafter to make the mistake I have mentioned, and
appoint men to office whose piety constitutes their only fitness for
the positions they are called upon to fill. It is in view of this
danger that I particularly recommend the propriety of making the
change suggested above.

With many thanks for the distinguished consideration which I
have received at your hands in my official dealings with you, I
have the honor to be, your most obedient servant,

BEN. SIMPSON,
Late United States Indian Agent,

Hex. A. B. Meacbau,

Superintendent Indian Affairs in Oregon,

APPENDIX TO CHAPTER EIGHT.

Office Suft. Ihdian Affairs, Salek, Oresoic, May 23, 1870.

Sm: — Having just returned from an official visit to Grand
Ronde Reservation, I desire to call attention to a few items that
are of importance : —

First. The Indians have an unusual crop in prospect.

Second. They fully realize the advantages to result from having
lands allotted in severalty, and therefrom arise questions which I
propose to submit. (See paper marked " A.")

Third. The mills built fifteen years since are totally unfit for
service, for the reason that they were not located with good judg-
ment, in this that they were built on a low, flat, muddy piece of
river bottom, composed of alluvial deposit that washes away almost
like sand or snow, having neither "bed rock nor hard pan" for
foundation, constantly settling out of shape and damaging machin-
ery, besides being threatened with destruction at every overflow.

The lower frames of both mills, but more especially that of the
saw-mill, are so rotten that thej'' would not stand alone if the
props and refuse slates from the saw were removed.

The flour mill is a huge, unfinished structure, supported on
wooden blocks or stilts, and double the proper dimension, with an
old patched-up wooden water-wheel that has been a constant bill
of expense ijr ten years ; machinery all worn out, even the bolting
apparatus rat-eaten and worthless, but with one 42-inch French
Burr, that, together with mandril, are as good as new.

The saw-mill is the old-fashioned "Single Sash" with flutter
wheel, only capable, when in best repair, of making 600 to 1,000
feet of lumber per day ; but utterly worthless at present for several
reasons, the chief of which is want of water. The "dam" was
originallj' built about one-quarter of a mile above the mills, at an
enormous expense to Government, across a stream (that is four

692

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

times as large as need be for such mill purposes) , with soft, flat
alluvial porous banks and mud bottom.

The history of said d \m is, that it has broken tiventy times in
fourteen years, each time carrying away mud enough at the ends
of the dam to make room for each successive freshet.

I believe that history, since inspecting the " works," as evi-
dence is in sight to show where thousands of daj's' work have been
done, and many greenbacks " sunk."

I called to my assistance Agent Lafollette and George Tillottson,
of Dallas, Polk Count}', a man acknowledged to be the most
successful and practical mill-builder in our State, who stands
unimpeached as a gentleman of honestj' and candor. The result
of the conference was, that it would require $5,000 to build a dam
that would be permanent ; that all the lower frame-work of both
mills would require rebuilding at a cost of 82,000, and that at
least $1,000 would be required to put machinery in good working
condition ; and, when all was done, these people would have only
tolerable good old mills, patched up at a cost of $8,000.

But mills are indispensable civilizers, and must be built. I am
determined to start these Indians off on the new track in good
shape.

There are three several branches coming in above the old mills,
any one of which has abundant motive power. On one of these
creeks a fall of thirty feet can be obtained by cutting a race at the
bend of a rocky cascade, taking the water away from the danger
of freshets, and building the mills on good, solid foundations, con-
venient of access by farmers and to unlimited forests of timber.

Mr. Tillottson estimates the total cost of removing the old mills
and such parts as are useful, and rebuilding on the new site a
first-rate No. 1 double circular saw-mill, with Laffelle turbine
water-wheel, all the modern improvements attached ; same kind
of water-wheel for flour-mill, with new bolting apparatus, etc., at
about $4,000, exclusive of Indian labor.

I submitted, in full council, to the agent and Indians, the proposi-
tion to apply funds alreadj' appropriated for the repair of agency
buildings, a portion of the Umpqua and Calapooia School Fund,
that has accumulated to upwards of $5,000, and so much of
Annuity Fund as may be necessary to this entei-prise, on the con-
dition that the Indians were to do all but the " mechanical work."

APPENDIX.

693

The matter was fully explained, and, without a dissenting voice,
they vjted to have the mills, if furnished tools, beef and flour.

The agent has now on hand a considerable amount of flour.
For beef, I propose to use a immber of the old, worn-out oxen, as
they are now fifteen or twenty years old, worthless for work and
dying ofl* with old age.

To sum up, I have put this enterprise in motion, and propose to
have the new saw-mill making lumber in sixty days, and the flour-
mill grinding in ninety days.

I now ask permission to apply the funds I have named to this
object, fully satisfied in my own mind that it is for the benefit of
these people. If it cannot be granted, then I will insist on funds,
that may be so applied, being furnished from the general funds of
the department. These Indians must have a mill ; besides, it would
reflect on the present administration of Indian affairs, to turn them
over to the world without that indispensable appurtenance of
civilization.

Klamath Mill is a monument of pride, and has done much to
redeem the reputation of our department ; and I propose, when I
retire, to leave every reservation supplied with substantial im-
provements of like character. Klamath flour-mill is now under
wa}', and will grind the growing crops.

Going out of the ordinary groove, and wishing you to be fully

posted about such transactions, is my apolog}' for inflicting this

long communication.

Very respectfully.

Your obedient servant,

A. B. MEACHAM,

Supt. Indian Affairs in Oregon.
Hon. E. D. Pakker,

Commissioner, etc., Washington.) D. C.

«A.'»

I respectfully ask for instruction in regard to Indian lands ; and
as the time for allotment is near at hand, it is necessary that
some points be settled, for instance : —

First. Where there is more land suitable for settlement on a

694

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

reservation than is required to fulfil treaty stipulations, shall more
than tht? said stipulated number of acres be set apart to the indi-
vidual Indian ?

Some of the reservations will have an excess, and others will
fall short of the amount required to comply with treaty stipula-
tions. In some instances, where the excess is small, it would
seem proper to divide pro rata. It does not appear that any of
these tribes are on the increase; hence no necessity exists for lands
to be held in reserve to any considerable amount for future allot-
ment. When possible, I would favor giving them more than the
treaty calls for.

Second. When less land than is necessary to comply with treaty
is found, must the number of acres be cut down so that a propor-
tionate allotment can be made ? Or maj' unoccupied government
lands outside be allotted to Indians belonging to the reservation ?

Instances will occur of this kind, as at Warm Springs, where
insufficient lands can be found, and a few families who are well
advanced and capable of taking care of themselves could be
located outside. I am in favor of that plan, and suggest, if
approved, some instructions be given the land officers, so that said
location can be legally made.

Tliird. May Indians not on reservation be allotted lands on
reservation.; and may they be allotted government lands not on
reservation?

There are Indians in this State, that have never yet been brought
in, that can be induced to locate under the system of allotment.
And when all parties consent, the}- should be allowed to do so.
Again, some of these people have advanced sufficiently, hy being
among white persons, to locate and appreciate a h./me. And
there are a few instances where the whites would not object to
their being located among them.

They must have homes allotted them somewhere, and the sooner
it is done the better for the Indians.

Fourth. Are not Indians who have never been on reservation,
citizens, under late amendments to the constitution ; and have they
not the riglit, without further legislation, to locate lands, and do
all other acts that other citizens may rightfully do ?

I am fullj' aware of the political magnitude of this question ;
but while I am " superintendent" for the Indians in Oregon, they

APPENDIX.

695

shall have all the'- rights if in my power to secure them, whether
on or off reservations.

Fifth. Are white men or half-breeds, who are hosbands of In-
dian women, who do now belong, or have belonged, to any reser-
vation, considered as Indians, by virtue of their marriage to said
Indian women in making the allotment of lands?

I understand that all half-breed men living with Indians on
reservations are considered Indians (but always allowed, never-
theless, to vote at all wliite men's elections) . But there are several
Indian women, in various parts of the country, who are married to
white and half-breed men, and the question is asked, whether they
are not entitled to land.

Again, there are Indian women living with white men. but not
married, who have children that should have some provision made
for them.

Sixth. May the allotment be made immediately on completion
of survey, without waiting for survey to be approved ?

For many reasons it is desirable that the allotment be made as
early as possible, so that the people may prepare for winter. They
are very impatient, and I hope no unnecessary delay will be made.

Seventh. Is a record to be made by and in local land office of
sur\'eys and several allotments? Is record of allotment to be
made in county records, and if so, how is the expense to be met?

These people are soon to be as other citizens, and stand on
equal footing. I have no doubt about the propriety and necessity
for making these records, but so as to close up all the gaps, I
want to be instructed to have it done.

A. B. MEACHAM,
Superintendent Indian Affairs in Oregon.

Department of the Interior, Office or Ivdiax Affairs,
WAsniNGTON, D.C., June 2S, 1S71.

Sm : — I have received your communication of the '2od ultimo,
asking, among other things, instructions concerning certain ques-
tions which present themselves for settlement in the allotment of
lands in severalty to Indians upon reservations in the State of
Oregon.

696

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

In reply to the first inquiry therein propounded, you are informed
that, where there is more land suitable for settlement on a reser-
vation than is required to fulfll treaty stipulations, more than the
number of acres named in said treaty cannot be set apart to each
individual Indian, but the excess must be held in common for the
benefit of the whole tribe or band occupying the reservation.

Secondly. Where less land is found upon a reservation than is
necessary to give to each individual or family the full quantity
specified in the treaty, the number of acres so allotted may Ue
reduced so as to give each person or family a proportionate share
of the entire quantity available for purposes of allotment ; but
unoccupied government lands lying outside of the boundaries of the
reservation cannot be used to complete the quantity required to
fulfil the treaty stipvilation.

Tliirdly. Indians not residing on a reservation cannot receive
allotments of lands thereon, neither will unoccupied public lands
be allotted to them.

Fourthly. Indians residing on a reservation, and living in a
tribal capacity, do not become citizens of the United States by
virtue of anj' of the recent amendments to the constitution of the
United States. Their political status is in no wise affected by
such amendments.

Firthlj'. In case where white men or half-breeds have married
Indian women, and said white men or half-breeds have been
adopted into and are considered members of the tribe, and are
living with their families on the tribal reservation, allotments
may be made to them in the same manner as if they were native
Indians.

In cases where Indian women are married to white or other men,
and do not now live on or remove to a tribal reservation previous
to the time of making the allotments, they will not be entitled to
receive land in severalty.

The children of Indian women living with but not married to
white men will not be allowed selections of land unless they shall
take up their residence with the tribe upon the reservation.

Sixthlj'. The allotments must not be made until subdivisional
surveys are completed and approved by the proper authority.

Seventhly. No record is necessary to be made in the local land
office, oi the county records of the county or counties wherein the

APPENDIX.

697

several reservatious are situated of the survey or allotment
thereof.

Your suggestions regarding the erection and repair of mills and
mill-dams, etc., and the application of funds therefor, will be
made the subject of a future communication.

Very respectfully.

Your obedient servant,
E. S. PARKER,

Commissioner,
A. B. Meacham, Esq.,

Supt. Indian Affairs, Salem, Oregon.

Office Supt. Indian Affairs, Salex, Oregon, May 30, 1870.

CnAS. Lafolletie, Agent Grarid Bonde : —

Sir, — Mr. Tillottson reported to this office on yesterday. We
have decided to proceed with the saw-mill as soon as j'ou can have
Indian laborers to assist. It is desirable that we push this enter-
prise, and, in order to do so, it would seem necessary for j'ou to
" call in" enough to make a gang of say twenty workingmen ; and
as soon as this is done notify Mr. Tillottson at Dallas. I have
ordered all the tools required to he forwarded to j-ou at Dayton ;
and have no doubt they will be awaiting your orders. I think you
can send immediately- without fear of disappointment. In the
mean time you will arrange siibsistencr for the Indian wuth my
parties. It would be well also to assist Mr. Tillottson about a
boarding-place. My arrangement is, that "the mechanics are to
board themselves " with him ; he to have the entire control of the
works, we to furnish the laborers. When he is dissatisfied with the
services, to certify to the time through your office, and forward to
me for payment. I think it best not to transfci- funds until an
answer is obtained from the commissioner in regard to diverting the
funds. We cannot exjjend or anticipate a fund not j'ct remitted,
as I find a rule laid down to that effect. If we meet with a
favorable reply we will then proceed with the flouring mill. You

698

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

may find emplojinent, while waiting for tools for Mr. Rcinliart, at
such wages as vou may agree upon. Hoping you will give this
enterprise euiflcient attention to secure success, etc.,
I am respectfully,

Your obedient servant,

A. B. MEACHAM,
Supt. Indian Affairs, Oregon.

Office Scpt. Indian Affaibs, Saleu, Obeoon, Dec. 19, 1874.
L. S. Dyeu, Esq., Commissary in charge Grand Ronde : —

Sib, — Col. Tliompson, surveyor, has been employed by me to
assist you in mu iig the allotment of lands on Grand Ronde.

Herewith find the only instructions furnished this office, whichj
together with the copies of treaties in your office, it is hoped may
be sufficient guide in making the allotment.

As arranged during my late visit, all matters of dispute about
priority of rights, etc., must be settled by a Board, consisting of
Commissary L. S. Dyer, Col. D. P. Thompson and W. P. Eaton,
or any other you may designate ; if Mr. Eaton is unable to act ;
and, on request of the Indians, you will add to said Board three
Indians, who are not interested parties in any matter under consid-
eration by your Board.

Great patience may be required in settling the differences that
will arise, and I trust that you will, at all times, bear in mind that
you are laboring for a race who are docile and reasonable when
they are made fully to understand the wherefore, etc., of any
proposition.

I regret that the Commissioner of Indian Affairs has not
furnished this office with more specific instructions in the prem-
ises.

This order to make allotment is in anticipation of orders from
the commissioner, which, I have no doubt, will be forwarded at an
early day. At all events, the necessity of immediate action is
obvious,

July 20th, Wm. R. Dunbar was instructed to enroll all the Indians
of Grand Ronde Agency, including those of Nes tucker and Tilla-

APPENDIX.

699

mook. Mr. Dunbar reported the curolment complete, a copj' of
which you will find in j-our olllce.

It is possible that some changes have occurred in the arrange-
ment of families, of which you will take note, and correct the same
in making statement of allotment.

You will also be particular to see that the original and present
name and tribe, together with sex, estimated age, and relationship
to families with whom they are residing at the time of allotment, be
identified with the number of the particular tract allotted to such
person or family.

In this connection it is necessary, in cases of plurality of wives,
that each man shall designate one woman to be his legal wife, and
all others to be members of his family, with the privilege of form-
ing other marriage relations, taking vrith them the lands allotted
in their respective names.

Orphan children, who are attached to families, must have the
same rights.

It would seem proper that, so far as possible, these people
should be allowed to retain their present homes, and to adjust
their respective rights among themselves ; but it will be necessary,
in some cases, to assume control and adjud'rate differences.

Inasmuch as there arc several treaties in force with the Grand
Ronde Indians, in the complications arising therefrom I would
advise that the treaty Avith Willamette Vallc}* Indians be adopted
as the guide, without regard to the c^'jr treaties.

Let the allotment be uniform to all persons entitled to lands,
as per instructions of commissioner in reply to queries, and above
referred to.

Should any number of j'our people elect to remove to Nestucker,
and there take lands in severalty, it would seem right, perhaps, to
do so. Land will be ordered, surveyed at the places above re-
ferred to, and possibly also at Salmon river.

I do not know of any other instructions or laws to guide j'ou,
except this : In absence of law, do justice fairly and impartially.
Law is supposed to be in harmou}' with justice and common sense ;
and, if it is not, it is not good law.

Fully realizing the dilBculties in your way in fulfilling this order,
and hanng confidence in your integritj' and abillt}', I can only say,
in conclusion, push this matter through, and furnish this ofllce, at

700

WIGWAM AND WARPATH.

an early clay, full report of your doings, together with statistical
table of allotments made under the rules and instructions flir-
nished you.

It may be observed, by reading the several treaties, that the
amount of land stipulated to be allotted dillers somewhat in the
amounts speciiied.

From surveyors' reports, it appears that there is some deflcicnc}'
of lands suitable for Indian settlement, and since the several
tribes are mixed up, and to avoid confusion, I have indicated the
treaty with the Indians of the Willamette Valley as the proper
one to govern your action.

Now, if the question should be raised by the Umpquas, and
they refuse to accept the amount named in the treaty referred to
(Willamette Valley) , you will propose to the Umpquas to have
the excess claimed by them set off to them of timber lots ; or
otherwise let the whole matter stand for further instructions.
Should the question come up at an early day please notifj' me, and,
if possible, I will in person adjust the matter.

I think, however, that if you make the proposition to the
Indians to settle jt before allotment, they will agree to the Wil-
lamette treaty, and I will arrange for the acknowledgment, on
their part, of the fulfilment of treaty on the part of the Govern-
ment hereafter.

Very respectfully,

Your obedient servant,

A. B. MEACHAM,
SuperirUendent Indian AJairs in Oregon.

italistical
ions fiir-

that the
at in the

Icflciency
several
nitcd the
le liroper

[uas, and

blurred to

to have

lots ; or

;ructions.

me, and,

n to the
the Wil-

^ment, on
Govern-

Oregon.

ANNOUNCEMENT.

* ♦ »

The Ymdcrsigned, to whom alone Mr. Meacham has hocn pleased to giro
■paco for an advertisement in "The Wigwam and Warpath," will soon
publish a work, whoso title will be : " The Conditions op SnccESs, in
ITS Belation to the Day Labobeb, the Business Man, the Profes-
sional Man and the Scholab."

The work is designed to furnish a key to success, not alono or chiefly
in the art or means of acquiring wealth, but success in a higher and
cobler sense, indicating some of the best methods of reaching the intel-
lect aud the heart, as well as the purse.

The work is mainly a result of the author's own experiences and strug-
gles — an outgrowth of the practical methods by which he has secured, at
least, many of the objects not altogether unworthy of his ambition and
hopes.

The unfolding of the grand principles or laws of Compensation, even
in every-day life, to which the author devotes some space, will, it is
believed, have a tendency to increase the faitli, or, at least, quiet the
fears, of those who are often crushed by what appears to them the heavy
strokes of Providence, or the inevitable flat of Destiny ; but, rightly under-
stood, proves to be the true Magician of Life, which evokes light from
shadows, and a calm from storms.

D. L. EMERSON.
Boston, July, 1875.