B,
.a op
i
' / M^ r *
UNWRITTEN HISTORY.
J^^s>>^^^
THE ]\I)IAX MOTHER.
UNWRITTEN HISTORY:
LIFE AMONGST THE MODOCS,
BY
JOAQUIN MILLER
ILLUSTRATED FROM NEW DESIGNS,
SOLD BY SUBSCRIPTION ONLY.
HARTFORD, CONK:
AMERICAN PUBLISHING COMPANY.
1874.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1874, by the
AMERICAN PUBLISHING COMPANY,
in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
E.19
TO
THE RED MEN OF AMERICA.
M652165
PUBLISHER'S ANNOUNCEMENT.
In offering this' book to the American Public the publish-
ers have not failed to consider the fact that its author's views
of the relations existing between the White and Indian Races,
and the question of justice having been done the latter, will
not accord with those of many of our people. A view of
the case from the Red Man's stand-point is a novel one, and
although some features presented thereby might endanger
the repose of his conscience, yet it is a view which every
honest American should endeavor to obtain. Strong preju-
dices exist against the Indian; how justly, it should be the
desire of all to ascertain. Without pen, type, press or other
means of public contradiction, explanation or defence, the
Indian helplessly suffers from the manufactured or garbled
statements of parties interested in keeping the public mind
darkened in regard to the truth. There are " two sides to
every story." The White Man's version of his dealings with
the Indian has been for years repeated over and over again
to the public. The other side, with its exposition of injus-
tice and cruelty, has yet to be told. Of this side, in these
pages the author speaks. His life among the Indians and
his knowledge of their inner life fit him for the task, and it
is hoped and believed by his publishers, that a public, ever as
ready to receive the truth, will rejoice to avail itself of this
opportunity to look for once upon the doomed Indian, as
portrayed by a pen employed in his behalf.
To the American Edition, the Publishers have thought
proper to add an appendix, containing extracts from papers
accompanying the report of the commissioner of Indian affairs
in 1873, which go to sustain the position of our Author.
ILLUSTRATIONS.
Page
1 Frontispiece, Portrait, The Author —
2 Crossing the Summit To Pace 28
3 At a Disadvantage " " 37
4 A Forced Balance " " 57
5 " Now You Git." " " 80
6 Among Barbarians " " 85
7 Winning the Bet " " 98
8 The Other Side of the Story " " 120
9 Receiving the New Judge " " 157
10 Paquita " " 172
11 Captain Jim " " 184
12 The Tables Turned " " 226
13 The Lost Cabin " " 235
14 The Farewell " " 259
15 The Indian Bridal " " 280
16 My First Battle " " 294
17 Pistol Practice " " 337
18 Discussing Peace Measures - " M 362
19 The Struggle for Life " " 384
20 Funeral of Paquita " " 390
21 Klamat's Prophecy " " 399
22 The Indian Mother " " 421
23 The Doctor's Home " " 426
24 Calli Shasta M " 431
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I.
SHADOWS OF SHASTA.
Mount Shasta— Mining Camps— The Miners of Old— The Original Pos-
sessors of the Forests— A Pace without a Historian— A Word for the
Indian— The Ben Wright Massacre of Indians— Retaliation and
Revenge— My First Sight of Shasta— Monument of Stones 17
CHAPTER II.
EL. VAQDERO.
Wild Horses and Wild Men— Engaged with a Drover — An Indian
Attack— A Merciful Savage — Among the Shastas — Lonely Life of the
Indian — How he Spends his Evenings— The "Indian Question" from
an Indian's Point of View 32
CHAPTER III.
THE FINGER — BOARD OF FATE.
Neither a Boy nor a Man — The letter "I"— The pronoun "We" —
Massacre of my Indian Friends— The beautiful Klamat — The Prince
— The discomfited Boatman 4G
CHAPTER IV.
HIGH, LOW, JACK AND THE GAME.
The Prince meets an Acquaintance — " Boston's Best" — Clean broke —
How it was Done — Yreka — All right Now— The Negro Stable Keeper. GO
CHAPTER V.
IN A CALIFORNIA MINING CAMP.
Alone in a City — Men to be Avoided — Stolen Slumbers — A Peep at the
Mines and Miners — The One- Eyed Negro — A Desperate Race — How-
dy-do?— Take a Drink?— The Bar Room— The Swoon— The Moon-
Eyed Heathen Nurse— Recovery 72
CHAPTER VI.
DOWN AMONG THE LIVE MEN.
The Prince — En-Route for Humbug — Three Thousand Men, not a
Woman or a Child — "The Forks"— "The Howlin' Wilderness " —
♦'Long Dan "—The Bet- Dying with Boots on— The Cigars Won.. 87
Xll CONTENTS.
CHAPTER VII.
snow! nothing but snow!
A Struggle for Life — Winter Life in the Mines — The Prince in Extremi-
ties 99
CHAPTER VIII.
BLOOD ON THE SNOW.
Hard Times with the Indians— Model White Men — A Man Killed —
Rally to the Bar and take a Drink— Death to the Indian — No Quar-
ters to Women or Children— The " Sydney Duck " — Rescue of Paqui-
ta and Klamath . 110
CHAPTER IX.
A WORD TOR THE RED MAN.
The True Indian — False Testimony against them — The White Man's
side of the Story — Who tells the Indians' side? — A Quaker's Experi-
ence with Indians — Treatment of the Indians by the Government —
The Prince and his Proteges — The Doctor 125
CHAPTER X.
TWO LITTLE INDIANS.
Paquita and Klamath — The New Alcade and his Hat— Six Foot Sandy
— The Judge and his new Beaver 145
CHAPTER XL
A MAN FOR BREAKFAST.
The Judge set to Work — The Trial of Spades— Murder of the Judge —
Fate of the Beaver Hat 159
CHAPTER XII.
BONE AND SINEW.
Still in the Mines — The Pet of the Camp— The Doctor under a Cloud —
The Doomed Race— Why the Indians Die— The last of his Race 175
CHAPTER XIII.
A STORM IN THE SIERRAS.
PaqunVs Story — Indians as Travelers— The coming Storm— Flood and
Ruin ... 186
CHAPTER XIV.
A HOME TO LET.
The Departure— Cabin to Let— The blind Trail— Klamat as a Leader—
A Pursuing Party— Braying of a Mule— The Flight 194
CONTENTS. Xlll
CHAPTER XV.
TURN TO THE RIGHT AS THE LAW DIRECTS.
Difficulties of Mountain Travel— Sight of Shasta— Delight of Paquita—
The Pursuers and what they wanted— The Run — Camping out — Cap-
tured—The Table Turned— The Captors Prisoners 206
CHAPTER XVI.
HOME.
The Doctor recovers Suddenly— The Journey Proceeds — Camp in the
Wilderness — The famous "Last Cabin" — Paquita' s Journey — The
Indians at Home 229
CHAPTER XVII.
THE LOST CABIN.
Winter again — The Elk — The Black Bear — Klamat as a Hunter — The
Winter passes, and Spring comes once more — Paquita not returned —
Gold found by the Prince and Doctor— The Doctor leaves— Paquita
returns— Her Story — Her Brothers — The Prince's Oath — The Prince
and the Child— Followed 241
CHAPTER XVIII.
GOOD-BYE.
Indian Habits— The Autumn Feasts — Paquita in her Maidenhood — The
Prince Thoughtful and Sad — The Prince says Good-Bye 252
CHAPTER XIX.
THE INDIANS' ACCOUNT OF THE CREATION.
At night in the Indian Camp— The Great Spirit — The Creation — Ascent
of Mount Shasta — The Missionary's Visit — The Indians around Mount
Shasta — Their thirst for Knowledge — Story Tellers — Teaching Geog-
raphy—Morals — Superstitions — The Creation of the Tribe — The Griz-
zly Bear sacred— Thoughts on Death and Burial — The Indians'
Heaven — Marriage Ceremony 2G2
CHAPTER XX.
THE LAST OF THE LOST CABIN.
A Chiefs views of our Language and Bible— Burning of the Cabin —
Thirst for Gold an Evil 282
CHAPTER XXI.
MY FIRST BATTLE.
Mountain Joe—Devil's Castle— The Eve of the Battle— Struck by an
Arrow — The Indian Squaw— Her Mournings and Reproaches — A Re-
turn to Old Friends 290
XIV CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XXII.
MY NEW REPUBLIC.
A Plan for Peace— Among the Modoc's— A Hobby— Means to accom-
plish my Ends— Winter Camps on the M'Cloud— The Pit River Val-
ley Massacre 298
CHAPTER XXIII.
DOWN IN THE VALLEY OF DEATH.
A Visit to the Scene of the Massacre— An Indian Camp— The Valley of
Death — Indian Squaws — Sam Lockhart — A Prisoner at Yreka — A
Poor Reward for a Dangerous service 306
CHAPTER XXIV.
A PRISONER.
Expedition against the Indians— Its Motives — " The Man who lived
with the Indians" — His Doom Foretold— Gideon S. Whiting —
Prom a Prisoner to a Leader. — Physical Courage — The Expedition a
Success — White Butchers — Return to Yreka — Good-bye to the Expe-
dition — An Attempt at Assassination — Squaw Valley 313
CHAPTER XXV.
A NEW DEPARTURE.
Sitting on two Chairs — Casting lot with the Indians — The "Rubicon"
Crossed — An Indian is an Indian — No distinction in Tribes — A visit to
Yreka — A Dangerous Enterprise — Obtaining Ammunition — Plight
with Booty — An Explosion — Wailing for the Dead 323
CHAPTER XXVI.
A BLOODY MEETING.
Bill Hirst the famous Man-Killer — Scene in a Billiard Saloon — Antago-
nists Face to Face — A Second Meeting — The Battle opens — The
Result 333
CHAPTER XXVII.
BRADLEY AND HIRST.
An Enemy Returned — Fast Friends — Hanging Highwaymen — My first
Client — Hirst in Court — A Desperate Fight — Refusing to Die — Aston-
ishing Recovery— Another Fight — Another wonderful Recovery —
Killed again, and another Recovery — Still Living 338
CHAPTER XXVIII.
BATTLES ON THE BORDER.
Effect of Bullets— Friends appear — Return to the Indians — Indian Sig-
nals — Another Friend — Another Massacre of Indians — A Splendid
Horse and Ride — The Camp— Blood ! Blood ! Blood ! — Klamat — Paq-
uita — Indian Heroines — A Battle — A Council of War — A Mission of
Peace — Sympathy of the Mexicans— Approach to the White Camp. . . 340
LIFE AMONGST THE MODOCS :
UNWRITTEN HISTORY.
CHAPTER L
SHADOWS OF SHASTA.
S lone as God, and white as a winter moon,
Mount Shasta starts up sudden and solitary
w&fyk from the heart of the great black forests of
Northern California.
You would hardly call Mount Shasta a part of the
Sierras; you would say rather that it is the great
white tower of some ancient and eternal wall, with
here and there the white walls overthrown. '
It has no rival ! There is not even a snow-crowned
subject in sight of its dominion. A shining pyramid
in mail of everlasting frosts and ice, the sailor some-
times, in a day of singular clearness, catches glimpses
of it from the sea a hundred miles away to the west ;
and it may be seen from the dome of the capital 340
miles distant. The immigrant coming from the east
beholds the snowy, solitary pillar from afar out on
B 17
18 SIIADO WS OF SHASTA.
the arid sage-brush plains, and lifts his hands in
silence as in answer to a sign.
Column upon column of storm-stained tamarack,
strong-tossing pines, and war-like looking firs have
rallied here. They stand with their backs against
this mountain, frowning down dark-browed, and con-
fronting the face of the Saxon. They defy the ad-
vance of civilization into their ranks. What if these
dark and splendid columns, a hundred miles in depth,
should be the last to go down in America ! What
if this should be the old guard gathered here, mar-
shalled around their emperor in plumes and armour,
that may die but not surrender.
Ascend this mountain, stand against the snow
above the upper belt of pines, and take a glance be-
low. Toward the sea nothing but the black and
unbroken forest. Mountains, it is true, dip and
divide and break the monotony as the waves break
up the sea ; yet it is still the sea, still the unbroken
forest, black and magnificent. To the south the
landscape sinks and declines gradually, but still main-
tains its column of dark-plumed grenadiers, till the
Sacramento Valley is reached, nearly a hundred miles
away. Silver rivers run here, the sweetest in the
world. They wind and wind among the rocks
and mossy roots, with California lilies, and the yew
with scarlet berries dipping in the water, and trout
idling in the eddies and cool places by the basket-
811 ADO WS OF SHASTA. 19
ful. On the east, the forest still keeps up unbroken
rank till the Pit River valley is reached ; and even
there it surrounds the valley, and locks it up tight
in its black embrace. To the north, it is true, Shasta
valley makes quite a dimple in the sable sea, and
men plough there, and Mexicans drive mules or herd
their mustang ponies on the open plain. But the
valley is limited, surrounded by the forest confined
and imprisoned.
Look intently down among the black and rolling
hills, forty miles away to the west, and here and there
you will see a haze of cloud or smoke hung up above
the trees ; or, driven by the wind that is coming from
the sea, it may drag and creep along as if tangled in
the tops.
These are mining camps. Men are there, down in
these dreadful canons, out of sight of the sun, swal-
lowed up, buried in the impenetrable gloom of the
forest, toiling for gold. Each one of these camps is
a world in itself. History, romance, tragedy, poetry
in every one of them. They are connected together,
and reach the outer world only by a narrow little
pack trail, stretching through the timber, stringing
round the mountains, barely wide enough to admit
of footmen and little Mexican mules with their
apparajos, to pass in single file. We will descend
into one of these camps by-and-by. I dwelt there a
year, many and many a year ago. I shall picture
20 SHAD WS OF SHASTA.
that camp as it was, and describe events as they hap-
pened. Giants were there, great men were there.
They were very strong, energetic and resolute, and
hence were neither gentle or sympathetic. They
were honourable, noble, brave and generous, and yet
they would have dragged a Trojan around the wall
by the heels and thought nothing of it. Coming
suddenly into the country with prejudices against
and apprehensions of the Indians, of whom they
knew nothing save through novels, they of course
were in no mood to study their nature. Besides,
they knew that they were in a way, trespassers if
not invaders, that the Government had never treated
for the land or offered any terms whatever to the
Indians, and like most men who feel that they
are somehow in the wrong, did not care to get
on terms with their antagonists. They would have
named the Indian a Trojan, and dragged him
around, not only by the heels but by the scalp, rath-
er than have taken time or trouble, as a rule, to get
in the right of the matter.
I say that the greatest, and the grandest body of
men that have ever been gathered together since the
seige of Troy, was once here on the Pacific. I grant
that they were rough enough sometimes. I admit
that they took a peculiar delight in periodical six-
shooter war dances, these wild-bearded, hairy-breasted
men, and that they did a great deal of promiscuous
SIIADO WS OF SHASTA. 21
killing among each other, but then they did it in
such a manly sort of way !
There is another race in these forests. I lived
with them nearly five years. A great sin it was
thought then, indeed. You do not see the smoke of
their wigwams through the trees. They do not
smite the mountain rocks for gold, nor fell the pines,
nor roil up the waters and ruin them for the fisher-
men. All this magnificent forest is their estate.
The Great Spirit made this mountain first of all, and
gave it to them, they say, and they have possessed it
ever since. They preserve the forest, keep out the
fires, for it is the park for their deer.
I shall endeavour to make this sketch of my life
with the Indians — a subject about which so much has
been written and so little is known — true in every
particular. In so far as I succeed in doing that I
think the work will be novel and original. No man
with a strict regard for truth should attempt to write
his autobiography with a view to publication during
his life ; the temptations are too great.
A man standing on the gallows, without hope of
descending and mixing again with his fellow men,
might trust himself to utter u the truth, the whole
truth, and nothing but the truth," as the law hath it ;
and a Crusoe on his island, without sail in sight or
hope of sail, might be equally sincere, but I know of
few other conditions in which I could follow a man
22 SHAD WS OF SHASTA.
through his account of himself with perfect confidence.
This narrative, however, while the thread of it is
necessarily spun around a few years of my early life,
is not particularly of myself, but of a race of people
that has lived centuries of history and never yet had a
historian ; that has suffered nearly four hundred years
of wrong, and never yet had an advocate.
I must write of myself, because I was among these
people of whom I write, though often in the back-
ground, giving place to the inner and actual lives of
a silent and mysterious people, a race of prophets ;
poets without the gift of expression — a race that has
been often, almost always, mistreated, and never
understood — a race that is moving noiselessly from
the face of the earth ; dreamers that sometimes waken
from their mysteriousness and simplicity, and then,
blood, brutality, and all the ferocity that marks a man
of maddened passions, women without mercy and
without reason, brand them with the appropriate
name of savages.
But beyond this, I have a word to say for the
Indian.. I saw him as he was, not as he is. In
one little spot of our land, I saw him as he was
centuries ago in every part of it perhaps, a Druid and
a dreamer — the mildest and the tamest of beings.
I saw him as no man can see him now. I saw him
as no man ever saw him who had the desire and
patience to observe, the sympathy to understand, and
SRADO WS OF SHASTA. 23
the intelligence to communicate his observation to
those who would really like to understand him.
He is truly " the gentle savage ; " the worst and the
best of men, the tamest and the fiercest of beings.
The world cannot understand the combination of these
two qualities. For want of truer comparison let us
liken him to a jealous woman — a whole souled un-
cultured woman, strong in her passions and her love.
A sort of Parisian woman, now made desperate by a
long siege and an endless war.
A singular combination of circumstances laid his
life bare to me. I was a child and he was a child.
He permitted me to enter his heart.
As I write these opening lines here to-day in the
Old World, a war of extermination is declared against
the Modoc Indians in the New. I know these people.
I know every foot of their once vast possessions,
stretching away to the north and east of Mount Shasta.
I know their rights and their wrongs. I have known
them for nearly twenty years.
Peace commissioners have been killed by the
Modocs, and the civilized world condemns the
act. I am not prepared to defend it. This nar-
rative is not for its defence, or for the defence of
the Indian or any one ; but I could, by a ten-line
paragraph, throw a bombshell into the camp of the
civilized world at this moment, and change the whole
drift of public opinion. But it would be too late to
24 SIIADO WS OF SHASTA.
be of any particular use to this one doomed tribe.
Years and years ago, when Captain Jack was but
a boy, the Modocs were at war with the whites, who
were then scouring the country in search of gold.
A company took the field under the command of a
brave and reckless ruffian named Ben Wright.
The Indians were not so well armed and equipped
as their enemies. The necessities of the case, to say
nothing of their nature, compelled them to fight from
behind the cover of the rocks and trees. They were
hard to reach, and generally came out best in the
few little battles that were fought.
In this emergency Captain Wright proposed to meet
the chiefs in council, for the purpose of making a
lasting and permanent treaty. The Indians consent-
ed, and the leaders came in. " Go back," said Wright,
" and bring in all your people ; we will have council,
and celebrate our peace with a feast."
The Indians came in in great numbers, laid
down their arms, and then at a sign Wright and his
men fell upon them, and murdered them without
mercy. Captain Wright boasted on his return that
he had made a, permanent treaty with at least a thou-
sand Indians.
Captain Jack was but a boy then, but he was a
true Indian. He was not a chief then. I believe he
was not even of the blood which entitles him to that
place by inheritance, but he was a bold, shrewd
SIIADO WS OF SJTASTA. 25
Indian, and won the confidence of the tribe. He
united himself to a band of the Modocs, worked his
way to their head, and bided his time for revenge.
For nearly half a lifetime he and his warriors waited
their chance, and when it came they were not un-
equal to the occasion.
They have murdered, perhaps, one white man to
one hundred Indians that were butchered in the
same way, and not so very far from the same spot.
I deplore the conduct of the Modocs. It will con-
tribute to the misfortune of nearly every Indian in
America, however well some of the rulers of the land
may feel towards the race.
With these facts before you, considering our
superiority in understanding right and wrong, and
all that, you may not be so much surprised at the
faithful following in this case of the example we set
the Modoc Indians, which resulted in the massacre,
and the universal condemnation of Captain Jack and
his clan.
To return to my reason for publishing this sketch
at this time. You will see that treating chiefly of
the Indians, as it does, it may render them a service,
that by-and-by would be of but little use, by instruct-
ing good men who have to deal with this peculiar
people.
I know full well how many men there are on the
border who are ready to rise up and contradict
26 SB ADO WS OF SHASTA.
everything that looks like clemency or an apology
for the Indian, and have therefore given only a brief
account of the Ben Wright treachery and tragedy,
and only such an account as I believe the fiercest
enemy of the Indians living in that region admits to
be true, or at least, such an account as Ben Wright
gave and was accustomed to boast of.
The Indian account of the affair, however, which I
have heard a hundred times around their camp fires,
and over which they seemed to never tire of brooding
and mourning, is quite another story. It is dark
and dreadful. The day is even yet with them, a sort
of St. Bartholomew's Eve, and their mournful narra-
tion of all the bloody and brutal events would fill a
volume.
They waited for revenge, a very bad thing for
Indians to do, I find ; though a Christian king can
wait a lifetime, and a Christian nation half a century.
They saw their tribe wasting away every year;
every year the hordes of white settlers were eating
into the heart of their hunting grounds, still they lay
in their lava beds or moved like shadows through the
stormy forests and silently waited, and then when
the whites came into their camp to talk for peace, as
they had gone into the camp of the whites, they
showed themselves but too apt scholars in the bloody
lesson of long ago.
The scene of this narrative lies immediately about
SIIADO WS OF SHASTA. 27
the base of Mount Shasta. The Klamat river with its
tributaries flows from its snows on the north, and the
quiet Sacramento from the south. The Shasta
Indians, now but the remnant of a tribe at one time
the most powerful on the Pacific, live at the south
base of the mountain, while the Modocs and Pit
Eiver Indians live at the east and north-east, with the
Klamats still to the north. The other sides and base
of the mountain is disputed territory, since the driv-
ing out of its original owners, between settlers and
hunters, and the roving bands of Indians.
It was late in the fall. I do not know the day
or even remember the month ; but I do know that I
was alone, a frail, sensitive, girl-looking boy, almost
destitute, trying to make my way to the mines of
California, and that before I had ridden my little
spotted Cayuse pony half way up the ten-mile trail
that then crossed the Siskiyou mountains, I met
little patches of snow ; and that a keen, cold wind
came pitching down between the trees into my face
from the California side of the summit.
At one place I saw where a moccasin track was in
the snow, and leading across the trail ; a very large
track I thought it was then, but now I know that
it was made by many feet stepping in the same im-
pression.
My dress was scant enough for winter, and it was
chill and dismal. A fantastic dress, too, for one look-
28 SHADO WS OF SHASTA.
ing to the rugged life of a miner; a sort of cross
between an Indian chief and a Mexican vaquero, with
a preference for colour carried to extremes.
As I approached the summit the snow grew deeper,
and the dark firs, weighted with snow, reached their
sable and supple limbs across my path as if to catch
me by the yellow hair, that fell, like a school-giiTs,
on my shoulders. Some of the little firs were cov-
ered with snow, and were converted into pyramids
and snowy pillars.
I crossed the summit in safety, with a dreamy sort
of delight, a half -articulated " Thank God ! " and
began to descend. Here the snow disappeared on the
south side of the mountain, and a generous flood of
sunshine took its place.
After a while I turned a sharp-cut point in the
trail, with dense woods hanging on either shoulder,
and an open world before me. I lifted my eyes and
looked away to the south.
Mount Shasta was before me. For the first time I
now looked upon the mountain in whose shadows so
many tragedies were to be enacted ; the most comely
and perfect snow peak in America. Nearly a hundred
miles away, it seemed in the pure, clear atmosphere
of the mountains to be almost at hand. Above the
woods, above the clouds, almost above the snow, it
looked like the first approach of land to another
world. Away across a grey sea of clouds that arose
CROSSING THE SUMMIT.
SI1AD0 WS OF SHASTA. 23
from the Klamat and Sliasta rivers, the mountain
stood, a solitary island ; white and flashing like a
pyramid of silver ! solemn, majestic and sublime !
Lonely and cold and white. A cloud or two about
his brow, sometimes resting there, then wreathed and
coiled about, then blown like banners streaming in
the wind.
I had lifted my hands to Mount Hood, uncovered
my head, bowed down and felt unutterable things,
loved, admired, adored, with all the strength of an
impulsive and passionate young heart. But he who
loves and worships naturally and freely, as all strong,
true souls must and will do, loves that which is most
magnificent and most lovable in his scope of vision.
Hood is a magnificent idol ; is sufficient, if you do not
see Shasta.
A grander or a lovelier object makes shipwreck of
a former love. This is sadly so.
Jealousy is born of an instinctive knowledge of
this truth. . . .
Hood is rugged, kingly, majestic, immortal ! But
he is only the head and front of a well-raised family.
He is not alone in his splendour. Your admiration
is divided and weakened. Beyond the Columbia
St. Helen's flashes in the sun in summer or is folded
in clouds from the sea in winter. On either hand
Jefferson and Washington divide the attention ; then
farther away, fair as a stud of fallen stars, the white
30 SIIABO WS OF SHASTA.
Three Sisters are grouped together about the foun-
tain springs of the Willamette river ; — all in a line —
all in one range of mountains ; as it were, mighty
milestones along the way of clouds ! — marble pillars
pointing the road to God.
Mount Shasta has all the sublimity, all the
strength, majesty, and magnificence of Hood ; yet is
so alone, unsupported, and solitary, that you go
down before him utterly, with an undivided adora-
tion — a sympathy for his loneliness and a devotion
for his valour — an admiration that shall pass unchal-
lenged.
I dismounted and stood in the declining sun, hat in
hand, and looked long and earnestly across the sea of
clouds. Now and then long strings of swans went
by to Klamat lakes. I could hear them calling to
each other. Far and faint and unearthly their echoes
seemed, and were as sounds that had lost their way,
and came to me for protection.
I looked and listened long but uttered not a sound ;
strangely mute for a boy ; but exclamation at such a
time is a sacrilege.
At last I threw a kiss across the sea of clouds, as
the red banners and belts of gold streamed from the
summit in the setting- sun, and turned, took up my
lariat, mounted, and proceeded down the mountain.
Should ever your fortune lead you to cross the
Chinese wall that divides the people of Oregon from
SIIADO WS OF SHASTA. 31
the people of California, stop at the Mountain House
and ask for the old mountain trail. Take the direc-
tion and stop at the top of what is called the first
summit of the Siskiyou mountains, for there you will
see to the left hand by the trail a pile of rocks high
as your head, put there to mark where a party fell a
few days after I passed the place.
Dismount and contribute a stone to the monu-
ment from the loose rocks that lie up and down the
trail. It is a pretty Indian custom that the whites
sometimes adopt and cherish. I never fail to ob-
serve it here, for this spot means a great deal to
me.
I uncover my head, take up a stone and lay it on
the pile, then turn my face to Mount Shasta and kiss
my hand, for the want of some better expression.
CHAPTEE II.
EL VAQUEEO.
^ESCENDING the mountain range that
then divided California from Oregon, I fell
in with a sour, flinty-faced old man, with a
band of horses, which he was driving to the lower
settlements of California. He was short of help,
and proposed to take me into his employ for the
round trip, promising to pay me whatever my
services were worth. Glad of an opportunity to do
something at least in a new land, I scarcely thought
of the consideration, but eagerly accepted his offer,
and was enrolled as a vaquero along with a motley
set of half Indians from the north, and Mexicans
from the south.
Our duties were light, and the employment pleas-
ant and congenial to my nature. It was, in fact,
about the only thing I was then fit for in that strange
new country, boiling and surging with hosts of strong
men, rushing hither and thither in search of gold.
Our work consisted in keeping the saddle eight or
32
CONTENTS. XV
CHAPTER XXIX.
MY MISSION OP PEACE.
A Warm Reception— Real Freedom— Why Wars Continue— No Ex-
cuse for A Soldier — An Appeal to God as Higher Authority — Re-
sponsibility of Poets and Historians— Again purchasing Ammunition —
Watched — Stratagem and Escape — The Pursuit — Wounding my
Horse — Procuring Another— In Camp — Taken Prisoner 362
CHAPTER XXX.
DEATH OF PAQUITA.
In Prison — A Noble Lawyer — A Night Call — Paquita to the Rescue —
The True Savage Heroine — A Week's Work — Released and Free — To
the Mountains — A Curse on the City — Shasta City of To-Day — Swim-
ming Rivers — The Sacramento — Pitt River — An Ambuscade — A Des-
perate Leap — A Struggle for Life — A Shower of Bullets — Cool and
deliberate Murder — The Dying Girl — My Poor Paquita — Dead ! Dead
—Alas! Alas! Paquita 375
CHAPTER XXXI.
THE LAST BATTLE FOR THE REPUBLIC.
A Funeral Pile— The "Tale of the Tall Alcade "—Arrival at the Indian
Camp — Mourning and Lamentations — A General Despondency —
Carrying the War into Africa — Premeditated Attack on Yreka — A
Visit to the City — A Settler's Home — Among Christians — A Compari-
son — Yreka Defenceless — Yielding to Compassion — A Council of
War— A Wrong Decision— Indian Belief in the gift of Prophecy —
Klamat Paints his Face Black — Victory or Death — He Reveals a Se-
cret—The Doctor Vindicated— A Battle— Death of Klamat— The
Reservation or Annihilation — The New Republic Gone — An Indian
Chiefs Gift— Away to Nicaragua 390
CHAPTER XXXII.
AFTER A DOZEN YEARS.
Return to my Old Home — The Stage Coach— A Nervous Man's remark,
and the Answer — " How's that for High ! " — Mount Shasta Once
More— "Limber Jim"— P. Archibald Brown, alias Ginger— Effects of
Hanging, on the Nerves— An Empty Village— Blind Pits— Indian
Girls — A Popular Delusion — Indians getting Civilized — Arrival at
Camp— An Indian Welcome— A Great Talk— Sad Stories— Indian
Eloquence 405
XVI CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
THE LAST OF THE CHILDREN OF SHASTA.
Reflections — A Little Brown Girl — A Secret — A Search for the Maid-
en — The Maiden and her Mother — A Last Farewell — A Battle in my
Heart — A Visit to the Doctor — Noble old Man — Self Forgetfulness —
A Promise Made — My New Home — Little " Calli Shasta" — The
•• Prince" — Peace and Happiness — The Prince's History — Plain
James Thompson, yet still a Prince — My Regrets — Return to the
World — Origin of " The Modoc War " — Captain Jack — The Reserva-
tion — A Night Onslaught — The Peace Commissioners — Following an
Example — Undoubted Courage and heroic Deeds— Honesty toward
the Indians— The Day of Judgment — A New Thermopylae—" Calli
Shasta"— At School in San Francisco— Whose Child is She?— What
the Press say — A Possible Joke — What will become of Her? — The
Last of the Children of Shasta 419
EL VAQUERO. 33
ten hours a day, leading or following after the horses,
camping under the trees, and now and then keeping
alternate watch over the stock by night.
We were miserably fed, and half frozen while in
the mountains, but we soon descended into the quiet
Sacramento valley, where the nights are warm with
perpetual summer.
The old drover, whose great vice was avarice,
quarrelled with his men at Los Angelos, whither he
had gone to get a herd of Mexican horses after dis-
posing of the American stock, to take with him on
the back trip, and only escaped by adroitly suing
out warrants, and leaving them all there in
goal for threatening his life. The cause of the
trouble was the old man's avarice. He had made a
loose contract with the roving vaqueros, and on
settlement refused to pay them scarcely a tithe of
their earnings. I remained with him. We returned
to the north with a great herd of half-wild horses,
driven by a band of almost perfectly wild men : men
of all nationalities and conditions, though chiefly
Mexicans, all anxious to reach the rich mines of the
north.
Drovers in this country always leave the line of
travel and all frequented roads that they may obtain
fresh grass for their stock. In the long, long journey
north we passed through many tribes of Indians, and
except in the mountains, I noticed that all the
34 EL VAQTJERO.
Indians from Southern to Northern California were
low, shiftless, indolent, and cowardly. The moment
we touched the mountains we seemed to touch a new
current of blood.
The old man left his motley army of vaqueros
mostly to me, and I was practically captain of the
caravan. Not unfrequently, of a morning, we would
find ourselves short of a Mexican, who had disappear-
ed in the night with one of the best horses. Some-
times in the daytime these men would get sulky and
cross with the cold and cruel old master, and ride off
before his face. These men would have to be re-
placed by others, picked up here and there, of a still
more questionable character.
We reached Northern California after a long and
lonely journey, through wild and fertile valleys, with
only the smoke of wigwams curling from the fringe
of trees that hemmed them in, or from the river bank
that cleft the little Edens to disprove the fancy that
here might have been the Paradise and here the scene
of the expulsion.
We crossed flashing rivers, still white and clear,
that since have become turbid yellow pools with
barren banks of boulders, shorn of their overhanging
foliage, and drained of flood by ditches that the
resolute miner has led even around the mountain
tops.
On entering Pit River Valley we met with thou-
EL VAQTJERO. 35
sands of Indians, gathered there for the purpose of
fishing, perhaps, but they kindly assisted us across
the two branches of the river, and gave no signs of
ill-will
We pushed far up the valley in the direction of
Yreka, and there pitched camp, for the old man
wished to recruit his horses on the rich meadows of
wild grass before driving them to town for market.
We camped against a high spur of a long timbered
hill, that terminated abruptly at the edge of the val-
ley. A clear stream of water full of trout, with wil-
low-lined banks, wound through the length of the
narrow valley, entirely hidden in the long grass and
leaning willows.
The Pit River Indians did not visit us here, neither
did the Modocs, and we began to hope we were en-
tirely hidden, in the deep narrow little valley, from
all Indians, both friendly and unfriendly, until one
evening some young men, calling themselves Shastas,
came into the camp. They were very friendly, how-
ever, were splendid horsemen, and assisted to bring
in and corral the horses like old vaqueros.
Our force was very small, in fact we had then
less than half-a-dozen men ; and the old man, for a day
or two, employed two of these young fellows to attend
and keep watch about the horses. One morning
three of our vaqueros mounted and rode off, cursing
my sour old master for some real or fancied wrong,
36 EL VAQTJERO.
and then lie had but one white person with him
beside myself, so that the two young Indians had to
be retained.
Some weeks wore on pleasantly enough, when we
began to prepare to strike camp for Yreka. Thus far
we had not seen the sign of a Modoc Indian.
It was early in the morning. The rising sun was
streaming up the valley, through the fringe of fir and
cedar trees. The Indian boys and I had just return-
ed from driving the herd of horses a little way down
the stream. The old man and his companion were
sitting at breakfast, with their backs to the high bare
wall with its crown of trees. The Indians were
taking our saddle-horses across the little stream to
tether them there on fresh grass, and I was walking
idly towards the camp, only waiting for my tawny
young companions. Crack ! crash ! thud ! !
The two men fell on their faces and never uttered
a word. Indians were running down the little lava
mountain side, with bows and rifles in their hands,
and the hanging, rugged brow of the hill was curling
in smoke. The Ben Wright tragedy was bearing its
fruits.
I started to run, and ran with all my might towards
where I had left the Indian boys. I remember dis-
tinctly thinking how cowardly it was to run and de-
sert the wounded men, with the Indians upon them,
and I also remember thinking that when I got to the
AT A DISADVANTAGE.
EL VAQUERO. 37
first bank of willows I would turn and fire, for I had
laid hold of the pistol in my belt, and could have
fired, and should have done so, but I was thoroughly
frightened, and no doubt if I had succeeded in reach-
ing the willows I would have thought it best to go
still further before turning about.
How rapidly one thinks at such a time, and how
distinctly one remembers every thought.
All this, however, was but a flash, the least part of
an instant. Some mounted Indians that had been
stationed up the valley darted out at the first shot,
and one of them was upon me before I saw him, for
I was only concerned with the Indians pouring down
the little hill out of the smoke into the camp.
I was struck down by a club, or some hard heavy
object, maybe the pole of a hatchet, possibly only a
horse's hoof, as he plunged in the air.
When I recovered, which must have been some
minutes after, an Indian was rolling me over and
pulling at the red Mexican sash around my waist.
He was a powerful savage, painted red, half -naked,
and held a war-club in his hand. I clutched tight
around one of his naked legs with both my arms.
He tried to shake me off, but I only clutched the
tighter. I looked up, and his terrible face almost
froze my blood. I relaxed my hold from want of
strength. I shut my eyes, expecting the war-club
to crash through my brain and end the matter at
3S EL VAQUEBO.
once, but he only laughed, as much as an Indian ever
allows himself to laugh, and winding the red sash
around him strode down the valley.
My pistol was gone. I crept through the grass
into the stream, then down the stream to where it
nearly touched the forest, and climbed over and slip-
ped into the wood.
From the timber rim I looked back, but could see
nothing whatever. The band of horses was gone,
the Indians had disappeared. All was still. It was
truly the stillness of death.
The Indian boys, my companions, had escaped with
the ponies into the wood, and I stole up the edge of
the forest till I struck their trail, and following on a
little way, weak and bewildered, I met them stealing
back on foot to my assistance.
My mind and energy both now seemed to give way.
We reached the Indian camp somehow, but I have
but a vague and shadowy recollection of what passed
during the next few weeks. For the most part, as
far as I remember, I sat by the lodges or under the
trees, or rode a little, but never summoned spirit or
energy to return to the fatal camp.
I asked the Indians to go down and see what had
become of the two bodies, but they would not think
of it. This was quite natural, since they will not
revisit their own camp after being driven from it by
an enemy, until it is first visited by their priest or
EL VAQTJERO. 39
medicine man, who chaunts the death-song and
appeases the angered spirit that has brought the
calamity upon them. The Indian camp was a
small one, and made up mostly of women and chil-
dren. It was in a vine-maple thicket, on the bend of
a small stream called by the Indians Ki-yi-mem, or
white water. By the whites I think it is now called
Milk Creek. A singular stream it is ; sometimes it
flows very full, and then is nearly dry ; sometimes it
is almost white with ashes and fine sand, and then it
is perfectly clear with a beautiful white sand border
and bottom. The Indians say, that it is also some-
times so hot as to burn the hand, and then again is as
cold as the McCloud ; but this last phenomenon I
never witnessed. The changes, however, whatever
they are, are caused by some internal volcanic action
of Mount Shasta, from which the stream flows in
great springs.
The camp was but a temporary one, and pitched
here for the purpose of gathering and drying a sort
of mountain camas root from the low marshy springs of
this region. This camas is a bulbus root shaped much
like an onion, and is prepared for food by roasting in
the ground, and is very nutritious. Sometimes it is
kneaded into cakes and dried. In this state if kept
diy it will retain its sweetness and fine properties for
months.
I could not have been treated more kindly even at
40 EL VAQUERO.
home. But Indian life and Indian diet are hardly
suited to restore a shattered nervous system and or-
ganization so delicate as my own, and I got on slowly.
Perhaps after all I only needed rest, and it is quite
likely the Indians saw this, for rest I certainly had,
such as I never had before or since. It was as near
a life of nothingness down there in the deep forest as
one well could imagine. There were no birds in the
thicket about the camp, and you even had to go out
and climb a little hill to get the sun.
This hill sloped off to the south with the woods
open like a park, and here the children and some
young women sported noiselessly or basked in the
sun.
If there is any place outside of the tomb that can
be stiller than an Indian camp when stillness is re-
quired, I do not know where it is. Here was a camp
made up mostly of children, and what is usually called
the most garrulous half of mankind, and yet all was
so still that the deer often walked stately and uncon-
scious into our midst.
No mention was made of my going away or re-
maining. I was permitted as far as the Indians were
concerned to forget my existence, and so I dreamed
along for a month or two and began to get strong
and active in mind and body.
I had dreamed a long dream, and now began to
waken and think of active life. I began to hunt
EL VAQUEIW. 41
and take part with the Indians, and enter into their
delights and their sorrows.
Did the world ever stop to consider how an Indian
who has no theatre, no saloon, no whisky shop, no
parties, no newspaper, not one of all our hundreds
of ways and means of amusement, spends his evening ?
Think of this ! He is a human being, full of passion
and of poetry. His soul must find some expression ;
his heart some utterance. The long, long nights of
darkness, without any lighted city to walk about in,
or books to read. Think of that ! Well, all this
mind, or thought, or soul, or whatever it may be,
which we scatter in so many directions, and on so
many things, they centre on one or two.
What if I told you that they talk more of the
future and know more of the unknown than the
Christian ? That would shock you. Truth is a
great galvanic battery.
No wonder they die so bravely, and care so little
for this life, when they are so certain of the next.
After a time we moved camp to a less dangerous
quarter, and out into the open wood. I now took
rides daily or hunted bear or deer with the Indians.
Yet all this time I had a sort of regretful idea that
I must return to the white people and give some
account of what had happened. Then I reflected
how inglorious a part I had borne, how long I had
remained with the Indians, though for no fault of
42 EL VAQUERO.
my own, and instinctively knew the virtue of silence
on the subject.
In this new camp I seemed to come fully to my
strength. I took in the situation and the scenery
and began to observe, to think, and reflect.
Here, for the first time, I found myself alone in
an Indian camp without any obligation or anything
whatever binding me or calling me back to the
Saxon. I began to look on the romantic side of my
life, and was not displeased. I put aside the little
trouble of the old camp and became as careless as a
child.
The wood seemed very very beautiful. The air
was so rich, so soft and pure in the Indian summer,
that it almost seemed that you could feed upon it.
The antlered deer, fat, and tame almost as if fed
in parks, stalked by, and game of all kinds filled
the woods in herds. We hunted, rode, fished and
rested beside the rivers.
What a fragrance from the long and bent fir boughs.
What a healthy breath of pine ! All the long sweet
moonlight nights the magnificent forest, warm and
mellow-like from sunshine gone away, gave out
odours like burnt incense from censers swinging in
some mighty cathedral.
If I were to look back over the chart of my life for
happiness, I should locate it here if anywhere. It is
true that there was a little cast of concern in all this
EL VAQUERO. 43
about the future, and some remorse for wasted time ;
and my life, I think, partook of the Indian's melan-
choly, which comes of solitude and too much thought,
but the memory of these few weeks always appeals
to my heart, and strikes me with a peculiar gentleness
and uncommon delight.
The Indians were not at war with the whites, nor
were they particularly at peace. In fact, they assert
that there has never been any peace since they or
their fathers can remember. The various tribes,
sometimes at war, were also then at peace, so that
nothing whatever occurred to break the calm repose
of the golden autumn.
The mountain streams went foaming down among
the boulders between the leaning walls of yew and
cedar trees toward the Sacramento. The partridge
whistled and called his flock together when the sun
went down ; the brown pheasants rustled as they ran
in strings through the long brown grass, but nothing
else was heard. The Indians, always silent, are un-
usually so in autumn. The majestic march of the sea-
son seems to make them still. They moved like
shadows. The conflicts of civilization were be-
neath us. ISTo sound of strife ; the struggle for the
possession of usurped lands was far away, and I
was glad, glad as I shall never be again. I know I
should weary you, to linger here and detail the life
we led ; but as for myself I shall never cease to re-
U EL VAQUEEO.
live this life. Here I go for rest when I cannot rest
elsewhere.
With nothing whatever to do but learn their
language and their manners, I made fast progress,
and without any particular purpose at first, I soon
found myself in possession of that which, in the
hands of a man of culture would be of great
value. I saw then how little we know of the
Indian. I had read some flaming picture books of
Indian life, and I had mixed all my life more or less
with the Indians, that is, such as are willing to mix
with us on the border, but the real Indian, the
brave, simple, silent and thoughtful Indian who
retreats from the white man when he can, and fights
when he must, I had never before seen or read a
line about. I had never even heard of him. Few
have. Perhaps ten years from now the red man, as
I found him there in the forests of his fathers, shall
not be found anywhere on earth. I am now certain
that if I had been a man, or even a clever wide-awake
boy, with any particular business with the Indians, I
might have spent years in the mountains, and known
no more of these people than others know. But lost
as I was, and a dreamer, too ignorant of danger to
fear, they sympathized with me, took me into their in-
ner life, told me their traditions, and sometimes show-
ed me the u Indian question " from an Indian point of
view.
EL VAQTJERO. 45
After mingling with these people for some months,
I began to say to myself, Why cannot they be per-
mitted to remain here ? Let this region be untrav-
ersed and untouched by the Saxon. Let this be a
great national park peopled by the Indian only. I
saw the justice of this, but did not at that time con-
ceive the possibility of it.
No man leaps full-grown into the world. No
great plan bursts into full and complete magnificence
and at once upon the mind. Nor does any one sud-
denly become this thing or that. A combination of
circumstances, a long chain of reverses that refuses to
be broken, carries men far down in the scale of life,
without any fault whatever of theirs. A similar but
less frequent chain of good fortune lifts others up
into the full light of the sun. Circumstances which
few see, and fewer still understand, fashion the desti-
nies of nearly all the active men of the plastic west.
The world watching the gladiators from its high seat
in the circus will never reverse its thumbs against the
successful man. Therefore, succeed, and have the ap-
proval of the world. Nay ! what is far better, deserve
to succeed, and have the approval of your own con-
science.
CHAPTER III.
THE FINGER-BOARD OF FATE.
IgSyJP NOW stood face to face with the outposts
)gk of the great events of my life. Here were the
¥^ tawny people with whom I was to mingle.
There loomed Mount Shasta, with which my name,
if remembered at all, will be remembered. I had
not sought this. I did not dream even then that
I should mix with these people, or linger longer
here in the shadows of Shasta than I had lingered
in camps before.
I visited many of the Indian villages, where I
received nothing but kindness and hospitality. They
had never before seen so young a white man. The
Indian mothers were particularly kind. My tattered
clothes were replaced by soft brown buckskins, which
they almost forced me to accept. I was not only
told that I was welcome, and that they were glad
to see me, but I was made to feel that this was
the case. Their men were manly, tall, graceful.
Their women were beautiful in their wild and
46
THE FINGER-BOARD OF FATE. 47
natural, simple and savage beauty beyond anything
I have since seen, and I have gone well-nigh the cir-
cuit of the earth since I first pitched camp at the base
of Shasta.
I came to sympathize thoroughly with the Indians.
Perhaps, if I had been in a pleasant home, had friends,
or even had the strength of will and capacity to lay
hold of the world, and enter the conflict successfully,
I might have thought much as others thought, and
done as others have done ; but I was a gipsy, and
had no home. I did not fear or shun toil, but I de-
spised the treachery, falsehood, and villany, practised
in the struggle for wealth, and kept as well out of it
as I could.
All these old ideas of mine seem very singular now
for one so young. Yet it appears to me I always had
them; may be, I was born with a nature that did
not fit into the moulds of other minds. At all events,
I began to think very early for myself, and nearly
always as incorrectly as possible. Even at the time
mentioned I had some of the thoughts of a man ; and
at the present time, perhaps, I have many of the
thoughts of a child. My life on horseback and among
herds from the time I was old enough to ride a horse,
had made me even still more thoughtful and solitary
than was my nature, so that on some things I thought
a great deal, or rather observed, while on others —
practical things — I never bestowed a moment's time.
48 TIIE FINGER-BOARD OF FATE.
I had never been a boy, that is, an orthodox, old-
fashioned boy, for I never played in my life. Games
of ball, marbles, and the like, are to me still mys-
terious as the rites in a Pagan temple. I then knew
nothing at all of men. Cattle and horses I under-
stand thoroughly. But somehow I could not under-
stand or get on with my fellow man. He seemed to
always want to cheat me — to get my labour for
nothing. I could appreciate and enter into the heart
of an Indian. Perhaps it was because he was natural ;
a child of nature ; nearer to God than the white man.
I think what I most needed in order to understand,
get on and not be misunderstood, was a long time at
school, where my rough points could be ground down.
The schoolmaster should have taken me between his
thumb and finger and rubbed me about till I was as
smooth and as round as the others. Then I should
have been put out in the society of other smooth
pebbles, and rubbed and ground against them till I
got as smooth and pointless as they. You must not
have points or anything about you singular or notice-
able if you would get on. You must be a pebble, a
smooth, quiet pebble. Be a big pebble if you can, a
small pebble if you must. But be a pebble just like
the rest, cold, and hard, and sleek, and smooth, and
you are all right. But I was as rough as the lava
rocks I roamed over, as broken as the mountains I in-
habited ; neither a man nor a boy.
THE FINGER-BOARD OF FATE. 49
How I am running on about myself, and yet how
pleasant is this forbidden fruit ! The world says you
must not talk of yourself. The world is a tyrant.
The world no sooner discovered that the most de-
lightful of all things was the pleasure of talking about
one's self, even more delightful than talking about
one's neighbour, than straightway the world, with
the wits to back it, pronounced against the use of
this luxury.
Who knows but it is a sort of desire for revenge
against mankind for forbidding us to talk as much as
we like about ourselves, that makes us so turn upon
and talk about our neighbours.
Be that as it may, I know very well that if all
men were permitted to talk about themselves as
much as they liked, they would not talk so much
about their neighbors. They would not have time.
Even ages ago, whenever any man dared come out
and talk freely, naturally and fully as he desired
about himself, the wits nailed him to the wall with
their shafts of irony, until the last man was driven
from the green and leafy Eden of egotism, and no
one has yet had courage to attempt to retake it.
Now I like this great big letter " I," standing out
boldly alone like a soldier at his post. It is a sort
of granite pillar, it seems to me, set up at each mile,
even every quarter if you like, to face you, to be
familiar, to talk to you as you proceed, without an
50 THE FINGER-BOARD OF FATE.
interpreter or the intervention of a third party.
Modest Caesar! The man who writes of a third
person when he means the first is a falsehood. The
man who says " we " when he means " I," is a coward,
and afraid to go alone. He winces before the wits,
and takes shelter behind the back of another person.
I wonld rather see a man stand up like Homer's
heroes, or a North American Indian, and tell all his
deeds of valour and the deeds of all his ancestors
even back to the tenth generation, than this.
I despise this contemptible little wishy-washy
editorial " we." The truth is, it is ten times more
pompous than the bold naked soldier-like "I."
Besides, it has the disadvantage of being a falsehood ;
a slight, slight disadvantage in this age, it is true, but
still a disadvantage.
I edited a little paper once for a brief period. I
was owner, editor, and proprietor. This was dis-
tinctly stated at the head of the first column of the
paper. It would have been clear to all, even had I
desired to take shelter under the editorial "we,"
that its use was a naked and notorious falsehood. I
was young then. I knew nothing of civilization.
My education had been greatly neglected, and I
could not lie. I stood up the great big pronoun on
the paper as thick as pickets around a garden fence.
The publication died soon after, it is true, but this
proves nothing against the use of the great and
popular pronoun.
THE FINGER-BOARD OF FATE. 51
Winter was now approaching ; and while I should
have been welcome with the Indians to the end,
I preferred to consider my stay with them in the
light of a visit, and decided to go on to Yreka (a
mining camp then grown to the dignity of a city), and
try my fortune in the mines.
It was unsafe to venture out alone, if not impossible
to find the way ; but the two young men who had
assisted as vaqueros in the valley set out with me
and led the way till we touched the trail leading from
Ked Bluffs to Yreka on the eastern spurs of Mount
Shasta. Here they took a tender farewell, turned
back, and I never saw them again. They were
murdered before I returned to their village.
The facts of the cruel assassinations are briefly
these. The following summer the young men went
down into Pit River Valley, then filling up rapidly
with white settlers, and there took to themselves
wives from the Pit River tribe, with whom the
Shastas were on the best of terms.
These young fellows had a fondness for the whites,
and were very frequently about the settlements.
They finally made a camp near some men who were
making hay, and put in their time and supported
themselves by hunting and fishing, at the same time
keeping up friendly relations with the whites by
liberal donations of game.
One day one of these Indians, with his young
52 THE FINGER-BOARD OF FATE.
wife, went out among the hay makers, and while he
was standing there, watching the men at work, two
men came np from a neighbouring part of the prairie
and shot him down in cold blood, saying only that
they knew him and that he was "a damned bad
Injun."
This is, or was at that time, considered quite suffi-
cient excuse for taking an Indian's life on the Pacific.
They hid the body under a haycock, and Carried his
young and terrified wife to their camp.
That evening the other Indian, returning from the
hills, came to look after his companion. The two men
told him they would show him where he was ; and
the young man, still unsuspicious, walked out with
them; but when near the hayfield one of the two,
who had fallen behind, shot him in the back.
The Indian was good mettle, however, and for the
first time discerning the treachery, sprang forward
upon the other now a little in advance and brought
him to the ground. But the poor boy had been
mortally shot, and died almost instantly after.
The plain cold truth of the matter is these men
had seen the two young Indian women, wanted them,
and got them after this manner, as did others in
similar ways, and no one said nay.
This account I had from the lips of one of the very
two men alluded to. His name is Fowler. He told it
by way of a boast, repeatedly, and to numbers of
THE FINGER-BOARD OF FATE. 53
men, while we were engaged in the Pit river
war. This Fowler is now married to a white woman,
and lives in Shasta county, California.
Of such deeds grew the Pit river valley mas-
sacre hereinafter narrated.
I rode down and around the northern end of the
deep wood, and down into Shasta valley.
If I was unfit to take my part in the battle of life
when I left home, I was now certainly less so. My
wandering had only made me the more a dreamer.
My stay with the Indians had only intensified my
dislike for shopkeepers, and the commercial world in
general, and I was as helpless as an Indian.
I was so shy, that I only spoke to men when com-
pelled to, and then with the greatest difficulty and
embarrassment. I remember, lonely as I was in my
ride to Yreka, that I always took some by-trail, if
possible, if about to meet people, in order to avoid
them, and at night would camp alone by the way-
side, and sleep in my blanket on the ground, rather
than call at an inn, and come face . to face with
strangers.
I left the Indians without any intention of return-
ing, whatever. I had determined to enter the gold
mines, dig gold for myself, make a fortune, and
return to civilization, or to such civilization as I had
known.
Stronger men than I have had that same plan.
Perhaps one out of twenty has succeeded.
54 THE FINGER-BOARD OF FATE.
I must here make a long digression from the Indian
trail. In spite of my resolution to boldly enter the
camp or city and bear my part there, as I neared the
town my heart failed me, and I made on to Cotton-
wood, a mining camp twenty miles distant, on the
Klamat, and a much smaller town.
After two or three days of unsuccessful attempts
to find some opening, I determined to again marshal
courage and move upon Yreka. I accordingly, on a
clear frosty morning, mounted my pony, and set out
alone for that place.
I rode down to the banks of the beautiful, arrowy
Klamat — misspelled Klamath — with a thousand
peaceful Indians in sight.
A deep, swift stream it was then, beautiful and
blue as the skies; but not so now. The miners
have filled its bed with tailings from the sluice and
torn; they have dumped, and dyked, and mined in
this beautiful river-bed till it flows sullen and turbid
enough. Its Indian name signifies the " giver " or
" generous," from the wealth of salmon it gave the
red men till the white man came to its banks.
The salmon will not ascend the muddy water
from the sea. They come no more, and the red men
are gone.
As I rode down to the narrow river, I saw a tall,
strong, and elegant-looking gentleman in top boots
and red sash, standing on the banks calling to the
ferryman on the opposite side.
THE FINGER-BOARD OF FATE. 55
Up to this moment, it seemed to me I had never
yet seen a perfect man. This one now before me
seemed to leave nothing to be desired in all that
goes to make the comely and complete gentleman.
Yonng — I should say he was hardly twenty-five —
and yet thoroughly thoughtful and in earnest. There
was command in his quiet face and a dignity in his
presence, yet a gentleness, too, that won me there,
and made it seem possible to approach as near his
heart as it is well for one man to approach that of
another.
This, thought I, as I stood waiting for the boat, is
no common person. He is surely a prince in dis-
guise ; may be he is the son of a president or a
banker, wild and free, up here in the mountains for
pleasure. Then I thought from the dark and classic
face that he was neither an American, German, nor
Irishman, and vaguely I associated him with Italian
princes dethroned, or even a king of France in
exile. He was surely splendid, superb, standing there
in the morning sun, in his gay attire, by the swift and
shining river, smiling, tapping the sand in an absent-
minded sort of way with his boot. A prince ! truly
nothing less than a prince ! The man turned and
smiled good-naturedly, as I dismounted, tapped the
sand with his top-boot, gently whistled the old air of
" '49," but did not speak.
This man was attired something after the Mexican
• 56 THE FINGER-BOARD OF FATE.
style of dress, with a wealth of black hair on his
shoulders, a cloak on his arm, and a pistol in his
belt.
The boatman came and took us in his narrow
little flat, and set his oars for the other side. A
sort of Yankee sailor was this boatman, of a very low
sort too; blown up from the sea as sea-gulls are
sometimes found blown out even in the heart of the
plains: a suspicious-looking, sallow, solemn-faced,
bald-headed man in gum-boots, duck-breeches, blue
shirt with the front all open, showing his hairy bosom,
and with a lariat tied about his waist in the form of
a sash.
The tall, fine-looking man stepped ashore with a
quiet laugh as the boat touched the sand, and said,
" Chalk that." These were the first words I had ever
heard him utter.
The solemn faced ferryman tied his boat in a second,
and, stepping boldly up under the nose of the tall
man, said fiercely : —
" Look here, what do you play me for i Do you
think I'm a Chinaman ? You high toned, fine-haired
gamblers don't play me — not much, you don't ! "
" Don't want to play you, my friend."
" Then pay me. Why don't you pay me, and be
off?"
" Haven't got the tin. Can't come to the centre !
Haven't got the dust. Can't liquidate. That's the
reason why."
;*£&2~~'vS?.^i
A FORCED BALANCE.
THE FINGER-BOARD OF FATE. 57
And here the good-natured tall gentleman again
tapped the sand with his boot, and looked down at
the river and at the bullying ferryman under his
nose.
"Then leave your coat; leave your — your pistol,
till you come again."
The tall man shifted his cloak from his right arm
to his left. The ferryman fell back toward his boat.
Sailors know the signs of a storm.
"Look here," began the tall man, mildly, "I
crossed here yesterday, did I not? I gave you a
whole cart-wheel, did I not ? a clean twenty dollar,
and told you to keep the change and use it in cross-
ing poor devils that were out of tin. You don't
know me now with no mule and no catenas filled
with tin. Forgot what I told you, I should think.
Now, you count out my change, or by the holy
spoons, I'll pitch you in there, neck and crop, among
the salmon."
And here the tall man reached for the man in blue
who in turn turned red and white and black, and
when he had retreated to the water's edge and saw
the tall man still advancing and reaching for him,
thrust his hand into his capacious pocket and counted
down the coin in a very methodical and business-like
way, into the hand of the other.
Then the tall man laughed good-naturedly, bade
the boatman good-bye, came up and coolly tied his
58 THE FINGER-BOARD OF FATE.
coat on behind my saddle, and we set forward up the
trail.
The tall man hummed an air as he followed in the
trail behind my pony, the boatman swore a little
as he untied his boat, and the arrowy, silver river
shot away towards the sea between its rocky walls,
with its thousands of listless, dreamy Indians on its
banks.
I take it to be a good sign if a strong, good-
natured man who has a fair opportunity, does not
talk to you much, at first. In fact, as a rule, you
should be cautious of over-talkative strangers. Such
persons have either not sense enough to keep quiet ;
not brains enough to ballast their tongues, as it were,
or are low and vicious people who feel their littleness
and feel that they mast talk themselves into some
consequence.
After we had gone on in silence for some time,
on turning a point in the trail we saw a man approach-
ing from the other direction. A strong, fine-looking
man was this also, mounted on a sleek, well-fed mule
with his long ears set sharply forward ; a sure sign
that he was on good terms with his rider. The mule
brayed lustily, and then pointed his two ears sharply
at us as if they were opera-glasses, and we a sort of
travelling theatre.
The man was richly dressed, for the mountains ;
sported a moustache, top-boots, fur vest, cloth coat,
THE FINGER-BOARD OF FATE. 59
a broad palm hat, and had diamonds in the bosom of
his shirt. A costly cloak on his shoulders, yellow
buckskin gauntlets, a rich, red sash around his waist,
where swung a pair of Colt's new patent, and a great
gold chain made up by linking specimens of native
gold together, made up this man's attire. His great
hat sheltered him like a palm.
CHAPTER IV.
HIGH, LOW, JACK AND THE GAME.
HE man did not notice me, but made straight
up to my companion until his mule's opera-
glasses nearly touched the tall man's nose,
who was now in a little trail at my side.
Then the man under the palm-leaf let go the
reins, leaned "back as the mule stopped, put his two
hands on the saddle pommel, and slowly, emphati-
cally, and with the most evident surprise, as he
raised one hand and pushed back the palm-leaf clear
off his eyes to get a good square look at my compan-
ion, said : —
" Well — blast — my sisters cat's-tail to the bone !
Is this you, Prince Hal, or is it Hamlet's daddy's
ghost ? You back from the war path, afoot and
alone ! Angels and ministers of grace defend us !
Spirits of the "
And here as if the mention of the first-named in
the sentence had suddenly inspired him with a new
thought, he leaned forward, unfastened his catenas,
60
HIGH, LOW, JACK AND THE GAME. 61
and drew forth, a long-necked bottle. He drew the
cork with his teeth, then held the bottle up to the
sun, shut one eye, looked at the contents as if to see
that they had the desired bead, handed it to the man
he had called Prince Hal, said " Boston's best," and
bowed down his head.
The Prince took the bottle solemnly, held it up to
the light, placed three lingers on a level with the top
of the contents, and then slowly raised the bottom
towards the sun.
A gurgling sound, then the telescope descended,
and the Prince took a long breath as he handed the
bottle on to me.
I had not yet learned the etiquette of the mountain
traveller, and shook my head.
A hand reached out from under the broad hat, as
the Prince returned the bottle in that direction, took
it by the neck, shook it gently, tilted it over as the
broad hat fell back, and consulted the oracle ; then
stuck it back in the catenas.
When he had replaced the bottle, he stood in his
great wooden stirrups, rattled the bells of steel on
his great Spanish spurs, and again eyed my com-
panion.
" Well damn old roper ! " he again broke forth,
" money, mule, and watch all gone, and you afoot and
alone ! Well, how on earth did it happen ? And is
it really so? Just to think that Prince Hal, the
62 HIGH, LOW JACK
man of all others who always made it particular hell
for the rest of us, should travel all the way from
Yreka to Cottonwood to get a game, and then get
cleaned out cleaner than a shot-gun ! Too jolly for
anything ! And are you really dead-broke ?
"Skinned clean down to the bed-rock. Haven't
got the colour," said the Prince, laconically, as he
again tapped the dust with his boot.
" Well now, do tell a fellow how it happened. I
shall hang up at Cottonwood to-night, and if I don't
make the sports ante, my name ain't Boston. What
did you go through on ? "
" Four aces ! "
" Four devils ! and what did the other fellow have ? "
"A pair!"
" A pair of what ? You let him take your money
on a pair when you had four aces ? Now come ! On
the square — how on earth did you get sinched, any-
how ? and did you really have four aces \ "
"Yes."
" And the other fellow ? "
a A pair."
"Of what?"
" Six-shooters ! " calmly answered the laconic Prince,
still tapping at the dust and looking sidewise like, to
the right.
" Now look here," said Boston earnestly, as he dis-
mounted, stood on one foot, and leaned against his
A2STD TEE GAME. 63
mule, with tlie broad hat pressed hack and Lis right
arm over the animal's neck, " do for the love of Moses
tell me all about how this happened ! "
Here the Prince stopped looking around, held up
his head, laughed a little, and proceeded to state that
the night before he had a game with two new
gamblers, who claimed to have just come up from
Oregon, long-haired and green, as he supposed, as
Willamette grass, at twenty dollars a corner. That
about midnight he fell heir to four aces, and staked
all his fortune, money, mule and watch on the hand.
" I really felt sorry for the boys," added the Prince.
u It seemed like robbing, to take their money on four
aces, and I told them not to set it too deep, but they
said they would mourn as much as they liked at their
own funeral, and so came to the centre and called me
to the board."
" What have you got J "
u Four aces ! "
a Four aces ! and what else ? Skin 'em out, skin
'em out ! "
a I put down my four aces before their eyes, when
one of them coolly put his finger down on my fifth
card, pushed it aside, and there lay the sixth card ! "
Boston gave a long whistle, and as he could not
push his panama any further back, he pulled it for-
ward, and looked up with his nose at Mount Shasta.
This was my first lesson in gambling. Here for the
64 HIGH, LOW, JACK
first time I learned that any one caught cheating at
cards forfeits his stakes.
Cheat all you like, but don't get caught. A game
at cards, you see, is much like many other things in
this respect.
The Prince of course remonstrated, but it was no
use. He had not been cheating; they had waxed
his cards together and he did not detect it till too
late.
Appearances were against him ; besides a pair of
pistols cocked and at hand, decided the matter. He
acknowledged himself beat. Took a drink good-
naturedly with the crafty gamblers and retired.
For the benefit of ladies whose husbands may pro-
fess ignorance on this subject, I may state that four
aces in a game of poker make a " corner n that cannot
be broken.
The man in the broad hat slowly mounted his
mule, set his feet in the stirrups, stretched his long
legs in the tapideros, unbuckled the catenas, and
again reached the contents of the right-hand pocket to
the Prince, and leaning back as my companion took a
refreshing drink again, said u Well — blast my sister's
cat's tail to the bone ! "
" Prince," said Boston, as he drove the cork home
with his palm and replaced the bottle, " you and I
have set against each other, night after night, and
I have found you a hard nut to crack, you bet your
AND THE GAME. 65
life, but to see you skinned to the bed-rock, and by
Oregonians at that, is too rough ; and here's my hand
on that. You was always best, and I second best,
of the two you know, but no matter; take this."
And he put his hand down in the other pocket of
his catenas, and drew forth a handful of twenties.
"Take them, I tell you," as the Prince declined.
" You must and shall take them as a friend's loan
if nothing else. That is, I intend to force you to
take these few twenties, and won't take no for an
answer."
The Prince took the coins, carelessly dropped
them into his pocket, and again tapped the dust with
his boot, and looked up at the sun as if he wished to
be on his way.
Neither of the men had counted the money, or
seemed to take any note of the amount.
The bottle was again uncorked and exchanged.
Boston gathered up the reins from the neck of his
mule, settled himself in the saddle, stuck his great
spurs in the sinch, and the mule struck out, ambling
and braying as he went, with his opera-glasses held
directly on the river below.
I had not been mentioned, or noticed further.
I might have been invisible as air, so far as my
presence was concerned, after I declined to take a
drink.
California gamblers these of the old and early
E
66 HIGH, LOW, JACK
type. And they were men ! There is no doubt of
that. They were brave, honest, generous men. But
let it be distinctly understood, that the old race is
extinct.
These men described were the cream of their call-
ing, even at that time when gold was plenty and
manhood was not rare. Such men were the first to
give away their gains, the first to take part in any
good enterprise, not too much freighted with the
presence of a certain type of itinerants, so-called
" Methodist ministers." In these few first years, they
went about from camp to camp, and won or lost their
money as the men above described.
The man who keeps a gambling den to-day is
another manner of man. The professional gambler
through most of the Pacific cities of to-day is a low
character. The would-be " sport " who would imi-
tate these men of the early time is usually a broken-
down barber, bar-tender, or waiter in disgrace.
A sudden and short-lived race were these. Gay
old sports, who sprung up mushroom-like from the
abundance and very heaps of gold. Men who had
vast sums of money from some run of fortune, and
no great aim in life, and having no other form of
excitement, sat down and gambled for amusement,
until they came to like it and followed it as a call-
ing, for a time, at least.
All men have a certain amount of surplus energy
AND TEE GAME. 67
that must be thrown off against some keen excite-
ment. You see how very naturally very good
men became gamblers in that time. Their suc-
cessors, however, gamble for gold and gain ; too idle
to toil and too cowardly to rob, they follow a calling,
about the mining camps particularly, that is now
as disreputable as it was once respectable, or rather
aristocratic.
The grand old days are gone. The gay gamblers
with their open pockets and ideas of honour ; the fast
women who kept the camps in turmoil and commo-
tion, are no more. Their imitators are there, but in
camps where men would be glad to pay a woman
well to wash his shirt, and where every man strong
enough to swing a pick can get employment, there
is no excuse for the one nor apology for the other.
Water will seek its level. As a rule, the low are
low — avoid them, particularly in America, more par-
ticularly on the Pacific side of America. Give a man
five years, and, with unfortunate exceptions of course,
he will find his level on the Pacific, and his place,
whether high or low, as naturally as a stream of
water. Many of our old gamblers took up the law.
A great many took to politics ; some advanced far
into distinction, even to Congress, and were heard
when they got there. Many fell in Nicaragua. One
or two became ministers, and made some mark in the
world. One is even now particularly famous for his
68 HIGH, LOW, JACK
laconic sword-cuts of speech, born of the gambling
table, when he is excited and earnestly addressing
his congregation of miners in the mountains.
As a rule, these men remained true to the Pacific,
and refused to leave it. The miners gathered up
their gold, and returned to their old homes; the
merchants did the same as the camps went down, but
these men remained. They have, to use their own
expression, mostly " passed in their checks," but what
few of them are still found, no matter what they fol-
low, are honest, brave old men.
Nature had knighted them at their births as of
noble blood, and they could not but remain men even
in the calling of knaves.
It was late in the day when we passed, on
one side of the dusty road we had been travelling
but a short distance, a newly-erected gallows,
and a populous grave-yard on the other. Certain
evidences, under the present order of things, of the
nearness of civilization and a city.
Mount Shasta is not visible from the city. A long
butte, black and covered with chapparal, lifts up
before Yreka, shutting out the presence of the
mountain.
It was a strange sort of inspiration that made the
sheriff come out here to construct his gallows — out
in the light, as it were, from behind the little butte
and full in the face of Shasta.
AND TEE GAME. 69
A strange sort of inspiration it was, and more
beautiful, that made the miners bring the first dead
out here from the camp, from the dark, and dig his
grave here on the hill-side, full in the light of the
lifted and eternal front of snow.
Dead men are even more gregarious than the
living. No one lies down to rest long at a time
alone, even in the wildest parts of the Pacific. The
dead will come, if his place of rest be not hidden
utterly, sooner or later, and even in the wildest
places will find him out, and one by one lie down
around him.
The shadows of the mountains in mantles of pine
were reaching out from the west over the thronged
busy little new-born city, as we entered its populous
streets.
The kingly sun, as if it was the last sweet office
on earth that day, reached out a shining hand to
Shasta, laid it on his head till it became a halo of
gold and glory, withdrew it then and let the shadowy
curtains of night come down, and it was dark almost
in a moment.
The Prince unfastened his cloak from the macheers
behind my saddle, and as he did so, courteously
asked if I was "all right in town," and I boldly
answered, u Oh yes, all right now." Then he bade
me good bye, and walked rapidly up the street.
If I had only had a little nerve, the least bit of
TO HIGH, LOW, JACK
practical common-sense and knowledge of men, I
should have answered, " No, sir ; I am not all right,
at all. I am quite alone here. I do not know a
soul in this city or any means of making a living. I
have nothing in the world but a half-dollar and this
pony. I am tired, cold, hungry, half-clad, as you
see. No, sir, since you ask me, that is the plain
truth of the matter. I am not all right at all."
Had I had the sense or courage to say that, or
any part of that, he would have given me half, if
not all, the coins given him on the trail, and been
proud and happy to do it.
I was alone in the mines and mountains of Cali-
fornia. But what was worse than mines and
mountains, I was alone in a city. I was alone in
the first city I had ever seen. I could see nothing
here that I had ever seen before, but the cold far
stars above me.
I pretended to be arranging my saddle till the
Prince was out of sight, and then seeing the sign of
a horse swinging before a stable close at hand, I led
my tired pony there, and asked that he should be
cared for.
A negro kept this stable, a Nicaragua negro, with
one eye, and an uncommon long beard for one of his
race. He had gold enough hung to his watch-chain
in charms and specimens to stock a ranch, and
finger-rings like a pawn-dealer. He was very black,
AND THE GAME. 71
short and fat, and insolent to the white boy who
tended his horses. I was afraid of this man from the
first, instinctively, and without any reason at all.
When you fear a man or woman instinctively,
follow your instincts. I shrank from this short,
black, one-eyed scoundrel, with his display of gold,
in a strange way. When he came up and spoke to
me, as I was about to go out, I held my head down
under his one eye, as if I had stolen something and
dared not look into it.
Permit me to say here that the idea that the honest
man will look you in the face and the knave will not,
is one of the most glaring of popular humbugs that I
know. Ten chances to one the knave will look you
in the eye till you feel abashed yourself, while the
honest, sensitive man or woman will merely lift the
face to yours, and the eyes are again to the ground.
" Look me in the eye and tell me that, and I will
believe you," is a favourite saying. Nonsense ! there
is not a villain in the land but can look you in the
eye and lie you blind.
CHAPTER V.
IN A CALIFORNIA MIKING CAMP.
THINK I was ill. I remember some things
but vaguely which took place this night, and
the day and night that followed.
I am certain that something was wrong all this
time ; for, as a rule, when we first land from a voyage,
or reach a journey's end, the mind is fresh and strong
— a blank ready to receive impressions and to retain
them.
If you will observe or recall the fact, you will find
that the first city you visited in China, or the first
sea-port you touched at in Europe, is fixed in your
mind more perfectly than any other. But my recol-
lection of this time, usually clear and faultless, is
shadowy and indistinct. I was surely ill.
This black man to me was a nightmare. I stood
before him like a convict before his keeper. I felt
that he was my master. Had he told me to do this
or that I would have gone and done it, glad to get
72
IN A CALIFORNIA MINING CAMP. 73
from tinder his one and dreadful eye, that seemed to
be burning a hole in my head.
The one-eyed black villain knew very well he was
torturing me. He took a delight in it. Understand
he had not said a word. I had not lifted my eyes.
At last he hoisted his black fat hand to his black
thick head and turned away. I walked with an effort
out into the street. This man had taken my strength ;
he had absorbed me into his strong animal body.
Here is a subject that I do not understand at all.
I will only state a fact. There are men that exhaust
me. There are men that if they come into a room
and talk to me, or even approach closely, take my
strength from me more speedily, and as certainly, as
if I spent my force climbing a hill. There are men
that I cannot endure; their presence is to me an
actual physical pain. I have tried to overcome this
— in vain. I have found myself dodging men in the
street, hiding around the corner, or flying like a pick-
pocket into a crowd to escape them. Good honest
men are they — some of them, no doubt, yet they use
me up ; they absorb, exhaust me ; they would kill me
dead in less than a week.
I stole away from the stable and reached the main
street. A tide of people poured up and down, and
across from other streets, as strong as if in New York.
The white people on the side walks, the Chinese and
mules in the main street. Not a woman in sight, not
74 IN A CALIFOBNIA
a child, not a boy. People turned to look at me as
at something new and out of place.
I was very hungry, faint, miserable. The wind
pitched down from the white-covered mountains,
cold and keen, and whistled above the crowds along
the streets. I got a biscuit for my half-dollar,
walked on, ate it unobserved, and was stronger.
Brick houses on either hand, two and three stories
high. A city of altogether, perhaps, five thousand
souls. I was utterly overcome by the magnitude of
the place and the multitude of people. There being
but one main street, I kept along this till the further
end was reached, then turned back, and thus was
not lost or bewildered. I returned to the stable,
stronger now, yet almost trembling with fear of
meeting the black man with one eye.
As a rule, beware of one-eyed people, who have
not a strong moral anchor; also beware of cripples,
unless they too have a good and patient nature. Fate
has put them at a disadvantage with the world, and
they can only battle and keep pace with their
fellows by cunning. Nine times out of ten they
instinctively take to treachery and tricks to over-
come this disadvantage. Thai is only natural.
On the same principle, woman, who is not so
strong as man, resorts to strategy to match him.
What she lacks in strength, she makes up in being
more than his equal in craftiness. The strong
/
MINING CAMP. 75
grizzly goes boldly upon his prey, crushing through
the chapparal like the march of an army ; the panther
lies on a limb, waiting to take it at a disadvantage.
A deaf and dumb person is usually a lovable character ;
so is one who is totally blind, for these live some-
what more within themselves and do not go out to
battle with the world, or at least, do not attempt to
match it in the daily struggle ; but you put a one-eyed
man or a cripple in the fight, and unless he is very
good, he is veiy bad indeed.
I went up to my pony, standing on three legs with
his nose in the hay, put my arms around his neck,
talked baby-talk to him, and felt as with an old
friend. There was a little opening overhead, a place
where they put hay down from the loft. I looked
up. An idea struck me. I looked over my shoulder
for the negro. No one was there. I climbed up like
a cat ; found a hump of hay, crept into it, and was
soon fast asleep.
It was not a pleasant bed. The wind whistled
through the loft, and though I crept and cowered
into the very heart of the hay-pile, the frost followed
me up unmercifully. I descended with the dawn,
lest the negro should be there, and was on the street
even before the Chinamen, and long before the sun.
A frost was on the ground, and a taste of winter in
the air and wind.
To the west the pine hills were brown with the
76 IN A CALIFORNIA
dead grass, then farther up, green with pine and fir,
then white with frost and snow.
I walked up the single long street in that direc-
tion, the hills began to flash back the sun that
glowed from Shasta's helmet, and my heart rose up
with the sun. I said, " The world is before me.
Here is a new world being fashioned under my very
feet. I will take part in the work, and a portion of
it shall be mine."
All this city had been built, all this country
opened up, in less than two years. Twenty months
before, only the Indian inhabited here ; he was lord
absolute of the land. But gold had been found on
this spot by a party of roving mountaineers ; the
news had gone abroad, and people poured in and
had taken possession in a day, without question and
without ceremony.
And the Indians? They were pushed aside. At
first they were glad to make the strangers welcome ;
but when they saw where it would all lead, they
grew sullen and concerned. Then trouble arose;
they retreated, and Ben Wright took the field and
followed them, as we have seen.
I hurried on a mile or so to the foot-hills, and
stood in the heart of the placer mines. Now the
smoke from the low chimneys of the log cabins
began to rise and curl through the cool, clear air on
every hand, and the miners to come out at the low
MINING CAMP. 77
doors ; great hairy, bearded, six-foot giants, hatless,
and half -dressed.
They stretched themselves in the sweet, frosty
air, shouted to each other in a sort of savage
banter, washed their hands and faces in the gold-pans
that stood by the door, and then entered their
cabins again, to partake of the eternal beans and
bacon and coffee, and coffee and bacon and beans.
The whole face of the earth was perforated with
holes ; shafts sunk and being sunk by these men in
search of gold, down to the bed-rock. Windlasses
stretched across these shafts where great buckets
swung, in which men hoisted the earth to the light of
the sun by sheer force of muscle.
The sun came softly down, and shone brightly on
the hillside where I stood. I lifted my hands to
Shasta, above the butte and town, for he looked like
an old acquaintance, and I again was glad.
It is one of the chiefest delights of extreme youth,
and I may add of extreme ignorance, to bridge over
rivers with a rainbow. And one of the chief good
things of youth and verdancy is buoyancy of spirits.
You may be twice vanquished in a day, and if you
are neither old nor wise you may still be twice glad.
A sea of human life began to sound and surge
around me. Strong men shouldered their picks and
shovels, took their gold-pans under their arms, and
went forth to their labour. They sang little snatches
78 IN A CALIFORNIA
of songs familiar in other lands, and now and then
they shouted back and forth, and their voices arose
like trumpets in the mountain air.
I went down among these men full of hope. I
asked for work. They looked at me and smiled, and
went on with their labour. Sometimes, as I went
from one claim to another, they would ask me what
I could do. One greasy, red-faced old fellow, with
a green patch over his left eye, a check shirt, yellow
with dirt, and one suspender, asked —
" What in hell are you doing here anyhow ?"....
My spirit mercury fell to freezing point before
night. ,
At dusk I again sought the rude half -open stable,
put my arms around my pony's neck, caressed him
and talked to him as to a brother. I wanted, needed
something to love and talk to, and this horse was all
I had.
I trembled lest the negro should be near, and
hastened to climb again into the loft and hide in my
nest of hay.
It was late when I awoke. I had a headache and
hardly knew where I was. When I had collected my
mind and understood the situation, I listened for the
negro's voice. I heard him in the far part of the
stable, and, frightened half to death, hastened to
descend.
When a young bear up a tree hears a human voice
MINING CAMP. 79
at the root it hastens down, even though it be perfectly-
safe where it is, and will reach the ground only to
fall into the very arms of the hunter.
My conduct was something like that of the young
"bear. I can account for the one about as clearly as
for the other.
My hat was smashed in many shapes, my clothes
were wrinkled, and there were fragments of hay and
straw in my hair. My heart beat audibly, and my
head ached till I was nearly blinded with pain as I
hastened down.
There was no earthly reason why I should fear
this negro. Reason would have told me it was not
in his power to harm me ; but I had not then grown
to use my reason.
There are people who follow instinct and impulse,
much as a horse or dog, all through rather eventful
lives, and, in some things, make fewer mistakes than
men w^ho act only from reason.
A woman follows instinct more than man does, and
hence is keener to detect the good or bad in a face
than man, and makes fewer real mistakes.
When I had descended and turned hastily and
half blinded to the door, there stood the one-eyed
negro, glaring at me with his one eye ferociously.
" What the holy poker have you been a doin' up
there ? Stealin' my eggs, eh ? Now look here, you
better git. Do you hear?" And he came toward
MINING CAMP. 81
humoured way. "How-dy-do? Take a drink?"
And he led me into the bar-room. I followed
mechanically.
In most parts of America the morning salutation
is, "How d'ye do? How's the folks?" But on
the Pacific it is, " How-dy-do ? Take a drink ?"
There was a red sign over the door of the hotel —
a miner with a pick, red shirt, and top boots. I
lifted my face and looked at that sign to hide my ex-
pression of concern from the Prince.
" Hullo, my little chicken, what's up ? You look as
pale as a ghost. Come, take a smash ! It will strengthen
you up. Been on a bender last night; no?" cried
an old sailor, glass in hand.
There was an enormous box-stove there in the
middle of the room, with a drum like a steam boiler
above, and a great wood fire that cracked and roared
like a furnace.
The walls were low, of painted plank, and were hung
around with cheap prints in gay colours — of race-
horses, prize-fighters, and bull-dogs. One end of the
room was devoted to a local picturing, on a plank
half the size of a barn door, which was called a
Mexican Bull. This name was prudently written at
the bottom, perhaps to prevent mistakes. The great
picture of the place, however, was that of a grizzly
bear and hunter, which hung at the back of the man
who dealt out the tumblers behind the bar. This
82 IE A CALIFORNIA
picture was done by the hunter himself. He was
represented clasped in the bear's embrace, and
heroically driving an enormous knife to his heart.
The knife was big and broad as a hand-saw, red and
running with blood. The bear's fore legs were enor-
mous, and nearly twice as long and large as his hind
ones. It may be a good stroke of genius to throw all
the strength and power in the points to which the
attention will most likely be directed. At least that,
seemed to be the policy adopted by this artist of the
West.
An Indian scalp or two hung from a corner of this
painting. The long matted hair hung streaming
down over the ears of the bear and his red open
mouth. A few sheaves of arrows in quivers were hung
against the wall, with here and there a tomahawk, a
scalping-knife, boomerang and war-club, at the back
of the " bar-keep."
Little shelves of bottles, glasses, and other requi-
sites of a well-regulated bar, sprang up on either side
of the erect grizzly bear; and on the little shelf
where the picture rested lay a brace of pistols,
capped and cocked, within hand's reach of the cin-
namon-haired bar-keeper. This man was short, thick-
set, and of enormous strength, strength that had not
remained untrained. He had short red hair, which
stuck straight out from the scalp ; one tooth out in
front, and a long white scar across his narrow red
MINING CAMP. 83
forehead. He wore a red shirt, open at the throat,
with the sleeves rolled up his brawny arms to the
elbows.
All this seems to be before me now. I believe I
could count and tell with a tolerable accuracy the
number of glasses and bottles there were behind the
bar.
Here is something strange. Everything that
passed, everything that touched my mind through
any source whatever, every form that my eyes
rested upon, in those last two or three minutes
before I broke down, remained as fixed and
substantial in the memory, as shafts of stone.
Is it not because they were the last ? because the
mind, in the long blank that followed, had nothing
else to do but fix those last things firmly in their
place; something as the last scene on the land or
the last words of friends are remembered when we
go down on a long journey across the sea.
I have a dim and uncertain recollection of trying
hard to hold on to the bar, of looking up to the
Prince for help in a helpless way ; the house seemed
to rock and reel, and then one side of the room was
lifted up so high I could not keep my feet — could not see
distinctly, could not hear at all, and then all seemed to
recede ; and all the senses refused to struggle longer
against the black and the blank sea that came over
me, and all things around me.
84 IN A CALIFORNIA
The Prince, I think, put out his strong arms and
took me up, but I do not know. All this is painful to
recall. I never asked anything about it when I got
up again, because I tried to forget it. That is
impossible. I see that bar, bar-keeper, and grizzly-
bear so distinctly this moment, that if I were a
painter I could put every face, every tumbler, every-
thing there, on canvas as truthfully as they could
be taken by a photograph.
I remember the room they took me to up-stairs.
They spoke kindly, but I do not think I could
answer. Every now and then, through it all and in
all things, I could see the one-eyed negro. I lay
looking at the double-barrelled shot-gun against the
wall by the bed, and the bowie-knife that lay beside
a brace of pistols on the table ; some decanters on a
stand, and a long white pole, perhaps a sort of pick-
handle, in the corner, are all that I remember. And
yet all this fixed on the mind in an instant ; for
soon my remaining senses went away, and returned
no more for many, many weeks.
There was a little Chinaman, tawny, moon-eyed
and silent, sitting by the bed ; but when he saw me
lift my hands and look consciously around, his
homely features beamed with delight. He sprung
up from my side, spun around the room a time or
two in his paper slippers, hitched up his blue, loose
trousers, and seemed as glad as a country child when
AMONG BARBARIANS.
MINING CAMP. 85
a parent comes home from town. Then he took up
my hand, moved my head, fixed the pillow, and
again spun around the room, grinning and showing
his white teeth.
This little moon-eyed heathen belonged to that
race we send so many tracts and missionaries to
across the seas ; and was one of those little wretches
that the dear children in the cities of the Pacific pelt
and pound on Sabbath days with cobble stones,
rotten apples, hymn-books, bibles, and whatever
comes convenient, as they return home from church
and Sunday school.
At last, this diminutive Chinaman seemed to come
to his senses, and shot out of the door and down the
stairs as if flying for a wager, and I slept then and
dreamed sweet and beautiful dreams.
When I awoke the little heathen had returned.
The Prince, more earnest and thoughtful, it seemed
to me, than before, was at my side, and with him a
sallow, sickly-looking physician in green glasses, and
a ruffled shirt. Miners were coming in and going
out on tip-toe, holding their slouch hats stiffly in
both hands, and making long measured steps as they
moved around the bed.
I looked for the shot-gun on the wall but it was
gone ; a fancy-picture too had disappeared, or possibly,
I had only dreamed that such a picture hung on the
wall across by the window. The pistols had been
86 IN A CALIFORNIA MINING CAMP.
taken away, too, from the stand, and the bowie-
knife was gone. There was only a book on the
stand — a brown, old, leather-bound book. The
decanters had been taken away, and a short junk-
bottle stood there, doing service for a vase, with a
bunch of wild autumn blossoms, and a green fir-twig
or two to relieve the yellow of the blooms.
CHAPTER VI.
DOWN AMONG THE LIVE MEN.
CHANGE had certainly come over the
actions and, I may say, the mind of the
Prince, in the long weeks of my illness.
I had fallen into his hands so helplessly and so
wholly that I was in a way absolutely his. He
did not shift the responsibility, nor attempt to es-
cape it.
I could not, of course, then understand why my
presence, or the responsibility of a young person
thrown on him in this way, could have influenced him
for good or evil, or have altered his plans or course
of life in any way at all. I think I can now. I did
not stop to inquire then. It so happens that when
very young we are not particular about reasons for
anything.
It is often a fortunate thing for a man that the
fates have laid some responsibility to his charge.
From what I could learn the Prince was utterly
alone ; — had no one depending on him ; had formed
87
88 DO WN AMONG
no very ardent attachments ; expected, of course, to
leave the mountains sometime, and settle down as all
others were doing, but did not just then care to fix
the time, or assume any concern about it.
Naturally noble and generous in all his instincts,
he fell to planning first for me, and then for himself
and me together. He saw no prospect better than
that of an honest miner. He shrunk from initiating
any one into the art of his own temporary calling, and
resolved to possess a mining claim, build a cabin, and
enter upon a real life. This made him a new man — a
more thoughtful, earnest man, perhaps — no better.
Besides, a recollection of his reverses at the Klamat
possibly had a little to do in this making up the
^decision to turn over a new leaf in his life. Not the
losses, either — he could not care for that ; but,
rather, that he felt ashamed to have to do with a
calling where men would stoop so low and go to
such lengths to procure money.
After casting about for many days in the various
neighbouring localities, the Prince finally decided to
pitch his tent on the Humbug, a tributary of the
Klamat, and the most flourishing, newly-discovered
camp of the north. It lay west of the city, a day's
ride down in a deep, densely-timbered canon, out of
sight of Mount Shasta, out of sight of everything —
even the sun; save here and there where a land-
slide had ploughed up the forest, or the miners had
TEE LIVE MEN, 89
mown down the great evergreens about their cabins,
or town sites in the camp.
Do not doubt or be surprised at this name of
Humbug. Get your map and you will see it there —
fifty miles or more north-west of Mount Shasta, twenty
miles from Greenhorn, thirty miles from Deadwood,
and about the same distance from Rogue's Gulch.
Hogem, Hardscrabble, and Hell-bent were adjoining,
and intervening mining camps of lesser note.
I asked the Prince to go down and see about my
pony when we were about to set out, but the negro
had confiscated him long since — claimed to hav e dis-
posed of him for his keeping. " He's eat his cussed
head off," said he, and I saw my swift patient little
companion no more.
On a crisp clear morning, we set out from the city,
and when we had reached the foot-hills to the west,
we struck a fall of snow, with enormous hare, ears as
large almost as those of Mexican mules, crossing
here and there, and coyotes sitting on the ground,
tame as dogs, looking down on the cabins and camp
below.
We had, strapped to our saddles behind us, blan-
kets, picks, shovels, frying-pans, beans, bacon, and
coffee, — all, of course, in limited quantities.
The two mules snuffed at the snow, lifted their
little feet gingerly, spun around many times like tops,
and brayed a solemn prayer or two to be allowed to
turn back.
90 DOWN AMONG
Snow is a mule's aversion. Give him sand, even the
heat of a furnace, and only sage-brush to subsist
upon, and he will go on patient and uncomplaining ;
but snow goes against his nature. We began to leave
the world below — the camps, the clouds of smoke, and
the rich smell of the burning juniper and manzanita.
The pines were open on this side of the mountain,
so that sometimes we could see through the trees to
the world without and below. Over against us stood
Shasta. Grander, nearer, now he seemed than ever,
covered with snow from base to crown.
If you would see any mountain in its glory, you
must go up a neighbouring mountain, and see it
above the forests and lesser heights. You must see
a mountain with the clouds below you, and between
you and the object of contemplation.
Until you have seen a mountain over the tops and
crests of a sea of clouds, you have not seen, and can-
not understand, the sublime and majestic scenery of
the Pacific.
Never, until on some day of storms in the lower
world you have ascended one mountain, looked out
above the clouds, and seen the white snowy pyramids
piercing here and there the rolling nebulus sea, can
you hope to learn the freemasonry of mountain
scenery in its grandest, highest, and most supreme
degree. Lightning and storms and thunder under-
neath you ; calm and peace and perfect beauty about
you. Typical and suggestive.
TEE LIVE MEN. 91
Sugar-pines, tall as pyramids, on either hand as we
rode up the trail, through the dry bright snow, with
great burrs or cones, long as your arm, swaying from
the tips of their lofty branches ; and little pine squir-
rels, black and brown, ran up and down, busy with
their winter hoard.
Once on the summit we dismounted, drew the
sinches till the mules grunted and put in a protest
with their teeth and heels, and then began the de-
scent.
The Prince had been silent all day, but as we were
mounting the mules again, he said —
" We may have a rocky time down there, my boy.
The grass is mighty short with me, I tell you. But
I have thought it all out, clean down to the bed-rock,
and this is the best that can be done. If we can
manage to scratch through this winter, we will be all
right for a big clean up by the time the snows ily
over again ; and then, if you like, you shall see an-
other land. There ! look down there," he said, as
we came to the rim of a bench in the mountain, and
had a look-out below, "that is the place wmere we
shall winter. Three thousand people there! not a
woman, not a child ! Two miles below, and ten
miles a-head !"
Not a woman ? Not much of a chance for a love
affair. He who consents to descend with me into
that deep dark gorge in the mountains, and live the
92 DOWN AMONG
weary winter through, will see neither the light of
the sun, nor the smiles of woman. A sort of Hades.
A savage Eden, with many Adams walking up and
down, and plucking of every tree, nothing forbidden
here ; for here, so far as it would seem, are neither
laws of God or man.
"When shall we lie down and sleep, and awake and
find an Eve and the Eden in the forest ? An Eve
untouched and unstained, fresh from the hand of
God, gazing at her reflection in the mossy mountain
stream, amazed at her beauty, and in love with
herself; even in this first act setting an example
for man that he has followed too well for his own
peace.
This canon was as black as Erebus down there — a
sea of sombre firs ; and down, down as if the earth
was cracked and cleft almost in two. Here and there
lay little nests of clouds below us, tangled in the tree-
tops, no wind to drive them, nothing to fret and dis-
turb. They lay above the dusks of the forest as if
asleep. Over across the canon stood another moun-
tain, not so fierce as this, but black with forest, and
cut and broken into many gorges — scars of earth-
quake shocks, and sabre-cuts of time. Gorge on
gorge, canon intersecting canon, pitching down to-
wards the rapid Klamat — a black and boundless
forest till it touches the very tide of the sea a hun-
dred miles to the west.
THE LIVE MEN. 93
Our cabin was on the mountain side. Where else
could it have been but on the mountain top ? No-
thing but mountains. A little stream went creeping
down below, — a little wanderer among the boulders
— for it was now sorely fretted and roiled by the
thousands of miners up and down.
There was a town, a sort of common centre, called
The Forks ; for here three little streams joined hands,
and went down from there to the Klamat together.
Our cabin stood down on the main stream, not far
from the river.
The Forks had two butcher's shops ; and each of
the rival houses sent up and down the streams two
mules each day, laden with their meats ; left so much
at each claim as directed, weighed it out themselves,
kept the accounts themselves ; and yet, never to my
knowledge, in any of the mining camps, did the but-
cher betray his trust. A small matter this, you say.
No doubt it is. Yet it is true and new. Any new
truth is always worthy of attention. I mention this
particularly as an item of evidence confirmative of my
belief, that we have only to trust man to make him
honest, and, on the other hand, to watch and suspect
him to make him a knave.
The principal saloon of The Forks was the
"HowhV Wilderness;" an immense pine-log cabin,
with higher walls than most cabins, earth floor, and
an immense fire-place, where crackled and roared, day
94 DOWN AMONG
and night, a pine-log fire, that refreshes me even to
this day to remember.
It is true the Howlin' Wilderness was not high-
toned, was not even first-class in this fierce little min-
ing camp of The Forks ; but it was a spacious place
— always had more people in it and a bigger fire than
other places, and so was a power and a centre in the
town. Besides, all the important fights took place at
the Howlin' Wilderness, and if you wanted to be well
up in the news, or to see the Saturday evening
entertainment, you had to have some regard for the
Howlin' Wilderness.
The proprietors, who stood behind the bar, had
bags of sand laid up in a bullet-proof wall inside the
counter, between them and the crowd, so that when
the shooting set in, and men threw themselves on
the floor, fled through the door, or barricaded their
breasts with monte-tables and wooden benches, they
had only to drop down behind the bags of sand, and
lie there, pistols in hand, till the ball was over.
These men were wisely silent and impartial in all
misunderstandings that arose. They always seemed
to try to quell a trouble, and prevent a fight ; per-
haps they did. At all events, when the battles were
over, they were always the first to take up the
wounded, and do what they could for the dying and
the dead. There was a great puncheon, hewn from
sugar-pine, that had once been a monte-table, back
TEE LIVE MEN. 95
on the outside by the chimney. This was stained
with the blood of many. Many bodies had been laid
out, in the course of a year, to stiffen on this board.
"We will have a man for breakfast to-morrow,"
some one would say, when shots were heard in the
direction of the Howlin' Wilderness; and the pro-
phecy was nearly always fulfilled.
There was a tall man, a sort of half sport and half
miner, who had a cabin close to town, who seemed
to take a special interest in these battles. He was
known as " Long Dan," always carried two pistols, and
took a pride in getting into trouble.
"Look here," said Prince to him one evening,
after he had been telling his six-shooter adventures,
with great delight, by the cabin fire, "Look here,
Dan, some of these days you will die with your
boots on. Now see if you don't, if you keep on
slinging your six-shooter around loose in this sort of
a way, you will go up the flume as slick as a salmon
— die with your boots on before you know it."
Dan smiled blandly as he tapped an ivory pistol-
butt, and said, " Bet you the cigars, I don't ! When-
ever my man comes to the centre, I will call him,
see if I don't, and get away with it, too."
Now to understand the pith of the grim joke
which Dan played in the last act, you must know
that " dying with the boots on " means a great deal
in the mines. It is the poetical way of expressing
the result of a bar-room or street-battle.
96 DOWN AMONG
Let me here state that while the wild, semi-savage
life of the mines and mountains has brought forth no
dialect to speak of, it has produced many forms of
expression that are to be found nowhere else.
These sharp sword-cuts are sometimes coarse,
sometimes wicked, but always forcible and driven to
the hilt. They are even sometimes strangely poetical,
and when you know their origin, they carry with them
a touch of tenderness beyond the reach of song.
Take, for example, the last words of the old Sierra
Nevada stage-driver, who, for a dozen years, had sat
up on his box in storm or sun, and dashed down the
rocky roads, with his hat on his nose, his foot on the
brake, and the four lines threaded through his
fingers.
The old hero of many encounters with robbers and
floods and avalanches in the Sierras, was dying now.
His friends gathered around him to say farewell.
He half raised his head, lifted his hands as if still at
his post, and said : —
" Boys, I am on the down grade, and can't reach
the brake !" and sank down and died.
And so it is that " the down grade," an expression
born of the death of the old stage-driver, has a
meaning with us now.
A Saturday or so after the conversation alluded to
between Long Dan and the Prince, there were heard
pistol shots in the direction of the Howlin 7 Wilder-
THE LI VE MEN. 97
ness saloon, and most of the men rushed forth to see
what Jonah, fate had pitched upon to be thrown into
the sea of eternity, and be the " man for breakfast "
this time.
Nothing "draws" like a bar-room fight of Cali-
fornia. It is a sudden thing. Sharp and quick come
the keen reports, and the affair has the advantage of
being quite over by the time you reach the spot, and
all danger of serving the place of barricades for a
stray bullet is past.
I have known miners standing on their good be-
haviour, who resisted the temptations of hurdy-gurdy
houses, bull-fights, and bull and bear encounters,
who always wrote home on Sundays, read old let-
ters, and said the Lord's Prayer; but I never yet
knew one who could help going to see the dead man
or the scene of the six-shooter war-dance, whenever
the shots were heard.
The Prince rushed up. The house was full ; surging
and excited men with their hats knocked off, their
faces red with passion, and their open red shirts
showing their strong, hairy bosoms.
" It is Long Dan," some one called out ; and this
made the Prince, who was his neighbour, push his
way more eagerly through the men. He reached the
wounded man at last, and the crowd, who knew the
Prince as an acquaintance of the sufferer, fell back
and gave him a place at his side.
98 DO WN AMONG THE LIVE MEN,
The proprietors of the Howlin' Wilderness had set
up the monte- table, which had been overthrown in
the struggle, and laid the dying Dan gently there
with an old soldier overcoat under his head.
When the Prince took up the helpless hand of the
poor fellow, so overthrown in his pride and strength,
and spoke to him, he slowly opened his eyes, looked
straight at the Prince with a smile, only perceptible,
hardly as distinct as the tear in his eye, and said in a
whisper, as he drew the Prince down to his face :
" Old fellow, Prince, old boy, take off my boots."
The Prince hastened to obey, and again took his
place at his side.
Again Long Dan drew him down, and said, huskily,
" Prince, Prince, old boy, I've won the cigars ! I've
won 'em, by the holy poker !"
And so he died.
WINNING THE BET.
CHAPTER VII.
snow! nothing but snow.
UCH fearful scenes were the chief diversions
of the camp. True, the miners did not, as a
rule, take part in these bloody carnivals, but
were rather the spectators in the circus. The men at
The Forks, gamblers and the like, were the gladiators.
Of course, we had some few papers, very old ones,
and there were some few novels on the creek ; but
there was no place of amusement, no neighbours with
entertaining families, nothing but the monotony of
camp and cabin-life of the most ungracious kind.
As for ourselves, I know the Prince had often hard
work to keep his commissary department in tack.
The butchers no longer competed for his patronage,
and but for fear of his influence to their disadvantage,
backed by something of real heart, as these mountain
butchers mostly possess to an uncommon degree for
men in their calling, they would have left him long
ago.
We had a claim down among the boulders big as
99
100 SNO W ! NOTHING
a barn, at the base of the cabin, in the creek ; but if
it contained any gold worth mentioning we had not
yet had any real evidence of it.
We toiled — let that be understood — we two
together. I, of course, was not strong, and not
worth much ; but he, from dawn till dark, never took
rest at all. He was in earnest — a thoughtful man
now. He was working on a new problem, and was
concerned. Often at night, by the light of the pine-
log tire, I would see the severe lines of thought
across his splendid face, and wished that I, too, was a
strong man, and such a man as this.
Sometimes he would talk to me of myself, lay
plans for us both, and be quite delighted to find that
I left all to him. I think he was half glad to find I
was so helpless and dependent.
It was a severe and cruel winter. I remember
one Sunday I went down to the claim and found a
lot of Calif ornian quails frozen to death in the snow.
They had huddled up close as possible ; tried to keep
warm, but perished there, every one. Maybe this
was because we had cut away all the under-brush up
and down the creek and let in the cold and snow,
and left the birds without a shelter.
The Prince was entirely without money now, and
anything in the shape of food was fifty cents and a
dollar a pound. The gay gambler was being put to
the test. It was a great fall from his grand life of
BUT SNOW. 101
the year before. It remained to be seen if lie would
be consumed in the fire, or would come out only
brightened and beautified.
The cold weather grew sharply colder. One
morning when I arose and went down to the stream
to wash my hands and face, and snuff the keen, crisp
air, the rushing mountain stream was still ; not even
the plunge and gurgle underneath the ice. It was
frozen stiff and laid out in a long white shroud of
frost and ice, and fairy- work by delicate hands was
done all along the border ; but the stream was still —
dead, utterly dead.
The strip of sky that was visible above us grew
dark and leaden. Some birds flew frightened past,
crossing the canon above our heads and seeking
shelter ; and squirrels ran up and down the pines and
frozen hillsides in silence and in haste. We in-
stinctively, like the birds, began to prepare for the
storm, and stored in wood all day till a whole corner
of the cabin was filled with logs of pine and fir,
sweet-smelling juniper and manzanita to kindle with,
and some splinters of pitch, riven from a sugar pine
seamed and torn by lightning, up the hill.
The Prince kept hard at work, patient and
cheerful all day, but still he w^as silent and thought-
ful. I did not ask him any questions ; I trusted this
man, loved him, leaned on him, believed in him
solely. It was strange, and yet not strange, con-
102 SNOW I NOTHING
sidering my fervid, passionate nature, my inex-
perience and utter ignorance of men and things.
But lie was worthy. I had never seen a full,
splendid, sincere, strong man like this. I had to
have some one — some thing — to love; it was a ne-
cessity of my nature. This man answered all, and I
was satisfied. Had he called to me some morning
and said, "Come, we will start north now, through
this snow ; " or, " Come, let us go to the top of Mount
Shasta, and warm us by the furnace of the volcano
there," I had not hesitated a moment, never ques-
tioned the wisdom and propriety of the journey, but
followed him with the most perfect faith and
undoubting zeal and energy.
The next morning there was a bank of snow
against the door when I opened it. The trail was
level and obliterated. Snow ! Snow ! Snow ! The
stream that had lain all day in state, in its shroud
of frost and fairy-work, was buried now, and beside
the grave, the alder and yew along the bank bent
their heads and drooped their limbs in sad and
beautiful regret ; a patient, silent sorrow.
Over across from the cabin the mountain side
shot up at an angle almost frightful to look upon,
till it lost its pine-covered summit in the clouds, and
lay now a slanting sheet of snow.
The trees had surrendered to the snow. They no
longer shook their sable plumes, or tossed their heads
BUT SNOW. 103
at all. Their limbs reached out no more triumphant
in the storm, but drooped and hung in silence at
their sides — quiet, patient, orderly as soldiers in a
line, with grounded arms. Back of us the same scene
was lifted to the clouds. Snow ! Snow ! Snow !
nothing but snow! To right and to left, up and
down the buried stream, were cabins covered with
snow, white and cold as tombs and stones of marble
in a churchyard.
And still the snow came down steadily and white,
in flakes like feathers. It did not blow or bluster
about as if it wanted to assert itself. It seemed as
if it already had absolute control ; rather like a king,
who knows that all must and will bow down before
him. Steady and still, strong and stealthy, it
came upon us and possessed the earth. Not even a
bird was heard to chirp, or a squirrel to chatter a
protest. High over head, in the clouds as it seemed,
or rather back of us a little, on the steep and stu-
pendous mountain, it is true a coyote lifted his nose
to the snow, and called out dolefully ; but that, may
be, was a call to his mate across the canon, in the
clouds on the hill-top opposite. That was all that
could be heard.
The trail was blocked, and the butcher came no
more. This was a sad thing to us. I know that
more than once that morning the Prince went to the
door and looked up sharply toward the point where
104 SNOW! NOTHING
the mule made his appearance when the trail was
open, and that his face expressed uncommon concern
when he had settled in his mind that the beef supply
was at an end.
It is pretty certain that the two butchers had been
waiting for some good excuse to shut up shop with-
out offending the miners, until their claims should
be opened in the spring. This they now had, and at
once took advantage of the opportunity.
In these days no man thought of refusing credit.
A man who had said " No credit ! " would have had
" no business " in the mines. Any merchant, saloon-
keeper, or butcher, who had had the littleness and
audacity to have put up the sign " No tick," now so
frequent in mining camps and border towns, at that
time would have stood a first-rate chance of having
his house pulled down about his ears. These men
had a strangely just way of doing things in the early
days. They did not ask for credit often, but when
they did they wanted it, needed it, and woe then to
the man who refused. Every man in the camp was
told of it, in no modified form, you may be sure ; and
that shop and that man were, at the least, shunned
thereafter, as if one had been a pest-house and the
other the keeper of it.
We could mine no more, could pick-and-shovel no
more, with frosty fingers, in the frozen ground, by
the pine-log fire, down by the complaining, troubled
BUT SNOW. 105
little stream. The mine was buried with the brook.
I used to think some strange and sympathetic
things of this stream, even in our Jiardest battles for
a respectable existence on its banks, that gloomy,
weary winter. That stream was never satisfied. It
ran, and foamed, and fretted, hurried and hid under
the boughs and bushes, held on to the roots and
grasses, and lifted little white hands as it ran to-
ward the Klamat, a stronger and braver brother, as
if there were grizzlies up the gorge where it came
from. At best, it had but a sorry time, even before
the miners came. It had to wedge itself in between
the foot-hills, and elbow its way for every inch of
room. It was kicked and cudgelled from this foot-
hill to that ; it ran from side to side, and worked,
and wound, and curved, and cork-screwed on in a
way that had made an angler sorry. Maybe, after
all, it was glad to fold its little icy hands across its
fretted breast, and rest, and rest, and rest, stiff and
still, beneath the snow, below the pines and yew and
cedar trees that bent their heads in silence by the
sleeper.
The Kanaka sugar-mat was empty; the strip of
bacon that had hung in the corner against the wall
was gone, and the flour-sack grew low and sugges-
tive.
Miners are great eaters in the winter. Snuff the
fierce frost weather <of ^the Sierras, run in the snow,
106 SNO W! NOTHING
or delve in the mine through the day, and roast by
a great pine fire through the evening, and you will
eat like an Englishman.
The snow had fallen very fast ; then the weather
settled cold and clear as a bell. The largest and
the brightest stars, it seemed to me, hang about and
above Mount Shasta in those cold, bright winter
nights of the north. They seem as large as Cali-
fornia lilies ; they flash and flare, and sparkle and
dart their little spangles; they lessen and enlarge,
and seem to make signs, and talk and understand
each other, in their beautiful blue home, that seems
in the winter time so near the summit of the moun-
tain.
The Indians say that it is quite possible to step
from this mountain to the stars. They say that their
fathers have done so often. They lay so many great
achievements to their fathers. In this they are very
like the white man. But maybe, after all, some of
their fathers have gone from this mountain-top to
the stars. Who knows ?
We could do nothing but get wood, cook, and
eat. It did not take us long to cook and eat.
The bill of fare was short enough. Miners nearly
always lay in a great store of provisions — enough to
last them through all the winter, as no stores or
supply posts are kept open when the mines are
closed, as they were then. With us that was impos-
BUTSJVOW. 107
sible. All the others up and down the stream, with
few exceptions, had complete supplies on hand, and
had a good and jovial time generally.
They got wood, made snow shoes, cleared off race
tracks, and ran races by hundreds on great shoes,
twelve and fifteen feet in length, or made coasting
places on the hillsides, and slid down hill.
At night, many would get out the old greasy pack
of cards, sit before the fire, and play innocent games
of old sledge, draw poker, euchre or whist, while
some would read by the pine-log light; others,
possessed with a little more devilment, or restlessness,
maybe, or idle curiosity, would take the single deep-
cut trail that led to The Forks, and bring up down
at the crackling, cheerful fire-place of the HowhV
Wilderness.
The Prince and I sometimes went to town too.
It was dull work sitting there, us two, in the warm
little log-cabin, covered all up in snow, with nothing
to read, nothing in common to talk of, and him, full
of care and anxiety about the next day's rations, and
the next ; and it was a blessed relief to sometimes go
out, mix in a crowd and see the broad-breasted,
ruddy-faced men, and hear their strong and hearty
voices, even though the utterances of some were
often thick with oaths and frequent violations of the
laws of grammar.
One morning we had only bread for breakfast.
108 SNO W! NOTHING
The Prince was gloomy and silent as we sat down.
He did not remain long at the table. He stood by
the fire and watched my relish of the little breakfast
with evident satisfaction.
" Little one," said he, at last, " it is getting mighty
rocky. I tell you the grass is shorter than it ever
was with us before, and what to do next I do not
know."
There was something affecting in the voice and
manner. My breakfast was nearly choking me, and
I tried to hide my face from his. I got up from
the table, went to the door and looked across into
the white sheet of snow hung upon the mountain
opposite, got the air, came back, kicked the fire
vigorously, and turned and stood by his side with
my back to the fire also.
The weather Avas still clear and cold. There was,
of course, no absolute need of going hungry there, as
far as we two were concerned, if we had had the
courage, or rather the cowardice, to ask for bread.
But this man was a proud man and a complete
man, I take it ; and when a man of that nature gets
cornered, he is going to endure a great deal before
he makes any sign. A true man can fight, he can
kill, but he cannot ask for quarter. Want only makes
such a man more sensitive. Distress only intensifies
his proud and passionate nature, and he prepares
himself for everything possible but an appeal to man.
BUT SNOW. 109
Besides, this man was not altogether a miner. He
had never felt that he had won his place among the
brawny, broad-shouldered men, who from the first,
and all through life, had borne and accepted the
common curse that fell on man through the first
transgression, and he had always held himself some-
what aloof.
Perhaps he was fighting a battle with himself,
Who knows ? It seems to me now, although I had
no thought of such a thing then, that he had made
a resolve within himself to make his bread by the
sweat of his brow, to set a good example to one
whom fate had given into his charge, and never turn
back or deviate from the one direction. To have
asked for help from men of the old calling would
have meant a great deal that he was not willing to
admit, even if help had been forthcoming, which, as
I have said, was extremely problematical.
What that man must have felt would be painful to
consider. As for myself, I did not take in all the
situation, or really half of it. This man somehow,
stood to me like a tower. I had no fear.
The weather was still intensely cold. That after-
noon the Prince said :
u Come ,we will go to town."
CHAPTER VIII.
BLOOD ON THE SNOW.
HERE was a tribe of Indians camped down
on the rapid, rocky Klamat river — a sullen,
ugly set were they, too : at least so said The
Forks. Never social, hardly seeming to notice the
whites, who were now thick about them, below them,
above them, on the river and all around them. Some-
times we would meet one on the narrow trail ; he
would gather his skins about him, hide his bow and
arrows under their folds, and, without seeming to see
any one, would move jmst us still as a shadow. I do
not remember that I ever saw one of these Indians
laugh, not even to smile. A hard-featured, half-
starved set of savages, of whom the wise men of the
camp prophesied no good.
The snow, unusually deep this winter, had driven
them all down from the mountains, and they were
compelled to camp on the river.
The game, too, had been driven down along with
the Indians, but it was of but little use to them.
110
BLOOD ON THE SNO W. Ill
Their bows and arrows did poor competition with the
rifles of the whites in the killing of the game. The
whites fairly filled the cabins with deer and elk, got all
the lion's share, and left the Indians almost destitute.
Another thing that made it rather more hard on
the Indians than anything else, was the utter failure
of the annual run of salmon the summer before, on
account of the muddy water. The Klamat, which
had poured from the mountain lakes to the sea as
clear as glass, was now made muddy and turbid from
the miners washing for gold on its banks and its
tributaries. The trout turned on their sides and
died ; the salmon from the sea came in but rarely on
account of this ; and what few did come were pretty
safe from the spears of the Indians, because of the
coloured water ; so that supply, which was more than
all others their bread and their meat, was entirely
cut off.
Mine ? It was all a mystery to these Indians as
long as they were permitted to live. Besides, there
were some whites mining who made poor headway
against hunger. I have seen them gather in groups
on the bank above the mines and watch in silence for
hours as if endeavouring to make it out ; at last they
would shrug their shoulders, draw their skins closer
about them, and stalk away no wiser than before.
Why we should tear up the earth, toil like gnomes
from sun-up to sun-down, rain or sun, destroy the
112 BLOOD ON
forests and pollute the rivers, was to them more than
a mystery — it was a terror. I believe they accepted
it as a curse, the work of evil spirits, and so bowed to
it in sublime silence.
This loss of salmon was a greater loss than you
would suppose. These fish in the spring-time pour
up these streams from the sea in incalculable swarms.
They fairly darken the water. On the head of the
Sacramento, before that once beautiful river was
changed from a silver sheet to a dirty yellow stream,
I have seen between the Devil's Castle and Mount
Shasta the stream so filled with salmon that it was
impossible to force a horse across the current. Of
course, this was not usual, and now can only be met
with hard up at the heads of mountain streams where
mining is not carried on, and where the advance of
the fish is checked by falls on the head of the stream.
The amount of salmon which the Indians would
spear and dry in the sun, and hoard away for winter,
under such circumstances, can be imagined; and I
can now better understand their utter discomfiture at
the loss of their fisheries than I did then.
A sharp, fierce winter was upon them ; for reasons
above stated they had no store of provisions on hand,
save, perhaps, a few dried roots and berries ; and the
whites had swept away and swallowed up the game
before them as fast as it had been driven by the
winter from the mountains. Yet I do not know that
THE SNOW. 113
any one thought of all this then. I am sure I did not ;
and I do not remember hearing any allusion made to
these things by the bearded men of the camp, old
enough, and wise enough too, to look at the heart of
things. Perhaps it was because they were all so busy
and intent on getting gold. I do remember distinctly,
however, that there was a pretty general feeling
against the Indians down on the river — a general
feeling of dislike and distrust.
What made matters worse, there was a set of men,
low men, loafers, and of the lowest type, who would
hang around those lodges at night, give the Indians
whiskey of the vilest sort, debauch their women, and
cheat the men out of their skins and bows and arrows.
There was not a saloon, not a gambling den in camp
that did not have a sheaf of feathered, flint-headed
arrows in an otter quiver, and a yew bow hanging
behind the bar.
Perhaps there was a grim sort of philosophy in the
red man so disposing of his bow and arrows now that
the game was gone and they were of no further use.
Sold them for bread for his starving babes, maybe.
How many tragedies are hidden here ? How many
tales of devotion, self-denial, and sacrifice, as true as
the white man ever lived, as pure, and brave, and
beautiful as ever gave tongue to eloquence or pen to
song, sleep here with the dust of these sad and silent
people on the bank of the stormy river !
1U BLOOD 02T
In this condition of things, about mid- winter, when
the snow was deep and crusted stiff, and all nature
seemed dead and buried in a ruffled shroud, there was
a murder. The Indians had broken out ! The pro-
phesied massacre had begun ! Killed by the Indians !
It swept like a telegram through the camp. Con-
fused and incoherent, it is true, bufc it gathered force
and form as the tale new on from tongue to tongue,
until it assumed a frightful shape.
A man had been killed by the Indians down at the
rancheria. Not much of a man, it is true. A" capper ; "
a sort of tool and hanger-on about the lowest gam-
bling dens. Killed, too, down in the Indian camp
when he should have been in bed, or at home, or at
least in company with his kind.
All this made the miners hesitate a bit as they
hurriedly gathered in at The Forks, with their long
Kentucky rifles, their pistols capped and primed, and
bowie knives in their belts.
But as the gathering storm that was to sweep the
Indians from the earth took shape and form, these
honest men stood out in little knots, leaning on their
rifles in the streets, and gravely questioned whether,
all things considered, the death of the " Chicken," for
that was the dead man's name, was sufficient cause
for interference.
To their eternal credit these men mainly decided
that it was not, and two by two they turned away,
THE SNO TT. 115
>-■
went back to their cabins, hung their rifles np on the
rack, and turned their thoughts to their own affairs.
But the hangers-on about the town were terribly-
enraged . "A man has been killed ! " they pro-
claimed aloud. "A man has been murdered by the
savages ! ! We shall all be massacred ! butchered !
burnt ! ! "
In one of the saloons where men were wont to
meet at night, have stag-dances, and drink lightning,
a short, important man, with the print of a glass-
tumbler cut above his eye, arose and made a speech.
"Fellow-miners (he had never touched a pick in
his life), I am ready to die for me country! (He
was an Irishman sent out to Sydney at the Crown's
expense.) What have I to live for? (Nothing
whatever, as far as anyone could tell.) Fellow-
miners, a man has been kilt by the treacherous
savages — kilt in cold blood ! Fellow-miners, let us
advance upon the inemy. Let us — let us — fellow-
miners, let us take a drink and advance upon the
inemy."
This man had borrowed a pistol, and held or flour-
ished it in his hand as he talked to the crowd of
idlers, rum-dealers, and desperadoes — to the most of
whom any diversion from the monotony of camp-life,
or excitement, seemed a blessing.
" Range around me. Rally to the bar and take a
drink, every man of you, at me own ixpense." The
116 BLOOD ON
bar-keeper, who was also proprietor of the place,
a man not much above the type of the speaker,
ventured a mild remonstrance at this wholesale
generosity; but the pistol, nourished in a very sug-
gestive way, settled the matter, and, with something
of a groan, he set his decanters to the crowd, and
became a bankrupt.
This was the beginning ; they passed from saloon
to saloon, or, rather, from door to door; the short,
stout Irishman making speeches and the mob
gathering force and arms as it went, and then, wild
w T ith drink and excitement, moved down upon the
Indians, some miles away on the bank of the river.
" Come," said the Prince to me, as they passed out
of town, "let us see this through. Here will be
blood. We will see from the hill overlooking the
camp. I hope the Indians are 'on it ' — hope to God
they are ' heeled,' and that they will receive the
wretches warmly as they deserve." The Prince was
wild.
Maybe his own wretchedness had something to do
with his wrath ; but I think not. I should rather say
that had he been in strength and spirits, and had his
pistols, which had long since been disposed of for
bread, he had met this mob face to face, and sent
it back to town or to the place where the wretches
belonged.
We followed not far behind the crowd of fifty or
TEE SNOW, 117
sixty men armed with pistols, rifles, knives, and
hatchets.
The trail led to a little point overlooking the bar
on which the Indian huts were huddled.
The river made a bend about there. It ground
and boiled in a crescent blocked with running
ice and snow. They were out in the extreme curve
of a horse-shoe made by the river, and we advanced
from without. They were in a net. They had only
a choice of deaths ; death by drowning, or death at
the hands of their hereditary foe.
It was nearly night ; cold and sharp the wind blew
up the river and the snow flew around like feathers.
Not an Indian to be seen. The thin blue smoke
came slowly up, as if afraid to leave the wigwams,
and the traditional, ever watchful and wakeful
Indian dog was not to be seen or heard. The men
hurried down upon the camp, spreading out upon
the horse-shoe as they advanced in a run.
" Stop here," said the Prince ; and we stood from
the wind behind a boulder that stood, tall as a cabin,
upon the bar. The crowd advanced to within half a
pistol shot, and gave a shout as they drew and
levelled their arms. Old squaws came out — bang!
bang ! bang ! shot after shot, and they were pierced
and fell, or turned to run.
Some men sprung up, wounded, but fell the
instant, for the whites, yelling, howling, screaming,
118 BLOOD OlST
were among the lodges, shooting down at arm's
length man, woman, or child. Some attempted the
river, I should say, for I afterwards saw streams of
blood upon the ice, but not one escaped ; nor was a
hand raised in defence. It was all done in a little time.
Instantly as the shots and shouts began we two
advanced, we rushed into the camp, and when we
reached the spot only now and then a shot was
heard within a lodge, dispatching a wounded man or
woman. The few surviving children — for nearly all
had been starved to death — had taken refuge under
skins and under lodges overthrown, hidden away as
little kittens will hide just old enough to spit and
hiss, and hide when they first see the face of man.
These were now dragged forth and shot. Not all
these men who made this mob, bad as they were,
did this — only a few; but enough to leave, as far
as they could, no living thing. Christ ! it was
pitiful ! The babies did not scream. Not a wail,
not a sound. The murdered men and women, in
the few minutes that the breath took leave, did not
even groan.
As we came up a man named " Shon " — at least,
that was all the name I knew for him — held up a
baby by the leg, a naked, bony little thing, which he
had dragged from under a lodge — held it up with one
hand, and with the other blew its head to pieces with
his pistol.
THE SNOW. 119
I must stop here to say that this man Shon soon
left camp, and was afterwards hung by the Vigilance
Committee near Lewiston, Idaho Territory ; that he
whined for his life like a puppy, and died like
a coward as he was. I chronicle this fact with a
feeling of perfect delight.
He was a tall, spare man, with small, grey eyes,
a weak, wicked mouth, colourless and treacherous,
that was for ever smiling and smirking in your face.
Shun a man like that. A man who always smiles
is a treacherous-natured, contemptible coward.
He knows, himself, how villainous and contemp-
tible he is, and he feels that you know it too, and so
tries to smile his way into your favour. Turn away
from the man who smiles and smiles, and rubs his
hands as if he felt and all men knew, that they were
really dirty.
You can put more souls of such men as that inside
of a single grain of sand than there are dimes in the
national debt.
This man threw down the body of the child among
the dead, and rushed across to where a pair of ruffians
had dragged up another, a little girl, naked, bony,
thin as a shadow, starved into a ghost. He caught
her by the hair with a howl of delight, placed the
pistol to her head and turned around to point the
muzzle out of range of his companions who stood
around on the other side.
120 BLOOD ON
The child did not cry — she did not even flinch.
Perhaps she did not know what it meant; but I
should rather believe she had seen so much of death
there, so much misery, the steady, silent work of the
monster famine through the village day after day,
that she did not care. I saw her face; it did not
even wince. Her lips were thin and fixed, and firm
as iron.
The villian, having turned her around, now lifted
his arm, cocked the pistol, and —
"Stop that, you infernal scoundrel! Stop that,
or die ! You damned assassin, let go that child, or
I will pitch you neck and crop into the Klamat."
The Prince had him by the throat with one hand,
and with the other he wrested the pistol from his
grasp and threw it into the river. The Prince had
not even so much as a knife. The man did not know
this, nor did the Prince care, or he had not thrown
away the weapon he wrung from his hand. The
Prince pushed the child behind him, and advanced
towards the short, fat Sydney convict, who had now
turned, pistol in hand, in his direction.
" Keep your distance, you Sydney duck, keep your
distance, or I will send you to hell across lots in a
second."
There are some Tiard names given on the Pacific ;
but when you call a man a "Sydney duck" it is
well understood that you mean blood. If you call a
THE OTHER SIDE OF TT1K STORY,
THE SNOW. 121
man a liar to his face you must prepare to knock him
down on the spot, or he will perform that office for
you. If he does not, or does not attempt it, he is
counted a coward and is in disgrace.
When you call a man a " Sydney duck," however,
something more than blows are meant ; that means
blood. There is but one expression, a vile one, that
cannot well be named, that means so much, or carries
so much disgrace as this.
The man turned away cowed and baffled. He had
looked in the Prince's face, and saw that he was born
his master.
As for myself, I was not only helpless, but, as was
always the case on similar occasions, stupid, awkward,
speechless. I went up to the little girl, however,
got a robe out of one of the lodges — for they had not
yet set fire to the village — and put it around her
naked little body. After that, as I moved about
among the dead, or stepped aside to the river to see
the streams of blood on the snow and ice, she followed
close as a shadow behind me, but said nothing.
Suddenly there was a sharp yell, a volley of oaths,
exclamations, a scuffle and blows.
" Scalp him ! Scalp him ! the little savage ! Scalp
him and throw him in the river \ "
From out of the piles of dead somewhere, no one
could tell exactly where or when, an apparition had
sprung up — a naked little Indian boy, that might
122 BLOOD ON.
have been all the way from twelve to twenty, armed
with a knotted war-club, and fallen upon his foes like
a fury.
The poor little hero, starved into a shadow, stood
little show there, though he had been a very Hercules
in courage. He was felled almost instantly by kicks
and blows ; and the very number of his enemies saved
his life, for they could neither shoot nor stab him with
safety, as they crowded and crushed around him.
How or why he was finally spared, was always
a marvel. Quite likely the example of the Prince
had moved some of the men to more humanity. As
for Shon and Sydney, they had sauntered off with
some others towards town at this time, which also,
maybe, contributed to the Indian boy's chance for
life.
When the crowd that had formed a knot about him
had broken up, and I first got sight of him, he was
sitting on a stone with his hands between his naked
legs, and blood dripping from his long hair, which
fell down in strings over his drooping forehead. He
had been stunned by a grazing shot, no doubt, and
had fallen among the first. He came up to his work,
though, like a man, when his senses returned, and
without counting the chances, lifted his two hands to
do with all his might the thing he had been taught.
Valour, such valour as that, is not a cheap or com-
mon thing. It is rare enough to be respected even by
THE SNOW. 123
the worst of men. It is only the coward that affects
to despise such courage. He is moved to this alto-
gether by the lowest kind of jealousy. A coward
knows how entirely contemptible he is, and can
hardly bear to see another dignified with that
noble attribute which he for ever feels is no part
of his nature.
So this boy sat there on the stone as the village
burned, the smoke from burning skins, the wild-rye
straw, willow-baskets and Indian robes, ascended,
and a smell of burning bodies went up to the Indians'
God and the God of us all, and no one said nay, and
no one approached him ; the men looked at him from
under their slouched hats as they moved around,
but said nothing.
I pitied him. God knows I pitied him. I clasped
my hands together in grief. I was a boy myself,
alone, helpless, in an army of strong and unsympa-
thetic men. I would have gone up and put my arms
about the wild and splendid little savage, bloody and
desperate as he was, so lonely now, so intimate with
death, so pitiful ! if I had dared, dared the reproach
of men -brutes.
But besides that there was a sort of nobility about
him; his recklessness, his desire to die, lifting his
little arms against an army of strong and reckless
men, his proud and defiant courage, that made me
feel at once that he was above me, stronger, somehow
124 BLOOD OUT THE SNO W.
better, than I. Still, he was a boy and I was a boy —
the only boys in the camp ; and my heart went out,
strong and true, towards him.
The work of destruction was now too complete. There
was not found another living thing — nothing but two
or three Indians that had been shot and shot, and yet
seemed determined never to die, that lay in the bloody
snow down towards the rim of the river.
Naked nearly, they were, and only skeletons, with
the longest and blackest hair tangled and tossed, and
blown in strips and strings, or in clouds out on the
white and the blood-red snow, or down their tawny
backs, or over their bony breasts, about their dusky
forms, fierce and unconquered, with the bloodless lips
set close, and blue, and cold, and firm, like steel.
The dead lay around us, piled up in places, limbs
twisted with limbs in the wrestle with death ; a mother
embracing her boy here; an arm thrown around a
neck there : as if these wild people could love as well
as die.
CHAPTEE IX.
A WORD FOR THE RED MEN.
'OT a dog in camp. All had been eaten, I
suppose, long before. Children die first in
their famines; then the old men, then the
young men. The endurance of an Indian woman is
a marvel.
In the village, some of the white men claimed to
have found something that had been stolen. I have
not the least idea there was any truth in it. I
wish there was ; then there might be some shadow of
excuse for all the murders that made up this cruel
tragedy, all of which is, I believe, literally true;
truer than nine-tenths of the histoiy and official
reports written, wherein these people are mentioned ;
and I stand ready to give names, dates, and detail to
all whom it may concern.
Let me not here be misunderstood. An Indian is
no better than a white man. If he sins let him
suffer. But I do protest against this custom of
making up a case — this custom of deciding the case
125
126 A WORD FOR
against him in favour of the white man, for ever, on
the evidence of the white man only ; even though that
custom be, in the language of the law, so old " that
the memory of man runneth not to the contrary."
The white man and the red man are much alike,
with one great difference, which you must and will
set down to the advantage of the latter.
The Indian has no desire for fortune ; he has no
wish in his wild state to accumulate wealth ; and it
is in his wild state that he must be judged, for it is
in that condition that he is said to sin. If " money is
the root of all evil," as Solomon hath it, then the
Indian has not that evil, or that root of evil, or any
desire for it.
It is the white man's monopoly. If an Indian
loves you, trusts you, or believes in you at all, he
will serve you, guide you through the country,
follow you to battle, fight for you, he and all his
sons and kindred, and never think of the pay or
profit. He would despise it if offered, beyond some
presents, some tokens of remembrance, decorations, or
simplest articles of use.
Again, I do vehemently protest against taking the
testimony of border Indians or any Indians with
whom the white man comes in constant contact, and
to whom he has taught the use of money and the art
of lying.
And most particularly I do protest against taking
THE RED MEN. 127
these Indians — turn-skins and renegades — who
affiliate, mix, and strike hands with the whites, as
representative Indians. Better take our own
" camp followers " as respectable and representative
soldiers.
When you reflect that for centuries the Indians in
almost every lodge on the continent, at almost every
council, have talked of the whites and their aggres-
sions, and of these things chiefly, and always with that
bitterness which characterizes people who look at and
see only one side of a case, then you may come to
understand, a little, their eternal hatred of their
hereditary enemy — how deeply seated this is, how it
has become a part of their nature, and, above all,
how low, fallen, and how unlike a true Indian one
must be who leaves his retreating tribe and lingers in
a drunken and debauched fellowship with the whites,
losing all his virtues and taking on all the vices of
his enemy.
A pot-house politician should represent us at the
court of St. James's, if such an Indian is to be taken
as a representative of his race.
The true Indian retires before the white man's face
to the forest and to the mountain tops. It is very
true he leaves a surf, a sort of kelp and drift-wood,
and trash, the scum, the idlers, and the cowards and
prostitutes of his tribe, as the sea leaves weeds and
drift and kelp.
128 A WORD FOR
Judge not the sea by this, I implore you. This is
not the sea, but the refuse and dregs of the sea. The
misfortune of it is, however, that this is about all
that those who have written and pronounced upon
the character of the Indian have ever seen.
And, again, why hold the whole race, from Cariboo
to Cape Saint Lucas, responsible for a single sin?
Of course we may deplore the death of the white man
on the border. But for every white man that falls
the ghosts of a hundred Indians follow. A white man
is killed (half the time by a brother white man) and
the account of it fills the land. Telegraph and
printing-press reiterate, day after day, the whole
details, and who shall say that they grow less as they
spread to every household ? The artist is called in.
His ingenuity is taxed and tortured to put the
horrible affair before the world in flaming illustra-
tions, and a general cry goes up against the Indians,
no matter where.
All right enough, no doubt ; but who tells the tale
when the Indian falls, or who tells his side of the
story ? A hundred Indians are killed in cold blood
by the settlers, and the affair is never heard of out-
side the county where it occurs.
If we wish for justice let .us, at least, try to be just.
If we do wrong it seems to me to take half the sin
away to be brave enough to admit it. At all events,
it shows that if we have one great sin we have also
one virtue — Valour.
THE RED MEN. 129
Killed by the Indians ! Yes, many good men have
been killed by the Indians with cause and without
cause. Many good men have also died of fevers. I
think a man is about as likely to die a natural death
in New York, New Orleans, or any other city, if he
remains there, as he is to be killed by the Indians,
should he travel or remain amongst them.
Take one case in point. I happen to know an old
man who has lived more than forty years on the
frontier and among the Indians. More than twenty
years ago he took his little family of children and
made the six months' journey through the heart of
the Indian countries across the great plains, almost
alone and entirely unarmed. I happen to know that
this old man, owing to his singularly quiet nature
and Quaker-like love of peace, never fired a gun or
pistol in his life for any purpose whatever. I happen
to know that he made many journeys through the
Indian countries ; lived and still lives on the border,
always unarmed and utterly helpless in the use of
arms, and yet never received so much as an uncivil
word from an Indian. I am not mistaken in this, for
the old man referred to, is my father.
Twenty years' observation ought to enable one to
speak with intelligence on this subject ; and I am free
to say that grandmothers never hold up before
naughty children a bigger or more delusive bug-a-boo
than this universal fear of Indians.
130 A WORD FOR
The village was soon consumed ; and as the smoke
went up, black and sullen, from its embers, we turned
away towards our cabin. Most of the men had
already gone. A sort of chill had fallen over all, and
they scarcely spoke to each other now. They were
more than sober.
The blood, the burning camp, the cold and cruel
butchery, the perfect submission, the savage silence
in which the wretches died, the naked, bony forms
in the snow, had gone to the hearts of the men, and
they were glad to get away when all was over.
There was not an adventure, not an achievement,
not a hazard or escape of any one to allude to. The
only heroic act was that of the little skeleton savage
with his club. I think they almost wished they had
butchered and scalped this boy as they had threatened.
To think that the only achievement of the whole
affair worth mentioning was that of an Indian, and
an Indian boy at that ! They did not mention it.
The men were nearly all gone now, stringing up
along the snowy trail by twos and threes, toward The
Forks. A few still lingered about the smouldering
wigwams, or stood looking down into the river, grind-
ing its blocks of ice in its mighty, rocky jaws.
The boy had not moved. I believe he had not
lifted his eyes. The sharp wind, pitching up and
down and across, cut him no doubt, on the one hand,
while the burning wigwams scorched him on the
other ; but he did not move.
THE RED MEN. 131
The Prince had stood there all this time like a
king, turning sometimes to watch this man or that,
but never going aside, never giving way an inch for
any one. They went around him, they avoided him,
or deferred to him in every way possible. From the
very moment he came down from the bluff to the
bank of the river, and they saw him in their midst,
they felt the presence of a master and a man.
I had always said to myself, this man is of royal
blood. This man was born to lead and control. To
me he had always stood, like Saul, a head and shoul-
ders above his fellows. I had always believed him a
king of men, and now I knew it.
He took the little girl by the hand, folded her robe
about her gently as if she had been a Christian
born, looked to her moccasins, and then cast about to
see who should take and provide for the boy. The
last man was going — gone !
There was a look of pain and trouble in the face of
the Prince. There was not a crust of bread in the
cabin : a poor place to which to take the two starved
children, to be sure.
The cast of care blew on with the wind ; and with
the same old look of confidence and self-possession he
went up to the Indian boy, took him by the thin
little arm, and bade him arise and follow.
The boy started. He did not understand, and then
he understood perfectly. He stood up taller than
132 A WOBD FOB
before. His face looked fierce and bitter, and his
bands lifted as if be would strike. Tbe Prince smiled,
stooped and picked up bis club, and put it in bis
band. Tbis conquered bim. He stood it against tbe
stone on wbicb be bad sat, took up a robe tbat lay
under bis feet, fastened bis moccasin strings, and we
moved away together and in silence.
Tbe little girl would look up now and then, and
endeavour to be pleasant and do cunning things ; but
this boy with his club tucked under bis robe did not
look up, nor down, nor around him.
There were some dead that lay in the way ; be did
not notice them. He walked across them as if they
bad been clay. "What could he have been thinking
of?
I know very well what I do ; how unpopular and
unprofitable it is to speak a word for tbis weak and
unfriended people. A popular verdict seems of late
to have been given against them. Fate, too, seems
to have the matter in hand, for in tbe last decade
they have lost more ground than in the fifty preced-
ing years. Cannon are mounted on their strong-holds,
even on the summits of the Kocky Mountains. Bay-
onets bristle in their forests of the north, and sabres
flash along the plains of the Apache. There is no
one to speak for them now, not one. If there was I
should be silent.
Game and fish have their seasons to come and go,
THE RED MEN. 133
as regular as the flowers. Now the game go to the
hills, now to the valleys, to winter, now to the moun-
tains, to bring forth their young. You break in upon
their habits by pushing settlements here and there.
With the fish you do the same by building dams and
driving steam-boats, and you break the whole machin-
ery of their lives and stop their increase. Then the
Indians must starve, or push over on to the hunting
and fishing grounds of another tribe. This makes
war. The result is they fight — fight like dogs ! almost
like Christians ! Here is the whole trouble with this
doomed race, in a nut-shell.
Let us, sometimes, look down into this thing hon-
estly, try and find the truth, and understand.
Even the ocean has a bottom.
These rude red men love their lands and their
homes. The homes for which their fathers fought
for a thousand generations, where their fathers lie
buried with their deeds of daring written all over
the land, every mountain pass a page of history ;
every mountain peak a monument to some departed
hero ; every mountain stream a story and a tradition.
They love and cherish these as no other people can,
for their lands, their leafy homes, are all they have
to love.
I know very well that they have never received so
much as a red blanket for all the matchless and
magnificent Willamette valley ; and, I may add, that
134 A WOBD FOE
the whites never took that in war, and so cannot
claim it as a conquest. No white man's blood ever
stained that great and fertile valley at the hands of
an Indian.
True, there are Reservations over on the sea, forty
and fifty miles away from the valley ; but the interior
Indian had as soon descend silently to his grave as
go there to live. Hundreds have so chosen and acted
on the choice. The sea-coast Indians are " fish-eaters."
" They stink !" say the valley Indians, " while we of
the interior eat venison and acorns."
Their feuds and wars were fierce, and reached far-
ther back than their traditions. Fancy these valley
Indians being induced to go over there on their ene-
mies' lands to make a home. Their own sense of
justice revolted at it. Besides, they knew they would
be murdered, one by one, in spite of the promises
and half-extended protection of the Government.
Let Germans, to-day, enter, helpless and unarmed,
even into civilized Paris, and sit down there without
ample protection, and see how it would be. Compel
certain celebrated leaders of the North to go down
unarmed and pitch their tents under the palm-trees
of the Ku-Klux, and mark what would follow.
The Indian agent of this Reservation by the sea,
who had Indians gathered in from a thousand miles
of territory, could not understand w T hy Indians would
fight among themselves. " Ah ! but they are a vile
THE RED MEN. 135
set," he said : " they fight among themselves like dogs.
They are a low set. They will soon kill each other
off." And so they did.
The miserable heathens were as bad as the Chris-
tians of the North and South. They fought amongst
each other. The ungrateful wretches ! To fight
amongst themselves after all the Government had
done for them ! Why did they not keep quiet, and
die of small-pox and cholera in the little pens built
for them, all at the expense of the Government ?
If the Government invites settlers to a place, and
sells or gives away land that does not yet belong to
the Government, and a difficulty arises between the
immigrant and the Indian, and the whites get the
worst of it, why, send in a thousand young lieuten-
ants, thirsting for glory, and they will soon bring
them to terms, at a cost to the Government only a
few hundred times more than it would take to set the
Indians up comfortably for life. But if the Indians
get the worst of any little misunderstanding that
may arise, why — why, they get the worst of it, and
what is the use to interfere !
I was present once when the superintendent sent
a delegation of half -civilized Indians into the moun-
tains to the chief of the Shastas, old Worrotetot, called
Black-beard by the whites, for he was bearded like a
prophet, to ask him to surrender and go on to the
Reservation.
136 A WORD FOR
" Where is the Superintendent, the man of blank-
ets?"
" Down in the valley, at the base of the Shasta
mountain."
" Well, that is all right, I suppose. Let him stay-
there, if he like, and I will stay here."
" But we must take him an answer. Will you go
or not ?"
"What can I do if I go?"
" You shall have a house, a farm, and horses."
"Where?"
" Down at the Keservation, by the sea."
" Bah ! give me a piece of land down by the sea ?
Where did he get it to give ? Tell me that. The
white men took it from the Indians, and now want to
give it to me. I won't have it. It is not theirs to
give. They drove the Indians off, and stole their
land and camping places. I could have done that
myself. No. You go and tell your great father,
the blanket-maker, I do not want that land. I have
got land of my own high up here, and nearer to the
Great Spirit than his. I do not want his blankets :
I have a deer-skin ; and my squaws and my children
all have skins, and we build great wood fires when it
snows. No, I will not go away from this mountain.
But you may tell him if he will take this mountain
along, I will go down by the sea and live on the
Reservation."
TEE RED MEN. 137
We reached the cabin, and built a roaring fire.
u Stand your war-club there in the corner, Klamat,"
said the Prince to the boy, "and come to the fire.
This is your home now." The boy did as he was bid,
not as a slave, but proud and unbending as a chief in
council.
The little girl had washed her hands and face,
thrown back her long luxuriant hair, and stood drying
herself by the fire, quite at home.
Two more mouths to feed, and where was the bread
to come from ?
Soon the Prince went out and left us there. He
returned in a little while with a loaf of bread.
Where on earth did he get it? I never knew.
Maybe he stole it.
He divided it with a knife carefully into three
pieces, gave first to the Indian boy, then to the Indian
girl, and then to me. Then he stood there a moment,
looked a little embarrassed, but finally said something
about wood and went out.
We ate our bread as the axe smote and echoed
against the pine-log outside.
A certain strong magnet attracts from out the
grains of gold, all the ironstone and black sand to itself.
It seemed there was something in the nature of this
man that attracted all the helpless, and weak, and
friendless to his side. He had not sought these little
savages. That would have been folly, if not an abso-
138 A WOBD FOE
lute wrong to them. There was, perhaps, not another
man in camp as little capable of caring for them as
he. He had rather tried to avoid them, particularly
the boy ; but when they fell into his hands, when fate
seemed to put them there, he took them proudly,
boldly, and trusted to fortune, as all brave men will
trust it, and without question.
To see those Indians eat — daintily, only a little
bit at a time, then put it under the robe, stealthily,
and look about ; then a memory, and the head would
bend and the eyes go down ; then the little piece of
bread would be withdrawn, eyed wistfully, a morsel
broken off, and then the piece again returned beneath
the robe, to be again withdrawn as they found it im-
possible to resist the hunger that consumed them.
But Indians are strangely preservative, and these
had just endured a bitter school. They had learned
the importance of hoarding a bit for to-morrow, and
even the next morning had quite a piece of bread still.
How could they suppose that any one would provide,
or attempt to provide, for them the next day ?
The Prince came in at last from the dusk, and we
all went out and helped to bring the wood from the
snow.
I am bound to say that I suddenly grew vastly in
my own estimation that evening. Up to this time I
had been the youngest person in all the camp, the
most helpless, the least of all. Here was a change.
THE RED MEN. 139
Here were persons more helpless than myself; some
one now that I could advise, direct, dictate to and
patronize.
There must be a point in each man's life when he
becomes a man — turns from the ways of a boy.
I dare say any man can date his manhood from
some event, from some little circumstance that seemed
to invest him with a sort of majesty, and dignify him,
in his own estimation, at least, with manhood. A
man must first be his own disciple. If he does not
first believe himself a man, he may be very sure the
world, not one man or woman of the world, will
believe it.
We sat late by the fire that night. The little girl
leaned against the wall by the fire-side and slept, but
the boy seemed only to brighten and awake as the
night went on. He looked into the fire. What did
he see ? What were his thoughts ? What faces were
there ? Fire, and smoke, and blood — the dead !
Down before the fire in their fur-robes we laid the
little Indians to sleep, and sought our blankets in the
bunks against the wall.
Through the night one arose and then the other,
and stirred the fire silently and lay down. Indians
never let their fires go out in their lodges in time of
peace. It is thought a bad omen, and then it is
inconvenient, and certainly not the thing to do in the
winter.
140 A WORD FOE
The Prince was up early the next morning. He
could not sleep. Why ? Starve yourself a week and
you will understand. I did not think or ask myself
then why he could not sleep. I know now.
He went to town at day-break. Then when we
had rolled a back log into the spacious fire-place, and
built a fire under my direction, a new style of archi-
tecture to the Indians, with a fore-stick on the stone
and irons, and a heap of kindling wood in the centre,
I induced Klamat to wash his face, and helped him to
wash the blood from his hair in a pan of tepid water.
The little girl without any direction made her
toilet, poor child, in a simple, natural way, with a
careful regard for the effect of falls of dark hair on
her brown shoulders and about her face ; and then
we all sat down and looked at the fire and at each
other in silence.
Soon the Prince returned, and wonderful to tell,
he had on his shoulder a sack of flour. All flour in
the mines is put in fifty-pound sacks, so as to be easily
packed and unpacked, in the transportation over the
mountains on the backs of mules, and is branded
" Fifty Pounds, Self -rising, Warranted Superfine."
The Prince's face was beaming with delight. He
took the sack from his shoulder gently, set it on the
empty flour-bench in the corner, as carefully and
tenderly as if it had been a babe — as if it had been
his own firstborn.
THE RED MEN. 141
The " Doctor " came with him. Not on a profes-
sional visit, however, but as a friend, and to see the
Indians.
Now this Doctor was a character, a special part of
The Forks. Not a lovely part or an excellent part in
the estimation of either saloon-men or miners, but he
filled a place there that had been left blank had he
gone away, and that was not altogether because he
was the only doctor in the place, but because he was
a man of marked individuality.
A man who did not care three straws for the good
or ill-will of man, and, as a consequence, as is always
the fortune of such men when they first appear in a
place, was not popular. He was a foreigner of some
kind ; maybe a German. I know he was neither an
American nor an Irishman. He was too silent and
reserved to have been either of these.
He was a small, light-haired man, a sort of an
invalid, and a man who had no associates whatever.
He was always alone, and never spoke to you if he
could help it.
How the Prince made this man's acquaintance I
do not know. Most likely he had gone to him that
morning deliberately, told him the situation of things,
asked for help, and had it for the asking. For my
part, I had rather have seen almost anyone else enter
the cabin. I did not like him from the first time that
I ever saw him.
U2 A WORD FOR
"Come here, Paquita," said the Doctor, as he sat
down on the three-legged stool by the fire, and held
out his hand to the Indian girl. She drew her robe
modestly about her bosom and went up to the man,
timid but pleasantly.
I knew no more of this Doctor, or his name, than
of the other men around me.
He came into the camp as a doctor, and had pill
bags and a book or two, and was called The Doctor.
Had another doctor come, he would have been
called Doctor Brown, or Smith, or Jones, provided
that neither of these names, or the name given him
by the camp, was the name given him by his parents.
I know a doctor who wore the first beaver hat into
a camp, and was called Doctor Tile. He could not
get rid of that name. If he had died in that camp,
Doctor Tile would have been the name written on
the pine board at his head.
I can hardly account for this habit of nick-naming
men in the mines. Maybe it was done in the interest
of those who really desired and felt the need of a
change of name. No doubt it was a convenient thing
for many ; but for this wholesale re-naming of men,
I see no sufficient reason. Possibly it was because
these men, in civilization, had become tired of Col.
William Higginson, The Hon. George H. Ferguson,
Major Alfred Percival Brown, and so on to the end
and exhaustion of handles and titles of men, and
THE RED MEN. 143
determined out here to have it their own way, to set
up a sort of democracy in the matter of names.
" I will bake some bread, Doctor, for my babies ;"
and the Prince threw off his coat and rolled up his
sleeves, and went to work. He opened the mouth
of his burden on the bunk, thrust in his hand, drew
out the yellow flour in the gold pan, poured in cold
water from the bucket, and soon had a luscious cake
baking before the fire in the frying-pan.
Bread for my babies ! Poor brave devil ! When
had he tasted bread ?
Little Klamat retreated to his club, and stood with
his back to the corner, with his head down, but at
the same time watching the Doctor from under his
hair, as a cat watches a mouse ; only he was not the
cat in this case, by a great deal.
The Doctor talked but little, and then only in an
enigmatical sort of a way with the Prince. He did
not notice me, and that contributed to my instinctive
dislike. Soon he took leave, and we four ate bread
together.
A wind came up the Klamat from the sea, soft
and warm enough to drip the icicles from the cabin
eaves, and make the drooping trees along the river
bank raise their heads from the snow as if with
hope.
The Doctor came frequently and spent the evening
as the weeks went by. The butchers' mules came
1U A WOE J) FOB THE BED 3IEJST.
braying down the trail ere long, and we needed bread
and meat no more.
The thunder boomed away to the west one night
as if it had been the trump of resurrection ; a rain set
in, and the next morning, Humbug Creek, as if it had
heard a Gabriel blow, had risen and was rushing
toward the Klamat and calling to the sea.
Some birds were out, squirrels had left the rocks
and were running up and down the pines, and places
where the snow had melted off and left brown burrs
and quills, and little shells. The back-bone of the
winter storm was broken.
To return once more to the Doctor : I can hardly
say why I disliked him at first, or at all. One thing
is certain, however, he was bald on the top or rather
on the back of his head ; and from childhood, I have
always had a prejudice against men who first become
bald on the back instead of the front of the head.
It looks to me as if they had been running away,
trying to escape from somewhere or something, when
old Time caught them by the back of the hair as they
fled, and scalped them on the spot.
CHAPTER X.
TWO LITTLE INDIANS.
HE sunshine follows the rain. There was a
sort of general joyousness. The Prince was
now a king, it seemed to me. He had fought
a battle with himself, with fate against him ; fought
it silent, patient and alone ; he had conquered, and he
was glad.
The great hero is born of the long hard struggle.
Who cannot go down to battle with banners, with
trumps and the tramp of horses ? Who cannot fight
for a day in a line of a thousand strong with the eyes
of the world upon him ? But the man who fights a
moral battle coolly, quietly, patiently and alone, with
no one to applaud or approve, as the strife goes on
through all the weary year, and after all to have no
reward but that of his own conscience, the calm de-
light of a duty well performed, is God's own hero.
He is knighted and ennobled there, when the fight
is won, and he wears thenceforth the spurs of gold
and an armour of invulnerable steel.
J 145
146 TWO LITTLE INDIANS.
We went down again among the boulders in the
bed of the creek. The Prince swung his pick, I
shovelled the thrown-out earth, and the little Indians
would come and look on and wonder, and lend a
hand in an awkward sort of a way for a few minutes
at a time, then go back to the cabin or high up on
the hills in the sun, following whatever pursuit they
chose.
The Prince did not take it upon himself to direct
or dictate what they should do, but watched their
natural inclinations and actions with the keenest
interest.
He loved freedom too well himself to attempt to
fetter these little unfortunates with rules and forms
that he himself did not hold in too great respect;
and as for taxing them to labour, they were yet
weak, and but poorly recovered from the effects of
the famine on the Klamat.
Besides, he had no disposition to reduce them to
the Christian slavery that was then being introduced,
and still obtains, up about Mount Shasta, wherever
any of the Indian children survive.
The girl developed an amiable and gentle nature,
but the boy showed anything but that from the first.
He always went out of the cabin whenever strangers
entered, would often spend days alone, out of sight
of everyone, and stubbornly refused to speak a word
of English. At the end of weeks he was untamed
T WO LITTLE INDIANS. 147
as ever, and evidently untamable. The Prince had
procured him a cheap suit of clothes, something after
the fashion of the miner's dress ; but he despised it,
and would only wear his shirt with the right arm free
and naked, the red sleeve tucked in or swinging about
his body. He submitted to have his hair trimmed,
but refused to wear a hat.
His chief delight was, in pointing and making
faces at the Doctor's bald head, whenever that indi-
vidual entered, as he stood in the corner by his club ;
but I never knew him to laugh, not even to smile.
The first great epoch of his civilized life was the
receipt of a knife as a gift from the Prince. It was
more to him than diamonds to a bride. He kept it
with him everywhere ; slept with it always. It was
to him as a host of companions.
Sometimes he talked in the Indian tongue to the
girl, but only when he thought no one noticed or
heard him.
The girl was quite the other way. She took to
domestic matters eagerly, learned to talk in a few
weeks, after a fashion, and was most anxious to be
useful, and as near like an American as possible.
She had a singular talent for drawing. One day she
made an excellent charcoal picture of Mount Shasta,
on the cabin door, and was delighted when she saw
the Prince take pride in her work. She was eager
to do everything, and insisted on doing all the
cooking.
143 TWO LITTLE INDIANS.
She had a great idea of the use of salt, and often
an erroneous one. For instance, one morning she
put salt in the coffee as well as in the beef and beans.
I think it was an experiment of hers — that she was
so anxious to please and make things palatable, she
put it in to improve the taste. I can very well
understand how she thought it all over, and said to
herself, "Now if a little pinch of this white sub-
stance adds to the beans, why will it not contribute
to the flavour of the coffee ?" Once she put sugar on
the meat instead of salt, but the same mistake never
happened twice.
I must admit that she was deceitful, somewhat.
Not willfully, but innocently so. In fact, had any-
thing of importance been involved, she would have
stood up and told the whole simple truth with a per-
fect indifference to results. She did this once I know,
when she had done an improper thing, in a way that
made us trust and respect her. But she did so much
like to seem wise about things of which she was
wholly ignorant. When she had learned to talk she
one day pretended to Klamat to also be able to read
and understand what was written on the bills of the
butchers. Her ambition seemed to be to appear
learned in that she knew the least about. That is so
much like many people you meet, that I know you
are prepared to call her half-civilized, even in these
few weeks.
TWO LITTLE INDIANS. 149
This sort of innocent deceit is no new thing, partic-
ularly in women. And I rather like it. Go on to
one of the fashionable streets to-day in America, and
there you will find that the lady who has the least
amount of natural hair has invariably the largest
amount of artificial fix-ups on her head. This rule is
almost infallible ; it has hardly the traditional excep-
tion to testify to its truth.
In fact, does not this weakness extend even to man ?
You can nearly always detect a bald-headed man,
even while his hat is on his head, by the display and
luxuriance of the hair peeping out from under his
hat. With the bald-headed man every hair is brought
into requisition, every hair is brushed and bristled
up into a sort of barricade against the eyes of the
curious. The few hairs seem to be marshalled up
for a fierce bayonet charge against any one who dares
suspect that the head which they keep sentry round
is bald. That man is bald and he feels it. Only
bald-headed men make this display of what hair they
have left.
And I am not sure but that nature herself is a
little deceitful. The dead and leafless oaks have the
richest growth of ivy, as if to make the world believe
that the trees are thriving like the bay. All about
the mouths of caves, all openings in the earth, old
wells and pits, the rankest growths abound, as if to
say, here is no wound in the breast of earth ! here is
150 TWO LITTLE INDIANS.
even the richest and the choicest spot upon her
surface.
To go further into a new field. If a true woman
loves you truly she fortifies against it in every possi-
ble way as a weak place in her nature. She tries to
deceive, not only the world, but herself. To keep
out the eyes of the inquisitive she would build a bar-
ricade to the moon. She would not be seen to whisper
with you for the world. Yet if she loved you less,
she would laugh and talk and whisper by the hour,
and think nothing of it. I like such deceit as that.
It is natural.
The miners were at work like beavers. Up the
stream and down the stream the pick and shovel
clanged against the rock and gravel from dawn until
darkness came down out of the forests above them
and took possession of the place.
The Prince worked on patiently, industriously
with the rest, with reasonable success and first-rate
promise of fortune. The pent-up energies of the
camp were turned loose, and the stream ran thick
and yellow with sediment from pans, rockers, toms,
sluices and flumes. Never was such industry, such
energy, such ambition to get hold of the object of
pursuit and escape from the canon before another
winter set up an impassable wall to the civilized
world.
Spring came sudden and full-grown from the south.
TWO LITTLE INDIANS. 151
She blew up in a fleet of sultry clouds from the
Mexican seas, along the Californian coast, and drew
up to us between the rocky, pine-topped walls of the
Klamat.
At first she hardly set foot in the canon. The sun
came down to us only about noon-tide, and then only
tarried lon^ enough to shoot a few bright shafts
through the dusk and dense pine-tops at the banks
of snow beneath, and spring did not like the place as
well as the open, sunny plains over by the city, and
toward the Klamat lakes. But at last she came to
take possession. She planted her banners on places
the sun made bare, and put up signs and land-marks
not to be misunderstood.
The balm and alder burst in leaf, and catkins
drooped and dropped from willows in the water, till
you had thought a legion of woolly caterpillars were
drifting to the sea. Still the place was not to be
surrendered without a struggle. It was one of
winter's struggles. He had been driven, day after
day, in a march of many a thousand miles. He had
retreated from Mexico to within sight of Mount
Shasta, and here he turned on his pursuer. One
night he came boldly down and laid hands on the
muddy little stream, and stretched a border of ice all
up and down its edges ; spread frost-work, white and
beautiful, on pick, and torn, and sluice, and flume
and cradle, and made the miners curse him to his
152 TWO LITTLE INDIANS.
beard. He cut down the banners of the spring that
night, lamb-tongue, Indian turnip and catella, and
took possession as completely as of old.
The sun came up at last and he let go his hold
upon the stream, took off his stamp from pick and
pan, and torn, and sluice and cradle, and crept in
silence into the shade of trees and up the mountain
side against the snow.
And now the spring came back with a double
force and strength. She planted California lilies, fair
and bright as stars, tall as little flag-staffs, along the
mountain side, and up against the winter's barricade
of snow, and proclaimed possession absolute through
her messengers, the birds, and we were very glad.
Paquita gathered blossoms in the sun, threw her
long hair back, and bounded like a fawn along the
hills. Klamat took his club and knife, drew his robe
only the closer about him in the sun, and went out
gloomy and sombre in the mountains. Sometimes
he would be gone all night.
At last the baffled winter abandoned even the wall
that lay between us and the outer world, and drew
off all his forces to Mount Shasta. He retreated above
the timber line, but he retreated not an inch beyond.
There he sat down with all his strength. He
planted his white and snowy tent upon this ever-
lasting fortress, and laughed at the world below him.
Sometimes he would send a foray down, and even in
TWO LITTLE INDIANS. 153
mid-summer, to this day, lie plucks an ear of corn, a
peach, or apricot, for a hundred miles around his
battlement, whenever he may choose.
Now that the way was clear, immigrants and
new arrivals of all kinds began to pour into the
camp. The most noticeable was that of the new
Alcalde.
This Alcalde was appointed by the new commis-
sioners of the new county, and as might have been
expected, since the place brought neither profit nor
honour, was only a broad-cloth sort of a man. A
new arrival from the States, looking about for a
place where he could sit down and eat his bread
exempt from the primal curse. No doubt this little
egotist said to himself, " If there is a spot on earth
where God's great tribute-taker will not find me, it
is over at The Forks, on Humbug, and there will I
pitch my tent and abide."
He had read just enough law to drive every bit of
common sense out of his head, and yet not enough to
get a bit of common law into it ; except, perhaps, the
line which says that "Law is a rule of action pre-
scribed by the superior, which the inferior is bound
to obey."
Being austere in his tastes, and feeling that he
had a dignity to sustain, he made friends with the
Doctor, and took up quarters in the Doctor's cabin.
As is the case with all small creatures, the Judge
154 TWO LITTLE INDIANS.
came into camp with a great flourish of trumpets,
and what was most remarkable, he wore a " stove-
pipe "hat and a "boiled shirt;" the first that had
ever been seen in the camp. This was a daring
thing to undertake. The Judge, of course, had not
the least idea of his achievement and the risk he
incurred.
These men of the mountains always have despised
and perhaps always will despise a beaver hat. Why ?
Here is food for reflection. Here is a healthy, well-
seated antipathy to an innocent article of dress, with-
out any discovered reason. Let the profound look
into this.
As for myself, I have looked into this thing, but
am not satisfied. The only reason I can give for this
enmity to the " tile " in the mountains of California,
is not that the miners hold that there is anything
wrong in the act or fact of a man wearing a beaver,
but because it invests the man with a dignity — an
artificial dignity, it is true, but none the less a
dignity — too far above that of the man who wears
a slouch or felt. The beaver hat is the minority,
the slouch hat is the majority ; and, like all great
majorities, is a mob — a cruel, heartless, arrogant,
insolent mob, ignorant and presumptive. The beaver
hat is a missionary among cannibals in the California
mines. And the saddest part of it all is, that there
is no hope of reform. Tracts on this subject would
TWO LITTLE INDIANS. 155
be useless. Fancy a beaver bat in a dripping tunnel,
or by the splashing flume or dumping derrick !
Born of a low element in our nature is this antag-
onism to the beaver hat ; cruel as it is curious, selfish,
but natural.
The Englishman knows well the power and dignity
of a beaver hat. Go into the streets of London and
look about you. Surely some power has issued an
order not much unlike that of the famous one-armed
Sailor — " England expects every man to wear a beaver
hat."
But to return to this particular hat before us, it is
safe to say that no other man than the Judge in all
California could have brought into camp and worn
with impunity this hat.
It is true there was a universal giggle through the
camp, and it is likewise true that the Howlin' Wil-
derness called out, " Oh, what a hat ! Set 'em up !
Chuck 'em in the gutter! Saw my leg off!" and
so on, as the Judge passed that way the morning
after his arrival. But shrewd men at once took his
measure ; saw that he was a harmless little egotist,
and in their hearts took his part in the hat question,
and set him up as a sort of wooden idol of the
camp.
It is not best to always seem too strong in the
presence of strong, good men. Man likes to pet
and patronize his fellow when he is weak. A strong
156 TWO LITTLE INDIANS.
man will throw his arms around a helpless man and
protect him. Strength challenges strength. The
combat of bulls on the plain ! Possibly man inclines
to uphold the weak because there is no suggestion
of rivalry, but I do not think that. Here is room for
thought.
"It's all right, boys," said six-foot Sandy, as he
stood at the bar of the Howlin' Wilderness, and
held out his glass for a little peppermint : " It's all
right, I tell you ! He shall run a hat as tall as
Shasta if he likes, and let me set eyes on the shyster
that interferes. It's a poor camp that can't afford
one gentleman, anyhow." And here he hitched up
his duck breeches, threw the gin and peppermint
down his throat, and wiping his hairy mouth on his
red sleeve, turned to the crowd, ready to " chaw up
and spit out," as he called it, the first man who raised
a voice against the Judge and his beaver hat in all
The Forks.
Six-foot Sandy was an authority at The Forks. A
brawny and reckless miner — a sort of cross between
a first-class miner and a second-class gambler ; a man
who vibrated between his claim up the creek and
the Howlin' Wilderness saloon. But he was a shrewd,
brave man, of the half-horse, half-alligator kind, and
was both feared and respected. After that the beaver
hat was safe at The Forks, and a fixture.
To illustrate the power and dignity of the beaver
hat even here, where reverence and respect for any-
RECEIVING THE NEW JUDGE.
TWO LITTLE INBLANS. 157
thing that smells of civilization is not to be thought
of, I may mention that a month or two after the
event described above, another beaver hat put in an
appearance at The Forks. There was not even a
protest. The man had sense enough to keep silent,
took a quiet game of " draw " with the boys at the
Howlin' Wilderness, and won at once the title of
Judge.
After dark the quiet game went on in the corner,
and Sandy came down from the claim.
" Who's that ?" said Sandy to the bar-keeper, as he
threw his left thumb over his shoulder, and with his
right hand lifted his gin and peppermint.
a That ? why that's Judge — Judge — why, the new
Judge."
" Judge hell !" said Sandy, wiping his beard and
looking sharply under the hat rim. " I know him, I
do. He's a waiter over in a Yreka restaurant. I'll
go for him, I will. He is a fraud on the public."
And he went up behind the man, as he sat there
on a three-legged stool, serenely leading out his ace
for his opponent's Jack.
" Come down !" said the new Judge, gaily ; " come
down ! I have you now ! Come down !"
Sandy raised his hands> his great broad hands, like
slabs of pine, and brought them down on top of the
beaver hat like an avalanche. The hat shot down
and the head shot up, till it was buried out of sight
in the wrecked and ruined beaver.
158 T WO LITTLE INDIANS.
The man sprung to his feet, thrust out his hands,
and jumped about like a boy in " Blind-man's-buff,"
and Sandy walked back to the bar, cool and uncon-
cerned, and ordered gin and peppermint.
The man at last excavated his nose, and took a
bee-line for the door, amid howls of delight from the
patrons of the Howlin' Wilderness. That is the
usual fate of beavers in the mines. They may be
respected, but they perish for all that.
Let a member of Congress, or even of the Cabinet,
go up into the ^mountains with a beaver, and ten to
one he would have it driven down over his nose.
He would have to stand it too ; he would have to
laugh, call it a good joke, and treat " the boys " in
the bargain. After that they would call him a good
fellow, give him " feet " in an extension of the " Jenny
Lind " ledge, " Midnight Assassin," or " Roaring Lion,"
and vote for him, if he should be a candidate for
office, to the last man.
I leave this question of the hat now to those wise
men of America who have rushed out upon the
frontier a pen in one hand, a telescope in the other,
and, viewing the Indian from afar off, decided in a
day that he was a bad and bloody character.
I leave this question to those teachers, with every
confidence that their capacities will prove equal to
the task. The subject is worthy such men, and the
men worthy such a subject.
CHAPTER XI.
A MAN FOR BREAKFAST."
OW that we have got a Judge," said Sandy
one day, u why not put him to work ? "
There had been a pretty general feeling
against those who took part in the murder of the
Indians the last winter kept alive by the miners, and
Sandy, who was always boiling over on some subject,
and was brimfull of energy, went and laid the case
before the Judge and instituted a prosecution. Here
was a sensation ! The court sent a constable to
arrest a prisoner with a verbal warrant, and the man
came into Court ; the Howlin' Wilderness, followed
by half the town, gave verbal bonds for his
appearance next Saturday, and the Court adjourned
to that day.
Sides were taken at once. The idlers of course
all taking sides with the prisoner ; the miners mostly
going the other way. Sandy took it upon himself
to prosecute. He could hardly have been in earnest,
yet he seemed to be terribly so. The assassins were
159
160 "A MAX FOE BREAKFAST"
active in getting evidence out of the way, making
friends with the Judge, and intimidating all who
dared express sympathy with the Indians. The
miners, with the exception of Sandy, were rather in-
different. They knew very well that this weak
little egotist would only make a farce of the affair,
even though he had capacity to enter a legal com-
mittal. The giant Sandy, however, held his own
against all the town and promised a lively time.
The Indian boy came home that night beaming
with delight. His black eyes flashed like the eyes of
a cat in the dark. I had thought him incapable of
excitement. He had always seemed so passive and
sullen that we had come to believe he had no life or
passion in him.
He talked to Paquita eagerly, and made all kinds
of gestures ; put his fingers about his neck, stabbed
himself with an imaginary knife, threw himself to-
wards the fire, and shot with an imaginary gun at
an imaginary prisoner. Would he be hung, stabbed,
burnt or shot ? The boy was so eager and excited, that
once or twice he broke out into pretty fair English
at some length, the first I had ever heard him utter.
The Doctor, as I said, was unpopular. In fact,
doctors usually are in the mines. Whether this is
because nine-tenths of those who are there are frauds
and impostors, or whether it is because miners give
open expression to a natural dislike that all men
« A MAN FOR BREAKFAST:' 161
feel for the man to whose ministry we all have to
submit ourselves some day, I do not pretend to
say.
Even the Indian boy disliked the Doctor bitterly,
and one day flew at him, without any cause, and
clutched a handful of hair from his thin and half -bald
head. The Judge, too, disliked the Doctor, and only
the evening before the trial some one, passing the
cabin, heard the Judge call the Doctor a fool to his
teeth.
That was a feather in the Judge's hat, in the eyes
of The Forks, but a bad sign for the Doctor. The
Doctor should have knocked him down, said The
Forks.
The day of trial came, and Sandy, in respect for
the Court and the occasion, buttoned up his flannel
shirt, hid his hairy bosom, and gave over his gin and
peppermint during all the examination.
The prisoner was named " Spades." Whether it
was because he looked so like the black, squatty
Jack of Spades I do not know ; but I should say he
was indebted to his likeness to that ri^ht or left
bower for his name.
There was not the slightest doubt that he had
deliberately murdered two or three Indian children,
butchered them, as they crouched on the ground and
tried to hide under the lodges, with his knife, on the
day of the massacre ; but there were grave doubts as
162 " A MAN FOR BREAKFAST."
to what the Judge would do in the case, for he had
been pretty plainly told that he must not hold the
man to answer.
A low, wretched man was this — the lowest in the
camp ; but he stood between others of a more respect-
able character and danger. His fortune in the matter
was a prophecy of theirs. The prisoner was nearly
drunk as he took his seat on a three-legged stool
before the Judge in the Howlin' Wilderness. He sat
with his hat on. In fact, miners, in the matter of
wearing hats, would make first-class Israelites.
" Ef I ain't out o' this by dark," said Spades, as
he jerked his head over his shoulder and spirted a
stream of amber at the back-log, "I'll sun some-
body's moccasins, see if I don't." And he looked
straight at the Judge, who settled down uneasily in
his seat, and placed his beaver hat on the table be-
tween himself and the prisoner as a sort of barricade.
Two or three gamblers, good enough men in
their way, acted as attorneys for Spades. They at
once turned themselves loose in plausible, if not
eloquent, speeches against the treacherous savage.
Sandy now introduced his witness for the prosecu-
tion. This man told how Spades had butchered the
babes down on the Klamat, in detail; and then
others were called and did the same. It was a clear
case, and Sandy was delighted with his prosecution.
, The other side did not ask any questions. The
"A MAN FOR BREAKFAST? 163
attorneys whispered a moment among themselves, and
then one of them got up, took the stand, and gravely-
asserted that on that day, and at the very moment
described, he was playing poker with Spades at two
bits a corner in the Howlin' Wilderness. Then
another arose with the same account ; and then
another. It was the clearest alibi possible.
Sandy said nothing, and the case was closed. He
looked black across the table at the defence, and then
went up to the bar, and called for gin and pepper-
mint, alone.
This was the first attempt to introduce law prac-
tice at The Forks, and no wonder that it did not
work well, and that some things were forgotten. All
were new hands — Court, counsel, and nearly all
present, here witnessed their first trial.
Poor Sandy had forgotten to have his witnesses
sworn, and the Court had not thought of it.
The testimony being all in, the Court proceeded
solemnly to sum up the case. In conclusion, it
said, " You will observe that, as a rule, the further
we go from the surface of things the nearer we get
to the bottom." This brought cheers and waving of
hats from the Howlin' Wilderness, and the Court re-
peated, " I am free to say that the Court has gone
diligently into the depths of this case, and that, as a
rule, the further you get from the surface of things
the nearer you get to the bottom. The case looked
16i "A MAN FOB BREAKFAST?
dark indeed against the prisoner at first; but the
Court has gone to the bottom of the matter, and he
is now white as snow."
" Hear ! hear ! hear !" shouted a man from Sydney,
who always hobbled a little as if he dragged a chain
when he walked.
" Snow is good !" said a miner between his
teeth, as he looked at the black visage of the
prisoner.
" You see," continued the Judge, " that things are
often not so black as they first appear, particularly
if they are only fairly washed."
" Particularly if they are white-washed !" said
Sandy, as he swallowed his gin and peppermint and left
the saloon in disgust.
All this time a tawny little figure had stood back
in the corner unseen, perhaps, by any one. It was
Klamat with his club. He had watched with the
eyes of a hawk the whole proceeding. He had drank
in every sentence, and had never once taken his eyes
from the Court or the prisoner.
At last, when the Judge decreed the prisoner free,
and the Court adjourned, and all ranged themselves
in a long, single file before the bar, calling out
" Cocktail," "Tom-and- Jerry," " Brandy-smash, " Gin-
sling," " Lightning straight," " Forty rod," and so
on, he slipped out, looking back over his shoulders,
with his thin lips set, and his hand clutching a knife
under his robe.
"A MAN FOE BREAKFASTS 165
That evening the Judge was again belabouring the
Doctor with his tongue, which had been made more
than ordinarily loose and abusive by the single-file
drilling process that had been repeated at the
Howlin' Wilderness in the celebration of Spades 7
acquittal.
" That little Doctor '11 put a bug in his soup for
him yet, see 'f he don't," said some one that evening
at the saloon, when the man who had heard the
Judge's abuse had finished reciting it.
" All right, let him," said a man, who stood stirring
his liquor with a spoon, in gum-boots and with a gold-
pan under his left arm. "All right, let him ; " said
the bearded sovereign, as he threw back his head
and opened his mouth. u It's not my circus, nor
won't be my funeral ; " and he wiped his beard and
went out saying to himself : —
"Fight dog, and fight bar,
Thar's no dog of mine thar."
The Prince, with that clear common-sense which
always came to the surface, had foreseen the whole
affair so far as the trial was concerned, and had
remained at home hard at work in the claim ; I told
him all that had happened, and he only shrugged
his shoulders.
. The next morning the butcher shouted down from
the cabin as he weighed out the steaks : " A man for
breakfast up in town, I say ! a man for breakfast up
166 " A MAN FOR BREAKFAST."
in town, and I'll bet you can't guess who it is."
" Who ? "
" The Judge!"
The man had been stabbed to death not far from
his own door, some time in the night, perhaps just
before retiring. There were three distinct mortal
wounds in the breast. There had evidently been a
short, hard struggle for life, for in one hand he
clutched a lock of somebody's hair. There was no
mistake about the hair. That long, soft, silken, half
curling, yellow German hair of the Doctor's, that
grew on the sides of his naked head — there was not
to be found another lock of hair like this in the
mountains.
The dead man had not been robbed. That was a
point in the Doctor's favour. He had been met in
the front, had not been poisoned, or stabbed or shot
in the back ; that was another very strong point in
the Doctor's favour.
In some of the northern states of Mexico, particu-
larly at Guadalajara, I remember some years ago
it was a pretty good defence for a man charged with
murder, if he could prove that he had not plundered
the dead, and that he had met him from the face like
a man. These Mexicans held that man is not natu-
rally vicious or bloodthirsty, and will not take life
without cause : that if he did not murder a man to
rob him, he had some secret and perhaps sufficient
« A MAN FOR BREAKFAST: 167
wrong to redress, to at least give some show of
right ; then if, added to these, he met his man like a
man and he came off victor, although he slew the
man, the law for that would hardly take his life.
There was something of this feeling in the camp
now. However, if there had been an alcalde at The
Forks, there is no doubt the Doctor had been at
once arrested ; but as there was nothing of the kind
nearer than a day's ride, nothing was done. Besides,
the Judge had made himself particularly odious to
the miners, and gamblers are the last men in the
world to meddle with the law. They settled their
suits with steel across a table, or with little bull-dog
deringers around a corner. Sometimes they have a
six-shooter war dance in the streets, if the misunder-
standing is one in which many parties are concerned.
As a rule, a funeral in the mines is a mournful
thing. It is the saddest and most pitiful spectacle I
have ever seen. The contrast of strength and weak-
ness is brought out here in such a way that you
must turn aside or weep when you behold it. To
see those strong, rough men, long-haired, bearded
and brown, rugged and homely-looking, with some-
thing of the grizzly in their great, awkward move-
ments, now take up one of their number, straightened
in the rough pine box, in his miner's dress, and
carry him up, up on the hill in. silence — it is sad
beyond expression.
168 "A MAN FOB BREAKFAST!"
He has come a long way, lie has journeyed by
land or sea for a year, he has toiled and endured,
and denied himself all things for some dear object at
home, and now after all, he must lie down in the
forests of the Sierras, and turn on his side and
die. No one to kiss him, no one to bless him,
and say "good-bye," only as a woman can, and
close the weary eyes, and fold the hands in their
final rest : and then at the grave, how awkward —
how silent ! How they would like to look at each
other and say something, yet how they hold down
their heads, or look away to the horizon, lest they
should meet each other's eyes. Lest some strong man
should see the tears that went silently down from
the eyes of another over his beard and on to the
leaves.
But the Judge had no such burial as this. Sandy
was on a spree, and the gamblers placed Spades at
the head of the funeral. They had no respect for
the man and kept away. Spades was chief mourner,
and the poor little man was laid alone on the hill-
side, with hardly enough in attendance to do the last
offices for the dead.
That night Spades entered the Howlin' Wilder-
ness wearing a beaver hat. Sandy saw this, set
down the glass of gin and peppermint untouched,
and went straight up to the man. He seized him
by the throat and shook him till his teeth smote and
" A MAN FOR BREAKFAST." 169
ground together like quartz rocks in a feeder Then
he picked up the hat reverently and respectfully as
his condition would allow, and laid it gently on the
roaring pine-log fire. That was the last of the first
beaver hat of Humbug.
The Doctor appeared out of place in this camp from
the first. Every one seemed to feel that — perhaps
no one felt it more keenly than himself.
There are people, it seems to me, who go all
through life looking for the place where they belong
and never finding it. This to me is a very sad
sight. They seem to fit in no place on top of the
earth.
The general feeling of dislike that had always
been observed, now became one of contempt. No one
noticed or spoke to him now. He came to hold
down his head very soon, and to shun people in-
stinctively since they seemed to wish to shun him.
I am bound to confess, right here, that after this
murder, when the whole camp seemed turned against
this shy, shrinking, silent man, when he was despised
by all, when no one would share the path with him,
but would make him stand aside and leave the trail
as if he had been an Indian or a Chinaman, I began
to sympathize with him. When the world pointed
its finger and set the mark of Cain upon the man, I
began to like him.
This, you say, seems to you remarkable. It is
170 "A MAN FOR BREAKFAST."
certainly remarkable, or I should not trouble myself
to mention it.
There was now an expression in this man's face that
I had not seen before. A sort of weary, tired look it
was, that was pitiful. An idea took possession of
me that he had grown tired in his journey from
place to place in the world, looking for the place
where he belonged, for a sort of niche where he
would fit in, and which he had never yet found.
There are men who sit in a community like a
centre gem in a cluster of diamonds, and who
cannot be taken away without deranging and
marring the whole. The place of such a man
is vacant till the last one of the cluster of which he
forms the centre goes down in the dust.
There are others, again, who grow on the side or
even in the centre of a community, like a great wart
or wen. They sap its strength, they stop its growth,
they poison it thoroughly, and it dies: a miserable,
contemptible community, all through that one bad
man.
But the Doctor was neither of these. He had
never yet found his place, had never yet taken root
or hold anywhere, but had been blown or rolled or
thrown or pitched or shuttle-cocked about, it seemed
to me, from the beginning of his life; whenever that
may have been. A sort of sour, dried-up apple, that
no one would eat, yet an apple that no one would
care to pitch out of the window.
" A MAN FOR BREAKFAST? 171
I had always hated and feared the man till now.
The universal dislike, however, aroused a sort of
antagonism in my nature, that always has, and I
expect always will, come to the surface on such
occasions on the side of the poor or much despised,
perfectly regardless of propriety, self-interest, or any
consideration whatever.
If a man has succeeded and is glad, let him go his
way. What should I have to do with him ? My lot
and my life thus far have been with the poor and the
lonely, and so shall be to the end. They can under-
stand me.
And maybe, often, there is a kind of subtle
wisdom in this view of men. I think it is born of
the fact that your ostentatious, prosperous man,
your showy rich man of America, is so very, very
poor, that you do not care to call him your neigh-
bour. It is true he has horses and houses and
land and gold, but these horses and houses, and
lands and coins, are all in the world he has. When
he dies these will all remain and the world will
lose nothing whatever. His death will not make
even a ripple in the tide of life. His family, whom
he has taught to worship gold, will forget him in
their new estates. In their hearts they will be glad
that he is gone. They will barter and haggle with
the stone-cutter toiling for his bread, and for a
starve-to-death price they will lift a marble shaft
172 " A MAIS' FOE BREAKFAST."
above his head with an iron fence around it — typical,
cold, and soulless !
Poor man, since he took nothing away that one
could miss, what a beggar he must have been. The
poor and unhappy never heard of him : the world has
not lost a thought. Not a note missed, not a word
was lost in the grand, sweet song of the universe
when he died.
Save us from such men. America is full of them.
She boils over with them in a sort of annual eruption.
She throws them over the sea into abbeys and
sacred places, with their hats on ; they are howling,
hoarser than jackals, up and down the Nile and
over and away towards Jerusalem.
It was remarkable how suddenly the Indian
children sprung up with the summer. No one could
have recognized in this neat, modest, sensitive girl,
and this silent, savage-looking boy, who sometimes
looked almost a man, the two starved, naked little
creatures of half a year before.
There was a little lake belted by wild red roses
and salmon berries, and fretted by overhanging ferns
under the great firs that shut out the sun save in
little spars and bars of light that fell through upon
a bench of the hills ; a sort of lily pond, only half
a pistol shot across, at the bottom of a waterfall, and
clear as sunshine itself. Here Paquita would go
often and alone to pass her idle hours. I chanced
viitiCU** r. £^>
PAQUITA.
« A MAN FOR BREAKFAST." 173
to see her there on the rim, walking against the sun
and looking into the water as she moved forward,
now and then back 7 across her shoulder, as a maiden
in a glass preparing for a ball. She had just been
made glad with her first new dress — red, and
decorated with ribbons, made gay and of many-
colours. The poor child was studying herself in the
waters.
This was not vanity ; no doubt there was a deal of
satisfaction, a sort of quiet pride, in this, but it was
something higher, also. A desire to study grace, to
criticize her movements in this strange and to her
lovely dress, and learn to move with the most
perfect propriety. She practiced this often. The
finger lifted sometimes, the head bowed, then the
hands in rest and the head thrown back, she would
walk back and forth for hours, contemplating herself
and catching the most graceful motion from the
water.
What a rich, full, and generous mouth was hers —
frank as the noon-day. Beware of people with small
mouths, they are not generous. A full, rich mouth,
impulsive and passionate, is the kind of mouth to
trust, to believe in, to ask a favour of, and to give
kind words to.
There are as many kinds of mouths as there are
crimes in the catalogue of sins. There is the mouth
for hash ! — thick-lipped, coarse, and expressionless, a
174 «^L MAX FOR BREAKFAST P
picket of teeth, behind with bread about the roots.
Bah! Then there is the thin-lipped, sour-apple
mouth, sandwiched in between a sharp chin and thin
nose. Look out!
There are mischievous mouths, ruddy and full of
fun, that you would like to be on good terms with if
you had time, and then there is the rich, full mouth,
with dimples dallying and playing about it like
ripples in a shade, half sad, half glad — a mouth to
love. Such was Paquita's. A rose, but not yet
opened ; only a bud that in another summer would
unfold itself wide to the sun
CHAPTER XII.
BONE AND SINEW.
TILL we wrought, the Prince and I ? pa-
tiently and industriously. So did thousands
above us and below us ; there was a clang of
picks and shovels, the smiting of steel on the granite,
a sound through the sable forests, an echoing up the far
hill-sides like the march of an army to battle, clashing
the sword and buckler.
Every man that wrought there, worked for an ob-
ject. There was a payment to be met at home ; a
mortgage to be lifted. The ambition of one I knew
was to buy a little home for his parents ; another had
orphan sisters to provide for ; this had an invalid
mother. This had a bride, and that one the promise
of a bride. Every man there had a history, a plan,
a purpose.
Every man there who bent above the boulders,
and toiled on silently under the dark-plumed pines
and the shadows of the steep and stupendous moun-
tains, was a giant in body and soul.
175
176 BONE AND SINEW.
Never since the days of Cortez has there been
gathered together such a hardy and brave body of
men as these first men of the Pacific. When it took
six months' voyaging round the Horn, and imminent
perils, with like dangers and delays, to cross the
isthmus or the continent, then the weak of heart
did not attempt it and the weak of body died on the
way. The result was a race of men worthy of the
land. The world's great men were thus drawn out,
separated and set apart to themselves out here on the
Pacific.
There was another segregation and sifting out
after the Pacific was reached. There lay the mines
open to all who would work; no capital but a pick
and pan required. The most manly and independent
life on earth. At night you had your pay in your
hand, your reward weighed out in virgin gold. If
you made five, ten, fifty, or a thousand dollars that
day, you made it from the fall of no man ; no decline
of stocks or turn in trade which carried some man to
the bottom brought you to the top ; no speculation,
no office, no favour, only your own two hands and
your strong, true heart, without favour from any
man. You had contributed that much to the com-
merce of the world. If there is any good in gold, you
had done that much good to the world, besides the
good to yourself. What men took this line of life !
But some preferred to trade, build towns, hang about
BONE AND SINEW. 177
them, and practise their wits on their fellow-men.
You see at once that the miners were the cream
of the milk in this second separation.
The summer wore on, and Paquita remained with
us, an industrious, lovely little girl. She was the
pet of the camp. She dressed with taste, and was
modest, sensitive, intelligent, and beautiful. It was
noticeable that men who lived in that vicinity dressed
much more neatly than in any other part of the
camp, and even men who had to pass that way to
reach The Forks kept their shaggy beards in shape,
and their shirt bosoms buttoned up when they passed.
Such is the influence of even the presence of woman.
Klamat was wild as ever. The miners would
suppose him spending his nights with us, and we
would suppose him still with them, and thus he had
it all his own way, wandered off with his club and
knife into the hills, down to the river, and slept
Heaven knows where.
At last one Sunday the Prince taught him the use
of the rifle. This was to him perhaps the greatest
event of his life. He danced with delight, made all
sorts of signs about the game he would kill, and how
much he would do for the Prince. He was faithful
to his word. He began to repay something of his
trouble. He brought game to the Prince and to us
in abundance, but refused to let any one else have so
much as a quail.
L
178 BONE AND SINEW.
Once the Prince gave a shoulder of venison to some
neighbour boys below us. Klamat went down when
the men were at work, took the axe, broke open the
door, and took and threw the meat over the bank
into the claim. This made him natural enemies, and
it took great caution on the part of the Prince to save
his life.
He never talked, never smiled ; a sour, bitter-look-
ing face was his, and he had no friends in the camp
outside our own cabin. He stood his club in the
corner now, and used the rifle instead. In a few days
he had polished the barrel and all the brass ornaments
till they shone like silver and gold.
Once a travelling missionary, as he called himself,
gave him a tract. He took it to Paquita, who held it
up and pretended to him that she could read it all as
readily as the white men. This was one of her little
deceits. Poor children. No one had time to teach
them to read, or to set them much of an example.
How they wondered at the endless toil of the men.
The Doctor in the meantime ranged around the
hill sides, wrote some, gathered some plants, and
seemed altogether the most listless, wretched, mis-
erable man you could conceive. He made his home
in our cabin now, and rarely went to town; for
when he did, so sure one of the hangers-on about
the saloons was sure to insult him. Sometimes,
however, he would be obliged to go, such as when
BONE AND SINEW. 179
some accident or severe illness would compel the
miners to send for him, and he never refused to
attend. On one of these occasions, Spades, half
drunk and wholly vicious, caught the Doctor by the
throat as he met him in the trail near town, and
shook him much as he had been shaken by Sandy
some months before.
Spades boasted he had made his old teeth rattle
like rocks in a rocker. The Doctor said nothing, but
got off as best he could and came home. He did
not even mention the matter to any one.
Shortly after this Spades was found dead. He was
found just as the Judge had been found, close to his
cabin door, with the mortal stabs in the breast,
only he did not have the lock of hair in his hands
from the Doctor's head.
There was talk of a mob. This thing of killing
people in the night, even though they were the most
worthless men of the camp, and even though they
were killed in a way that suggested something like
fair play, and revenge rather than robbery, was not
to be indulged in, even at Humbug, with impunity.
Some of the idlers got together at the HowhV
Wilderness to pass resolutions, and take some steps
in the matter, as Spades lay stretched out under
the old blue soldier coat on a pine slab that had
many dark stains across and along its rugged surface,
but they fell into an exciting game of poker, at ten
180 BONE AND SINEW.
dollars a corner, and the matter for the time was left
to rest. No Antony came to hold up the dead Csesar's
mantle, and poor Spades was buried much as he had
buried the Judge a short time before.
Some one consulted Sandy on the subject, about
the time of the funeral, as he stood at the bar of the
Howlin' Wilderness for his gin and peppermint.
Sandy was something of a mouth-piece for the miners,
not that he was a recognized leader; miners, as a
rule, decline to be led, but rather that he knew what
they thought on most subjects, and preferred to act
with them and express their thoughts, rather than
incline to the idlers about The Forks. He drank his
gin in silence, set down his glass, and said in an
oracular sort of way, as if to himself, when passing
out of the door :
" Well, let 'em rip ; it's dog eat dog, anyhow !"
But it was evident that this matter would not blow
over as easily as did the death of the Judge. True,
there was no magistrate in camp yet, but there was a
live Sheriff in the city.
The Doctor went on as usual, avoiding men a little
more than before, but other than this I could see no
change in the man or his manner of life.
He and the Prince had many strange theories.
Men in the mines think out some great things, as
they dig for gold all day, with no sound save the
ripple of the mountain stream and the sharp quick
BONE AND SINEW. 181
call of the quail in the chapparal, to disturb them,
through all the days of summer. They come upon
new thoughts as upon nuggets of gold.
Sometimes they talked in bitter terms about the
treatment of the Indians. They had humane and I
think just and possible theories on this subject, which
I remember very well, and may sometime submit to
the Government, if I can only get a hearing within
the next ten years. It will hardly be worth while
after that time, although, after the Indians are all
dead, no doubt we will have some very humane and
Christian plans advanced by which they may be made
a prosperous and contented people.
I am constantly asked : " Does not the Government
interfere ? Does not the Government take charge of
these Indians after having taken their lands, and
lakes, and rivers V Nonsense ! The Government !
The Indian Bureau, Indian Agent, or whatever you
choose to call that part of the North American Re-
public deputed to distribute red blankets and glass
beads to the North- American Indian, had not yet put
in an appearance on the Klamat. I doubt if he has
reached that particular portion of the interior to this
day.
When he does arrive he will find now only falling
lodges with grass growing rank about the doorways ;
he will find mounds all up and down the river that
were made by a continual round of encampments
182 BONE AND SINEW.
reaching back to a time when the Chaldeans named
the stars ; he will find perhaps an old woman or two,
or a bent old warrior, sitting in rags and wretched-
ness, lamenting, looking back with dimmed eyes to
another age, and that is all.
Twenty years ago the Indians of the Forks of the
Willamette, rode by my father's cabin in bands,
single file, a mile or two in length. They rode
spotted horses, had gay clothes and garments of many
colours. The squaws chanted songs of a monotonous
kind, not without some melody, as they rode by
astride, with papooses swinging on boards from the
saddle-bow, and were very happy.
They saw the country settling up day by day, but
never raised a hand against the whites.
The whites were insolent, it is true, for had not
Government given them the land, and had they not
journeyed a long way to possess it ?
Then the country was fenced up and their ponies
could not get pasture ; the lands were ploughed and
the squaws could not get roots and acorns. But worst
of all, the whites killed and frightened oif the game,
and the Indians began to starve and die. Once or
twice they undertook to beg, about the Forks of the
Willamette, but the settlers set dogs on them, and
they went back to their lodges and died oif in a few
years by thousands. The world wondered why the
Indians died. "They are passing away," said the
BONE AND SINEW. 183
substantial idiot who edited the " Star of the West."
" They are a doomed race," said the minister. I think
they were.
Less than six months ago I visited this spot. How
many Indians do you suppose I found there of the
permanent old settlers ? Two ! Captain Jim and
his squaw. All along the silver river, where it
makes its flashing course against the sun, the banks
are black and mellow, and the grass grows tall and
strong from the bones and ashes of the " doomed
race."
Captain Jim declines to surrender to the Keserva-
tion. They caught him once, him and his squaw,
but he got away after a year or two, and not only
brought back his own squaw, but one of a neighbour-
ing tribe, and has ever since been dodging about
through the hills overlooking the great valley where
his fathers were once the lords and masters, with
only the Great Spirit to say yea or nay to them.
Captain Jim is a harmless fellow, and a good hunter.
Sometimes in harvest he goes down in the fields and
binds wheat, and gets pay like a white man. His
squaws gather berries and sell them to the whites.
Sometimes they take a great fancy to children, and
give them all the berries they have, and will take
nothing for them. Captain Jim says that is not good
management. One day some one asked him why he
had two squaws. He studied awhile, and said he
184 BONE AND SINEW.
had two squaws so that they could bury him when
he died.
He wears a stiff-brimmed beaver hat with feathers
in it ; clothes like a white man, even to the white
shirt ; smokes and chews tobacco, swears, and some-
times gets drunk. In fact, he is so nearly civilized,
that no great efforts are now made to return him to
the Reservation.
Some day soon the two wives of Captain Jim will
be permitted to lay the last of the Willamette Indians
to sleep on the banks of that sunny river.
What would I do ? It would be long to tell. But
I would blow the Indian Bureau to the moon. I
would put good men, and plenty of them, to look into
the Indians' interest. I would set apart, out of their
original possessions, good tracts of land for each tribe.
I would pay these men so well, if possible, that they
would not steal from the Indians, if I could not get
honest men otherwise. I would make their office
perpetual, and I would make it one of honor and of
trust.
But what do we do instead \ We change the man
in charge every few years, before he has even got a
glimpse at the inner life of an Indian. We send out
some red-mouthed politician, who gets the place
because he happens to have a great influence with the
Irish vote of New York, or the German vote of Penn-
sylvania. We wait, nine cases out of ten, till the
s><?^
-$%$%$
7T&Z
Sfc
CAPTAIX JIM.
BONE AND SINEW. 185
matter adjusts itself between the whites and the reds.
If the Indians are peaceful, as in the case of the Wil-
lamette, why interfere ? If they go to war they must
be made peaceful. This is the way it has gone and
still goes on, to the eternal disgrace of the country.
If a trouble comes of this clashing together of the
whites and the reds, we hear but one side of the
story. The Indian daily papers are not read.
CHAPTER XIII.
A STOEM IN THE SIERRAS.
IRGIN gold, like truth, lies at the bottom.
It is a great task in the placer mines, as a
rale, particularly in the streams, to get on
the bed-rock to open a claim and strike a lead.
When this is done the rest is simple enough. You
have only to keep your claim open, to see that the
drain is not clogged, the tail race kept open, and that
the water does not break in and fill up your exca-
vation, by which you have reached the bed rock.
All this the Prince and I had accomplished. The
summer was sufficiently cool to be tolerable in toil :
the season was unusually healthy, and all was well.
At night, when the flush of the sun would be blown
from the tree tops to the clouds, we two would sit at
the cabin door in the gloaming, and look across and
up, far up, into the steep and sable skirting forest of
firs, and listen to the calls of the cat-bird, or the
coyote lifting his voice in a plaintive murmur for his
mate on the other side.
A STORM IN THE SIEREAS. 187
The Doctor would sit there too, in silence, close
at hand, and dream and forget the ways of man ; and,
perhaps, think sadly, but certainly enough, there was
one place, one narrow place, at last, where he would
fit in and no one would come to disturb him.
Klamat would come in with a string of quails,
sometimes, at dusk, or a venison saddle, a red fox or
a badger, stand his gun in the corner with his club,
and turn himself to rest close at hand.
Paquita would drop down from the woods on the
hill above the cabin, the little belle and beauty of the
camp. But she never spoke to the miners or any
one, save to only answer them in the briefest way
possible.
They hardly liked this ; and they hardly liked the
Prince from the start, I think, anyhow. He was, as an
expression of the time went, a little too " fine-haired."
He spoke too properly; he never "got on any glo-
rious benders," with the western men, nor could he
eat codfish, or talk about Boston, with the eastern.
He took hold of no man's hand hastily.
I like that.
Paquita had a great deal to tell about Mount
Shasta. She had been on the side beyond. In
fact her home was there, she said, and she de-
scribed the whole land in detail. A country sloping
off gradually toward the east and south; densely
timbered, save little dimples of green prairies, alive
188 A STORM IN
with game, dotted down here and there, buried in
the dark and splendid forests on the little trout
streams that wound still and crooked through wood
and meadow.
She had been out here on the Klamat on a visit,
with her mother and others, the fall and winter
before. She said they had come down from the
lakes in canoes. She also insisted strongly that her
father was a great chief of the Modocs and mountain
Shastas.
Indians are great travelers, far greater than is
generally believed, and it was quite reasonable to
take that part of the young lady's story as, literally
true; but the part about her father being a great
chief was set down as one of her innocent fictions
by which she wished to dignify herself, and appear
of some importance in the eyes of the Prince.
Still as there had been quite a sensation in camp
about new mines in that direction, it was interesting
to talk to one who had been through the country,
and could give us some accurate account of it. After
that, finding the Prince was interested enough to
listen, she would take great pleasure in describing
the country, character, and habits of the Indians, and
the kind of game with which the forest abounded.
She would map out on the ground with a stick
the whole country, as you would draw a chart on
the black board.
TEE SIERRAS. 189
The feeling against the Doctor had not yet Mown
over. It was pretty generally understood that the
sheriff or a deputy from across the mountain would
soon be over with a warrant for his apprehension.
Why not escape ? There are some popular errors
of opinion that are amusing. Men suppose that if
a man is in the mountains he is safe, hid away, and
secure ; that he has only to step aside in the brush
and be seen no more.
As a rule, it is infinitely better to be in the heart of
a city. Here was a camp of three thousand men.
Each man knew the face of his neighbour. There
was but one way to enter this camp, but one way to
go out ; that w T ay led to the city. We were in a
sac, the further end of a cave, as it were. You
could not go this way, or that, through the moun-
tains above. There were no trails; there was no
food. You would get lost ; you would starve.
Besides, there were wild beasts, and wilder men,
ready to revenge the hundred massacres up and down
the country, not unlike the one described. Here, in
that day at least, if a man did wrong he could not
hide. The finger of God pointed him out to all.
Late one September day it grew intensely sultry ;
there was a haze in the sky and a circle about the
sun. There was not a breath. The perspiration
came out and stood on the brow, even as we rested
in the shadow of the pines. A singular haze ; such
a day, it is said, as precedes earthquakes.
190 A STORM IN
The black crickets ceased to sing; the striped
lizards slid quick as ripples across the rocks, and
birds went swift as arrows overhead, but uttered
no cry. There was not a sound in the air nor on
the earth.
Paquita came rushing down to the claim, pale and
excited. She lifted her two hands above her head
as she stood on the bank, and called to us to come
up from the mine. " Come," she cried, " there will
be a storm. The trees will blow and break against
each other. There will be a flood, a sea, a river in
the mountains. Come ! " She swayed her body to
and fro, and the trees began to sway above her on
the hills, but not a breath had touched the mines.
Then it grew almost dark ; we fairly had to feel
our way up the ladder. A big drop sank in the
water close at hand, splashing audibly; the trees
surged above us and began to snap like reeds.
There was a roar like the sea — loud, louder. Nearer
now the trees began to bend and turn and lick their
limbs and trunks, interweave and smite and crush,
and lurch until their tops were like one black and
boiling sea.
Fast, faster, the rain in great warm drops began
to strike us in the face, as we miners hastened up the
hill to the shelter of the cabin. At the door we
turned to look. The darkness of death was upon us ;
we could hear the groans and the battling of the
THE SIERRAS. 191
trees, the howling of the tempest, but all was dark,
ness, blackness, desolation. Lightning cleft the
heavens.
A sheet of flame — as if the hand of God had thrust
out through the dark and smote the mountain side
with a sword of fire.
And then the thunder shook the earth till it
trembled, as if Shasta had been shaken loose and
broken from its foundation. No one spoke. The
lightning lit the cabin like a bonfire. Klamat stood
there in the cabin by his club and gun. There was
in his face a grim delight. The Doctor lay on his
face in his bunk, hiding his eyes in his two hands.
No one undressed that night in the camp.
The next morning the fury of the storm was over,
but it was not yet settled. We ventured out and
looked down into the stream. It was nearly large
enough to float a steamer. The claim was filled up
as perfectly as when we first took it from the
hands of the Creator. Ten feet of water flowed
swift and muddy over it towards the Klamat and the
sea.
Logs, boards, shingles, rockers, toms, sluices,
flumes, pans, riffles, aprons went drifting, bobbing,
dodging down the angry river like a thousand eager
swimmers.
The storm had stolen everything, and was rushing
with his plunder straight as could be to the sea, as
192 A STOEM IN
if lie feared that dawn should catcli him in the
camp, and the miners come upon him to reclaim
their goods.
Every man in the camp was ruined. No man had
dreamed of * this. Maybe a few had saved up a little
fortune, but, as a rule, all their fortunes lay in the
folds of the next few months. Every man had his
burden now to bear. The mortgage on the farm,
the home for the old, the orphans, the invalid
sister.
Brave men ! they said nothing ; they set their
teeth, looked things squarely in the face, but did not
complain. One man, however, who watched the
flood from a point on the other side and saw his
flume swept away, swung his old slouched hat,
danced a sort of savage hokee-pokee, and sang :
" O, everything is lovely,
And the goose hangs high !"
A strange song, indeed !
To them this disaster meant another weary winter
in the mines — disease, scurvy, death. Many could
not endure it. They understood their claims could
not be opened till another year, and set their faces for
other mines which they had heard of, further on.
Mining life is not unlike life at large.
We two had not saved much money. And what
portion of that had I earned? I could not well
claim a great deal, surely. How much would be
TEE SIERRAS. 193
left when the debts were paid — the butcher and the
others? True, the claim was valuable, but it had
no value now — not so much as a sack of flour.
There were too many wanting to get away, and men
had not yet learned the worth of a mine. Some-
times in these days new excitements, new diversions,
would tap a camp, drain it dry, and not leave a soul
to keep the coyotes from taking possession of the
cabins.
" What will you do ? " said the Prince to me one
day, as we sat on the bank, wishing in vain for the
water to subside.
" We cannot reach the bed-rock again till far into
the next year. What will you do ? "
" May I stay with you ? "
The strong man reached me his two hands — " As
long as I live and you live, my little one, and
there is a blanket to my name we will sleep under
it together.
" We will leave this camp. I have hated it from
the first. I have grown old here in a year. I
cannot breathe in this narrow canon with its great
walls against the clouds. We will go."
CHAPTER XIV,
A HOUSE TO LET.
HAT night the Prince talked a long time
with Paquita about the new country on the
other side of the Shasta, and putting her
account and my brief knowledge of the country
together, we resolved to go there, where gold, accord-
ing to her story, was to be had almost for the picking
up, if the Indians did not interfere.
A new trouble arose. What was to be done with
the two little savages ? What would any other man
have done ? Gone about his business and left them
to shift for themselves. Had he not saved their
lives ? Had he not fed them through all that dread-
ful winter ? What more should he do ?
One morning this man rested his elbows on the
table, and with his face buried in his hands was a
long time silent.
" Pack up," said the Prince, at last, to the little
girl. In a few moments she stood by his side with
a red calico dress and some ribbons tied up in a
194
A HOUSE TO LET. 195
handkerchief in one hand, and a pair of moccasins in
the other.
The Doctor was anxious to get away — more anxious,
perhaps, than any one. For what had the camp been
to him? If I could have had my way or say, I
would have left this mysterious, sad-faced, silent man
behind.
I think the Prince would have done the same.
We cannot always have our own way, even with
ourselves.
Why does the man not do thus and so, we say ?
What is there to hinder him ? Who shall say yea
or nay ? Is he not his own master ? No. No man
is his own master who has a conscience.
If this man had been of stronger will, had he not
been so utterly helpless and friendless, we could
have left him, and would have left him gladly ; as it
was, it was not a matter of choice at all.
Ponies were scarce, and mules were high-priced and
hard to get, but the Doctor was not so poor as we,
and he put his money all in the Prince's hands. So
we had a tolerable outfit.
A very little pony would answer for me, the
commonest kind could bear Paquita and her extra
dress, while Klamat could walk and make his own
way through the woods, like a greyhound
The Prince procured a great double-barrelled shot
gun, throwing buck-shot by the handful, for himself,
196 A HOUSE TO LET
and pistols for all, for we were going into the heart
of a hostile country.
An officer, it was rumoured, was on the watch
for the Doctor, and Klamat prepared to lead us by
way of a blind trail, up the mountain side, without
passing out by way of the Howlin' Wilderness at The
Forks.
One of the most interesting studies, as well as one
of the rarest, is that of man in a state of nature.
Next to that is the state of man removed from, or
above the reach of, all human law, utterly away from
what is still more potent to control the actions of
men, public opinion — the good or ill-will of the
world.
As far as my observation has gone I am bound to
say, that any expression on the subject would be
highly laudatory of the native goodness of man. I
should say, as a rule, he, in that state, is brave,
generous, and just.
But in civilization I find that the truly just and
good man is rarely prominent, he is hardly heard of,
while some little sharp-faced commercial meddler,
who never spends or bestows a farthing without first
balancing it on his finger, and reckoning how much
it will bring him by way of honour in return, is
often counted the noblest man among you.
Therefore, I say that the truest men are those who
are men for the sake of their manhood. A true man
A HOUSE TO LET 197
does a good deed for the sake of doing good, for the
satisfaction of it, for the dignity that it gives him in
his own eyes, and not in the eyes of the world.
You see some noble and interesting things when
the winds have blown men away from the shore to
where there is no law to punish crime, no public
opinion to reward merit, where men act from within
and not from without.
That aristocratic and highly respectable gentleman,
the Hon. Mr. Perkins, of Perkinsville, who gave the
thousand dollars to the Sanitary Commission, and a
like sum to the church, and had it published over all
the land, received offices and posts of honour for the
same, and always cherished a fond hope that the
facts would be appropriately set forth on his tomb-
stone, for which he had just contracted with a dealer,
in finest Italian marble, and at a splendid bargain,
too, as the man was about to fail and compelled to
have the money, — would probably have acted quite
otherwise here.
Similar deeds done under the eyes of an approving
world might not take place in the mountains where
there is no public opinion, no press to pronounce
a man a benefactor, no responding public to build a
monument. Such gifts' have their reward on earth.
In fact, they are more than repaid. The glory is
worth more than the gold ; and the poor are under
no obligations whatever. "Let not thy left hand
198 A HOUSE TO LET
know what thy right hand doeth " means very much
more than is expressed.
With his moccasins bound tight about his feet and
reaching up so as to embrace the legs of his buck-
skin pantaloons, his right arm freed from the hateful
red-shirt sleeve which hung in freedom at his side,
some eagle feathers in his hair, and his rifle on his
shoulder, Klamat, with a beaming countenance, led
the way from the cabin.
The Prince had assigned him the post of honour,
and he was carried away with delight. He seemed to
forget that he was the only one on foot. No doubt
he would gladly have given up the red shirt and
buckskins, all but his rifle, with pleasure, at this
supreme moment, had they been required, to insure
his position as leader.
Alexander gave away to his friends the last of the
spoils after a great battle. "And what have you
kept for yourself?" said one. "Hope and glory,"
he answered.
Klamat was an infant Alexander.
I followed, then Paquita, the Poctor next. The
Prince took up a piece of charcoal from the heap
of ashes outside the cabin, and wrote in great bold
letters on the door :
"To Let."
We crossed the stream at a cabin below, just as
the men were beginning to stir.
A HOUSE TO LET 199
They seemed to know that something unusual was
taking place. They straightened themselves in the
fresh light and air, washed their hands and hairy
faces in the gold-pans on the low pine stump by the
door, but tried, or seemed to try, not to observe.
Once across the stream, Klamat led steeply up
the hill for a time, then he would chop and cut to
right and left in a zigzag route until we had
reached the rim of a bench in the mountain. Here
he stopped and motioned the Prince to approach, after
he had looked back intently into the camp and taken
sight by some pines that stood before him.
The Prince rode up to the boy and dismounted ;
when he had done so, the little fellow lifted three
fingers, looked excited, and pointed down upon the
old cabin. It was more than a mile away, nearly a
mile below ; but the sun was pitching directly down
upon it, and all things stood out clear and large as life.
Three men rode quickly up to the cabin, leaned
from their mules and read the inscription. The
leader now dismounted, kicked open the door and
entered. It does not take long to search a cabin,
without a loft or even a bed to hide under, and the
man did not remain a great while within.
Without even taking pains to close the door,
to keep out coyotes and other things, as miners
do, so that cabins may be habitable for some way-
farer, or fortune-hunters who may not have a house
200 A HOUSE TO LET.
of their own, lie hastily mounted and led the party
down to the next cabin below.
The miners were evidently at breakfast, for the
man leaned from his saddle and shouted two or three
times before any one came out.
The door opened, and a very tall, black-bearded
hairy man came forth, and walked up before the man
leaning from his mule.
What was said I do not know, but the bare-
headed, hairy man pointed with his long arm up the
mountain on the other side, exactly the opposite
course from the one that had been taken by the
fugitives.
Here the officer said something very loud, pushed
back his broad-brimmed hat, and pointed down the
stream. The long-armed, bare-headed, hairy man
again pointed emphatically up the mountain on the
other side, and then wheeled on his heel, entered,
and closed the door.
The interview had evidently not been a satisfactory
one, or a friendly one to the officer, and he led his
men slowly down the creek with their heads bent
down intently to the trail. They did not go far.
There were no fresh tracks in the way. The recent
great rain had made the ground soft, and there was
no mistaking the absence of the signs.
There was a consultation: three heads in broad
hats close together as they could get sitting on their
A HOUSE TO LET. 201
mules. Now a hat would be pushed back, and a
face lifted up exactly in our direction. We had
sheltered behind the pines. Klamat was holding
the Prince's mule's nose to keep it from braying to
those below. Paquita had dismounted a little way
off, behind a clump of pines, and was plucking some
leaves and grasses for her pony and the pack-mule
to keep them still. The Doctor never seemed more
stupid and helpless than now; but, at a sign from
Klamat, stole out to the shelter where Paquita stood,
dismounted, and began to gather grasses, too, for his
mule.
A poor, crooked, imitative little monkey he looked
as he bent to pluck the grass; at the same time
watching Paquita, as if he wished to forget that there
was any graver task on hand than to pluck grass
and feed the little mules.
Mules are noisy of a morning when they first set
out. The utmost care was necessary now to insure
silence.
Had the wind blown in our direction, or even a
mule brayed below, these mules in the midst of our
party would have turned their heads down hill,
pointed their opera-glasses sharply for a moment or
two at the sounds below, and then, in spite of kicks
or clubs, have brayed like trumpets, and betrayed us
where we stood.
There was no excitement in the face of the Prince,
202 A HOUSE TO LET
not much concern. His foot played and patted in
the great wooden stirrup, and shook and jingled the
bells of steel on his Spanish spur, but he said
nothing.
Sometimes the men below would point in this
direction and then in that with their long yellow
gauntlets, then they would prick and spur their
mules till they spun round like tops.
"When a man pricks and spurs his mule, you may
be sure that he is bothered.
A Yankee would scratch his head, pull at his ear,
or rub his chin; an Englishman would take snuff;
a Missourian would take a chew of tobacco, and
perhaps swear; but a Californian in the mountains
disdains to do anything so stupid and inexpressive.
He kicks and cuffs and spurs his mule.
At length the leader set his spurs in the broad
hair-sinch, with the long steel points of the rowels,
and rode down to the water's edge. A twig was
broken there. The Doctor had done that as we
crossed, to get a switch for his mule, and brought
down the wrath of Klamat, expressed, however, only
in frightful grimaces, signs, and the flashing of his
eyes. The officer dismounted, leaned over, brushed
the burrs aside, took some of them up, and examined
them closely.
An arm was now lifted and waved authoritatively
to the two men sitting on their mules in the trail,
A HOUSE TO LET 203
and they instantly struck the spurs in the broad
sinch, and through into the tough skins of their
mules, I think, for they ambled down toward the
officer at a rapid pace and — consternation ! One of
them threw up his head and brayed as if for life.
The Prince's mule pointed his opera-glasses, set
out his legs, took in a long breath, and was just
about to make the forest ring, when his master sprung
to the ground, caught him by the nose, and wrenched
him around till he fell upon his haunches.
Here Klamat made a sign, threw the Doctor on
his mule, left Paquita to take care of herself, and led
off up the hill. We mounted, and followed as fast as
possible ; but the Prince's mule, as if in revenge, now
stopped short, set out his legs, lifted his nose, and
brayed till the very pine-quills quivered overhead.
After he had brayed to his satisfaction, he gave a
sort of grunt, as if to say, " We are even now," and
shot ahead. The little pack-mule was no trouble.
He had but a light load, and, as if in gratitude, faith-
fully kept his place.
A pony or horse must be led. Anything but a
mule will roam and run against trees, will lodge
his pack in the boughs that hang low overhead, or,
worse still, stop to eat of the branches or weeds, and
grasses under foot. The patient, cunning little
Mexican mule will do nothing of the sort. He
would starve rather than stop to eat when on duty ;
204 A HOUSE TO LET
and would as soon think of throwing himself down
over one of the cliffs that he is familiar with as to
injure or imperil the pack that has been trusted to
his care, by butting against trees, or lodging under
the boughs that hang above the trail. He stops the
instant the pack is loose, or anything falls to the
ground, and refuses to move till all is made right.
"We could not keep pace with Klamat, hasten as
we might, through the pines. Like a spirit, he
darted here and there through the trees, urging and
beckoning all the time for us to follow faster.
We could not see our pursuers now, yet we knew
too well that they were climbing fast as their strong-
limbed sturdy mules would serve them, the hill that
we had climbed an hour before. The advantage,
on one hand, was theirs ; on the other, we had things
somewhat our own way. The chances were about
evenly balanced for escape without blood.
Any one who frequents the mountains of the north
will soon notice that on all the hill-sides facing the
sun there is no undergrowth. You may ride there,
provided you do not wedge in between the trees that
grow too close together to let you pass, or go under
a hanging bough, the same as in a park. But if you
get on the north side of the hill, you find an under-
growth that is almost impassable for man or beast.
Chaparral, manzanita, madrono, plum, white thorn,
and many other kinds of shrubs and trees, contribute
A HOUSE TO LET.
205
to make a perfectly safe retreat from men for the wild
beasts of those regions. In a flight, this is the chief
thing to do. Keep yonr eye on the lay of the hills,
so that you may always be on the south side, or you
will find yourself in a net.
CHAPTER XV.
TURN TO THE EIGHT AS THE LAW DIRECTS.
NOTHEE. danger lies in getting too low
down on the hillside to the sea. On that
side, where only grass has grown and
pine-quills fallen without any undergrowth to hold
them there, and contribute its own decaying and cast-
off clothes to the soil, the ground is often broken,
and, unlike the north side of the hills, shows here and
there steep bluffs and impassable, basaltic blocks, or
slides of slate or shale on which it would be madness
to venture.
The only safe thing to do is to find the summit,
and keep along the backbone of the mountain, and
thus escape the chaparral nets of the north and the
precipices of the south.
Great skill consists in being able to reach the
summit successfully, and still greater in keeping
along the backbone when it is once reached, and not
follow off on one of the spurs that often shoot up
higher than the back of the main ridge. There are
206
TURN TO TEE RIGHT. 207
many trails here, made by game going to and fro in
the warm summer days, or in crossing the ridges in
their semi-annual migrations down to the rivers and
back again to the mountains.
The temptations to take one of these trails and
abandon the proper one, which is often dim and
sometimes wholly indistinct, are many. It takes the
shrewdest mountaineer to keep even so much as
for one day's journey along the backbone without
once being led aside down the spurs into the nets
of chaparral, or above the impassable crags and
precipices. Of course, when you can retrace your
steps it is a matter of no great moment ; you will only
lose your time. But with us there was no going back.
When we had reached the second bench we turned
to look. Soon the heads of the men were seen to
shoot above the rim of the bench below ; perhaps less
than a mile away. No doubt they caught sight of us
now, for the hand of the officer lifted, pointed in this
direction, and he settled his spurs in his sinch, and
led his men in pursuit.
Deliberately the Prince dismounted, set his saddle
well forward, and drew the sinch tight as possible.
We all did the same ; mounted then, and followed
little Klamat, who had by this time set both arms
free from the odious red shirt which was now belted
about the waist, up the hill as fast as we could
follow.
208 TURN TO TEE BIGHT.
We reached the summit of the ridge. Scintilla-
tions from the flashing snows of Mount Shasta
shimmered through the trees, and a breath of air
came across from the Klamat lakes and the Modoc
land beyond, as if to welcome us from the dark, deep
canon with its leaden fringe, and lining of dark and
eternal green. ,
The Doctor pushed his hat back from his brow
and faintly smiled. He was about to kiss his hand
to the splendid and majestic mountain showing in
bars and sections through the trees, but looked
around, caught the eye of Klamat, and his hand fell
timidly to his side.
As for Paquita, she leaped from her pony and put
out her arms. Her face was radiant with delight.
Beautiful with divine beauty, she arched her hand
above her brow, looked long and earnestly at the
mountain, and then, in a wild and unaccountable sort
of ecstasy, turned suddenly, threw her arms about
her pony's neck, embraced him passionately and
kissed his tawny nose.
We had been buried in that canon for so long.
We were like men who had issued from a dungeon.
As for myself, I was much as usual; I clasped
and twisted my hands together as I let my reins fall
on my horse's neck, and said nothing.
Our animals were mute now, too ; no mule of the
party could have been induced to bray. They were
AS THE LA W DIRECTS. 209
tired, dripping with sweat, and held their brown
noses low and close to the ground, without at-
tempting to touch the weeds or grasses.
Klamat threw up his hand. The men had appeared
on the bench below. We had evidently gained on
them considerably, for here we had ten minutes' rest
before they broke over the mountain bench beneath.
This was encouraging. No doubt a saddle had
slipped off back over a mule's rump in some steep
place they had just mounted, and thus caused the
delay, for they had neglected to sinch their saddles in
their great haste.
They dismounted now, and settled their saddles.
We tightened our saddles also. This was the sum-
mit, and now came the demand for skill.
When the officer threw his leg over the macheers
of his saddle below, Klamat set forward. His skill
was as wonderful as his endurance. Being now on
the summit, he could travel without halting to
breathe ; this, of course would be required if he hoped
to keep ahead. And even then, where would it all
end ? It is most likely no one had thought of that.
For my part, I kept watching the sun and wishing
for night.
This is an instinctive desire of all things rational
or irrational, I think, that are compelled to fly —
" that night or Blucher would come."
It was hardly possible to keep ahead of our
210 TURN TO THE BIGHT
pursuers all day, well mounted as they were, and
one of our party on foot, yet that seemed to be the
only hope. There yet was an alternative, if the worst
came to the worst. We could ambush and shoot
them down. I saw that Klamat kept an eye con-
stantly on his rifle when not foxing the trail and
eyeing the pursuers.
The Prince was well armed. He carried his
double-barrelled piece before him in the saddle-bow.
The rest of us were not defenceless. The deed was
more than possible.
These men wanted the Doctor : him only, so far as
we knew. The Doctor was accused of murder.
The officer, no doubt, had due process, and the legal
authority to take him. To the Prince he was nothing
much. He was no equal in physical or mental
capacity. He was failing in health and in strength,
and could surely be of no future possible use to us.
Why should the Prince take life, or even imperil ours
for his sake ?
The answer, no doubt, would be very unsatis-
factory to the civilized world, but it was enough for
the Prince. The man needed his help. The man
was almost helpless. This, perhaps, was the first
and strongest reason for his course. There is a
great deal in this chivalrous disposition to shield the
weak.
When woman arises and asserts herself, as the
AS TEE LA W DIRECTS. 211
sharp-tongued, thin-lipped puritaness proposes, and
is no longer dependent, man's arm will no longer be
reached as a shield, but as a sword.
Whenever woman succeeds in making herself a
soldier she must fight. The beasts of the field will
fight to the death for the young while they are help-
less ; but when they grow strong and swift the beasts
of the field will run away and leave them to their
fate, or even fight against them when they are
strong, as bravely as they did for them when they
were weak.
At the bottom of all other reasons for taking care
of this man, who seemed to become every day less
capable of taking care of himself, was a little poetical
fact not forgotten. This man furnished bread when
we were hungry — when the snow was deep, when the
earth lay in a lock-jaw, as it were, and could not open
her mouth to us.
Now and then Klamat would turn his eyes over
his shoulder, toss his head, and urge on. The eagle-
feathers in his black hair, as if glad to get back again
in the winds of Shasta, floated and flew back at us,
and we followed as if we followed a banner. A black
banner, this we followed, made of the feathers of a
fierce and bloody bird. Where would it lead us?
No buccaneers of the sea were freer, wilder, braver
at heart than we. Where would it lead us ?
One thing was fearfully against us. The recent
212 TURN TO THE RIGHT
rains had made the ground soft and spongy. The
four horses made a trail that could be followed on
the run. Even where the pine-quills lay thickest,
the ground would be broken here and there so as to
leave little doubt or difficulty to our pursuers.
Had it been a dry autumn the ground would have
been hard as an adobe, and we might have dodged
to one side almost anywhere, and, providing our
mules did not smell and hail the passing party,
escaped with impunity. As it was, nothing seemed
left but to persist in flight to the uttermost. And
this we did.
We did not taste food. We had not tasted water
since sunrise, and it was now far in the afternoon.
The Doctor began to sit with an unsteady motion in
his saddle. The mules were beginning to bray ; this
time from distress, and not excess of spirits. The
Prince's mule had his tongue hanging out between
his teeth, and, what was worse, his ears began to flop
to and fro as if they had wilted in the sun. Some
mules put their tongues out through their teeth and
go very well for days after ; but when a mule lets his
ears swing, he has lost his ambition, and is not to be
depended on much longer.
A good mountain mule should not tire short of a
week, but there is human nature wherever there is a
bargain to be made, and there are mule jockeys as
well as horse jockeys even in the mountains; and
AS THE LA W DIRECTS. 213
you cannot pick up good mules when you like, either
for love or money. The men who followed had, no
doubt, a tried and trusty stock. Things began to
look critical.
The only thing that seemed unaffected was Klamat.
Two or three times through the day he had stood
his rifle against a pine, drew his belt a knot or two
tighter, fastened his moccasin-strings over, and then
dashed ahead without a word. Our banner of eagle
feathers still floated defiantly, and promised to lead
even further than we could follow. Closer and
closer came the pursuers. We could see them
striking their steel spurs in their sinches as if
they would lift their tired mules along with their
heels.
Once they were almost within hail ; but a saddle
slipped, and they lost at least ten minutes with a
fractious mule, that for a time concluded not to be
sinched a^ain till it had taken rest.
The sugar-pines dropped their rich and delicate
nuts as we rode by, from pyramid cones as long as
your arm, and little foxy -looking pine squirrels with
pink eyes, stopped from their work of hoarding them
for winter, to look or chatter at us as we hurried
breathless and wearily past.
Mount Shasta still flashed down upon us through
the dark rich boughs of fir and pine, but did not
thrill us now.
214 TURN TO THE EIGHT
When the body is tired, the mind is tired too.
You get surfeited with grandeur at such a time. No
doubt the presence tames you somewhat, tones
down the rugged points in you that would like to
find expression ; that would find expression in fretful
words but for this greatness which shows you how
small you are ; but you are subdued rather than
elevated.
Suddenly Klamat led off to the right as if forsaking
the main summit for a spur. This seemed a bad sign.
The Prince said nothing. At any other time I dare
say he would have protested.
We had no time to dispute now ; besides, almost
any change from this toilsome and eternal run was a
relief. What made things seem worse, however, this
boy seemed to be leading us back again to The Forks.
We were edging around at right angles with our pur-
suers. They could cut across if we kept on, and
head us off. We were making more than a crescent ;
the boy was leading us right back to the men we
wished to escape.
Soon he went out on a point and stopped. He
beckoned us to ride up. We did so. It seemed less
than half a mile to a point we had passed less than
an hour since, and, as far as we could see, there
was only a slight depression between. The officer
and his party soon came in sight. As they did so
he raised his arm. We were not unobserved.
AS TEE LA W DIRECTS. 215
Klarnat sat down to rest, and made signs that we
should dismount. I looked at the Prince to see
what he would do. He swung himself to the ground,
looking tired and impatient, and we all did the same.
The Doctor could not keep his feet, but lay down,
helpless, on the brown bed of quills from the sugar-
pines that clustered around and crowned the point
where we had stopped to rest.
The officer and his men looked to their catenas ;
each drew out a pistol, revolved the cylinder, settled
the powder back in the tubes by striking the ivory
handles gently on the saddle pommels, saw that each
nipple still held its cap, and then spurred their
mules down the hillside as if to cross the depression
that lay between, and head us off at once. They
were almost within hail, and I thought I could hear
the clean sharp click of the steel bells on their Spanish
spurs as they descended and disappeared among the
tree-tops as if going down into a sea.
Klamat had learned some comic things in camp,
even though he had not learned, or pretended he
had not learned, to talk. When the men had dis-
appeared among the branches of the trees, he turned
to the Prince and gravely lifted his thumb to his
nose, elevated his fingers in the air, and wriggled
them in the direction of the place where the officer
was seen to descend.
Every moment I expected to see the muzzles of
216 TURN TO THE BIGHT
those pistols thrust up through the pines as the
three men turned the brow of the hill. They did
not appear, however, and as we arose to adjust our
saddles after some time, I stepped to the rim of the
hill and looked over to the north side. The hill was
steep and rugged, with a ledge, and lined with chap-
parral. A white-tailed rabbit came through, sat down,
and looked back into the canon. Some quails started
and flew to one side, but that was all I saw or heard.
The Doctor had to be assisted to his saddle. He
was pale, and his lips were parched and swollen.
Slowly now Klamat walked ahead ; he, too, was tired.
We had rested too long, perhaps. You cannot get
an Indian to sit down when on a long and severe
journey, unless compelled to, to rest others. The
cold and damp creeps into the joints, and you get
stiff and tenfold more tired than before. Great as
the temptation is to rest, you should first finish your
race, the whole day's journey, before you let your
nerves relax.
Slowly as we moved, however, our pursuers did
not reappear. We were still on the ridge, in spite
of the sharp and eccentric turn it had taken around
the head of the river.
As the sun went down, broad, blood-red ban-
ners ran up to the top of Shasta, and streamed
away to the south in hues of gold; streamed and
streamed as if to embrace the universe in one great
AS TEE LA W DIRECTS. 217
union beneath one banner. Then the night came down
as suddenly on the world as the swoop of an eagle.
The Doctor, who had all the afternoon kept an
uncertain seat, now leaned over on his mule's mane,
and had fallen, but for the Prince who was riding at
his side.
Klamat came back and set his rifle against a pine.
"We laid the feeble man on the bed of quills, loosened
the sinches as the mules and ponies let their noses
droop almost to the ground, and prepared to spend
the night. This was imperative. It was impossible to
go farther. That would have been the death of the
man we wished to save.
A severe ride in the mountains at any time is a
task. Your neck is wrenched, and your limbs are
weary as you leap this log or tumble and stumble
your tired animal over this pile of rocks or through
that sink of mud, until you are tired enough by night ;
but when you ride an awkward and untrained mule,
when you have not sat a horse for a year, and have
an old saddle that fits you like an umbrella or a
barrel, you get tired, stiff-limbed, and used up in a
way that is indescribable. As for poor Paquita she
was literally crucified, but went about picking up
quills for beds for all, and never once murmured.
The Doctor was very ill. Klamat went down the
hill-side and found some water to wet his lips, but
this did not revive him. It was a cold evening. The
218 TV EN TO THE EIGHT
autumn wind came pitching down from the Shasta,
sharp and sudden. The old Frost King, who had
been driven to the mountain-top in the early summer,
was descending now by degrees to reclaim his
original kingdom.
We unpacked the little mule and spread a bed for
the suffering man, but still he shivered and shook,
and we could not get him warm. We, too, were
suffering from the cold. We could hardly move
when we had rested a moment and let the cold
drive back the perspiration, and drive the chill to
the marrow.
" A fire," said the Prince.
Klamat protested against it. The sick man grew
worse. Something warm would restore him.
We must have a fire. Paquita gathered up some
pine knots from the hill side. A match was struck
in the quills. The mules started, lifted their noses,
but hardly moved as the fire sprung up like a giant
full-grown, and reached for the cones of the sugar-
pines overhead. There was comfort and companion-
ship in the fire. We could see each other now, —
our little colony of pilgrims. We looked at each
other and were revived.
We had a little coffee-pot, black and battered it
is true, but the water boiled just the same, and as
soon as if it had been silver.
This revived the Doctor. Hunger had much to
AS THE LA W DIRECTS. 219
do with his faintness. He now sat up and talked, in
his low quiet way, looking into the fire and brushing
the little mites of dust and pine-quills from his shirt,
as if still to retain his great respectability of dress ;
and by the time we all had finished our coffee, he was
almost as cheerful as we had ever seen him before.
The moon came out clear and cold, and we spread
our damp and dusty blankets on the quills between
the pines, with the snowy front of the Shasta lifting,
lifting like a bank of clouds away to the left, and the
heads of many mining streams dipping away in so
many wild and dubious directions that no one but
our little leader, perhaps, could have found the way to
the settlements without the gravest embarrassment.
Klamat had gone down the hill for water, this
time leaving his rifle leaned against a pine, though
not without casting a glance back over his shoulder
as if to say, "Look sharp! but I will be back at
once." We all were still warming ourselves by the
fire, I think, though there are some sudden things
you cannot just recall.
A wave of fate strikes you so strong sometimes,
that you are swallowed up. Head and ears you go
under it and you see nothing, you remember nothing.
It seems to take your breath.
Click ! click ! click ! a tired mule started, snuffed,
and then dropped his head, for it was over in an
instant,
220 TURN TO TEE RIGHT
" Hands up, gentlemen ! hands np ! Don't trouble
yourselves to move ! There, that will do ! You are
the one we want. Pass in your checks !"
The Doctor hid his face in his hands, and let them
take his arms without a word.
The fire had done the mischief. Klamat did not
come back ; at least, he did not let it be known if he
did. Paquita opened her large eyes very wide,
pushed back her hair, and rested her hands in her
lap as she sat looking at the three strange men in
elegant top boots and broad-brimmed hats.
" A pretty man you are, Mr. Prince, to run with
this fellow," said the officer, " to give me this race.
For a coon skin I would take you in charge too."
Here he arose, went over, and looked at the animals
in the firelight, as if looking for some cause to lay
hands on the Prince, took general charge of the camp
as if it were his own, lit his pipe, had one of the men
make coffee, and seemed quite at home.
If the Prince uttered a word all this time I do not
remember it.
"Where's your other Ingin, Prince?" said the
officer, looking about and seeing but the four saddles.
" Put him in the bush, or left him in the camp ?
Rather a good-looking piece you got here now, ain't
she ?" He pointed his pipe-stem at Paquita.
For the first time the Prince showed colour.
The officer and his men, toward midnight, spread
AS THE LA W DIRECTS. 221
their blankets on the other side of the fire. They
were scarce of blankets, and the night was cold.
This may be the reason they all spread down
together. But there is nothing that will excuse
such a stupid thing in the mountains. Sleep apart.
Wide apart, rods apart : never two together, unless
you wish to make a broad target of yourselves
where the muzzle of one gun can do the work of
many.
Before lying down the men did what they could
for their tired beasts ; and then the officer came up
to the Doctor, who still gazed and gazed into the
fire, and, drawing something from his pockets that
clinked like chains, said —
"Your hands!"
" He is ill," said the Prince, " very ill. I will answer
for him. Iron me if you like ; but that man is a ner-
vous, sensitive man that cannot bear to be chained."
The officer laughed a little and, without answering,
took the Doctor's unresisting hands and linked them
together with a snap that made one shudder; then
laid him back in his blankets. He looked to his
pistol, and saying —
" Don't move ! Don't you attempt to move !"
walked over to the other side of the pine-knot fire,
and, pistol in hand, lay down by his companions,
looking all the time across the fire at his prisoner.
The Prince arose, went and gathered up pine-knots
222 TURN TO THE RIGHT
by the light of the moon, and laid them on the fire.
Paquita looked inquiringly at him, and then went
and did the same. When the fire loomed up, he
lifted the blankets from the Doctor's feet, drew off
his boots, and let the warm, cheerful fire fall on the
wretched man.
The officer lay like a fox watching every move and
motion, with his head on his saddle, and his nose
just above the blankets. His pistol hand was at his
side clutching the revolver. The other men were
equally wide awake and watchful at his side.
"Lie down, Paquita," said the Prince, "lie down
and rest with your moccasins to the fire ; you have
had a hard and bitter day of it. I will keep the
fire."
The child obeyed. He waved his hand at me to
do the same, and I was soon sound asleep.
The last I saw of the Prince before falling asleep —
he was resting on his side with his hand on his head,
and elbow on his blankets. In the mountains, when
you spread your blankets, you put your arms — rifle
or pistols — in between the blankets as carefully as
if they were children. This is done, in the first
place, to keep them dry, and, in the second place, to
have them ready for use. They are laid close to
your side. The heat of your body keeps out the
damp.
I awoke soon. I was too bruised, and sore, and
AS THE LA W DIRECTS. 223
sick in mind and body, to sleep. There is a doleful,
dreary bird that calls in this country in the night, in
the most mournful tone you can imagine. It is a
sort of white-headed owl ; not large, but with a very
hoarse and coarse note. One of these birds was
calling at intervals down the gorge to the right, and
another answered on the other side so faintly I could
just hear it. An answer would come just as regularly
as this one called, and that would sound even more
doleful and dreary still, because so far and indistinct.
The moon hung cold and crooked overhead, and fell
in flakes through the trees like snow.
The Doctor put out his two hands, pushed back
the blanket, and raised his head. He looked to the
left in the gorge as if he contemplated a spring in
that direction. I think that, at last, he had summoned
up courage to make a desperate effort to escape.
He drew up his legs slowly, as if gathering his
muscles for a leap. My heart stood still. All seemed
clear. I could see the nerves of his face quiver in
the moon.
He turned his head to the officer, not six feet away
across the fire, and looked squarely into the ugly,
sullen muzzles of three lifted pistols.
The Doctor sank back with a groan. His face was
now white as the moon that shone down upon it
through the quills above his head.
The officer and his men exchanged glances, and
224: TURN TO THE RIGHT
lay down without a word. The Prince was possibly-
asleep. Still, ever and again, the doleful bird kept
calling, and the woful answer came back like an
echo of sorrow across the great black canon below.
The moon kept settling and settling to the west
among the yellow stars, as broad and spangled as
California lilies, and the morning was not far away.
Again the Doctor drew in his naked feet. I could
see the muscles gather and contract, and I knew he
was again preparing for a spring. All was still. He
'raised his head, and three pistol muzzles raised and
met the man half way. He crept back far down in
the blankets, hid his head in the folds, and shuddered
and shivered as with an ague.
Dawn was descending and settling around the head
of Shasta in a splendour and a glory that words
will never touch.
There are some things that are so far beyond the
reach of words that it seems like desecration to
attempt description. It was not the red of Pekin,
not the purple of Tyre or the yellow of the Barbary
coast ; but merge all these, mixed and made mellow
in a far and tender light — snow and sun, and sun
and snow — and stars, and blue and purple skies all
blended, all these in a splendid, confused, and inde-
scribable glory, suffusing the hoary summit, centering
there, gathering there, resting a moment — then radia-
ting, going on to the sea, to broad and burning plains
AS THE LA W DIRECTS. 225
of the south, to the boundless forests of fir in the north,
even to the mining camps of Cariboo, and you have
a sunrise on the summit of Shasta.
The Prince lifted his head, rested on his elbow,
rubbed his eyes as if he had surely slept, and then
slowly and stiffly arose. The fire was low, almost
out. He turned to gather pine-knots, laid them on
the fire, and turned away as if to gather more. The
Doctor seemed to sleep. The officer and his men
were resting too. Perhaps they slept also.
" Click ! click ! "
I sprang to my feet.
" Don't trouble yourselves to move, gentlemen !
Remain just where you are, gentlemen, just where
you are ! "
It was the Prince who spoke this time. He had
approached the three heads from behind, and had
the double-barrelled gun with its double handful of
buck-shot levelled, as he spoke, against the tops of
their heads as they lay there on their backs.
Approach a man lying down as if you meant to
tread upon his scalp and pin him to the earth, and he
is the most helpless of mortals. He cannot see you,
he cannot turn around, he can do nothing. Here lay
those men; they could see nothing but the black
ugly muzzles of the double barrels. Their pistols
were in their hands ; they were plucky fellows, but
they could not draw ; they were as likely to shoot
each other as an enemy or any one.
226 TURN TO TEE RIGHT
This coming upon a man when lie is lying down on
his back may not be the manliest way in the world,
but it is the safest, certainly ; and when the game is
three to one, you have to take all the per-cent. you
can, or, in mountain phrase, "just pass in your
checks."
"Don't trouble yourselves to move, gentlemen;
don't trouble to rise ! "
The Prince said this with a mockery and irony in
his tone that was bitter beyond expression; as if
all the poison and the venom of the cruel words and
cruel treatment of the Doctor the night before had
been rankling in his heart till it was ready to burst
out of itself, and he now hissed it out between his
teeth.
There was something in his words that told the
three men that he would rather like it if they would
only "trouble to move," move the least bit in the
world. As if he would be particularly glad if even
one of them would lift a finger, and give him even
the least shadow of an excuse to blow them to the
moon. They therefore " did not trouble to move."
Klamat came out here from the dark with the
dawn. He approached the men like a shadow thrown
by a pine from the far light, pulled down the blan-
kets, and took the three pistols from their unresisting
hands.
" You may sit up now," said the Prince, taking a
THE TABLES TURNED.
4
AS THE LA W DIRECTS. 227
seat across the fire by the side of the Doctor. " You
may sit up now. You are my prisoners, but I will
not handcuff you. I will give you back your arms
if you obey me, and you shall return to your town."
" I will not ask you not to mention this little affair,"
said the Prince — raising the double barrels, as one of
the men seemed to be gathering his legs under him —
I w r ill not ask you not to mention this little affair.
That is safe enough. You gents will be the last men
on earth to mention it. But I give you my word
that it shall never be mentioned by us, never, so long
as you do not attempt to molest this man. Make
the least attempt against him, or any one here, and
you shall be made the laughing-stock of your town."
The men looked at each other with hope. They
had expected to die on the spot.
"It's your pot, Prince, take it down. You hold
the papers, called us on a dead hand, you did, but this
was no bluff of mine. The only mislead made was
not to chain you down too, like a dog, as you deserve
to be."
The Prince coloured. "If you had not chained
this man," he said at last, quietly, "perhaps you
could have taken him with you. The only mistake
you made was to chain any man at all. Chain a man
that could not stand on his feet! You deserve to
be shot ; and if you repeat yourself, I will let Klamat
scalp you where you sit."
223 TURN TO TEE BIGHT.
The Indian arose with his hand on his knife.
There was a iieree satisfaction in his face. He had
suffered too much through the night, through the
winter, through the year, to feel like trifling now.
The Indian boy had no other idea than the death of
the men. He certainly looked "blank amazement
when, an hour later, the Prince, after discharging
their arms, and emptying their catenas of ammuni-
tion, returned them all again, and turned their faces
to the city, civilly, almost politely.
The men rode sadly and silently away through the
trees, now and then looking back over their shoul-
ders. The man-hunt was over.
CHAPTER XVI.
HOME.
PECULIARLY nervous man suffers from
a mental ailment as distinctly as from a
wound He grows weak under the sense
of mental distress the same as an ordinary man does
from the loss of blood. Remove the cause of appre-
hension, and he recovers the same as the wounded
man recovers. Free the mind, and you stop the flow
of blood. He grows strong again.
We moved on a little way that day, slowly, to be
sure, but fast enough and far enough to be able to
pitch our camp in a place of our own choosing, with
wood, water, and grass, the indispensable requisites
of a mountain camp, all close at hand.
To the astonishment of all, the Doctor unsaddled
his mule, gathered up wood, and was a full half- hand
at supper. At night he spread his own blankets,
looked to his pistols like an old mountaineer, and
seemed to be at last getting in earnest with life.
The next day, as we rode through the trees, he
229
230 HOME.
whistled at the partridges as they ran in strings
across the trails, and chirped at the squirrels over-
head.
How delightful it was to ride through the grass
and trees, hear the partridges whistle, pack and
unpack the horses, pitch the tent by the water, and
make a military camp, and talk of war; imagine
battles, shoot from behind the pines, and always, of
course, making yourself a hero. Splendid ! I was
busy as a bee. I cooked, packed, stood guard, killed
game, did everything. And so we journeyed on
through the splendid forests, under the face of Shasta,
and over peaceful little streams that wound silently
through the grass, as if afraid, till we came to the
head- waters of the Sacramento.
Sometimes we saw other camps. White tents
pitched down by the shining river, among the scat-
tered pines ; brown mules and spotted ponies feeding,
and half buried in the long grass ; and the sound of
the picks in the bar below us all made a picture in
my life to love.
Once we fell in with an Indian party ; pretty girls
and lively unsuspicious boys along with their parents,
fishing for salmon, and not altogether at war with
the whites. They treated us with great kindness.
At last we branched off entirely to ourselves, cut-
ting deep into the mountain as the winter approached,
looking for a home. The weak condition of the
HOME. 231
Doctor made it necessary that we brought our
journey to a close. We had taken a different route
from others, for good and sufficient reasons. The
trails and tracks of the hundreds of gold-hunters, who
had mostly preceded us some months, lay considerably
west of Mount Shasta, striking the head of the Sacra-
mento river at its very source. They had found only
a few bars with float gold, not in sufficient quantities
to warrant the location of a camp, and pushed
on to the mines farther south. Some, however,
returned.
"We sometimes met a party of ten or more, all
well armed and mounted, ready to fight or fly as the
case might require. The usual mountain civilities
would be exchanged, brief and brusque enough, and
each party would pass on its way, with a frequent
glance thrown back suspiciously at our Indian
boy with his rifle, the invalid Doctor leaning on his
catenas, the Indian girl with her splendid hair and
face as bright as the morning, and the majestic figure
of the Prince. An odd-looking party was ours, I
confess.
Paquita knew every dimple, bend or spur in these
mountains now. The Prince entrusted her to select
some suitable place to rest. One evening she drew
rein and reached out her hand. Klamat stood his
rifle against a pine, and began to unpack the tired
little mule, and all dismounted without a word.
232 HOME.
It was early sundown. A balm and a calm was
on and in all things. The very atmosphere was still
as a shadow and seemed to say, " Rest, rest !" We
were on the edge of an opening ; a little prairie of
a thousand acres, inclining south, with tall, very tall
grass, and a little stream straying from where we
stood to wander through the meadow. A wall of
pines stood thick and strong around our little Eden,
and when we had unsaddled our tired animals and
taken the aparrajo from the little packer, we
turned them loose in the little Paradise, without even
so much as a lariat or hackamoor to restrain them.
The sun had just retired from the body of the
mountain, but it was evident that all day long he
rested here and made glad the earth ; for crickets
sang in the grass as they sing under the hearthstones
in the cabins of the west, and little birds started up
from the edge of the valley that were not to be found
in the forest.
An elk came out from the fringe of the wood,
threw his antlers back on his shoulders with his
brown nose lifted, and blew a blast as he turned to
fly that made the horses jerk their heads from the
grass, and start and wheel around with fright. Brown
deer came out, too, as if to take a walk in the mea-
dow beneath the moon, but snuffed a breath from
the intruders and turned away. Bears came out two
by two in single file, but did not seem to notice us.
HOME, 233
Some men say that the bear is deprived of the sense
of smell in the wild state. A mistake. He relies as
much on his nose as the deer; perhaps more, for his
little black eyes are so small that they surely are
not equal to the great liquid eyes of the buck, which
are so set in his head that he may see far and wide
at once. But the bear carries his nose close to the
ground, while that of the deer is lifted, and of course
can hardly smell an intruder in his dominions until
he comes upon his track. Then it is curious to ob-
serve him. He throws himself on his hind legs,
stands up tall as a man, thrusts out his nose, lifts it,
snuffs the air, turns all around in his tracks, and
looks and smells in every direction for his enemy.
If he is a cub, however, or even a cowardly grown
bear, he wheels about the moment he comes upon
the track, will not cross it under any circumstances,
and plunges again into the thicket.
We had a blazing fire soon, and at last, when
we had sat down to the mountain meal, spread on
a canvas mantaro on the ground, each man on his
saddle or a roll of blankets, with his knife in hand,
Klamat looked at our limited supply of provisions,
and then pointed to the game in the meadow.
He pictured sun-rise, the hunt, the deer, the
crack of his rifle, and how he would come into camp
laden with supplies. All this, he gave us to under-
stand, would take place to-morrow, as he placed a
234 HOME.
sandwich between his teeth, and threw his eyes
across his shoulder at the dark figures stealing
through the grass across the other side of our little
Eden.
The morning witnessed the fulfilment. Paquita
was more than busy all day in dressing venison, and
drying the meat for winter. The place was as full
of game as a park. No lonelier or more isolated place
than this on earth. We walked about and viewed
our new estates. The mules and ponies rolled in
the rich grass, or rested in the sun with drooping
heads and half-closed eyes.
Even the invalid Doctor seemed to revive in a
most sudden and marvellous way. He saw that no
white man's foot had ever trod the grasses of this
valley ; that there we might rest and rest and never
rise up from fear. He could trust the wall of pine
that environed us. It was impassable. He stood
before an alder-tree that leaned across the babbling,
crooked little stream, and with his sheath-knife cut
this one word : — Home.
A little way from here Paquita showed us another
opening in the forest. This was a wider valley,
with warm sulphur and soda springs in a great
crescent all around the upper rim. Here the elk
would come to winter, she said ; and hence we could
never want for meat. The earth and atmosphere
were kept warm here from the eternal springs ; and
l&«A^ad
THE LOST CABIN.
HOME. 235
grass, she said, was fresh and grew the winter
through.
This is the true source of the stream which the
white men call Soda; the proper Indian name of
which is Numken ; and here we built our cabin,
reared a fortress against the approaching winter
without delay, for every night his sentries were
coming down bolder and bolder about the camp.
This was the famous " Lost Cabin." It stood on
a hillside, a little above the prairie, facing the sun,
close to the warm springs, and on the very head of
the Numken, and was not unlike an ordinary miner's
cabin, except that the fireplace was in the centre
of the room instead of being awkwardly placed at
one end, where but few can get the benefit of the
fire. This departure was not without reason.
In the first place, the two Indians, constituting
nearly half of the voting population of our little colony,
insisted on it with a zeal that was certainly com-
mendable ; and as they insisted on nothing else, it
was only justice to listen to them in this.
" By-and-by my people will come," said Paquita,
" and then you will want an Indian fire, a fire that
they can sit down by and around without sending
somebody back in the cold."
Again, you cannot build a cabin so strong with
one end devoted to a chimney, as if it is one solid
square body of logs. Then, it is no small task to
236 HOME.
build a chimney out of stone with only your hands
for a trowel and black mud for mortar.
All these things considered, we placed the fire in
the centre of the cabin on the earth-floor, and let
the smoke curl up and out through an opening in
the roof, as it always does and always will, in a
graceful sort of way, if you build a fire as an Indian
builds it.
The Doctor was getting strong again. As this
man grew strong in a measure, it is a little re-
markable that my sympathies were withdrawn propor-
tionably.
I state this as a very remarkable fact. As the
pitiful condition of the Doctor daily grew less, his
crimes began to loom up and grow larger. They had
sunk down almost out of sight; but now as this man
began to lift up his hands to take part in the life
around him, I shrank back and said to myself, There
is blood on them — human blood.
No Indian had as yet, so far as we knew, dis-
covered us. Paquita had from the first, around
the fire, told her plans; how that as soon as she
should be well rested from the journey, and a house
was built and meat secured for the winter, she would
take her pony, strike a trail that lay still deeper in
the woods, and follow it up till she came to her
father's winter lodges.
How enthusiastically she pictured the reception.
HOME. 237
How clearly she pourtrayed it all. She would ride
into the village at sun-down, alone ; the dogs would
bark a great deal at her red dress and her nice new
apparel. Then she would dismount and go straight
up to her father's lodge and sit down by the door.
The Indians would pass by and pretend not to see
her, but all the time be looking slily sideways, half-
dead to know who she was. Then, after a while,
some one of the women would come out and bring
her some water. Maybe that would be her sister.
If it was her sister, she would lift up her left arm
and show her the three little marks on the wrist,
and then they would know her and lead her into the
lodge in delight.
One tine morning she set forth on her contem-
plated journey. I did not now like the place so
well. For the first time, I found fault with the
things around me. The forest was black, gloomy,
ghostly — a thing to be dreaded. Before, it was
dreamy, deep — a marvel, a something to love and
delight in. The cabin, that had been a very palace,
was now so small and narrow, it seemed I would
suffocate in the smoke. The fires did not burn so
well as they did before. Nobody could build a fire
like Paquita.
Back from our cabin a little way were some grand
old bluffs, topped with pine and cedar, from which
the view of valley, forest, and mountain, was all that
238 HOME.
could be desired. A little way down the Numken,
from the warm springs, the waters of the valley came
together and went plunging all afoam down the
canon, almost impassable even for footmen. Here
we found fine veins of quartz, and first-rate indi-
cations of gold both in the rock and in the placer.
The Prince and the Doctor revived their theories on
the origin of gold, and had many plans for putting
their speculations to the test.
Klamat was never idle, yet he was never social.
There was a bitterness, a sort of savage deviltry, in
all he did. A fierce positive nature was his, and
hardly bridled at that.
Whether that disposition dated further back than
a certain winter, when the dead were heaped up and
the wigwams burned on the banks of the Klamat, or
whether it was born there of the blood and bodies in
the snow, and came to life only when a little, naked,
skeleton savage sprung up in the midst of men with
a club, I do not pretend to say, but I should guess
the latter. I can picture him a little boy with bow
and arrows, not over gentle it is true, but still a
patient little savage, like the rest, talking and taking
part in the sports, like those around him. Now he
was prematurely old. He never laughed; never so
much as smiled; took no delight in anything and
yet refused to complain. He took hold of things,
did his part, but kept his secrets and his sorrows to
himself, whatever they may have been.
ROME, 239
Klaniat never alluded to the massacre in any way
whatever. Once, when it was mentioned, he turned
his head and pretended not to hear. Yet, somehow
it seemed to me that that scene was before him every
moment. He saw it in the fire at night, in the forest
by day. There are natures that cannot forget if they
would. A scene like that settles down in the mind ;
it takes up its abode there and refuses to go away.
His was such a nature.
In fact, Indians in the aggregate forget less than
any other people. They remember the least kindness
perfectly well all through life, and a deep wrong is
as difficult to forget. The reason is, I should say,
because the Indian does not meet with a great deal
of kindness as he goes through life. His mind and
memory are hardly overtaxed, I think, in remember-
ing good deeds from the white man.
Besides, their lives are very monotonous. But
few events occur of importance outside their wars.
They have no commercial speculations to call off the
mind in that direction ; no books to forget themselves
in, and cannot go beyond the sea, and hide in old
cities, to escape any great sorrow that pursues them.
So they have learned to remember the good and the
bad better than do their enemies.
This cabin of ours in the trees on the rim of the
clearing grew soon to be a sacred place to all. Here
was rest absolute, unqualified repose. Eight-hour
240 HOME.
laws, late or early rising, in order to conform to the
fashion of the country, did not concern us here.
There were no days in which we were required to
remain in to receive company, no days in which we
were expected to make calls. We named the cabin
the " Castle," and the Doctor cut out wooden cannon,
mounted them on pine stumps before the door as on
little towers, and turned them on the world below*
CHAPTER XVII
THE LOST CABIIS".
HE snow began to fall, and Paquita
did not return.
Elk came down from the mountain towards
spring, and we could shoot them from the cabin
door. At this season of the year, as well as late
in the fall, they are found in herds of hundreds
together.
It seems odd to say that they should go up further
into the mountains as winter approaches, instead of
down into the foot-hills and plains below, as do the
deer, but it is true. There are warm springs — in
fact, all mountain springs are warmer in the winter
than in the summer — up the mountain, where vine-
maple, a kind of water-cress, and wild swamp berries
grow in the warm marshes or on the edges, and
p 241
242 TEE LOST CABIN.
here the elk subsist. When the maple and grasses
of one marsh are consumed, they break through the
snow in single file, led in turns by the bulls, to
another.
Hundreds in this way make but one great track,
much as if a great log had been drawn to and
fro through the snow. The cows come up last, to
protect the calves in the line of march from the
wolves.
It is a mistake to suppose that elk use their splen-
did horns in battle. These are only used to receive
the enemy upon. A sort of cluster of bayonets in
rest. All offensive action is with the feet. An elk's
horns are so placed on his head, that when his nose
is lifted so as to enable him to move about or see
his enemy, they are thrown far back on his shoulders,
where they are quite useless. He strikes out with
his feet, and then throws his head on the ground to
receive his enemy. You have much to fear from
the feet of an elk at battle, but nothing from his
matchless antlers.
The black bears here also go up the mountain
when the winter approaches. They find some hollow
trunk, usually the trunk of a sturdy tree, and creep
into it close down to the ground. Here they lie till
snowed in and covered over, very fat, for months
and months, in a long and delightful sleep, and
never come out till the snow melts away, or they
THE LOST CABIN. 243
have the ill-fortune to be smelled out by the Indian
dogs, and then called out by the hunters.
Whenever they find a black bear thus, they pound
on the tree and call to him to come out. They chal-
lenge him in all kinds of bantering language, call
him a coward and a lazy fat old fellow, that would
run away from the squaws, and would sleep all
summer. They tell him it is spring-time now, and
he had better get up and come out and see the sun.
The most remarkable thing, however, is, that so soon
as the bear hears the pounding on the tree, he begins
to dig and endeavour to get out ; so that the Indians
have but little to do, after he is discovered, but to sit
down and wait till he crawls out — blinking and
blinded by the light in his small black eyes — and
despatch him on the spot. Bears when taken in this
way are always plump and tender, and fat as pos-
sible ; a perfect mass of white savoury oil.
Klamat was a splendid hunter, and even without
the aid of the Indian dogs, managed to take several
bears this first winter, which, after all, was not so long
and dull as one would suppose. I sometimes think
we partook somewhat of the nature of the bear, in
our little snowy cabin among the firs that winter,
for before we hardly suspected it, the birds came
back, and spring was fairly upon us.
When the snow had disappeared, and our horses
grew sleek and fat and strong again, Klamat and I
244 THE LOST CABIN.
rode far into the pines together and found a lake
where the wild geese built nests in the margin among
the tules.
The Prince and the Doctor went up the canon in
search of gold, for want of something better to do, and
by the time the summer set in, had found a deposit in
a quartz ledge, looking up towards the mountain.
Gold appeared to be not over abundant nor did it
seem to be much prized. No great plans, no excite-
ment, that usually attends a discovery. These two
men seemed to care more for it as a proof of their
theory about the origin and growth of gold than for
the gold itself.
They brought in and laid on a shelf in the corner
pieces of gold and quartz with as little concern as
if they had been geological specimens of slate or
granite. You cannot be greatly surprised at this,
however, when you remember how plentiful gold
was, how little it was worth there, and that at that
time it was thought to abound in every canon in the
country.
Paquita had not returned. "We had come almost
not to mention her now at all. Often and often, all
through the spring and early summer, I saw the
Prince stand out as the sun went down, and shade
his brow with his hand, looking the way she had
gone. I think it was this that kept him here so
faithfully. He would not remain away a single
THE LOST CABIN. 245
night, either to hunt for gold or game, lest she might
return, find him away, and need in some way his
assistance.
The Doctor sometimes took long journeys down
toward the valley to the south, and even fell in with
white men, as well as Indians, after two or three
days' ride in that direction, and thought of going
down that way out of the reach of the snow, and
building him a house for the winter. No one
objected to this ; but when he was ready to go away,
the Prince compelled him to take all the gold they
had taken from the mine, even against his utmost
remonstrance.
" Take it," said the Prince, " every ounce of it.
You may be called to use it. Here it is not worth
that much lead." And he put the buckskin bag
into the Doctors catenas, and resolutely buckled
them down.
Another incident worth mentioning is their agree-
ment to never reveal the existence of the mine.
Their reasons were of the noblest kind, sufficient,
above every selfish consideration.
" In the first place," said they, " the gold is of
doubtful utility to the world at best. But if this
mine is made known, a flood of people will pour in
here ; the game, the forests, all this wild, splendid
part of nature will disappear. The white man and
the red man will antagonize, the massacre of the
246 TEE LOST CABIN.
Klamat will be repeated; and for all this, what
will be the consideration % Nothing, whatever, but
gold, and we have quite enough of that, — and what
do we owe the world V
Back of all this, it was extremely doubtful
whether the mine would yield anything better than
this little " pocket."
For my own part, I would banish gold and silver,
as a commercial medium, from the face of the earth.
I would abolish the use of gold and silver alto-
gether, have paper currency, and but one currency
in all the world. I propose to take all the strong
men now in the mines down from the mountains,
and build ships and cities by the sea, and make a
permanent commonwealth.
These thousands of men can, at best, in a year's
time, only take out a few millions of gold. A ship
goes to sea and sinks with all these millions, and there
all that labour is lost to the world for ever. Had
these millions been in paper, only a few hours'
labour would have been lost. There are two hundred
thousand men, the best and bravest men in the world,
wasting the best years of their lives getting out this
gold. They are turning over the mountains, de-
stroying the forests, and filling up the rivers. They
make the land unfit even for savages. Take them
down from the mountains, throw one half their
strength and energy against the wild, rich sea-
THE LOST CABIJST. 247
border of the Pacific, and we would have, instead of
these broken mountains, muddied rivers, and ruined
forests, such an Eden as has not been seen by man
since the days of Adam.
At last Paquita came. The Prince went forth
to meet her with his arms held out, but she was
too bashful and beautiful to touch.
And why had she not returned before \ It is a
sad story, but soon told.
When she reached the region of her father's camp,
she found the grass growing in the trails. She found
no sisters to receive her; no woman to bring her
water; not a human being in all the lodges. The
weeds grew rank, and the wolves had possession.
The white men in her absence had made another
successful campaign against her people. They had
become dispirited, and, never over-provident, finding
the country overrun, the game made wild and scarce,
and the fish failing to come up the muddied Sacra-
mento, they had neglected to prepare for winter, and
so had perished by whole villages.
These singular people perish so easily from con-
tact with the whites, that they seem to me like the
ripened fruit ready to fall at the first shaking.
She had found none of her tribe till she passed
away on to the Tula lakes, and then of all her family
found only two brothers. These, with some young
warriors, had now come with her on her return.
248 THE LOST CABIN.
They dismounted and built a fire under the trees
and apart from us, and only slowly came to com-
municate, to smoke, and show any hospitality at all.
Paquita was all kindness ; but she had become
a woman now; the state of things was changed.
Then the eyes of her sober, savage brothers —
who could ill brook the presence of the white
man, much less look with favour on familiarities
— were upon her, and she became the quiet, silent
Indian woman, instead of the lively little maiden
who had frolicked on the hill-sides and wandered
through the woods the year before.
They remained camped here many days. Klamat
took the young chiefs up to the mine, — only a little
crevice picked out in the rotten quartz, — and they
looked at it long and curiously. Then they picked
up some little pieces of gold that lay there, looked at
them, put them in their mouths, spit them out, and
threw them down on the ground.
After that they came down to the cabin.
"You have saved our sister," the eldest said,
among other things, " and we like you for that, and
owe you all that we can give ; but you did not save
her from a bear or a flood, — you only saved her
from your own people, so that it is not so much.
But even if you did save one of us in the bravest w r ay,
that is no reason why you shall help to destroy us
all. If you bring men and dig gold here, we must
THE LOST CABIN. 249
all die. We know how that is. You may stay here,
dig gold, hunt, live here all your lives ; but if you let
this be known, and bring men up here, we will shoot
them from behind the trees, steal their horses, and
destroy them every way we can."
Paquita herself repeated this, interpreted what we
did not understand, and told us emphatically that
what her brothers said was true. Noble Indian
woman. She was right.
The Prince answered very kindly and earnestly.
He told them they were right. He told them that
no one should hear of the mine ; and at the last, he
lifted up his hand to Mount Shasta, and before the
God of the white man and the red man, promised
that no white men should come there, with his con-
sent, while he remained.
Paquita returned soon after this with her people
to her village, and it was lonely enough to be sure.
The Prince grew restless ; and at last, after we had
earned out some few specimens from the ledge, we
mounted our horses, and set out for the settlement
to procure supplies. We went by a circuitous way
to avoid suspicion.
The Indian boy, our strange manner of dress, and
the Prince's lavish use of money, soon excited remark
and observation. New rich mines were becoming
scarce, and there were hordes of men waiting eagerly
in every camp for some new thing to come to the
250 TEE LOST CABIN.
surface. We were closely watched, but did not
suspect it then.
One day the Prince met a child in an immigrant
camp, the first he had seen for a long time. He
stopped, took from his buckskin purse a rough nug-
get, half quartz and half gold, gave it to the boy,
patted him on the head, and passed on. A very
foolish thing.
After obtaining our supplies, we set out to return.
The evening of the last day in the settlement we
camped under the trees by a creek, close by some
prospectors, who came into our camp after the blan-
kets were spread, and sat about the fire cursing their
hard luck; long-haired, dirty-habited, and ugly-
looking men they were. One was a sickly-looking
man, a singularly tall, pale man, who had but little
to say. There was some gold left. It was of no pos-
sible use to us. The Prince took him to one side,
gave him the purse, and told him to take it and go
home. Another extremely silly thing. This man,
meaning no harm of course, could not keep the secret
of the few hundred dollars' worth of gold dust, and
soon the whole affair, wonderfully magnified too, was
blown all over the country.
When we found we were being followed, we led a
sorry race indeed, and went in all directions. Klamat
entered into the spirit of it, and played some strange
forest tricks on the poor prospectors.
TEE LOST CABIN. 251
We eluded them all at last, and reached the cabin.
But we had laid the foundation for many a mountain
venture. What extravagant tales were told ! There
was a perfect army of us — half Indians, half white
men. Our horses were shod backward — an old story.
Then, again, our horses' feet were bound up in
gunny-bags, so as to leave no track. An impossible
thing, for a horse will not take a single step with his
feet in muffles.
CHAPTER XVIIL
GOOD-BYE.
HESE Indians, and all Indians for that
matter, have some strange customs, at which
we laugh, or talk of in a mild, missionary,
patronizing sort of a way.
Did it ever occur to an American sovereign, as he
lifted up his voice in the public places, and thanked
God that he is not as Indians are, that they may
possibly laugh at some of his customs too ? I think
it never did.
When an Indian gets sick his friends have a dance.
When a white man begins to lose his hair he rushes
off to a barber, and has what he has left cut oif to
the scalp. Nature, always obliging, comes to his
assistance then ; and he never has to have any great
portion of it cut again, but is permitted to make the
rest of the journey with his head as bright and
naked as a globe.
Very odd to have a dance when you get ill ; but
not half so odd as it is to cut off your hair to save
252
GOOD-BYE. 253
your hair. Indians, who never cut the hair, and
women also, who until recently wore their hair
nearly natural, never are bald. Yet I reckon men
have gone on cutting their hair for baldness, the very
thing that brings it on, for thousands of years past,
and, I suppose, will still go on doing so for thou-
sands of years to come.
We received some visits now from the chief of the
Shastas. He was not a tall man, as one would
suppose who had seen his warriors, but a giant in
strength. You would have said, surely this man is
part grizzly bear. As I have said before, he was
bearded like a prophet.
I now began to spend days and even weeks in the
Indian village over towards the south in a canon,
took part in the sports of the young men, listened to
the teachings and tales of the old, and was not un-
happy.
The Prince was losing his old cheerfulness as
the summer advanced, and once or twice he half
hinted of taking a long journey away to the world
below.
At such times I would so wish to ask him where
was his home, and why he had left it, but could not
summon courage. As for myself, let it be here
understood, once for all, that when a man once casts
his lot in with the Indians he need return to his
friends no more, unless he has grown so strong of
254 GOOD-BYE.
soul that he does not need their countenance, for he is
with them disgraced for ever. I had crossed the
Rubicon.
It was the time of the Autumn Feasts, when the
Indians meet together on a high oak plain, a sort of
hem of the mountain, overlooking the far valley of
the Sacramento, to celebrate in dance and song
their battles of the summer and recount the virtues
of their dead. On this spot, among the oaks, their
fathers had met for many and many a generation.
Here all were expected to come in rich and gay
attire, and to give themselves up to feasting and
the dance, and show no care in their faces, no
matter how hard fortune had been upon them.
Indian summer, this. A mellowness and balm in
all the atmosphere ; a haze hanging over all things,
and all things still and weary like, like a summer
sunset.
The manzineta-berries were yellow as gold, the
rich anther was here, the maple and the dogwood that
fringed the edge of the plain were red as scarlet, and
set against the wall of firs in their dark, eternal green.
The scene of the feast was a day's ride from the
cabin, and the Prince and I were expected to attend.
Paquita would of course be there, and who shall
say we had not both looked forward to this day with
eagerness and delight ?
Gold, in any quantity, except in romance, is the
GOODBYE. 255
heaviest and hardest thing to carry and keep with
you in your wanderings in the mountains you can
imagine.
We had saved only a trifle of dust compared to the
amount report credited us with. This we put in
four little buckskin bags, each taking two and placing
them one in the left and one in the right pocket of
his catenas. This held them to their places in hard
rides ; besides it was a sort of laying in of stores for
some storm that might blow in upon us at any moment.
Even if the lessons of the squirrels and the Indian
women, all the autumn days laying up their stores
for winter, had gone for nought, the lesson of the
Humbug miners was not forgotten. And yet I had
no idea that any grave danger could overtake us
there, and I am certain I had no desire to leave the
peaceful old forests and the calm delight of the
mountain camp.
Of course I was very silly, as most young people
are ; but it seemed to me the world below was but
a small affair, and all the people in it of but little
consequence, so long as Paquita and the Prince
were remaining in the mountains.
Had they gone down into the world, then the
mountains had been rugged and cold enough, no
doubt, and the world below much like home ; but
while they remained I had no thought of going
away.
256 GOOD-BYE.
The mine did not promise much after all. We
began to have a strong suspicion that we had only
chanced upon a pouch in the rock — a little " chimney "
that nurses a few thousand dollars' worth of dust
about the flue, and nothing more — with the quartz
rock back of this, as barren and hard as flint. A
common thing is this, and the most disappointing of all
things. Years ago, before the miners began to learn
this, many a fortune was squandered in erecting
mills on ledges that never offered any further re-
ward than the one little pocket.
We went to the feast — rode through the forest
in a sort of dream. How lovely ! The deer were
going in long bands down their worn paths to the
plains below, away from the approaching winter.
The black bears were fat and indolent, and fairly
shone in their rich oily coats, as they crossed the
trail before us.
Hundreds were at the feast, and we were more
than welcome. The Chief came first, his warriors
by his side, to give us the pipe of peace and welcome,
and then a great circle gathered around the fire, seated
on their robes and the leaves ; and as the pipe went
round, the brown girls danced gay and beautiful,
half-nude, in their rich black hair, and flowing robes.
But Paquita was shy. She would not dance,
for somehow she seemed to consider that this
was a kind of savage entertainment, and out of place
GOODBYE. 257
for her. She had seen just enough of civilized life
to deprive her of the pleasures of the wild and free.
There had grown a cast of care upon her lovely-
face of late. She was in secret of all the Indians'
plans. At least she was a true Indian — true to the
rights of her race, and fully awake to a sense of their
wrongs.
She was surely lovelier now than ever before ; tall,
and lithe, and graceful as a mountain lily swayed by
the breath of morning. On her face, through the
tint of brown, lay the blush and flush of maidenhood,
the indescribable sacred something that makes a
maiden holy to every man of a manly and chivalrous
nature ; that makes a man utterly unselfish, and per-
fectly content to love and be silent, to worship at a
distance, as turning to the holy shrine of Mecca, to
be still and bide his time ; caring not to possess
in the low coarse way that characterizes your
common love of to-day, but choosing rather to go
to battle for her, — bearing her in his heart through
many lands, through storms and death, with only
a word of hope, a smile, a wave of the hand from a
wall, a kiss blown far, as he mounts his steed below
and plunges into the night. That is a love to live
for. I say the knights of Spain, bloody as they
were, were a noble and a splendid type of men in
their way.
The Prince was of this manner of men. He was
Q
258 GOOD-BYE.
by nature a knight of the chivalrous, grand old days
of Spain, a hero born out of time, and blown out of
place, in the mines and mountains of the North.
Once he had taken Paquita in his arms, had folded
a robe around her as if she had been a babe. She
was all — everything to him. He renounced all this.
Now he did not even touch her hand.
The old earnestness and perplexity had come upon
the Prince again on our coming to the feast. Once,
when the dance and song ran swift and loud and
all was merriment, I saw him standing out from
the circle of warriors, of young maidens and men,
with folded arms, looking out on the land below.
I had too much respect, nay reverence, for this man
to disturb him. I leaned against a tree and looked
as he looked. Once his eyes left the dance before
him, and stole timidly toward the place where
Paquita sat with her brother watching the dance.
"What a devotion in his face. I could not understand
him. Now he turned to the valley again, tapped
the ground with his foot in the old, restless way,
but his eyes soon wandered back to Paquita. At
last my gaze met his. He blushed deeply, held down
his head and walked away in silence.
The next day was the time set apart for feats of
horsemanship. The band was driven in, all common
property, and the men selected their horses. The
Prince drew out with his lasso a stout black steed,
>&$5W ^
THE FAREWELL.
GOODBYE. 259
with a neck like a bull. His mane poured down on
either side, or stood erect like a crest ; a wiry, savage,
untrained horse that struck out with his feet, like an
elk at bay. He saddled him, and led him out all
ready now, where the other horses stood in line, then
came to me, walked a little way to one side, put out
one hand and with the other drew me close to him,
held down his head to my uplifted face, and said,
" Good-bye."
I sprang up and seized hold of him, but he went
on calmly —
" I must go away. You are happy here ; you will
remain, but I must go. After many years I will
return. You will meet me here on this spot, years
and years from to-day. Yes, it will be many years ;
a long time. But it is short enough, and long enough.
I will forget her — it — I will forget by that time, you
see, and then there is all the whole world before me
to wander in."
He made the sign of departure. The chief came
forward, Paquita came and stood at his side. He
reached his hands, took her in his arms, pressed her
to his breast an instant, kissed her pure brow once,
with her great black eyes lifted to his, but said no
word.
The Indians were mute with wonder and sorrow.
When you give the sign of going, there is no one to
say nay here. No one importunes you to stay ; no
260 GOOD-BYE.
one says come to my place or come to mine. No
such folly. You know that you are welcome to one
and all, and they know that if you wish to go, you
wish to go, and that is all there is of it. This is the
highest type of politeness ; the perfect hospitality.
The Prince turned to his steed, drew his red silk
sash tighter about his waist, undid the lasso, wound
the lariat on his arm, and wove his hand in the flow-
ing mane as the black horse plunged and beat the
air with his feet. Then he set him back on his
haunches, sprang from the ground, and forward
plunged the steed with mane like a storm, down the
place of oaks, pitching towards the valley.
The trees seemed to open rank as he passed, and
then to close again ; a hand was lifted, a kiss thrown
back across the shoulder, and he was gone — gone
down in the sea below us, and I never saw my Prince
again for many a year. Noble, generous, self-denying
Prince ! The most splendid type of the chivalric and
the perfect man I had ever met.
All this was so sudden that I hardly felt the
weight of it at first, and for want of something to
do to fill the blank that followed, I mounted my
horse and took part in the sports with the gayest of
the gay.
Indians do not speak of anything that happens
suddenly. They think it over, all to themselves, for
days, unless it is a thing that requires some action
GOOD-BYE. 261
or expression at once, and then speak of it only
cautiously and casually. It is considered very vul-
gar indeed to give any expression to surprise, and
nothing is more out of taste than to talk about a
thing that you have not first had good time to think
about.
During the day I noticed that my catenas were
heavier than usual, and unfastening the pockets, I
found that they contained all four of the bags of
gold.
Why had he left himself destitute? Why had
he gone down to battle with the world without a
shield ? — gone to fight Goliath, as it were, without
so much as a little stone. I wanted to follow him
and make him take the money — all of it. I despised
it, it made me miserable. But I had learned to obey
him, to listen to him in all things. And was he not
a Prince ?
" Ah !" said I to myself, at last, " he has gone
down to take possession of his throne. He will
cross the seas and see maidens fair indeed, nearly as
lovely in some respects as Faqiin^;'' and this was
my consolation.
" Years and years," I said to myself that night as I
looked in the fire, and the dance went on ; " Years
and years P 1 I counted it upon my fingers, and said
— " I will be dead then."
CHAPTER XIX.
the Indians' account op the creation.
NOW became almost thoroughly an In-
dian. The clash and struggle of the world
below had ground upon my nerves, and I
was glad to get away. Perhaps by nature I inclined
to the dreamy and careless life of the Arabs of
America ; certainly my sympathies had always been
with them, and now my whole heart and soul entered
into the wild life in the forest. In fact from the first
few months I had spent with these people — a sort of
prisoner — I had a keen but inexpressed desire to be
with them and them alone.
Now my desire was wholly gratified. I had seen
my last, my only friend depart, and had shut the
door behind him with a slam — a sort of fierce delight
that I should be left alone in the wilderness.
No more plans for getting money; no more re-
proach from fast and clever men who managed the
lower world; no more insults from the coarse and
insolent ; no more bumping of my head against the
262
A COO UNT OF THE ORE A T10N. 263
customs and proprieties of a half, and hence tyran-
nical, civilization ; — nothing, it seemed to me now, but
rest, freedom, absolute independence.
Did I dread and fear the primeval curse that God
has put upon all men, and so seek to hide away from
Him in the dark deep forests of Shasta ?
I think not. I think rather that all men have
more or less of the Arab in their natures ; and but
for the struggles for gold, the eddies and currents of
commerce, and the emulation of men in art, and the
like, we should soon become gipsies, Druids, and
wanderers in the wild and fragrant woods that would
then repossess the lands.
Maybe after a while, when the children of men are
tired and weary of the golden toy they will throw it
away, rise up and walk out into the woods, never
more to return to cities, to toil, to strife, to thraldom.
But the Indian's life to an active mind is monoto-
nous, and so I found it there ; listless, dull and
almost melancholy. We rode, we fished, we hunted,
and hunted, and fished, and rode, and that was nearly
all we could do by day. If, however, we had no
intense delights we had no great concern. We
dreamed dreams and built castles higher than the
blue columns of smoke that moved towards the
heavens through the dense black boughs above. And
so the seasons wore away.
Under all this, of course, there was another
264: THE INDIANS A CCO UNT
current, deep and exhaustless. Indians have their
loves, and as they have but little else, these fill up
most of their lives. That I had mine I do not deny ;
and how much this had to do with my remaining
here I do not care to say. Nor can I bring my will
to write of myself in this connection. These things
must remain untold. They were sincere then, and
shall be sacred now.
At night, when no wars or excitement of any kind
stirred the village, they would gather in the chief's
or other great bark lodges around the fires, and tell
and listen to stories ; a red wall of men in a great
circle, the women a little back, and the children still
behind, asleep in the skins and blankets. How silent !
You never hear but one voice at a time in an Indian
village.
The Indians say the Great Spirit made this moun-
tain first of all. Can you not see how it is ? they
say. He first pushed down snow and ice from the
skies through a hole which he made in the blue
heavens by turning a stone round and round, till
he made this great mountain, then he stepped out
of the clouds on to the mountain top, and descended
and planted the tree all around by putting his finger
on the ground. Simple and sublime !
The sun melted the snow, and the water ran down
and nurtured the trees and made the rivers. After
that he made the fish for the rivers out of the small
OF TEE CREATION. 265
end of his staff. He made the birds by blowing
some leaves which he took up from the ground
among the trees. After that he made the beasts out
of the remainder of his stick, but made the grizzly
bear out of the big end, and made him master over
all the others. He made the grizzly so strong that
he feared him himself, and would have to go up on
the top of the mountain out of sight of the forest to
sleep at night, lest the grizzly, who, as will be seen,
was much more strong and cunning then than now,
should assail him in his sleep. Afterwards, the
Great Spirit wishing to remain on earth, and make
the sea and some more land, he converted Mount
Shasta by a great deal of labour into a wigwam, and
built a fire in the centre of it and made it a pleasant
home. After that his family came down, and they
all have lived in the mountain ever since. They say
that before the white man came they could see the
fire ascending from the mountain by night and the
smoke by day, every time they chose to look in that
direction.
This, I have no doubt, is true. Mount Shasta is
even now, in one sense of the word, an active vol-
cano. Sometimes only hot steam, bringing up with
it a fine powdered sulphur, staining yellow the snow
and ice, is thrown off. Then again boiling water,
clear at one time and then muddy enough, boils up
through the fissures and flows off into a little pool
266 THE INDIANS' A CCO VNT
within a hundred feet of the summit. It is very-
unsettled and uncertain. Sometimes you hear most
unearthly noises even a mile from the little crater, as
you ascend, and when you approach, a tumult like a
thousand engines with whistles of as many keys;
then again you find the mountain on its good behav-
ior and sober enough.
Once it was thought a rare achievement to make
the ascent of Mount Shasta ; now I find that almost
every summer some travellers and residents make
the ascent. This must not be undertaken, however,
when the arid sage brush plains of the east are
drawing the winds across from the sea. You would
at such a time be blown through the clouds like a
feather.
Two days only are required to make the crater
from the ranches in Shasta valley at the north
base of the mountain. The first day you ride
through the dense forest — a hard day's journey in-
deed — up to the snow line, where you sleep, leave
your horses, and with pike and staff confront the ice
and snow.
I ascended this mountain the last time more than
fifteen years ago. It was soon after I first returned
to the Indians. I acted as guide for some travelling,
solemn, self-important-looking missionaries in black
clothes, spectacles and beaver hats. They gave me
some tracts, and paid me for my services in prayers
OF TEE CREATION. 267
and sermons. The memories of the trip were so
unpleasant that I never had courage or desire to
undertake it again.
There is but one incident in it all that I have ever
recalled with pleasure. I had come out of the forest
like a shadow, timid, shrinking, sensitive, to these
men : like an Indian, eager to lead them, to do them
any service for some kind words, some sympathy,
some recognition from these great, good men, wise
and learned, who professed to stand so near the
throne eternal, who were so anxious for the heathen.
I led and fed and watered and groomed their horses.
I watched while they slej)t, spread their blankets
beneath the trees on the dry soil, folded and packed
them, headed the gorges, shunned the chaparral
and bore on my own shoulders all the toils, and took
on my own breast all the dangers of the day. I
found them the most sour, selfish, and ungrateful
wretches on earth. But I led them to the summit
— two of them only — jDanting, blowing, groaning at
every step. The others had sat down on blocks of
ice and snow below. These two did not remain a
moment. They did not even lift their eyes to the
glory that lay to the right or to the left. What to
them was the far faint line of the sea to the west ;
the long white lakes that looked like snow drifts, a
hundred miles away to the east? Had they not
been on the summit \ Had they not said a prayer
268 THE INDIANS' ACCOUNT
and left tracts there I Could they not have that to
say, to report, to write about ? Was all this not
enough ?
Hastily, indeed, they muttered something, hurriedly
drew some tracts from their pockets, brought far
away into this wilderness by these wise, good men,
for the benighted heathen, then turned as if afraid
to stay, and retraced their steps.
I hated these men, so manifestly unfit for any-
thing like a Christian act — despised them, not their
books or their professed work. When I had swept
my eyes around on the space below and photo-
graphed the world for myself, I turned and saw
these tract-leaves fluttering at my feet, in the wind,
in the snow, like the wings of a wounded bird. A
strange, fierce fit of inspiration possessed me then. I
drew my bowie-knife, drove it through the open,
fluttering leaves, and pinned them to the snow, then
turned to descend the mountain, with a chuckle of
delight.
These wild people of the forest about the base of
Mount Shasta, by their valour, their savage defiance
of the white man, and many commendable traits,
make good their claim to be called the first of the
land. They are much nobler, physically, than any
other tribes of Indians found between the Nez-Perces
of the north and the Apaches of the south. They
raise no grain, rarely dig roots, but subsist chiefly on
meat, acorn bread, nuts and fish.
OF THE CREATION. 269
These Indians have a great thirst for knowledge,
particularly of the location and extent of countries.
They are great travellers. The fact is, all Indians
are great travellers. In any tribe, even in the deserts
of Arizona, or the tribes of the plains, you will find
guides who can lead you directly to the sea to the
west, or the Sierras to the east. . A traveller with
them is always a guest. He repays the hospitality
he receives by relating his travels and telling of the
various tribes he has visited, their extent, location,
and strength. No matter if the traveller is from a
hostile tribe, he is treated well and allowed to pass
through any part of the country, and go and come
when he likes. Having no fortresses, and being
constantly on the move, makes it perfectly safe for
them to let their camps and locations be known to all.
A story-teller is held in great repute ; but he is
not permitted to lie or romance under any circum-
stances. All he says must bear the stamp of truth,
or he is disgraced forever. Telling stories, their
history, traditions, travels, and giving and receiving
lessons in geography, are their chief diversion
around their camp and wigwam fires at night ;
except the popular and never-exhausted subject of
their wars with the white man, and the wrongs of
their race.
Geography is taught hj making maps in the sand
or ashes with a stick. For example, the sea a hundred
270 THE INDIANS' A CCO TJNT
miles away is taken as a base. A long line is drawn
there, and rivers are led into the sea by little
crooked marks in the sand. Then sand or ashes are
heaped or thrown in ridges to show the ranges of
mountains.
This tribe is defined as having possessions of such
and such an extent on the sea. Another tribe
reaches up this river so far to the east of that tribe,
and so on, till a thousand miles of the coast are
mapped out with tolerable accuracy. In these exer-
cises each traveller, or any one who by his age,
observation, or learning, is supposed to know, is
expected to contribute his stock of information, and
aid in drawing the chart correctly. I have seen the
great Willamette valley, hundreds of miles away,
which they call Pooakan Charook, very well drawn,
and the location of Mount Hood pointed out with
precision. They also chart out the great Sacra-
mento valley, which they call Noorkan Charook,
or South Valley. This valley, however, although
a hundred miles away, is almost in sight. They
trace the Sacramento River correctly, with its
crooks and deviations, to the sea.
Their code of morals, which consists chiefly of a
contempt of death, a certainty of life after death,
temperance in all things, and sincerity, is taught by
old men too old for war ; and these lessons are given
seldom, generally after some death or disaster, when
OF THE CREATION. 271
the young men are depressed and not disposed to
listen to tales or take part in any exercises around
the camp. The women never attempt to teach any-
thing, or even to correct the children. In fact, the
children are rarely corrected. To tell the truth,
they are not at all vicious. I recall no rudeness
on their part, or disrespect for their parents or
travellers. They were forty fold more civil than
are the children of the whites.
Quite likely this is because they have not so
many temptations to do wrong as white children
have. They have a natural outlet for all their ener-
gies ; they can hunt, fish, trap, dive and swim,
run in the woods, ride, shoot, throw the lance, do
anything they like in like directions, and only receive
praise for their achievements.
There is a story published that these Indians will
not ascend Mount Shasta for fear of the Great
Spirit there. This is only partly true. They will
not ascend the mountain above the timber line
under any circumstances ; but it is not fear of either
good or evil spirit that restrains them. It is their
profound veneration for the Good Spirit: the Great
Spirit who dwells in this mountain with his people as
in a tent.
This mountain, as I said before, they hold is his
wigwam, and the opening at the top whence the
smoke and steam escapes is the smoke-place of his
272 TEE INDIANS' A CCO UNT
lodge, and the entrance also from the earth. An-
other mistake, which I wish to correct, is the state-
ment of one writer, that they claim the grizzly bear
as a fallen brother, and for this reason refuse to kill
or molest him. This is far from the truth. Instead
of the grizzly bear being a bad Indian undergoing a
sort of purgatory for his sins, he is held to be a pro-
pagator of their race.
The Indian account of their creation is briefly
this. They say that one late and severe spring-time
many thousand snows ago, there was a great storm
about the summit of Shasta, and that the great Spirit
sent his youngest and fairest daughter, of whom he
was very fond, up to the hole in the top, bidding her
speak to the storm that came up from the sea, and
tell it to be more gentle or it would blow the moun-
tain over. He bade her do this hastily, and not
put her head out, lest the wind would catch her in
the hair and blow her away. He told her she should
only thrust out her long red arm and make a sign,
and then speak to the storm without.
The child hastened to the top, and did as she was
bid, and was about to return, but having never yet
seen the ocean, where the wind was born and made
his home, when it was white with the storm, she
stopped, turned, and put her head out to look that
way, when lo ! the storm caught in her long red hair,
and blew her out and away down and down the
OF THE CREATION. 273
mountain side. Here she could not fix her feet in
the hard, smooth ice and snow, and so slid on and on
down to the dark belt of firs below the snow rim.
Now, the grizzly bears possessed all the wood and
all the land even down to the sea at that time, and
were very numerous and very powerful. They were
not exactly beasts then, although they were covered
with hair, lived in caves, and had sharp claws ; but
they walked on two legs, and talked, and used clubs
to fight with, instead of their teeth and claws as they
do now.
At this time, there was a family of grizzlies
living close up to the snow. The mother had lately
brought forth, and the father was out in quest of
food for the young, when, as he returned with his
club on his shoulder and a young elk in his left hand,
he saw this little child, red like fire, hid under a fir-
bush, with her long hair trailing in the snow, and
shivering with fright and cold. Not knowing what
to make of her, he took her to the old mother, who
was very learned in all things, and asked her what
this fair and frail thing was that he had found shiver-
ing under a fir-bush in the snow. The old mother
Grizzly, who had things pretty much her own way,
bade him leave the child with her, but never men-
tion it to any one, and she- would share her breast
with her, and briug her up with the other children,
and maybe some great good would come of it.
274 THE INDIANS' A CCO VNT
The old mother reared her as she promised to do,
and the old hairy father went out every day with his
club on his shoulder to get food for his family till
they were all grown up, and able to do for them-
selves.
"Now," said the old mother Grizzly to the old
father Grizzly, as he stood his club by the door and
sat down one day, "our oldest son is quite grown
up, and must have a wife. Now, who shall it be but
the little red creature you found in the snow under
the black fir-bush." So the old grizzly father kissed
her, said she was very wise, then took up his club
on his shoulder, and went out and killed some meat
for the marriage feast.
They married, and were very happy, and many
children were born to them. But, being part of
the Great Spirit and part of the grizzly bear, these
children did not exactly resemble either of their
parents, but partook somewhat of the nature and
likeness of both. Thus was the red man created ; for
these children were the first Indians.
All the other grizzlies throughout the black
forests, even down to the sea, were very proud and
very kind, and met together, and, with their united
strength, built for the lovely little red princess a
wigwam close to that of her father, the Great Spirit.
This is what is now called " Little Mount Shasta."
After many years, the old mother Grizzly felt
OF THE CREATION. 275
that she soon must die ; and, fearing that she had
done wrong in detaining the child of the Great Spirit,
she could not rest till she had seen him and restored
him his long-lost treasure, and asked his forgive-
ness.
With this object in view, she gathered together all
the grizzlies at the new and magnificent lodge built
for the Princess and her children, and then sent her
eldest grandson to the summit of Mount Shasta, in
a cloud, to speak to the Great Spirit and tell him
where he could find his long-lost daughter.
When the Great Spirit heard this he was so glad
that he ran down the mountain-side on the south so
fast and strong that the snow was melted off in
places, and the tokens of his steps remain to this
day. The grizzlies went out to meet him by-
thousands; and as he approached they stood apart
in two great lines, with their clubs under their arms,
and so opened a lane by which he passed in great
state to the lodge where his daughter sat with her
children.
But when he saw the children, and learned how
the grizzlies that he had created had betrayed
him into the creation of a new race, he was very
wroth, and frowned on the old mother Grizzly till
she died on the spot. At this the grizzlies all set
up a dreadful howl; but he took his daughter on
his shoulder, and turning to all the grizzlies, bade
276 TEE INDIANS A CCO VNT
them hold their tongues, get down on their hands
and knees, and so remain till he returned. They
did as they were "bid, and he closed the door of the
lodge after him, drove all the children out into the
world, passed out and up the mountain, and never
returned to the timber any more.
So the grizzlies could not rise up any more, or
use their clubs, but have ever since had to go on all-
fours, much like other beasts, except when they have to
fight for their lives, when the Great Spirit permits them
to stand up and fight with their fists like men.
That is why the Indians about Mount Shasta will
never kill or interfere in any way with a grizzly.
Whenever one of their number is killed by one of
these kings of the forest, he is burned on the spot,
and all who pass that way for years cast a stone
on the place till a great pile is thrown up.
Fortunately, however, grizzlies are not plentiful
about the mountain.
In proof of the truth of the story that the grizzly
once walked and stood erect, and was much like a
man, they show that he has scarcely any tail, and
that his arms are a great deal shorter than his
legs, and that they are more like a man than any
other animal.
These Indians burn their dead. I have looked into
this, and, for my part, I should at the last like to be
disposed of as a savage.
OF THE CREA T10N. 277
There is no such thing as absolute independence.
You must ask for bread when you come into the
world, and will ask for water when about to leave it.
Freedom of body is equally a myth, and a dema-
gogue's text ; though freedom of mind is a certainty,
and within the reach of all, grand duke or galley-
slave, peasant or prince.
Since we are always more or less dependent, a wise
and just man will seek to make the load as light as
possible on his fellows. Socrates disliked to trouble
even so humble and coarse a person as his jailer.
Mahomet mended his own clothes, and Confucius
waited on himself till too feeble to lift a hand.
If these wise men were careful not to take the time
of others to themselves, when living and capable of
doing or saying something for the good of their fellows
in return, how much more careful we should be
not to do so when dead — when we can help noth-
ing whatever, and nothing whatever can help or
harm us !
Holding this, I earnestly desire that my body
shall be burned, as soon as the breath has left
it, in the sheets in which I die, without any delay,
ceremony, or preparation, beyond the building of
a iire. There shall be no tomb or inscription of
any kind. If a man does any great good, history
will take note of it. If he has true friends, he will
live in their hearts while they live, and that is
278 THE INDIANS' A 000 TINT
certainly as long as he could live on marble, in a vil-
lage churchyard, or elsewhere.
The waste of toil and money, which means
time, taken from the poor and needy by the strong
and wealthy, in conducting funerals and celebrating
doubtful virtues by building monuments, is some-
thing enormous. Even good taste, to say nothing
of this great sacrifice of time, should rise above a
desire to ride to the grave in a hundred empty
carriages, and crop up through the grass in shame-
less boast of all the virtues possible, chiselled
there. Particularly in an age when successful soap-
boilers, or packers of pork, rival the most refined
in the elegance of tombs and flourish of epitaphs.
Another good reason why I protest against this
display about the dead, is that so much is done
about the worthless and worn-out body, that the
mind is constantly directed down into the dismal
grave, instead of being lifted to the light of heaven
with the immortal spirit. One good reason is enough
for anything.
Besides, there is a waste of land in the present
custom that is inexcusable. Remember, all waste
time, all waste labour, all waste land, is loss. That
loss must be borne by some one, some portion of the
country ; and it is not the wealthy or refined who
must bear it. True, they may directly take the
money from their purses, but indirectly all such losses
OF THE CREATION. 279
are borne by the poor. Sift it down and you will see.
Death to the poor man is a terrible thing, made
tenfold terrible by the present custom of interment.
He sees that even in death there is a distinction
between him and his master, and that he is still
despised. The rich man goes to his marble vault,
which is to the poor a palace, in pomp and display of
carriages, attended by the dignitaries of the Church,
while he, the poor and despised, is quietly carted
away to a little corner set apart for the poor. Of
course, a strong and philosophic mind would laugh
at this, but to the poor it is a fearful contrast.
" Death is in the world," and throws a shadow on
the poor that may, in part, be lifted when all are
interred alike — burned in one common fire.
These Indians, as I have before intimated, never
question the immortality of the soul. Their fervid
natures and vivid imaginations make the spirit world
beautiful beyond description, but it is an Indian's
picture, not a Christian's or Mahomedan's. No city set
upon a hill, no palaces curtained in silk and peopled
by beautiful women : woods, deep, dark, boundless,
with parks of game and running rivers ; and above
and beyond all, not a white man there.
I have seen half-civilized Indians who are first-
rate disbelievers, but never one who is left to think
for himself. When an Indian tries to understand
our religion he stumbles, as he does when he tries to
understand us in other things.
280 TEE INDIANS' A CCO TJNT
The marriage ceremony of these people is not im-
posing. The father gives a great feast, to which all
are invited, but the bride and bridegroom do not
partake of food. A new lodge is erected and fur-
nished more elegant than any other of the village,
by the women, each vieing with the other to do
the best in providing their simple articles of the
Indian household.
In the evening, while the feast goes on and the
father's lodge is full of guests, the women and
children come to the lodge with a great number of
pitch torches, and two women enter and take the
bride away between them: the men all the time
taking no heed of what goes on. They take her to
the lodge, chanting as they go, and making a great
nourish with their torches. Late at night the men
rise up, and the father and mother, or those standing
in their stead, take the groom between them to the
lodge, while the same nourish of torches and chant
goes on as before. They take him into the lodge
and set him on the robes by the bride. This time
the torches are not put out, but are laid one after
another in the centre of the lodge. And this is the
first fire of the new pair, which must not be allowed
to die out for some time. In fact, as a rule, in time
of peace Indians never let their lodge-fires go out so
long as they remain in one place.
"When all the torches are laid down and the fire
TIIK INDIAN mtlPAT.
OF THE CREATION. 281
burns bright, they are supposed to be married. The
ceremony is over, and the company go away in the
dark.
Late in the fall, the old chief made the marriage-
feast, and at that feast neither I nor his daughter
took meat
CHAPTEE XX.
THE LAST OF THE LOST CABIN.
HESE Indians use but few words. A cow-
ard and a liar is the same with them ; they
have no distinct terms of expressing the two
sins. Sometimes a single eloquent gesture means a
whole sentence, and expresses it, too, better than
could a multitude of words.
I said to the old chief one day,
"Your language is very poor; it has so few
words."
"We have enough. It does not take many words
to tell the truth," he answered.
" Ah, but we have a hundred words to your one."
" Well, you need them."
There was a stateliness in his manner when he
said this, and a toss of the head, that meant a whole
chapter.
He seemed to say, " Yes, from the number of lies
you have told us, from the long treaties that meant
nothing that you have made with us; from the
282
TEE LAST OF THE LOST CABIN. 283
multitude of promises that you have made and
broken, and made again, back as far as the traditions
of my people go, I should say that you needed even
a thousand words to our one."
" Words, umph ! Tell me how my dog looks out
of his eyes V*
The old Indian arose as he said this, and gathered
his blanket about his shoulders. The dog lay with
his nose on his two paws, and his eyes raised to his
master's.
"You have not words enough in all your books
to picture a single look from the eyes of my dog."
He drew his blanket closer about him, turned away,
and the dog arose and followed him.
I had a pocket Bible with me once, in his camp.
I was young, enthusiastic, and anxious to do a little
missionary business on my own responsibility. I
showed it to the chief, and undertook to tell him
what it was.
" It is the promise of God to man," I said, " His
written promise to us, that if we do as He has com-
manded us to do, we shall live and be happy for
ever when we die."
He took it in his hand, upside down, and looked at
the outside and inside very attentively.
" Promises ! Is it a treaty ? w
"Well, it is a treaty, perhaps; at least, it is a
promise, and He wrote it."
284 TEE LAST OF
"Did it take all of this to say that? I do not
like long treaties. I do not like any treaties on paper.
They are so easy to break. The Indian does not
want his God to sign a paper. He is not afraid to
trust his God."
u But the promises and the resurrection V I urged.
He pointed to the new leaves on the tree, the
spears that were bursting through the ground,
handed me the book gruffly, and said no more.
I The Prince was gone, perhaps to return no more. I
was again utterly alone with the Indians. I looked
down and out upon the world below as looking
upon a city from a tower, and was not unhappy.
I dwelt now altogether with the chief. His lodge
was my home ; his family my companions. We rode
swift horses, sailed on the little mountain lakes with
grass and tule sails, or sat down under the trees in
summer, where the wind came through from the sea,
and drank in silently the glories and calm delights
of life together. Nothing wanted, nothing attempted.
We were content, silent, and satisfied. Was it not
enough ?
Despise a love of nature, and even a love of woman,
that is ranted and talked about as if it were a pain in
the stomach. A dog may howl his passion, but the
most of beasts are more decent in this than the mass
of men.
" They will find the cabin, yet," said the chief, " if
THE LOST CABIN. 285
it is allowed to stand. Then they will search
till they find the mine, then a crowd of people will
come, like grasshoppers in the valley; my warriors
will be murdered, my forests cut down, my grass
will be burned, my game driven off, and my people
will starve. As their father to whom they look for
protection and support, I cannot allow it to stand."
"It shall be as you say. Send some men with
me. What care I for the cabin, and what is a mine
of gold to me here i "
We went down, we burned the cabin to the ground.
We did not leave even a pine board, and after
the embers had cooled and a rain had settled the
ashes, we dug up the soil and scattered seeds of
reeds and grass on the spot. The stumps, chips,
logs, everything was burned that bore the mark of
the white man's axe.
A year or two afterwards I passed there, and all
was wild and overgrown with grass, the same as if
no man had ever sat down and rested there below the
boughs.
Some pines that stood too close to the burning
cabin had yellow branches at one side, and where
the bark had burned on that side they were gnarled
and seared, and stood there parched up and ugly, in
a circle, as if making faces at some invisible object in
their midst.
That is all there is really of the lost cabin, which
286 THE LAST OF
once created such a commotion in northern California.
Men came, less numerous of course, each season,
year after year, looking for the lost cabin, for it was
pleasant to come up from the hot plains of the
Sacramento, and up from the cities on the sea, and
camp here by the cool streams, and travel under the
great trees away from even a hint of the sun ; but
they never found so much as a trace of the lost
cabin, and at last gave it up as a myth not unlike
Gold Lake, Gold Beach, and the Lost Dutchman of
the earliest days of the Pacific excitements.
I did not return to the mine because, in the first
place, I believed that it was only a treacherous
pocket that had nothing more to give but promises.
But beyond all that, I was trying to rise to the dignity
of some little virtue, after the Prince had shown so
much, and these Indians had set such good examples.
What should I do with the gold, even if I found a
mountain of it? My wants were few and simple.
Except to make journeys, I did not need a dollar.
I had all that I could use ; what use, then, had I
for more %
I could only point it out to my countrymen, and
that meant toil and strife, privation and endurance
for them; for the Indians it meant annihilation.
With the constant sense before me that it was and is
exhausted, I have been enabled to let the leaves fall
there, and the moss to grow in the mine for many,
TEE LOST CABIN. 287
many years. Sometimes we have almost to lie to
ourselves to get strength to do a simple act of
justice ; nay, to even not do a deliberate wrong.
What, after all, if my grand, old, noble pyramid of
the north, white as faith, sphinx-like looking out over
the desert plains of the east, the seas of the west,
the sable woods that environ it, should be built on a
solid base of gold !
When the Modoc has led his last warrior to battle
up yonder in his rocky fortress, fired his last shot, and
the grass is growing in the last war-path of those
people, then, and not till then, I may go up where the
solemn trees with their dead limbs stand around,
making faces at something in the centre, pitch a tent
there, and go down in the canon with men, and picks
and shovels, and bars of steel and iron.
At the same time, I am trying to bring myself up
to the conviction of the truth, that a great deal of
gold is rather to be avoided than sought after. Every
day I look around, and see how many thousands
there are who have gold and nothing else ; I see the
sin there is in it and the getting of it. The ten
thousand temptations it brings a man, tied up in the
bags along with it, and let out when it is let out,
inseparable from it. I see that it is sinking my coun-
try, morally, every day ; and yet with this steady drift
of all things toward the one goal, this sailing of every
ship in life for the one Golden Gate, barren as it is,
288 TEE LAST OF
forgetting the green isles of palm and the warm
winds there ; I say, with all this, it is hard to stand up
tall and despise it.
Save money for the children ? Bosh ! Are you
afraid to put them down on the track of life, to take
a fair and even start with the rest? Do you want
to start them ahead of nine-tenths of those who have
to run the race of life ? Do you think they have not
brains or backbone enough to make their way with
the rest ? How many of all the millions can start
with a fortune ?
No. Put them out on the track, well trained and
strong, and let them run the race fairly and squarely
with the humblest there, and then if they win they
win like men.
Must have money to appear well ! Fiddle-
sticks ! To buy a new coat and furniture, so as
to receive your friends. My dear sir, friends never
yet came to see a man's new coat or his nice
house ; never ! If your friends want to see new
coats, they can go to the clothing stores and see a
thousand every day for nothing.
No, we do not hoard up money altogether for the
children, or for friends to look upon, but we heap it
up because we are selfish cowards ! Because we have
not nerve enough to stand on our own merit, or hav-
ing so little merit and so much money, we prefer to
trust to the latter for a place in the eyes of the world.
THE LOST CABIN. 289
And then there is a low, contemptible fear that we
will come to want, and so toil and toil and build a bar-
ricade of gold about us, and die at last in fear,
pinched to death between twenty-dollar pieces, that
the starved and hungry soul has crept between, with
the last bit of young, strong manhood that we were
born with crushed utterly out of us.
CHAPTER XXL
MY FIRST BATTLE.
BOUT this time, tiring somewhat of the
monotonous life of the Indian camp, and
wishing to see the face of a white man, I
descended to the settlements on the Sacramento River,
and fell in with Mountain Joe, an old mountaineer
who had been with Fremont. He was a German by
birth and education, and remarkable as it may seem,
was certainly a very learned man. I have heard him
repeat, or at least pretend to repeat, Homer in the
Greek and Virgil in the Latin, by the hour, though
he professed to despise the translations, and would
not give me a line of the English version. Possibly,
his Greek was not Greek, but I think it was, for in
other things in which I could not be utterly deceived
I found him wonderfully well-informed.
We together located and took possession of the
ranch now known as the Soda Springs, and to-day the
most famous summer resort in northern California.
We employed men, built a house, ploughed, planted,
290
MY FIEST BATTLE. 291
and opened a trading post, all in the short period of
a few weeks. Sometimes I would ride up into the
mountains towards Mount Shasta, as if hunting for
game, and spend a few days with my tawny friends.
Soon the rush of people subsided, and but few
white men were found in the country. All up and
down the streams their temporary shanties were left
without a foot to press the rank grass and abundant
weeds.
One day when our tame Indians, whom we had
employed on the ranch, were out fishing, and Moun-
tain Joe and I had taken our rifles and gone up the
Narrow Valley to look after the horses, a band of
hostile Indians living in and about the Devil's Castle,
some ten miles away on the opposite side of the
Sacramento, came in and plundered our camp of
all the stores and portable articles they could lay
hands on.
This castle is the most picturesque object in all the
magnificent scenery of northern California. It sits
on a high mountain, and is formed of grey granite
blocks and spires, lifting singly and in groups thou-
sands of feet from the summit of the mountain. Most
of these are inaccessible. Here the Indians locate
the abode of the devil. Hence its name.
I gathered up some half-tame Indians that could
be relied on, while Mountain Joe went down the
river ten or twenty miles to the little mining camps,
292 M Y FIRST BA TTLE.
and collected a company of whites. I Lad had
no connection with these Indians, and was therefore
plundered and treated as they would have treated any
other settler. To have borne with the outrage would
have been to fall into disgrace with the others. They
would have thought I dared not resent it.
The small command moved up Castle Creek under
the guide of friendly Indians. Each man carried his
arms, blankets, and three days' rations. All were
on foot, as the Castle cannot be approached by horse-
men. We reached Castle Lake, a sweet, peaceful
place, overhung by mountain cypress and sweeping
cedars. This is a spot the Indians will not visit, for
fear of the evil spirits which they are certain inhabit
the place. They sat down in the wood overlooking
the lake, while we descended, drank of the cool, deep
water, and refreshed ourselves for the combat, since
the spies had just returned and reported the hostile
camp only an hour distant. This was on the 26th
day of June, 1855. The enemy was not dreaming of
our approach, and we were in position, almost sur-
rounding the camp, before we were discovered.
Mountain Joe had distributed us behind the rocks
and trees in range of and overlooking the camp.
The ground was all densely timbered, and covered
with a thick growth of black stiff chaparral, save
one spot of a few acres, by the side of which the
Indians were camped, at the foot of a little hill.
M Y FIRST BA TTLK 293
This was my first war-path. I was about to take
part in my first real battle. I had been placed by
Mountain Joe behind a large pine, and alone. He
spoke kindly as he left me, and bade me take care of
myself.
I put some bullets in my mouth, primed my pistols,
and made all preparation to do my part. It seemed
like an age before the fight began. I could hear my
heart beat like a little drum.
The Indians certainly had not the least suspicion
of danger. They were, it seemed, as much oft' their
guard as possible. They evidently thought their
camp, if not impregnable, beyond our reach and dis-
covery. They owed the latter to their own race.
At last we were discerned, as some of the most
daring and experienced were stealing closer and
closer to the camp, and they sprang to their arms
with whoops and yells that lifted my hat almost from
my head.
The yells were answered. Rifles cracked around
the camp, and arrows came back in showers.
" Close up !" shouted Mountain Joe, and we left
cover and advanced. I think I must have swallowed
the bullets I put in my mouth, for I loaded from my
pouch as usual, and thought of them no more as we
moved down upon the yelling Indians.
A little group of us gathered behind some rocks.
Then a man came creeping to us through the brush
294 MY FIBST BA TTLE.
to say that the other side of our company was being
pressed and that we must move on. Then another
came to say that Mountain Joe had been struck
across the face by an arrow, and his eyes were so
injured that he could not direct the fight.
" Then come on ! " I cried ; " let us push through
here to the camp and drive them into the open
ground." I took the lead, the men followed, and
without knowing it, I became a leader of my fellows.
We had wound our blankets about our breasts and
bodies so as to guard against arrows, but our heads
were unprotected.
Suddenly the arrows came, whiz, whistle, thud,
right in our faces.
I fell senseless. After a while I felt men pulling
by my shoulders. I could hear and understand but
could not see or rise. It seemed to me they were
trying to twist my neck from my body. Yet I
felt no great pain, only a numbness and utter help-
lessness.
" Help me pull it out," said one. They pulled.
" No, you must cut off the point, and then pull it
back."
Then they cut and pulled, and the blood spurted
out and rattled on the leaves.
" Poor boy, he's done for."
I could now see, but was still helpless. Half-a-
dozen men stood around leaning on their rifles,
MY FIRST BATTLE.
MY FIRST BATTLE. 295
looking at me, then around them, as if for the enemy.
By the side of me, with his head in a man's lap, lay
a young man, James Lane, with an arrow-shot near
the eye. I believe he died of his wound.
The fight was over. An arrow had struck me in
the left side of the face, struck the jaw-bone, and
then glanced around and came out at the back of the
neck. The wound certainly looked as if it must be
mortal, but the jugular vein was not touched and there
was hope. I was dizzy and sometimes senseless. This
perhaps was because the wound was so near the brain.
I constantly thought I was on the mountain slope
overlooking home, and kept telling the men to go
and bring my mother. We had no surgeon, and the
men tied up our wounds as best they could in
tobacco saturated in saliva.
That night the Indian camp was plundered and
burnt. The next morning, as the provisions were out,
preparations were made to descend the mountain. I
here must not forget the kind but half-savage atten-
tion of these rough men. They could do but little,
it is true, but they were untiring in attention and
sympathy. They held my head in their laps, and
talked low and tenderly of early health and my re-
turn home. I saw one man crying, the tears dropping
down into his long grizzly beard ; then I thought I
should surely die.
In the morning one kind but mistaken old fellow
296 M Y FIBST BA TTLE.
brought a leather bag, and held it up haughtily
before my eyes in his left hand, while he tapped it
gently with his bowie knife. The blood was oozing
through the seams of the bag and trickling at his feet.
"Them's scalps."
I grew sick at the sight.
The wounded were carried on the backs of squaws
that had been taken in the fight. A very old and
wrinkled woman carried me on her back by setting
me in a large buckskin, with one leg on each side of
her body, and then supporting the weight by a broad
leather strap passed across her brow. This was not
uncomfortable, all things considered. In fact, it was
by far the best thing that could be done.
The first half day the old woman was " sulky," as
the men called it ; possibly the wrinkled old creature
could feel, and was thinking of her dead.
In the afternoon I began to rally, and spoke to her
in her own tongue. Then she talked and talked,
and mourned, and would not be still. " You," she
moaned, " have killed all my boys, and burnt up my
home."
I ventured to protest that they had first robbed us.
" No," she said, " you first robbed us. You drove
us from the river. We could not fish, we could not
hunt. We were hungry and took your provisions to
eat. My boys did not kill you. They could have
killed you a hundred times, but they only took
MY FIRST BATTLE. 297
things to eat, when they could not get fish and things
on the river."
We reached the Sacramento in safety, and pitched
camp on the bank of the river under some sweeping
cedars about a mile below the site of the present
hotel on the Lower Soda Spring ranch. Here I lay a
long time, till able to travel. Those beautiful trees
were still standing when I returned there in 1872.
It was necessary to go to San Francisco to recover
my health ; but I tired of the city soon, and longed
for the mountains and my Indian companions.
In the spring I returned, found Mountain Joe
ploughing and planting at Soda Springs, and after
resting and making arrangements for the further im-
provement of the ranch, pushed back over the moun-
tains to my Indians. All were there, Paquita, Klamat,
the chief, and his daughter, who, although she
was much to me I shall barely mention in these
pages. This is a book not of the Indian woman's
love, but of the white man's hate. They had learned
all about my battle, and I think forgave me what-
ever blood was on my hands for the part I had borne
in the fight, for an Indian is a hero-worshipper of the
very worst kind.
CHAPTER XXII.
MY MW REPUBLIC.
ERE for the first time a plan which had
been forming in my mind ever since I first
fonnd myself among these people began to
take definite shape. It was a bold and ambitions
enterprise, and was no less a project than the estab-
lishment of a sort of Indian Republic — " a wheel
within a wheel," with the grand old cone Mount
Shasta for the head or centre.
To the south, reaching from far up on Mount
Shasta to far down in the Sacramento valley, lay the
lands of the Shastas, with almost every variety of
country and climate ; to the south-east the Pit River
Indians, with a land rich with pastures and plains
teeming with game ; to the north-east lay the Modocs,
with lakes and pasture-lands enough to make a
State. My plan was to unite these three tribes in
a confederacy under the name of the 'United Tribes,
and by making a claim and showing a bold front to
the Government, secure by treaty all the lands near
298
MY NEW REPUBLIC. 299
the mountain, even if we had to surrender all the
other lands in doing so.
It might have been called a kind of Indian re-
servation, but it was to be a reservation in its fullest
and most original sense, such as those first allotted to
the Indians. Definite lines were to be drawn, and
these lines were to be kept sacred. No white man
was to come there without permission. The Indians
were to remain on the land of their fathers. They
were to receive no pay, no perquisites or assistance
whatever from the Government. They were simply
to be let alone in their possessions, with their rites,
customs, religion, and all, unmolested. They were
to adopt civilization by degrees and as they saw fit,
and such parts of it as they chose to adopt. They
were to send a representative to the State and the
national capitals if they chose, and so on through
a Ions: catalogue of details that would have left them
in possession of that liberty which is as dear to the
Indian as to any being on earth.
Filled with plans for my little Republic I now
went among the Modocs, whom I had always half
feared since they had killed and plundered the old
trader, and boldly laid the case before them, They
were very enthusiastic, and some of the old council-
men named me chief; yet I never had any authority
to speak of till too late to use it to advantage.
I drew maps and wrote out my plans, and sent them
300 MY NE W BEP TJBLIC.
to the commanding officer of the Pacific Coast, the
Governor of the State, and the President of the
Republic. Full of enthusiasm and splendid plans
were the letters I sent, and no doubt full of bad'
spelling and worse grammar ; but they were honest,
sincere, and well meant, and deserved something
better than the contemptuous silence they received.
I thought of this thing day after day, and it came
upon me at last like a great sunrise, full and
complete. The Indians entered into it with all their
hearts. Their great desire was to have a dividing
line — a mark that would say, Thus far will we come
and no farther. They did not seem to care about
details or particulars where the line would be drawn,
only that it should be drawn, and leave them secure
in bounds which they could call their own. They
would submit to almost anything for this.
Remove they would not ; but they were tired of a
perpetual state of half- war, half-peace, that brought
only a steady loss of life and of land, without any
lookout ahead for the better, and would enter into
almost any terms that promised to let them and theirs
permanently and securely alone. I may say here
in a kind of parenthesis that the only way an Indian
can get a hearing is to go to war, and thus call the
attention of the Government to the fact of his
existence.
How magnificent and splendid seemed my plan I
M Y NEW REP UBLIC. 301
Imagination had no limit. Here would be a national
park, a place, one place in all the world, where men
lived in a state of nature, and when all the other
tribes had passed away or melted into the civiliza-
tion and life of the white man, here would be a
people untouched, unchanged, to instruct and interest
the traveller, the moralist, all men.
When the world is done gathering gold, I said, men
will come to these forests to look at nature, and be
thankful for the wisdom and foresight of the age that
preserved this vestige of an all but extinct race.
There was a grandeur in the thought, a sort of
sublimity, that I shall never feel again. A fervid
nature, a vivid imagination, and, above all, the
matchless and magnificent scenery, the strangely silent
people, the half -pathetic stillness of the forests, all
conspired to lift me up into an atmosphere where the
soul laughs at doubt and never dreams of failure. A
ship-wrecked race, I said, shall here take rest. To
the east and west, to the north and south, the busy
commercial world may swell and throb and beat and
battle like a sea; but on this island, around this
mountain, with their backs to this bulwark, they
shall look untroubled on it all. Here they shall
live as their fathers lived before the newer pyramids
cast their little shadows, or camels kneeled in the
dried-up seas.
I went to Yreka, the nearest convenient post-office,
302 M T NEW BEP UBL1C.
nearly one hundred miles away, and waited for my
answers in vain. I wrote again, but with the same
result.
I saw that I must learn something more of the
white man, mix with him, observe his manners and
disposition more closely than I had done. I said to
myself, I have been a dreamer. I am now awake,
and I have a purpose.
That purpose became my hobby. I rode that
hobby to the bitter end. Old men have hobbies
sometimes as well as boys. The Civil War was born
of hobbies. When a hobby becomes a success it is
then baptised and given another name.
I engaged in many pursuits through the summer,
always leaving a place or calling so soon as it afforded
me no further instruction. On Dead wood, a mining
stream with a large and prosperous camp, I found
some old acquaintances of The Forks, and finding also
a library, a debating society, and a temperance
lodge, I joined all these, took part, and on every fit
and unfit occasion began to urge my hobby. Yet I
never admitted that I had cast my fortune with the
Indians or even had been among them. This would
have been disgrace and defeat at once. I engaged
as a common laborer, shovelling dirt and running
a wheelbarrow with broad-backed Irishmen and
tough Missourians, in order to get acquainted with
the men who clustered about the library. The
MY NEW REP UBLIC. 303
books — 300 in number — were kept at the cabins of
the men who employed me. Of course I could not
stand the work long, but I accomplished my object.
I got acquainted with the most intelligent men of
the camp, and so enlarged my life.
I remained a month. I read Byron and Plutarch's
Lives over and over again. They were the only
books I cared at all to read, and they were the very
books that I in that state of mind should not have
read. I pictured myself the hero of all I read.
Instead of being awakened, I was only dreaming a
greater dream.
I returned to Soda Springs ranch, and Mountain
Joe went with me to the Indian camp, but I never
took him into my confidence. Not but he was a
brave, true man, but that he was unfortunately
sometimes given to getting drunk, and besides that,
he was the last man to sympathize with the Indian
or any plan that looked to his improvement. I laid
in my supplies, and proposed to spend my winter
with the Indians. I loved Mountain Joe fondly ; and
in spite of his prophecies that he would see me no
more, returned to the camp on the Upper McCloud.
As feed for stock was scarce on the ranch, I with
my Indians took the horses on the McCloud to winter.
My camp was about seventy-five miles from the
Pit River settlements, and about thirty miles from
Soda Springs. These were the nearest white habita-
tions. I was partly between the two.
304 MY NEW EEP VBL1C.
About mid-winter the chief led his men up to-
wards the higher spurs of the mountain for a great
hunt. After some days on the head- waters of the
McCloud, at some hot springs in the heart of a deep
forest and dense undergrowth, we came upon an
immense herd of elk. The snow was from five to
ten feet deep. We had snow shoes, and as the elk
were helpless, after driving them from the thin
snow and trails about the springs into the deep
snow, the Indians shot them down as they wallowed
along, by hundreds.
Camp was now removed to this place, with the
exception of a few who preferred to remain below,
and feasting and dancing became the order of the
winter.
Soon Klamat and a few other young and spirited
Indians said they were going to visit some other
camp that lay a day or two to the east, and dis-
appeared.
In about a month they returned. After the usual
Indian silence, they told a tale which literally froze
my blood. It made me ill.
The Indians had got into difficulty with the white
men of Pit Kiver valley about their women, and
killed all but two of the settlers. These two they
said had escaped to the woods, and were trying to
get back through the snow to Yreka. The number
of the settlers I do not remember, but they did not
exceed twenty, and perhaps not more than ten.
MY NEW REP UBLIC. 305
There were no women or children in the valley at
the time of the massacre ; only the men in charge of
great herds of stock
This meant a great deal to me. I began to reflect
on what it would lead to. The affair, no matter who
was to blame, would be called another dreadful
massacre by the bloodthirsty savages ; of this I was
certain. Possibly it was a massacre, but the Indian
account of it shows them to have been as perfectly
justified as ever one human being can be for taking
the life of another.
I have been from that day to this charged with
having led the Indians in this massacre. I deny
nothing ; I simply tell what I know and all I know of
this matter as briefly as possible, and let it pass.
The massacre, as it is called, occurred in the first
month of the year 1867. The whites were besieged
by the Indians in a strong wooden house, a perfect
fortress. The Indians asked them to surrender,
offering to conduct them safely to the settlements.
They felt secure, and laughed at the proposition. A
long fight followed, in which many Indians fell. At
last the Indians carried great heaps of hay to the
walls, fired them, and the whites perished.
CHAPTER XXIII
DOWN IX THE VALLEY OF DEATH.
SPOKE to the chief about the affair ; I told
him it meant a bloody war ; that the Indians
of the valleys, wherever the Americans conld
reach, would be overthrown, and asked him what he
would do.
He thought over the matter a day or two, then
said he should keep his men together and out of the
way as far as he could, and then, if attacked, would
defend himself ; that the Pit River Indians were not
his Indians, that they had a chief of their own, and
lived quite another life from his, and he could not be
held responsible for their acts.
He urged, however, that they were right, said
they had his sympathy, and that to assist them in
the coming war would be the best and speediest way
to establish the union of the three tribes, and get a
recognition of rights from the Government of the
United States.
I knew very well, however, that it would not do
306
DO WN IN TEE VALLEY OF DEATH. 307
to go to war in a bad cause or what would be called
a bad cause ; that that would ruin all concerned, and
establish nothing.
From the first I had tried to get Klamat to go
with me to the scene of the massacre. He refused,
and the Indians put up their hands in horror at the
recklessness of the proposition.
Somehow, the picture of these two men struggling
through the snow, pursued, wretched, lost, half-
famished, kept constantly before me. If they were
making way to Yreka, I could cut across the spurs
of Mount Shasta and intercept them. My camp was
not thirty miles from the road leading to that city
from Pit River. I resolved to go at least that far
and see what could be discovered, and what I could
do to assist them.
With this view I got two young strong Indians,
and set out early on the hard snow, carrying snow-
shoes and a little bag of ground elk meat and grass
seed.
Before night, I came upon and followed the road
by the high blaze on the pines for some distance,
and toward the valley, but found no trace of the
fugitives. I camped under a broad, low-boughed fir
tree that stood almost a perfect pyramid of snow,
over a dry grassy plat down about the trunk and
roots of the tree.
Early in the morning we went on a few paces to
308 DOWN IN TEE
the summit overlooking the valley. The sun was
rising in our faces. The air was so rich and pure
we seemed to feed upon it. The valley seemed to
lay almost at our feet. This mountain air, in fact,
all the atmosphere of the Far West, is delusive to a
stranger, but this of the Sierras, and at that particu-
lar time, was peculiarly so. A tall, slanting, swaying
column seemed to rise before us not five miles away.
It was the smoke of an Indian camp, at least twenty-
five miles distant.
We were full of fire, youth, and strength. We
had been resting long in camp, and now wanted to
throw oif our lethargy.
" Let us go down," I said in a spirit of banter, yet
really wishing to descend.
" Go !" cried the Indians in chorus. " To-ka-do ;
we will follow." And I slid down the mountain
on my snow-shoes, laughing like a school-boy at play.
This was a turning-point in my life, taken without
the least reflection or one moment's thought. Energy
makes leaders, but it takes more than energy to make
a successful leader.
Before night we sat down on a little hill overlook-
ing the camp not a mile away.
I had no plan. It was while sitting here waiting
for darkness before venturing further, that one of
the Indians asked me what I proposed to do. I did
not know myself, but told him we would take a look
Y ALLEY OF DEATH. 309
at the camp so soon as it got dark and then go
home.
We looked at the camp, more than a thousand
strong. Indians keep no guard at night. They
surrender themselves to the great, sad mother,
night, with a superstitious trust, and refuse to take
precaution till dawn.
I knew every foot of the ground. It was five
miles to the Ferry, where had been the strongest house
of the whites; and where they had taken shelter
when the Indians had rose against them. I wished
to go there and see first how things stood, now that I
was so near. We pushed down the valley and left
the Indians singing and dancing over their achieve-
ments. They did not dream that there was a white
man within a hundred miles.
The houses were all burned. The ferry-boat was
still chained to the bank, and in the boat lay a naked
corpse with the head severed from the body.
We sat down in the boat, ate the last of our scant
provisions and prepared to return. The excitement
now being over, with the seventy-five miles of
wilderness before us, I began to feel uneasy. We
were in the " Valley of Death." Desolation was
around us. Half-burnt houses were passed here and
there, and now and then in the grey dawn we could
see the smoke of Indian camps in the edge of the
wood and along the river-banks.
We made a detour to avoid the large camp at the
310 DOWN IN TEE
entrance of the valley and toiled up the mountain in
silence.
Before noon we struck the route by which we
entered, and on the edge of Bear Valley came sud-
denly upon two squaws who were on their way there
to dig klara. This is the root of the mountain lily.
It is a large white substance like a potato, with
grains gf owing on the outside like Indian corn. The
squaws dropped their baskets and hid their faces in
their hands in sign of submission. They had not
discovered us until too close to attempt escape. We
greedily devoured their few roots, took them with us,
and hastened on.
In the afternoon, when nearing the summit, one of
the squaws dashed down the hillside through the
thicket. We called to her to stop but she only ran
the faster. We then told the other she could go
also, and she bounded away like a deer. Our only
object in keeping them with us was to prevent them
giving the alarm, but since one could do this as well
as two we had no occasion to keep the other.
We knew that under the excitement of fear they
would soon reach camp, and, perhaps, induce pursuit,
and therefore we redoubled our pace.
We travelled all night, but about dawn I broke
down utterly and could stagger on not a step
further.
The Indians tore off a dead cedar bark, formed it
into a sort of canoe, and fastening withes to one
VALLEY OF DEATH. 311
end, placed me in it and drew me over the snow.
I ought to have recovered some strength but did
not. I could not stand alone. After dark they
built up a big fire in a close thicket, left me alone,
and pushed on to camp.
Early in the morning other Indians came with
provisions, and now being able to walk after a break-
fast on elk and deer meat, we soon reached camp.
After but one day and two nights' rest I proceeded
over the mountain on snow shoes to Soda Springs, and
gave the details, so far as I knew, of the destruction
of the settlement in Pit River valley.
Mountain Joe advised that I should go at once to
Yreka with the news. I mounted a strong nimble
mule and set out.
On my way I met Sam Lockhart. This Lockhart
was a leading man of the country and largely in-
terested in Pit River valley, where he had a great
deal of stock, which was in charge of his brother,
who fell in the massacre. My sad news was not
news to Lockhart. The two men before spoken of
had made their way through the mountain to Yreka,
and the whole country was already in arms.
Lockhart was on his way to Red Bluffs, two
hundred miles distant, for the purpose of raising a
company there, to attack the Indians from that side,
while the company already started from Yreka should
descend upon them from the other. There was but
little military force in the country, but the miners
312 DO WN IN THE VALLEY OF DEATH.
and men generally in those days were prompt and
ready to become soldiers at almost a minute's notice.
But in desperate cases, as in this, men not directly
interested were prepared to arm and equip a substitute
such as they could pick up about the camp. Lock-
hart returned to Yreka with me.
We arrived in town late in the evening and I was
taken at once to the law-office of Judge Roseborough.
Some other lawyers were called in ; I was ordered,
not asked, to take a seat, and then began a series of
questions and cross-questions from scowling and
savage men that quite alarmed me. But I was un-
suspicious, and answered naturally and promptly all
that was asked.
I was very weary. I could hardly keep awake,
and asked to be allowed to retire.
"You must not leave this room," said Lockhart
savagely. The truth came upon me like a revela-
tion. I was a prisoner. Lockhart, who was half
drunk, now began to talk very loud, swore furi-
ously, and wanted to murder me on the spot. I hid
my face in my hands.
This, then, was the reward for my dangerous
descent into the Valley of Death ! This, then, was
to be my compensation for all I had dared and
endured !
I could not answer another question. All this is
painful to remember and difficult to write.
CHAPTER XXIV.
A PRISONER.
OME of the lawyers went away. A bed
was improvised for me on the floor, and I
^? believe Lockhart, or at least some one, kept
watch over me during the night.
Judge Roseborough, who is now the chief Judge
of the northern district of California, with his home
still at Yreka, has seen fit to give to the world
through some insinuating reporter an account of my
singular capture, imprisonment, and this Star Chamber
proceeding, and I believe claims some merit for hav-
ing saved my life.
No doubt he did save my life. But somehow, I
cannot feel any great gratitude toward him for that,
under the circumstances. At the best he only pre-
vented a foul and cowardly murder. He might have
done much more. He mi^ht have said some kind
words, spoken some earnest advice, and given some
direction to my unsettled and uncertain life. I was
dying, morally ; I was starving to death for counsel
313
314: A PRISONER.
and kind words after what had just been said and
done. My heart was filling full of bitterness. But
perhaps he did not understand me.
Lockhart was in better temper the next morning.
He told me, which no doubt was the truth, that the
whole town and settlements were in a blaze of
excitement about the massacre, and that I was
liable to be shot by almost any one, unless I by a
prudent course of conduct put down the suspicions
against me.
I asked to be allowed to return to Soda Springs,
but he insisted that the only safe thing for me to do
was to join the expedition already on the way
against the Indians. I saw that he was deter-
mined I should do this, and consented. He gave me
a letter — a very friendly letter — to Joseph Rogers, a
son of one of the men who had been murdered in
Pit River Valley, and then with the expedition. It
was an open and very complimentary letter. But
other letters were sent in the hands of the two men
who were sent with me.
These were men, I was told, belonging to the
expedition, who had not yet left town, and would
be glad to show me the way to the camp ; but the
truth was, I was still a prisoner, and these men were
my keepers.
Very soon and very early we rode out of town
against the rising sun, past the grave-yard and past
the gallows toward Mount Shasta.
A PRISONER. 315
My heart was full of bitterness and revenge. As
we crossed the crest of the little brown hill that
looks above the town, I half turned in my saddle
and shook a thin and nervous hand against its cold
and cruel inhabitants.
I never entered that town again, save as an
enemy, for more than a decade.
At dusk we came upon the camp of the expedi-
tion, noisy and boisterous, half buried in the snow.
This was the rudest set of men I ever saw
gathered together for any purpose whatever. There
were, perhaps, a dozen good men, as good as there
were in the land ; but the rank and file were made up
of thieves, bar-room loafers, gutter snipes, and men
of desperate character and fortunes. They growled
and grumbled and fought half the time.
We travelled by night, drawing the supplies on
slides, in order to get the horses over the snow when
it was hard and frozen. I had told them the story
of my dangerous descent into the valley, but was
not believed by half the company. They could not
understand what upon earth a man could mean by
such a hazard. They were practical fellows. They
put everything on the popular conceived basis of the
age. They could not see what interest I had in
going there, could not see " what I could make by
it." They did not see where I could make it
"pay."
316 A PRISONER.
One day I woke up to a strange sensation. More
than once I had heard some talk about " a man
living with the Indians." This man they talked of,
and of whom they seemed to have but a rough idea,
was to be captured, skinned alive, roasted, scalped,
and, in fact, to undergo all the refined tortures
known to the border.
It crossed my mind suddenly, like a flash, that I
was that man.
I saw at the time, however, that there was not
the slightest suspicion that the pale, slim boy before
them was " the man who lived with the Indians."
Through half -friendly savages and other means
it had gone abroad among the settlers that there
was a white man living with the Indians. Nothing
could induce these men to believe that a man could
live with the Indians for any other purpose than to
take part with them in their wars, and to plunder the
whites. And, as a rule, so far as I know, those who
have cast their fortunes in with the Indians have
been outlaws, men who could not live longer with
their kind.
But these fellows expected to find the renegade a
strong-limbed, bearded, desperate man. Perhaps
had any one told them there and then that I was
that man they would have laughed in his face.
My first impulse was to run away. Had it then
been night I certainly should have fled. All day I
A PRISONER. 317
watched my chance to escape, but no chance came.
That night I had no opportunity without great hazard,
and soon I began to think better of my projected
flight through the snow.
Still cherishing the plan of my little Republic or
independent Reservation, I saw that the Shasta In-
dians and their friends must show no sympathy with
the Indians charged with the massacre, and deter-
mined to remain a little longer. Besides, I then liked
the excitement of war, and the real men of the com-
pany were coming to be my friends.
The captain of the company was Gideon S. Whitey,
a brave, resolute, and honourable man. He after-
wards married a Modoc, or Pit River squaw, and
now lives with her and his large family of children
at CarJon City, Oregon.
At last we entered the valley. I had travelled
nearly live hundred miles in the snow since leaving
it ; forming a triangle in my route, with Mount
Shasta in the centre.
We soon were at work. Tragic and sanguinary
scenes occurred. I cannot enter into detail, it would
fill a volume.
It would also fill many pages to explain how by
degrees I came to enter into the spirit of the war
against my allies. Nor is there any real excuse for
my conduct. I was wrong, but not wholly wrong.
The surroundings and all the circumstances of the
318 A PRISONER.
time contributed to lead me to take a most active
part. I could not then as now rise above the situa-
tion and survey the whole scene. From a prisoner
I became a leader.
Two decisive battles, or rather massacres, took
place, and perhaps a thousand Indians perished.
The white men fought as well out of camp as they did
in camp, and that is saying a vast deal for their valour
indeed.
However, I have not that high opinion of physical
courage in which it is too generally held. My obser-
vation proves to me that the very worst possible
man in the world may also be the very bravest man,
for a day at least, that lives. I have seen too much
to be mistaken in this. I have seen a row of men
standing up on whisky barrels under a tree, with
ropes around their necks, ready to die at the hands
of the unflinching vigilantes. They sang a filthy
song in chorus, howled and cursed, and then danced
a breakdown till the kegs were kicked from under
them. The world sets too high a mark on brute,
bull-dog courage.
After a time Lockhart came up with his command
from Eed Bluffs, and desiring the control of the
whole force, a difficulty arose and Whitey resigned.
Another man was chosen as nominal leader, but the
plain truth is, before we had been in the valley a
month I gave direction, and had in fact charge of
A PRISONER. 319
the expedition. Most of these men are dead now,
but scattered around somewhere on earth a few may-
be found, and they will tell you that by my energy,
recklessness, and knowledge of the country and
Indian customs, I, and I only, made the bloody expe-
dition a success. I tell this in sorrow. It is a thou-
sand times more to my shame than honour, and I
shall never cease to regret it.
Before leaving the valley, we surprised a camp by
stealing upon it at night and lying in wait till
dawn.
It was a bloody affair for the Indians. Hundreds
lay heaped together about the lodges, where they
fell by rifle, pistol, and knife.
The white butchers scalped the dead every one.
One of the ruffians, known as Dutch Frank, cut
off their ears and strung them about his horse's
neck.
After drawing off the force some of the men lin-
gered behind and shot and plundered the medicine-
man, or priest. This priest is a non-combatant, is
never armed, and comes upon the field only after the
fight to chant for the dead. This one was dressed in
a costly robe of sables, with a cap made of skins of
the white fox. The rear of our force, on return to
camp, showed a man dressed in this singular garb
still wet with blood.
I was glad when we broke camp to return. We
320 A PRISONER.
had found the valley without a white man ; we left it
with scarcely an Indian.
I had had a hard time of it. I had endured insults
from the roughs of the party rather than enter into
their battles, which were generally fought out with
the fist. It had in fact become intolerable. One
morning I gently cocked my pistol, and asked the
ruffian who had taken more than one occasion to
insult me to step out. He declined to do this, said
he was not my equal in the use of arms, but that
some lucky day he would get even. He waited his
time.
The snow had disappeared as we returned ; spring
was upon us, and the journey was wild, picturesque
and not unpleasant. Nearly every man carried a
little captive Indian before him on his horse ; most of
them had Indian scalps clinging to their belts, and,
dressed in furs and buckskins, cut in fantastic shapes
for Indian wear, they were a strange and motley sight
to look upon as they moved in single file through
the deep, dark forests.
At the camp, after crossing the summit, with the
McCloud and my Indian camp to the left, and Yreka
in front, I determined to leave the command and seek
my tawny friends at the base of Shasta.
I fancied I had made friends, and expected to have
honourable mention from those who returned to the
city. I do not know whether this was the case or
A PRISONER. 321
not. Newspapers never reach an Indian camp,
and I never entered Yreka again, save as an enemy,
for more than a decade thereafter.
Sam Lockhart I never saw again. He was a brave
man, prejudiced and reckless, but, I think, a good
man at heart. He was killed in one of the hand-to-
hand battles over the mines of Owyhee.
I made a little speech to the party, shook hands
with about half of them, mounted my mule, and
rode away alone in one direction, while they took
another.
After about an hour's ride I heard some one
calling after me. I turned round; they called
again, and I rode back. On nearing a thicket, a
double-barrelled shot gun loaded with pistol balls
was fired across my breast.
The assassin nearly missed his mark. Only my
right arm was shot through and disabled by a pistol
ball, and the mule was hit slightly in the neck. I
did not see any one. The mule wheeled and dashed
through the bushes on the back track at a furious
speed.
How dreadful I felt. To think that this was done
by one or more of the roughs, who had followed me,
after having been ni) T companions in war!
Two of these men had sneeringly cautioned me to
look out for Indians that morning as I was preparing
to leave. They had taken this course to murder me,
322 A PRISONER.
and lay it on the Indians, as is often done on the
border.
My bitterness knew no bounds. I conld not
return and overtake the company, wounded as I was.
I rode on rapidly, bleeding and faint.
I laid the matter on the whole company. I some-
times felt that a good number must have consented
to this, if they had not advised it. Then I came to
the conclusion that they had determined from the
first who I was, and that I should die; but after
finding how useful I was, deferred my attempted
execution till the campaign was over. I long nursed
that thought, and am even now not certain that it
was incorrect.
I reached the Now-aw-wa valley, now known, I
believe, by the vulgar name of il Squaw valley," and
found it still as a tomb. Mountain Joe and I had
built some cabins here and sheds for the stock ; but
no stock, no Indians were in sight. At last, sick
from the loss of blood, I found a camp up on a hill-
side, and there dismounted. The Indians were
silent and sullen. A woman came at last to bring
me water, and then saw my wound. That moved
their pity. I told them the white men had done it,
and that made them more than half my friends again.
CHAPTER XXV.
A NEW DEPASTURE.
Now saw that I had made a grave mistake.
Indians are clannish. They may fight among
each other like the other people of the earth ;
but let them be attacked by the common enemy, and
they make common cause. I had fought against their
brothers, and I was not to be at once forgiven for that.
On the other hand, I had sympathized with the Indians.
That also was a mortal crime, an unpardonable
offence, in the eyes of the whites.
Those of the Northern States who will remember
the feeling that once was held in the Southern States
against those who sympathized with and assisted the
Blacks will understand something of the feeling in
the West against those who took part with the
Indians.
I had attempted to sit on two seats at once, and
had slid between the two. It takes a big man to sit
on two chairs at once. Any man who has the
323
324: A NEW DEPARTURE.
capacity to do such a thing, has also the good sense
not to attempt it.
The Indians came slowly back into the country ;
but some never came. They had gone to the Pit
River war. The rank grass is growing above their
ashes on the hills that look upon that winding,
shining river.
Klamat was never friendly after that. The defeat
of the Indians on all occasions, without being able to
inflict any injury in return, made him desperate, and
to see me among their enemies did not add to his
good nature. But dear little Paquita was the same.
The same gentleness in her manner, the same deep
sadness in her eyes as she tended me. I now began
to think again. I now thought, I surely am awake.
If I had been awake, I should have mounted my mule
as soon as able to ride, and left the country for
ever.
No, I said, after a long debate with myself, I will
remain. I will reconsider this whole matter. I will
gather these Indians together, get arms and ammuni-
tion, and around Mount Shasta make my home, and,
if needs be, defend it to the end. I had done all that
could be done, I thought, to convince the whites and
make them do justice to the Indians and to under-
stand me. I would try no more.
I returned the horses belonging to our ranch at
Soda Springs, gave up without any consideration all
A NEW DEPARTURE. 325
my interest in the property there, bade Mountain Joe
a final farewell, and returned, casting my lot wholly
and entirely with the Indians.
As I crossed the little stream running through the
Now-aw-wa valley, before reaching the Indian camp,
I dismounted, and on a birch tree with my bowie
knife I cut this word, " Rubicon."
I never saw Mountain Joe again. I never returned
to the ranch, for fear of involving those there in what-
ever misfortune might overtake my enterprise. Dear
old Mountain Joe ! he had as warm a heart in him as
ever beat in man, and was a kind, true friend. He
wandered away up to the mines of Idaho, and there
giving way to his old weakness for drink, became a
common hanger-on about the saloons, and at last sunk
down into a tippler's grave, after having faced death
in every form in which it confronts the man of the
border.
He had had his love affairs and adventures with
the brown children of the Sierras, and the story was
current that when he went away a little waif of
humanity was left fatherless in the forest.
There were most stringent regulations and laws
against selling the Indians of the border any ammuni-
tion for any purpose whatever. After the Pit River
war these were enforced with a twofold vigilance.
This was particularly oppressive to the Indians.
It was, in fact, saying to them, "Look here, you
326 A NEW DEPARTURE.
savages ! We have superior means for taking your
game. We will enter your forests when we choose.
We will camp there in summer by the cool waters,
and kill game at our pleasure with our superior
arms, but you must only use the bow, and keep
your distance from our camps. We will thin out
and frighten away your game, so that it will be
never so difficult for you to subsist ; but you must
not attempt to compete with us in the chase, even
in your own forests, and in sight of your own
wigwams. You shall have neither fire-arms, powder
nor shot."
The Indians felt all this bitterly. Month by
month the game grew more scarce, shy, and difficult to
take ; the fish failed to come up from the sea, through
the winding waters of the Sacramento, now made
thick with mud by the miners, and starvation stared
them in the face. They wanted, needed amunition.
They needed it to take game now, they wanted it to
defend themselves ; they were beginning to want it
to go to war. Any man who attempted to furnish
them with arms and ammunition was liable to the
severest penalties, and likely to be shot down by any
one who chose to do so, with impunity. I resolved
to undertake to furnish them with arms and ammuni-
tion.
I visited the Indians in Pit Eiver, and found that
they were determined to fight rather than be taken to
A NEW DEPARTURE. 327
the Reservation, some hundreds of miles away. I
knew this would involve them in war. I knew that
this war would drive the Shastas and the Modocs
into difficulties ; for the whites make "but little dis-
tinction between what they call tribes of wild Indians.
Every Indian camp taken acids to the laurels of the
officers of the campaigns; there is no one to tell to
the world, or report to head-quarters, the other side,
and they have it pretty much their own way in the
invasion, unless checked by cold lead, which says,
a Don't come this way, this is our ground, and we
purpose to defend it."
I saw but two paths before me. One was to
abandon the Indians, after all my plans and priva-
tions ; the other was to make up such a brief and
argument for our side of the case, when the threat-
ened time came, as would convince the authorities
that we were in earnest.
Early in the spring I left the mountains with a
few Indians, partly warriors, partly women, and,
partly children, and made my way through the woods
to the vicinity of Yreka, and there pitched camp in
open view of town.
The women and children were taken along, in
order to give to our camp the appearance of an ordi-
nary party of vagrant, half-civilized Indians, which is
always found moping about the border ; and the camp
was made in sight of the settlements, because it was
unsafe to attempt concealment.
828 A NEW DEPARTURE
Any party of Indians found hidden away in the
woods and hills too near the settlements, no matter
how peaceful and well-disposed are its members, is
at once suspected of some secret attempt to right
their wrongs, and some fine morning they wake up to
the tune of a volley of shot poured in from the four '
sides of their camp.
The plan was to buy arms and ammunition myself
in small quantities, as I could, here and there, and
now and then, without exciting suspicion ; and also to
send out the Indians to trade, and pick up as best
they could the desired supplies, until we had pro-
cured as much as we could well carry in a hasty
return to the mountains.
The enterprise was hazardous in the extreme. All
kind of caution was necessary. Ammunition was
only to be had in small quantities, and arms only at
second-hand. The stringent laws and customs com-
pelled cunning, treachery, and deceit. We used all
these. If there was any other course open, I failed,
and still fail, to see it. We were preparing means
to feed the half-starved children of the forest. We
were preparing, if necessary, to defend homes that
were older than the ancestral halls of earls or kings.
I went over to Deadwood, ten miles away, among
my acquaintances, entered into many kinds of em-
ployment at different places, and procured most of
the desired supplies. Indians carried them to the
camp by night.
A NE W DEPARTURE. 329
Soon we were ready to return. Horses were
needed. I always kept my own horse and saddle,
which was either with me or in some wood near by ;
"but an Indian seen with a horse in the valleys then
was liable to be shot down the first time he got ont
of sight of a house, and plundered. He would
hazard about as much by the attempt to purchase a
horse provided he exhibited the necessary purchase
money.
The whites whenever in an Indian country helped
themselves to game or anything else they needed
without asking anyone. These few Indians were
now in a white settlement and needed horses. It is
a poor rule that will not work both ways. The test
rule was to be applied.
Every year the whites were entering the Indians'
forests, and destroying more game than the value of
a whole herd of horses. They would only use the
choicest and fattest, and carry away only the saddle
of the venison. The Indians would deplore this
waste. They would often, compelled by hunger,
follow these sportsmen and hunters, and sullenly pick
up what was left.
They had no horses now to carry them and the
provisions and ammunition to the camp, nearly a
hundred miles away.
They were equal to the emergency. A time was
fixed for a sudden flight for the mountains with our
330 A NEW DEPARTURE.
supplies. The women and children were to come
over on the hills overlooking Deadwood, and there
remain with one warrior, doing what they could till
our return. The purpose was to keep up this com-
munication till the Indians were fully , armed and
equipped.
Whenever I felt my courage or resolution relax, I
lifted my helpless arm, recalled my life of the last
year, and then grew resolute and reckless, even to
death.
Early one evening I rode into camp. Soon there
came an Indian on a spirited and prancing horse,
looking, in his skins and long black hair, tossed about
by the action of the restless and plunging horse, like
a savage Gaul in the days of Csesar. Then came
another, and then another, till all were ready. They
had taken their horses from different parts of the
settlements, so as not to excite any suspicion of con-
cert of action ; stolen them, if you prefer the expres-
sion, and under my direction.
Belts, saddle-bags, and catenas were loaded down
with arms and ammunition. What a glorious wild
ride up the Shasta valley in the moon, full against
the grand old mountain. Here the strange, half-
savage men about me exulted, threw back the black
hair from their brows, and like giants striding in the
air stretched their necks and leaned forward with
eyes that were half aflame.
A NEW DEPARTURE. 331
We met a party of miners going in a long string
to the city. They stepped aside and stood so near
the road as we passed that I conld see their teeth as
their months opened with wonder ; but they did not
lift a hand, arid we were out of sight in an instant.
Then we met the stage. The driver set his horses
on their haunches, and heads popped out of the win-
dows ; but we were gone like a whirlwind.
We reached the wood by dawn, climbed the moun-
tain, and made our way through rain and storm to a
small camp on the head of the McCloud. The ammu-
nition was taken into a lodge, and the delighted
Indians busied themselves examining the arms. I
cautioned them not to unpack the powder till dawn,
but was too tired to do more, and lay down in
another lodge by the fire and fell asleep.
A dull crash, a dreadful sound that has no name,
and cannot be described, started me to my feet.
Bark and poles and pieces of wood came raining on
our roof ; then there was not a sound, not even a
whisper.
The poor Indians, so accustomed to arrange and
prepare their arms and such things by the camp fire,
had forgotton my caution perhaps, for somehow the
powder had, while the Indians were unpacking and
arranging it in the lodge, ignited, and they, and all
the fruits of our hard and reckless enterprise, were
blown to nothing.
332 A NEW DEPAETUBE.
The Indians of the camp and the three surviving
companions of my venture, were overcome. Their old
superstition returned. They sat down with their
backs to the dead bodies, hid their faces, and
waited till the medicine-man came from the camp on
the lake below.
About midnight the women began to wail for the
dead from the hills. What a wail, and what a night !
There is no sound so sad, so heartbroken and pitiful,
as this long and sorrowful lamentation. Sometimes
it is almost savage, it is loud, and fierce, and vehe-
ment, and your heart sinks, and you sympathize, and
you think of your own dead, and you lament with
them the common lot of man. Then your soul
widens out, and you begin to go down with them to
the shore of the dark water, to stand there, to be
with them and of them, there in the great myste-
rious shadow of death, and to feel how much we are
all alike, and how little difference there is in the
destinies, the sorrows, and the sympathies of all the
children of men.
CHAPTER XXVI.
A BLOODY MEETING.
COULD not endure to remain in camp. I
went down the river and rested there, and
thought what I now should do. I began to
recover strength and resolution. I said, if I was
right at first I am still right. I resolved to return ;
but no Indian would venture to go back again, and
I went alone. Leaving my horse on a ranch I entered
Yreka, and took the stage to Dead wood. I at once
went to the Indian camp, and told them of our loss.
They, superstitious like the others, resolved to gather
up their effects and supplies and return through the
mountains to the McCloud.
After seeing my old white friends a few hours, I
was told that Bill Hirst, the famous man-killer and
desperado, with whom I had unfortunately previously
become involved, had accused me of being with the
Indians, and also taking, or having a hand in taking,
his horse.
I cleaned and prepared my pistols for this man.
At another time I might have been disposed to
333
334: A BLOODY MEETING.
avoid this fellow. Now I wanted to meet him. It
was not particularly for what he had said or done,
but he had long been the terror of the camp ; and
with something of a spirit of chivalry and determi-
nation to revenge some wrongs of men less ready to
fight, I quietly resolved to meet this man in mortal
combat. Of course my own desperate condition
contributed to make me reckless, and tenfold more
ready to resent an insult. If I bore myself well
in the scene that followed it was owing more to that,
perhaps, than to manly valour.
As the men gathered into Deadwood camp, Hirst
among the others, I entered the main saloon and called
the boys to the bar in a long red and blue-shirted
line. We took a drink, and then, after the fashion of
the time, I drew a revolver, and declared myself chief
of the town. This is the way a man proceeded in
those days who had a wrong to avenge. If his
enemy was in camp this was his signal to "heel"
himself and come upon the ground. I passed from
one saloon to another, making this same declaration
until toward midnight. While standing with a knot
of miners at the bar of Dean's billiard saloon,
Hirst entered the far end of the establishment ; a tall,
splendid fellow, with his hat pushed far back from his
brow, flashing eyes, and a pistol in his hand.
Not a sound was heard but the resolute tread of
Hirst, as he advanced partly toward me and partly
toward the billiard table, while the men at play
A BLOODY MEETING. 335
quietly fell back and left the red and white balls
dotting the green cloth.
Those around me sidled away right and left,
and I stood alone. Hirst advanced to the table,
darting his restless, keen eyes at me every second,
and, standing against and leaning over the table, all
the time watching me like a cat, he punched the
billiard balls savagely with the muzzle of his pistol.
He then drew back from the table, tossed his head,
whistled something, and moved in my direction.
My hand was on my pistol. The hammer was
raised and my finger touched the trigger ; but Hirst,
without advancing further or saying a word, quietly
turned out at a side door, and I saw no more of him
that night.
I had done nothing, said nothing, but answering
to the rough code and etiquette of the camp, the
victory was mine; for when a man enters a room
where his antagonist is, it is his place to make the
first demonstration. This Hirst did not openly do ;
still no doubt he had done enough to satisfy his ambi-
tion for that evening, and it was evident the end was
not yet. It was also evident, brave and reckless as
he was, that he sought rather to maintain his reputa-
tion for recklessness than to meet me as he had met
so many others.
I went down the creek that night, after this event,
with my white friends, the gentlemen who kept
the library, and retired.
336 A BLOODY MEETING.
The next morning we took a walk about the
mining claim, returned, sat down in the shadow of
the cabin with a few friends who had gathered in,
and were talking over the little event of the evening
before, when Hirst and an officer came riding gaily-
down the road, followed by several other gentlemen
on horseback, who were coming down to see the
result of a second meeting.
The cabins stood on the opposite side of the
stream from the road, and ditches had to be crossed
by the horsemen to reach us. The officer and Hirst —
both splendid horsemen as well as famous pistol-
shots — leapt the ditches and came darting over ; but
the others, whoever they were, as they had an open
view from where they stood, felt that they were
quite near enough, and reined their horses.
The men I was then with, and with whom I had
spent the night, were the most peaceful, noble, and
gentlemanly fellows in the camp, and I had no wish
to make their cabins the scene of a tragedy. I
was equally unwilling to submit to Hirst in any form
or manner, and hastily shaking hands with my
friends as the men advanced up the hill, I made off
up the mountain, perhaps fifty yards in advance of
the horsemen, and on foot.
Pistols flourished in the air, the men started for-
ward almost upon me, and it looked as if I was to be
shot down and trampled under foot. The hill side
PISTOL PRACTICE.
A BLOODY MEETING. 337
was steep and rocky, and the mettlesome little
Mexican horses refused to rush upon me across the
steep and broken ground, but began to spin round
like tops, and would not advance up the hill.
Some hard, iron-clad oaths, and then shot after
shot. I turned, drew a pistol, and the battle com-
menced in earnest. The officer was unhorsed, and
lay bleeding on the ground from a frightful wound,
while Hirst, further down the hill, could only fire
random shots over the head of his restless and
plunging horse. It lasted but a few moments.
These men were both famous as pistol shots ; but
they were not, here, equal to their reputation,
and that was because they were shooting on a range
they had never yet tried. They had only practised
on the level ground or in a well-arranged gallery,
and when it came to shooting up hill they were
helpless ; and so it often happens with others. There
are other men, again, who are dead pistol shots
when allowed to draw deliberately and take aim
slowly and fire at leisure; but when compelled to
use the pistol instantly in some imminent peril, — the
only time they are ever really required to use it, —
they are slow, awkward, and embarrassed.
Let us for a moment follow the fortunes of these
two men before us : the one lying bleeding on the
ground, and the other flying down across the hill,
firing, and trying to hold his spirited horse to the
work. v
CHAPTEE XXVII.
BKADLEY AND HIKST
EADLEY tlie officer recovered so far, after
nearly a year, as to be able to get about, and
when the mines of the north were discovered,
pushed out into that country.
I was there before him. I was engaged in trans-
porting gold and letters for the miners in the
mountains to and from the settlements, and doing a
large and prosperous business.
I was in my express office in Wallawalla one
day, when one of my friends entered with some
agitation to tell me that Bradley was in town.
I reflected a moment, and then sent word that I
should like to see him at my office. He soon came
limping through the door and looking about for the
man whom he had last met face to face in such
bloody combat.
I stood behind the counter and he came forward.
I gave him my hand, while with the left I held my
little bulldog Derringer at full-cock in my pocket.
338
BRADLEY AND HIRST. 339
He took my hand hastily, spoke kindly, and when
I looked fairly in his face and saw the goodnature
and pure manhood of the man, I let go my pistol,
ashamed of my suspicion, and we went out through
the town together.
He had my ugly bullet, which had been cut from
his thigh, in his pocket, showed me the wound at his
room, and we became sworn friends.
He opened business in Florence and nourished.
Once he did me an infinite service. The country
was full of robbers, and, strange to tell, many of
these men were my acquaintances, and, in some
cases, friends.
I always rode alone with as much gold as my
horse could well carry, and that at the time was
required, in the fierce opposition we were then running
to Wells, Fargo and Co.'s Express, for I could not
afford to employ men and horses to constitute a
guard, even if I could have found men who could
endure the long, hard rides I was compelled to make.
"Dave English and his party," said Bradley, "is
going to rob you ; one of his pigeons has told me
this, and there is no doubt of its truth."
I knew English well. I wrote him a letter at
once ; told him I knew his plan in detail, that it was
known to my friends, and that he would be held
responsible. This singular man came boldly into
my office, shook hands with me, and said I should
not be touched.
340 BRADLEY AND HIRST.
English had five well-known followers: Scott,
Peoples, Romain, and two others whose names I
withhold because of their relatives, who are of most
aristocratic and respectable standing in the Atlantic
States.
I was not disturbed; but shortly after this,
English, Scott, and Peoples robbed some packers of a
large amount of gold-dust on the highway, and were
arrested.
At Lewiston the vigilantes broke into the tem-
porary prison, improvised from a big log saloon
then but partly built, overpowered the guard, and
told the prisoners to prepare to die.
They were given ten minutes to invoke their
Maker. At the end of that time, the only rope the
vigilantes had was thrown over a beam, and they
approached Scott, who was on his knees.
" No, no, 1 ' cried English, " hang me first, and let
him pray."
They left Scott, fastened the rope round the neck
of English, and mounted him on a keg.
Then English turned to Scott, and said, " Scottie,
pray for me a little, can't you ? Damned if I can
pray ! " Then he laughed a low, strange chuckle, and
they kicked away the keg.
He hung till dead, and then the noose reached for
another victim. Peoples died without a word, but
when they came to Scott, he pleaded with all his
BRADLEY AND HIRST. 341
might for his life, and offered large sums of gold,
which he said he had buried, but finding them
inexorable, he took off his necktie, strung his finger
rings on it, and saying, " Send these to my wife," died
as the others.
The other three of the band were arrested soon
after for the murder of McGruder, and died by the
civil law in the same reckless manner as their leader.
All six lie together on the hill overlooking Lewiston
and the earthworks thrown up by Lewis and Clark
in their expedition of 1802-3.
Bradley more than once winged his man ; made
and lost several fortunes in the mountains, and is
now in Arizona, one of my truest and best friends.
Hirst was a singular man. He used to say that if
he got through a week without a fight it ruined his
digestion.
I think his digestion did not suffer.
No one cared, so long as he fought with men who
" came from the shoulder," or were on the " cut and
shoot;" but he once fell upon an inoffensive man,
nearly took his life, and so left camp at the sugges-
tion of his friends(?) and drifted north.
It is but justice to this man to state that he really
had lost a horse, taken by the Indians under my
order for them to procure horses. Yet I had not
even suspected this at the time of our encounter, or
I could not have borne myself as I did.
342 BRADLEY AND HIRST
Fate, to my dismay, threw us together at Canon
City, Oregon. I led the settlers and miners in a long
and disastrous campaign against the Indians there,
and Hirst was as brave and reckless there as else-
where. Afterwards I began the practice of law,
and my first client was a boy of fifteen, on trial for
shooting with attempt to murder.
The court-house here was a saloon, and crowded
to the utmost. A vigilance committee had been
organized, and strange as it seems, Hirst was one
of the leaders.
When my case had fairly opened, Hirst entered
with a brace of pistols sticking ioosely in his belt in
front, and striding through the yielding crowd, came
up and took position only a few feet from me, over-
looking me, and looking straight into the face of
the timid magistrate. Of course I remonstrated in
vain. I faltered through the case, but managed
somehow to get the boy off with a nominal bail.
The energetic little rascal went into a neighbour-
ing camp and with another boy stole some horses.
They were followed by the sheriff, Maddock, and his
deputy, Hart, and a desperate fight took place, in
which the deputy and my client's companion were
killed and Maddock left for dead.
My client was tried for life, but his youth saved
his neck, for he was not yet sixteen. He was sen-
tenced to imprisonment for life. After five years in
BRADLEY AND HIRST, 343
the Oregon state prison he was pardoned out by the
kind-hearted Governor, now Governor of Utah.
I last year saw my first client, a fine-looking
young man, working gaily away at a country black-
smith's shop, on a roadside of the Willamette. May
good angels keep my first client to his work.
Afterwards, Hirst appeared in the criminal court
as defendant, and I was employed as counsel. His
crime was the trifling offence of snatching a curly-
headed Jew from behind his counter by his curly
hair, and then dragging him by his curly hair into
the street.
My bold client was convicted, but the judgment
was entered so awkwardly, that I had it set aside on
review, and he escaped punishment.
Soon after this he married an amiable immigrant
girl, and settled down as the most docile of men.
But this was not to last.
One day he came to town in a perfect fury,
in search of the deputy sheriff Berry, who he claimed
had offended his wife.
Berry was on the alert. About dusk the two men
suddenly met face to face on turning a corner and
the ball opened. Hirst was a very tall man, and
always did things with a sort of flourish. Although
quick as a trap whenever he drew his pistol, or raised
it to fire, he always raised it in the air and fired as
the muzzle descended.
344 BRADLEY AND HIRST.
There are two ways of firing a pistol in hand-to-
hand combat, and only two. One is to fire as you
raise, and the other is to raise and then fire as you
fall. Every advantage, it seems to me, is with the
former mode, particularly when time means every-
thing. You can cock a pistol easier, it is true, by
raising the muzzle and at the same time raising the
hammer, but if strong in the thumb you should by
all means cock as you draw, and fire the moment the
muzzle is in range. Some men in the moment of
danger go about with the pistol on cock. This is
madness. At the critical instant you find yourself
fumbling and feeling for the hammer which is already
raised; besides, you are about as liable to shoot
yourself as your enemy. There is still a worse
practice than this, and that is in carrying the pistol
in the belt on half-cock, where it is neither one thing
nor the other. On half-cock, however, is the correct
way to carry a little Derringer loose in your pocket,
but never a Colt's.
Hirst raised his pistol, flourished it, let fall and
fired, blowing Berry's hat to atoms, filling his face and
eyes with powder, and carrying away a part of his
scalp.
But he was too late. Berry cocked his revolver as
he drew it, and fired the instant he got the muzzle in
range.
Hirst was reaching across his breast with his left
BRADLEY AND HIRST. 345
hand for his bowie knife, which hung at his right
side, as Berry fired. The ball tore through the bones
of the wrist that reached across his breast and
entered the body squarely just below the breast
bone.
Both men fell, but Berry was soon able to stand on
his feet.
"Ah, boys, this is the last of old Hirst," the
wounded man said, as they bore him to the surgeon's
close at hand. He sent for his wife, gently and
kindly bade his friends good-bye, and became insen-
sible. I saw him just before midnight, and he
scarcely breathed. They said he was dying, and
preparations began to be made for the burial. I
took the right hand in mine — that terrible right hand
— so helpless now, so pale and thin and pulseless,
kissed it gently — the kiss of forgiveness — in the dimly-
lighted room, when no one observed me, and went
home.
The next morning, however, Hirst was not dead.
He lay as he lay through the night, and the sur-
geons said dissolution was only a question of time.
The camp was in suspense. Was it possible that
this man, who for ten years had been the terror of
Oregon and northern California, could still live with
a navy bullet through his body fired at two feet
distance !
Another day, and the man opened his eyes and
346 BRADLEY AND IUBST.
began to talk to his poor, patient little wife, who
never left his side.
Hard as it may seem on the camp, I am bonnd
to say it did not like this at all. The camp had
thoroughly, and very cheerfully too, made up its
mind that Hirst was a dead man, and it did not like
to be disappointed.
Three days more and the surgeons announced the
possibility of recovery. The camp was disgusted.
In less than forty days Hirst was walking about
the claim with his arm in a sling, quietly giving
directions to his labourers.
One day a man came rushing to town for the
surgeons. A little battle had been fought across the
street of a little town down the creek, and half a
dozen men were in need of help.
Women in the case again, and Hirst had led the
fight.
His antagonists were men who claimed to be on
the side of law and order. They were led by a man
named Hank Rice, one of the County Commissioners,
who afterwards testified that he fired at least fifty
shots that day in his attempt to keep the peace.
Only able to use one arm, Hirst had, with his fol-
lowers, converted the little town into a sort of minia-
ture Paris, with barricades, fire-brands, and all the
modern improvements. At last, when attempting to
cross the street and drive his enemy from shelter, he
BRADLEY AND HIRST. 347
received the contents of a double-barrelled shot-gun
full in the breast and fell. This ended the fight.
Hirst still refused to die. He was therefore
arrested on iive different and very grave charges, and
lodged in prison.
After he was able to be taken from prison to the
court room, an examination was had. I was his
advocate. Bail was allowed after some delay, but it
was fixed so high as to be almost beyond our reach.
We tried " straw " bail, but the prosecuting attorney
was too rigorous, and it was only by getting that
officer out into the country to attend a case we had
arranged for the occasion that we got our bail
accepted.
Hirst left the country that night, his brave, faith-
ful little wife soon followed, and I never met him
again. After many and similiar fortunes we find
him at Winemuca, on the line of the Pacific Railroad.
Here some one killed him, though only for a time,
by shooting him in the head with a Derringer. He
recovered, but with the loss of one his eyes and all
his ferocity, says report.
I have written of him in the past tense, because he
is said to now be a new man. He was a year or so
ago — though the shifting fortunes of the country may
have left him by this time on other ground — a man of
wealth.
In all the experience of my life spent mostly
348 BRADLEY AND HIRST.
among the most lawless and reckless, I know of
no history so remarkable as his. How he so con:
tinually escaped death will never cease to be a marvel
among the men of that country. It must be remem-
bered, however, that while he survived, perhaps a
thousand of his class perished.
Through all his stirring and bloody career, let this
be said, he was generous and open-hearted, kind to
most men, industrious, and certainly as brave as
Caesar.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
BATTLES ON THE BORDER.
NTIRELY with my left hand had I made
the %ht, for my right one was still stiff and
useless from the shot of the would-be assassin
of the Pit River expedition. My friends and others
were now running up the hill to the fallen officer,
and Hirst was only now and then sending up in my
direction a random shot as I turned my back on the
scene, and pushed up the mountain into the forest.
My Panama hat flapped and fluttered down on one
side of my face like the wing of a wounded bird. A
pistol ball had torn it to ribbons.
A bullet makes only a small hole in cloth, in buck-
skin a still smaller one ; but it tears linen savagely,
as well as straw. The hard, tough fibre of which
Panama hats are made, particularly when rendered
hard and brittle in a California sun, flies into shreds
before it.
Most people imagine you can hear any bullet whistle
that passes you. This is a mistake ; you hear only
349
350 BATTLES ON
the bullet that has first struck some object and then
glanced on, catching the air, and whizzing like a bee
at your ear, but almost quite as harmless. These you
can hear distinctly a hundred yards away, and they
sound very ugly ; but a round, unmarred pistol ball
can pass within six inches of your head and hardly be
heard. You not only do not hear the ball strike your
body, but you scarcely feel it at first, though you can
hear it strike a man at your side ; and the sound is
dead, dull, suggestive and almost sickening.
I began to think I had escaped without a scratch ;
but after climbing up the hill till quite out of reach,
and turning to look below, I raised my disabled right
arm, and found my hand and fingers streaming with
blood.
I was still strong and resolute; and, observing
some men coming slowly up the hill with a show of
pursuit, I hurried to the top of the hill, sat down
there and examined my wound. A ball had torn
across the back of the wrist and cut a vein or artery
there, but done no further damage whatever.
I was wearing a linen shirt, for I always dressed
as nearly like the white men as I could when
amongst them, and from this I tore a strip and bound
up the damaged wrist. But it still bled dreadfully,
and I sat down often, as I retreated still further into
the forest, and up and over the hills, and bound the
wound as best I could, and tightened the bandages.
TEE BORDER. 351
The weather was intensely hot, and my blood was
boiling from excitement and exertion. This made
the blood stream the more profusely, and I suffered
dreadfully from thirst.
I sat down at length on a log by the side of a
thicket of chaparral to decide, if possible, what
course to pursue, and was still tying up my wound
and trying to stop the blood, with a pistol lying at
my side, when I saw two men approaching on horse-
back.
My first impulse was to dash into the brush ; but
then I resolved to fight if must be, and run no
farther. I took my pistol in my hand, cocked it,
laid it across my lap, and sat still.
The men were strangers. They held up their
hands in sign of friendship ; but I was excited, weak,
alone, almost helpless, and hence suspicious.
" Don't be afraid, little one," one of them called
out ; " we are friends, and only want to assist you."
I still said nothing, held my pistol ready, and did
not move.
They talked together a moment, then one of them
dismounted and came toward me, holding his pistol
by the muzzle in his left hand.
"Here, take this pistol," were his first words, and
he reached it out and sat down by my side. " You
see we don't know much about you; you maybe
good or you may be bad, but we don't like to see too
352 BATTLES ON
many on one, and we are come to help you get
away."
These men proved to be miners ; prominent, peace-
ful, and influential men.
They gave me another pistol to replace the one
that had been discharged in the fight, the best one of
the two horses, and a trifle of money, and insisted
that I should return to civilization.
I told them that that was impossible ; that I could
not abandon my Indians ; besides, pursuit would run
in that direction, and more blood would follow. I
told them frankly that I should return to the Indians
in the black forests of Mount Shasta; and they let me
have my own way.
I mounted my horse, shook hands with them soon,
and almost in silence. I could not speak. I was
choking with a new emotion. Injury and insult,
oppression, persecution, mental agony, and wrongs
almost intolerable, had not roused me ; but now I
drew my battered hat down over my eyes and hid my
face. The strong men turned their backs, as if
embarrassed, looked down over the smoky camp, and
I rode away in silence.
These two noble, manly-hearted men, heroes who
never fought a battle, never had a quarrel, at last lie
buried on the hills of Idaho. May the wild spring
blossoms gather about them there ; may the partridge
whistle in the tall brown grass of autumn, plaintive
THE BOEDER. 353
and tenderly, and the snows of winter fall, soft
and beautiful, above their peaceful breasts.
I turned a spur of the mountain, through the wood,
till I came to an open space that looked down over
my Indian camp, and dismounting, made a signal,
such as is used by the Indians in war.
This is done by making a bunch of dry grass or
leaves into a little ball, lighting it and holding it
up as it smokes and burns on the point of a stick ;
if you mean danger to your friends, and wish them
to fly, you hold it up till it dies out, which takes
some minutes. If danger to yourself, and you need
assistance, you hold up the signal and let the smoke
ascend, at short intervals. If you wish some one to
approach you move it backwards. If you wish only
to signal your own approach you move it forward,
and so on through a long list of signs.
There is a great difference in the density and
colour of the smoke made by different combustibles.
You know, or at least all who read ought to know as
much as an Indian about a thing so simple as this,
that the smoke of dry straw or grass, particularly of
the wild grass of California, is so much lighter than
the atmosphere of even the rarest season, that it goes
straight up — a long, thin, white thread, surging and
veering toward heaven against the blue sky like the
tail of a Chinese kite.
Another noble fellow found me here and gave me
w
354: BATTLES ON
the hand of friendship; Frank Maddox, now a
wealthy and influential citizen of Ummatilla, Oregon,
where he has been for a succession of terms sheriff
df the county.
It takes a brave man to step out from the world
arrayed against you and stand by } 7 our side at such
a time. Such deeds, rare as they are, make you
believe in men ; they make you better.
The Indian warrior at length came, stealing through
the brush and up the mountain. I told him what had
happened, bade him return to his camp, and tell the
women to pack up and push out through the moun-
tains, with what arms and ammunition they had, for
the McCloud. The faithful fellow went back, and
before dusk returned to me with water, Indian
bread and venison, and then back again to make his
way with the women and children through the moun-
tains to our home on the other side of Shasta. I
never saw him a^ain.
In crossing the trail leading from the head of Shasta
valley to Scott's valley they fell into the hands of
some brutal rancheros who hung the Indian war-
rior, plundered the women and took some of the
children to keep as herders, cooks, and for such
other service as they might see fit to impose.
I stole down the mountain to the stage road, some
miles to the east ; and what a glorious ride ! I was
glad again, free, wild as the wind. Once more on
TEE BOEDER. 355
horse and anticipating pursuit I forgot my wound,
the care and peril. I exulted in my fierce and fearless
flight.
My horse proved to be of the noblest blood and
mettle. In less than an hour we were on the best of
terms and understood each other perfectly. I would
dismount at every steep or dangerous pass, stroke his
neck, set the saddle well in its place and talk to
him as to a friend. He in return would reach out his
nose, snuff the air loud and strong, strike the ground
with his feet, as if to tell me he was equal to it all
and was anxious to plunge ahead.
If you have a hard and desperate ride to make
get on good terms with your horse. Do not beat
him, do not spur him, but stroke his mane with your
hand, speak to him, show that you are a man and in
peril and he will take you through or die in his
tracks. All through that ride of fifty miles I lived a
splendid song. I climbed the mountains at dawn,
my horse, strong and nervous still, foaming and
plunging like a flood.
That night I reached the Indian camp. Here was
business, — blood. The women and children were
mostly high up in the mountain, almost against the
snow ; but the warriors, with a few women that re-
fused to leave them, were on the east of the McCloud,
on the outskirts of their possessions. They had been
assisting the Pit River Indians, and had invariably
356 BATTLES ON
lost, until their force, weak, even at the opening of the
spring, from starvation and disease and disaster, had
become thinned and dispirited.
A council was held that night, and the few warriors,
scared, wounded, and worn-out, talked themselves
and their friends again into heart, and preparations
were made to go still further, and assist the Pit
Rivers against the white soldiers to their uttermost.
Little Klamat, now a man, and a man of authority,
was already in the front. That fierce boy, burning
with a memory that possessed him utterly, and made
him silent, sullen, and desperate, cared not where he
fought or for whom he fought, only so that he fought
the common enemy.
Paquita was also with the Pit River Indians.
What was she doing ? Moulding bullets ! Grinding
bread? Shaping arrow-heads and stringing bows?
Maybe she was a sort of Puritan mother fighting the
British for home and hearthstone in the Revolution.
Maybe she was a Florence Nightingale nursing the
British soldiers in the Crimea. No ! the world will
not believe it. No good deed can be done by an
Indian. Why attempt to recount it ?
We went down to the camp, where Klamat, Paquita,
and about one hundred warriors, with a few women
who were nursing their wounded, were preparing for
another brush with the soldiery. Here we waited
till the Modocs came down, and the three tribes
THE BORDER. 357
joined their thinned forces, and made common cause.
In a few days we advanced, and fell in with a
company of cavalry scouring the country for prisoners
to take to the dreaded Reservation. Women gather-
ing roots for their half-starved children, children
whose parents had been slain, lost in the woods, and
wandering they knew not whither, were about all
they thus far could capture.
Shots were exchanged. The cavalry dismounted
and fought on foot. The Indians shot wildly, for
they were poorly armed ; but the soldiers shot still
more so, so that but little damage was done to either
side. Now and then a soldier would be carried to
the rear, and now and then they would charge up the
hills or across the ravines, but that was all that marked
the events of the day till almost nightfall. I was
impatient of all this. We could not reach the rear
of the soldiers, resting against the river, nor offend
the flanks.
Toward nightfall the Indians, now almost entirely
out of ammunition, withdrew, leaving the soldiers, as
usual, masters of the ground.
I had taken no active part in the skirmish. I was
there as an eager and curious witness. I wished to
see how the Indians would bear themselves in battle.
I felt that on their conduct that day depended the
fate of my plans. From first to last it was not encour-
aging. They were brave enough, and some were
358 BATTLES ON
even reckless ; but I saw that dissension, impatience,
envy, and ambition to be at the head, marked the
conduct of many of the leading men. There was
too much of the white man's nature here to make one
confident of success in a long and bitter war. I had
hoped their desperate situation had made them a
unit with but one single object. I was disappointed.
For some time I had been the nominal war-chief
of the Modocs, for since the Ben Wright massacre,
where their great chief was killed, they had had no
fit leader in battle, but policy dictated that in order
to keep down jealousies, I should not at once push
the Modocs too much to the front. The three tribes
had never fought together before for many genera-
tions, though they had often fought against each
other, and everything depended on unity and good-
will. The results of the day were discouraging
enough.
They retreated far up a canon, plunging toward
the river, and there in a great cave by a dim camp
fire refreshed themselves on a few dried roots and
venison ; then after a long smoke in silence, the chief
slowly rose and opened a council of war. Many
speeches were made, but they mostly consisted in
boasts of personal achievements. They talked them-
selves into sudden and high confidence, which I knew
any little reverse would dispel. They were assured
of success by signs, they said, and dreams, as well as
THE BORDER. 359
by the events of the day. The spirits of their fathers
had fought with them and for them.
I spoke last of all, and spoke in no encouraging
spirit, I tried to tell them first how things stood,
and how desperate and determined they must be
before the great object — a recognition of our rights —
was reached. I told them that they had not won the
fight at all ; that the soldiers stood their ground, and
now had possession of the field of battle.
An old Indian sitting back in a crevice of the rock
called out, " Ah ! what matters a few steps of ground
when there is so much V
I saw my little Republic going to pieces even
before it had been fairly launched, and slept but little
that nio;ht.
At midnight women were dispatched to the various
camps, to give glowing accounts of the action, and
also to bring provisions and whatever ammunition
and arms could be had.
That night I proposed that I should cross the
river with a few Indians, proceed to a temporary
military camp near Hat Creek, state distinctly what
the Indians desired, and try and get some recogni-
tion of their rights before they should be driven to
the wall.
They would not at first consent to imperil any of
their number in this way. The Ben Wright massacre
could not be forgotten. They seemed to think that
360 BATTLES ON
no Indian could enter a white enemy's camp and
come out alive. They wanted me to go again and
attempt once more to get a supply of arms and am-
munition. They said that from the first I had prom-
ised this, and that now it was the only thing that
would save them.
At last it was agreed that I should select four
Indians, go at first to the military camp myself with
the Indians a little in the background, so as to have
some chance for their lives in case of treachery, and
see what I could do ; failing in my negotiations I was to
proceed to Shasta city at once, and endeavour to get
arms and ammunition at all risks.
I chose two Modoc Indians and two Shastas — all
young men, "brave, resolute, and full of fire — and
prepared to set out at once on my dangerous mission
of peace.
The Indians had captured two stage-coaches carry-
ing treasure and the United States mails, besides a
small train with general supplies and a sum of
gold and silver for the payment of soldiers, and had
an abundance of money. They cared nothing for it,
however. I have seen children laying little mosaic
plots in the sand with silver and gold coins, which
they valued only for their brightness and colour.
But this now to me was of use. I took my
men, with a good supply of money, crossed the
river, pushed on through the woods to the stage-
THE BORDER. 361
road, and there, after some delay, bought the best
horses to be had, of several Mexican vaqueros
making their way from Yreka to Red Bluffs. I
also secured their sympathy and their friendship by
liberal and generous dealing, and assurance of safety
through the country.
These Mexicans, packers and vaqueros, ever since
the war with Mexico and the conquest of California
by the United States, have with reason held only
ill-will toward the Americans. Speaking another
tongue, adhering to another form of religion, the
mass of white men have never yet come to forget
the battle-fields of a quarter of a century ago.
I always found that I could approach these Mexi-
can rovers, and obtain almost any favour I asked,
most especially if it pointed to assistance of the
Indians, and disadvantage to the whites.
We rode down to the military camp, and found the
small force with the officers on parade. The Indians
rode a few yards in the rear as I approached the
officer of the day, dismounted and held my hat in
one hand and lariat in the other. The officers ex-
changed glances, and I grew nervous.
CHAPTER XXIX.
MY MISSION OF PEACE.
HE Indians stood behind, the two officers
came towards me together, and I told them
hurriedly that the Indians wanted peace if
they could be left alone about the base of Shasta, and
that I had come from them to say this.
My Indians, seeing me stand quietly and let the
officers approach, had dismounted, and stood watching
every movement, lariats in hand.
I began again excitedly, but the officer forgetting
himself, called out sharply to his corporal, and then
said to me,
" What ! are you the "
I sprang into my saddle in an instant.
" Tokadu ! Kisa ! " I called to the Indians, and they
laid their hands on their Mexican horses' manes, and
sprang to their backs even as they ran, for these
horses sniff danger as quick as an Indian.
A volley of shots followed us and scattered bits of
bark across our faces from the pines as we disap-
362
DISCUSSING PEACE MEASURES.
M Y MISSION OF PEA CK 363
peared in the forest, but did no further harm. My
mission of peace was at an end. Bitterly indeed I
deplored its blunt and rough conclusion. I had
always hated war and despised warriors. Warriors
are coarse-natured men trained to destroy what
refined and gentle men build up.
Men fight for freedom of body. There is no such
thing. For six thousand years men have struggled
for a mistake. There is a freedom of mind, and a
man can have that just as much in a monarchy as in
a land even beyond the pale of law. A shoemaker
or mender of nets may be as free of mind as a
monarch. Give us freedom of mind, or rather let
each man emancipate his mind, and all the rest will
follow. It is not in the power of kings to enslave
the mind, or of presidents to emancipate it. Free
the mind and the body will free itself.
Poets, painters, historians, and artists generally,
are responsible for the wars they deprecate, the
devastation they deplore. Let the poet cease to
celebrate men's achievements in battle, men, nine
cases out of ten, who have not even the virtues of a
bull-dog, men in debt, desperate, who have nothing
to lose in the desolation they spread, and everything
to gain, and wars will cease at once. Ridicule the
warrior as we do the bully of the prize ring, as he
deserves to be, and the pen will no longer be the
servant of the sword.
364 MY MISSION
So long as the world goes on admiring these deeds
of ruffianism, so long will wars continue. Let the
historian enter into the heart, the private life of his
hero ; let him refuse to be dazzled by the dome of
the temple, but enter in and see for himself, and let
him give the world the cold, clean truth, the whole
truth and nothing but the truth, as he is in duty
and in honour bound, and we will find the hero of
war is much the more a brute and much the less a
man than the bully of the prize ring. The bully
harms no one but his single antagonist ; no cities are
burned, no fields laid waste, no orphans made ; and
he risks much and makes but little, at the best. The
warrior risks but little, for the chances of being hit
are remote indeed. Any soldier who receives half
the punishment the man of the ring must receive is
sure of promotion and laudation to the skies. Say
what you will, your soldier is a ruffian. The greater
the ruffian the better the soldier.
Should a man not fight to defend his country?
Should he not go around trained and equipped for
battle, and make a machine of himself in a military
system, take all the time he should devote to some
natural and pure pursuit, and devote it to the art of
destroying cities and slaying men ? No, there is not
the slightest use or excuse for the soldier. Let all
warriors remain at home and there will be no wars.
Let bullies be treated as they deserve and there will
be no warriors.
OF PEACE. 365
If a set of men enter my fields in violation of my
rights, injure my property and take away my corn,
shall I not shoot them down ? Shall I not arm my
household, and proceed to their fields and destroy
also ? No, you answer, there is a law in the land to
protect you, a higher authority to appeal to.
Well, I say to the nations, there is a God in the
land. A higher authority. Appeal to Him.
But, you answer, there is no God : or what is
much the same thing, you refuse to trust, to believe
that nothing can wrong you so long as you do no
wrong. Very well, even admit there is no God, and
you will find there is a moral idea of right in the
world to-day that will not let one nation long
oppress another.
Beasts have gone back to the jungles. Theseus
may sleep and Hercules put aside his club and
surrender to love. Man is no more in danger from
them.
Savage men have passed away. They come not
down from the north nor np from the south ; and
even if they did, I believe they could be won to us
by kindness and an appeal to their sense of right.
But should that not be possible, I know their favour
could be bought with a hundredth part of the time
and money that is spent in a single war.
The loss of life in war is not much — it is the least
of all things to be thought of. Men who fall in
366 MY MISSION
"battle have mostly seen enough of life. Many have
passed its, prime, all have seen its spring, and they
do not, on an average, lose more than ten or a dozen
years.
It is the bad moral effect. Towns grow up again ;
ships rebuild, and nations somehow drag through,
and are going on in a little time the same as before.
But only think how much time, how much talk, how
much that is cruel must come out of the memory of
a single war so long as any one lives to remember it.
If in the great conflagration every book from Gen-
esis to the New Testament had been utterly swept
away, the world had been another world. The poets,
the painters, the historians, have this in their own
hands. " Peace hath her victories no less renowned
than war." If I were a great poet, rather than cele-
brate the deeds of battle, I would starve.
I now threw all my energy into the effort to keep
faith with the Indians in the mountains.
I reached the Sacramento river and crossed at the
ferry near Rock creek. I hid the Indians' camp
in the willows near the mouth of that stream, and a
few miles from Shasta city, while I took lodgings
at a wayside hotel hard by, and began at once to pur-
chase arms and ammunition, which I carried by night
to the Indian camp in the willows.
I soon had a good supply, and was only waiting a
fine moonlight night to push out, when it became
OF PEACE. 367
evident one evening at my hotel that my movements
were watched.
I ordered my horse, left him standing at the rack,
and went at the back of the house up the hill, and
from a point whence I could not be seen from the
hotel, signalled for one of my Indians. He came,
and I hastily gave this order: "Pack up at once,
three of you, swim your horses, cross the supplies
in the Indian canoe, and push out for home up the
Pit. One of you will come with me, for we must ride
to Shasta city for pistols there, and will then overtake
you before dawn."
The Indian and I rode leisurely to Shasta city,
waiting for darkness. As I neared town I saw two
men cross a ridge behind us, halt, and then, when they
thought they were unobserved, push hard after us.
I left the Indian on the hill north of town by
the graveyard, and went down to the gunsmith's,
where I had some half-dozen revolvers being repaired.
I hitched my horse at the rack and went in. The
two men rode into town, rode past my horse, eyeing
him closely sideways from under their cavalry hats,
and I then knew that I had been followed from the
mountains, and had something more now than the
settlers to deal with. In a few minutes I saw these
men watching me from the door of the shop across
the narrow street.
It was now nearly dark but I asked the gunsmith to
368 MY MISSION
let me take a brace of the pistols, and go out the back
way and lire them into the hill. I buckled the pistols
about me over my others, he opened the door, I paid
him liberally, and went out, promising soon to return.
I did not discharge a shot, but hurried down a
back alley to a barber's shop and had my long and
luxuriant hair cut close to the scalp. I then bought
a black suit of clothes and new hat at an adjoining
Jew's shop, dressed in a back room, ordering the Jew
to keep my cast-off clothes carefully till I returned,
and then went boldly into the street. My own
brother would not have known me.
I walked leisurely along, looking carefully at the
hundreds of horses hitched at the racks. At length
I found one that looked equal to a long and reckless
ride, unhitched him, mounted and rode up past my
own horse and out of town unchallenged, to my patient
Indian on the hill by the graveyard.
We divided the pistols and struck out up the stage
road for the bridge on the Sacramento. We reached
the end of the bridge in safety, and I hastily handed
the keeper his toll. He took the piece of silver, pro-
nounced it a bad coin, returned it and demanded
another; all the time talking and causing delay. I
now handed him a piece of gold, and he professed to
be unable to give change. Delay was what he desired.
We left him and galloped across the bridge. We
did not see the bar at ihe further end, and while the
OF PEACE. 3G9
Indian's horse by some good fortune cleared it, mine
struck it with all his force and fell over it, throwing
me over his head, and bruising me fearfully. I got
on his back again, but was bleeding from my mouth
from internal injuries, and could scarcely keep my
seat. 1 had lost one of my pistols in the fall. There
was now a sound of horses' feet in the rear, men
calling in the dark, and horsemen thundering across
the bridge. At this point some men came riding
down the narrow road, with its precipitous bluff on
one side and perpendicular wall on the other, and
called out to us to stop.
"We set spurs to our horses, and dashed up the hill
right into their faces. They did not fire a shot as we
approached, but halted, let us pass, and then, as if
recovering their senses, sent several random shots
after us. An innocent good-night.
I had my pistol in my hand ; and as I could hear
but imperfectly, and was otherwise suffering fear-
fully, I hardly knew what I was doing. I fancied I
heard our pursuers upon us, and attempting to wheel
and fire, I accidentally discharged my pistol into the
shoulder of my own horse as we turned the top of
the hill.
The poor beast could only spin around on three
legs now, and as we could not get him to follow the
road farther, the Indian led him off to a thicket of
chaparral, left him, and we hastened on.
370 MY MISSION
I now rode the remaining horse, and the Indian
ran along the dusty walk at my side. We reached
a little mining camp called Churn Town, — a camp
which 1 had visited often before, — and there finding
a number of horses tied to a rack, we determined to
procure another, since it would be impossible to over-
take our companions half mounted as we were.
The Indian took some money, and went through
the town,, in hope of meeting some Mexican
with whom he could deal, and I went down to the
saloon to see what I could do in the same direc-
tion. I found a large number of miners and settlers
engaged in a political meeting. A popular lawyer
was making a great speech on Popular Sovereignty.
I stood in the doorway a little while, noting the
strange proceedings of the strange men in the strange
land, till I saw my Indian leading a horse trium-
phantly out of town, then turned, mounted the other
horse, and followed at a good pace. I continued to
suffer and grow weak. It was evident I could not
keep my saddle for the long hard ride, now necessary
from our delay, to overtake our friends. It was now
absolutely necessary that we, or at least one of us,
should overtake the Indians in charge of the supplies
before dawn, for we knew they would refuse to go
forward till they saw that we too were safe.
It was finally decided that when we struck the
stage road I should attempt to make the Indian
OF PEACE. 371
camp at the foot of the high backbone mountains of
the McCloud, about twenty-five miles distant, and
there remain till recovered, while the Indian pushed
on. When we came to separate, the kind-hearted
Indian gave me the fresher and stronger horse,
mounted his own tired and bruised mustang, and
rode away in the dark and dust at a gallop.
What a night I had of it ! It grew chill towards
morning, and I could not straighten myself in my
saddle. Night birds screamed wickedly in my ears,
and it seemed to me that I had almost finished my
last desperate ride in the mountains.
At dawn, after slowly threading a narrow bushy
trail, around mountains and over gorges, I came
down to the deep and dark blue river.
An Indian set me across in a wretched old boat,
and I took my course across the mountains for the
McCloud. There were some few miners here, and
sometimes I would meet half-tame Indians, and then
half-wild white men.
At dusk I dismounted at the Indian camp, more
dead than alive, and turned the horse out on the
luxuriant grass of the narrow valley. I had no occa-
sion to keep him now for here the trail ended, and I
could use him no further.
I did not like the look of things here altogether.
The Indians mixed too much with the whites. They
were neither one thing nor the other. I was com-
372 MY MISSION
pelled to spend the night here, however, but deter-
mined to go on over the high mountain the following
day, on foot, to Hubet Klabul, or " Place of Yellow
Jackets," where I knew more noble Indians than
these would receive me.
I rose in great pain next morning, and went down
to the brook to bathe my head. While leaning over
the water, my pistol slid from the scabbard into the
stream, and was made useless till it could be taken
to pieces and cleaned. I went back, laid down, and
was waiting for an Indian woman to prepare me
some breakfast, when I saw two suspicious-looking,
half-tame Indians coming down the hill ; then three
suspicious-looking white men, with the muzzles
of their rifles levelled at my head, and I was a
prisoner.
My faithful Indian companion of the night before
had almost cost me my life by his kindness. We
had taken the saddle-horse of an honest settler, then
a judge of the Court of Sessions. Some strange hand
had led me by his very door the day before, and I
had been followed in my slow and painful flight.
They took my arms, tied me, and talked very
savagely. I said in a low tone to one of the men
who stood close at my side, " Please don't hang me,
but shoot me. That will be easier and better for us
all." Maybe it was my boyish face, maybe it was
some secret chord in his heart that only my helpless-
OF PEACE. 373
ness could touch ; I do not know what it was, but he
looked at me with a gentleness that I could not mis-
take, and I knew at once that I had at least one
friend among my captors.
I soon found that they had no connection with the
soldiers, and that they had no suspicion as to who I
was. This was a great relief, and by the time we,
began to return I began to see a possibility of escape.
In those days when the character of the regular army
of the U. S. was not so high as it has been since the
Civil War, there was but little friendship or commu-
nication between the citizen and the soldier. They
never came together if it could be avoided, and when
they did they were as oil and water.
Soon we came to a little mountain stream. I was
feverish and thirsty, and asked for a drink of water.
One of the men filled a cup and raised it to my lips.
I could not take hold of it, for I was bound like a
felon on his way to the gallows. I did not touch the
water, but turned away my head, and in spite of all
my efforts I broke down utterly and burst into tears.
The men looked the other way for awhile, and
then after some consultation they told me if I would
promise not to attempt to escape they would unloose
my arms. I had never been bound before. To have
the spirit of an eagle, and then be fettered like a
felon ! That is crucifixion. I gave them my word
of honor to not attempt to escape, and they took it
like men and trusted me utterly.
374 MY MISSION OF PEACE.
After two days we reached Shasta city. I could
have escaped on the way. I could have dashed down
one of the hundred steep and bushy mountain-sides
from the trail and laughed at the shots that would
have followed ; could have escaped in spite of my
wounds and wasted strength, "but I had made a solemn
promise to men who were humane and honourable,
and I was bound to keep it at a fearful cost, and I
knew the cost at the time. At every rugged and
bushy pass on the way to prison I fought a battle
with myself against a reckless and impulsive spirit
that almost lifted me out of the trail, and almost
forced me to dash down the mountain through the
chaparral in spite of my resolution and my promise.
Let us pass hurriedly over those dreadful events ;
but remember I kept my promise like a man. There
are a thousand things you will condemn and denounce,
but if you endure what I endured to keep faith with
your captors, I for one will pronounce you not wholly
bad, whatever you may do.
CHAPTER XXX.
DEATH OF PAQTJITA.
WAS surrendered to the sheriff and taken
before a judge. I feared an investigation, lest
something might be revealed which would
connect the pale-faced boy in black with the long-
haired renegade living with the Indians, and thus
throw me into the hands of the military, which I had
just escaped.
The Prince was in Nicaragua battling for the estab-
lishment of an order of things even more impossible
than my Indian Republic, and I had not a friend with
whom I dared communicate. I pleaded not guilty,
declined an examination, and was taken to prison.
And what a prison ! A box, ten feet by ten ; a
little window with iron grates looking to the east
over the top of another structure that clung to the
steep hill-side on which the rude and horrible prison
was built. A mattress on the floor ; filth and vermin
everywhere ; not a chair, not a drop of water half the
time ; not a breath of air. The food was cold refuse
375
376 DEA TE OF PA Q VITA.
of some low chop-house. You could sometimes see
teeth-marks in the soggy biscuits. Some sovereign,
no doubt, had a contract for feeding the prisoners,
and was doing well.
Low-bred and half-read lawyers beset me. They
would tell the jailer I had sent for them, and thus
gain admittance. Somehow they thought I had or
could obtain money. They were coarse, insolent,
and persistent in their efforts to get into the secrets
of my life. At last, when they got what jewelry and
few available gold pieces I had, and could not get
my secrets, I saw them no more.
If the treatment I received at the hands of these
wretches is a fair example, then here is a wrong that
should be corrected, for a prisoner, let him be never
so guilty, has more to fear from these fellows than
from his judges.
Many people visited me, but they could not remain
long in the wretched pen; and as I would never
speak to them, I had but little sympathy. Some-
times for a while I was out of my mind. At such
times I would write strange, wild songs, in the Indian
tongue, all over the wooden walls.
At length the kind young man mentioned at my
capture came with a young lawyer named Hoi brook.
This young lawyer was a gentleman, kind-hearted and
intelligent. After a few visits I told him my story
with perfect confidence. I do not think he believed
DEA Til OF PA Q U1TA. 377
it altogether, for lie now insisted on putting in a plea
of insanity. I scorned to do this, and grew indignant
as he persisted. He never betrayed a word of my
history, however, and went on, honestly, no doubt,
making up his case to prove his client insane.
Brave, noble Holbrook ! he was doing, or thought
he was doing, all in his power to serve his client.
This man became a brilliant lawyer, a leading spirit
in Idaho, and twice represented the Territory in
Congress with distinction. He was killed in the
prime of manhood in a hand-to-hand encounter — a
sort of duel.
One night, as I lay half-awake in the steaming
little den, I heard the call of the cahea, or night bird,
on the steep hill-side above the prison. It stopped,
came nearer, called again, called three times, retreated,
called thrice, came again nearer, and called as at first.
I sprang to the window and answered through the
bars, till I heard the jailer turn in his bed, where he
lay in a large room into which my cell opened, and
then I was silent. But ah, how glad ! All night I
paced eagerly around the room, trying to strengthen
my legs, and throwing out my arms to harden them
for action. I knew my friends the red men had
followed and found me. Here was something to be
done. I forgot about my lawyers, refused my food
no longer, and filled my head with plans.
The next day I waited for night, and it seemed the
378 DEATH OF PA Q U1TA.
sun would never go down. Then I waited for mid-
night ; and at last when it came, and no call from the
hill, I began to despair. I could hardly repress my
anxiety ; my heart beat and beat at every breath, as
if it would burst. After all, I said to myself, I am
really insane.
I lay down with my face to the low window, look-
ing out to the dim, grey dawn breaking and flushing
like a great surf over the white wall of the sierras to
the east.
Maybe I slept an instant, for there, when I looked
intently, sat Paquita on the roof of the lower build-
ing, peering through the rusty bars right into my
face.
I had learned the virtue, if not the dignity, of
silence. I arose instantly and stole up to the bars.
The poor girl tried, the first thing, to pass me a
pistol through the bars, as if that could have been of
any use to me there ; but it could not be passed
between. Then she passed through a thin sheath
knife, but never said a word.
She made signs for me to cut away the bars with
the knife, that she would come and help me, motioned
to the grey surf breaking against the sky in the east,
and disappeared.
I hugged that knife to my heart as if it had been a
bride come home. I danced mercilessly and Indian-
like about my cell, and flourished the knife above my
DEA Til OF PA Q VITA. 379
head. I was now not so helpless. I was not alone.
This knife was more to me than all the lawyers.
I will kill that dreadful jailer with this knife some
night when he comes in with my supper, I said, pass
out, slip into town, mount a horse and escape to the
mountains. I lay down at last, hid the knife in my
bosom, and hugged it till I fell asleep.
Paquita came early the next night. Indians are
too cunning to come twice at the same hour.
I had done nothing all day. This time she spoke
and told me that the bars, must be filed and cut
away, that this was now the only hope, since all
other attempts of hers had failed. An Indian war-
rior was waiting, she said, with horses out of town ;
only get the bars away and we could almost step
from the house-top to the steep hill-side, and then all
would be well.
She had hacked two thin knives together, making
a kind of saw, and we set to work. The bars were
an inch in diameter, but made of soft iron, and the
knife-blades laid hold like vipers.
At dawn she filled up the little gashes we had cut
across the bars with a substance she had prepared
just the colour of the rusty bars, and again disap-
peared.
For more than a week we kept at this work. No
one passed on the brushy hill-side or dwelt there, and
we were never disturbed. At last three bars were
380 DEATH OF PA Q VITA.
loosened, and on Saturday night, when, as was then
the custom, the men of the city, officers and all, would
be more or less in their glasses, our time was set for
the escape.
She came about midnight, the true and faithful
little savage, the heroine, the red star of my stormy
life, crouching on the roof, and laid hold of the bars
one by one, and bent them till I could pass my head
and shoulders. Then she drew me through, almost
carried me in her arms, and in another moment we
touched the steep but solid earth.
She hurried me up the hill-side to the edge of a
thicket of chaparral. I could go no further. I fell
upon my knees and clasped my hands. I bent down
my face and kissed and kissed the earth as you would
kiss a sister you had not seen for years. I arose and
clasped the bushes in my arms, and stripped the fra-
grant myrtle-leaves by handfuls. I kissed my hands
to the moon, the stars, and began to shout and leap
like a child.
She laid her hand on my mouth, and almost angrily
seized me by the arm. I turned and I kissed her, or
rather only the presence and touch of her. I lifted
her fingers to my lips, her robe, her hair, as she led
me over the hill, around and down to a trail. There,
in answer to the night-bird call, an Indian, a brave,
reckless fellow, who had been with me in many a
bold adventure, led three horses from a thicket.
DEA TJI OF PA Q VITA. 381
The tide was coming in again. The great grey-
surf was breaking over the wail of the Sierras in the
east. They lifted me to my saddle, for I was as
weak as a child. We turned our steeds' heads ; we
plunged away in the swift, sweet morning air, and
as we climbed a hill and left the town behind, I
looked across my shoulder, and threw a bitter curse
and threat ....
But the prison only was burned. The town, Shasta
city, stands almost a ruin. The great men who made
it great in early days have gone away. Chinamen
and negroes possess the once crowded streets, bats
flit in and out through broken panes, and birds build
nests there in houses that are falling to decay. The
city of twenty years ago looks as though it had felt
the touch of centuries.
How grandly the old eternal snow peak lifted his
front before us ! How gloriously the sunlight rolled
and flashed about his brow before its rays got down
into the pines that lay along our road.
We plunged into the Sacramento river at full
speed, and swam to the other side.
When you swim a river with a horse, you must
not touch the rein ; that may draw his nose into the
water, and drown you both. You drop the rein,
clutch the mane, and float free of his back, even
using your own limbs, if strong enough, to aid your
horse in the passage. You wind a sash tightly about
382 DEATH OF PA Q VITA.
your head or hat, and thrust your pistols in the folds.
Keep your head above water, and you are ready to
fight the moment you touch land on the other side.
As the first rays of the sun shot across the mighty
ramparts to the east, we climbed the rocky bluff and
set our course through the open oaks for a crossing
on Pit Kiver, not far from the military camp spoken
of before. We hoped to reach it and cross ere dark,
and rode like furies. Where did the Indian get these
horses ?
The escape so far was a success. At first I had
had no hope. The idea of cutting away iron bars
with knives seemed a delusive dream. But Indian
patience can achieve incredible things. At first the
knives would pinch and bite in the little grooves, for
the back was of course thicker than the edge. But
Paquita was equal to all that. By day she would
grind the knives on the rocks, while hiding away in
the bushes, till they were thin as wafers. A watch-
spring is a common instrument used to cut away
bars or rivets. The fine steel lays hold of the iron
like teeth. Mexican revolutionists, liable at any
time to imprisonment, sometimes have their watch-
springs prepared especially for such an emergency;
and I have known common cut-throats on the border
to have a watch-spring around the arm under the
folds of a garment. Prison-breaking in the Old
World, owing to the massive and substantial
DEA Til OF PA Q VITA. 383
structures, is almost a lost art. " But few escapes are
made now," said a Newgate prisoner to me, " and
those are mostly by strategy, like that of the illus-
trious prisoner of Ham."
It was nearly dusk when we touched the bank of
the river, up which we must ride a mile or so before
we came to the crossing.
Our horses fairly staggered under us, but we kept
on, full of hope, and certain of security.
We descended the hill that sloped to the crossing,
winding our scarfs about our heads, and preparing
for the passage, which, once accomplished, would
make our rest secure.
Suddenly, from a clump of low fir-trees, an officer
with a platoon of soldiers stepped out, with rifles to
their faces, and called to us to surrender.
The soldiers were there concealed, waiting for
Indians that might attempt to cross at this favourite
pass, and we were upon them before we suspected an
enemy within miles of us.
They were almost between us and the deep cut
leading to the river that had been made by animals
and Indians from time immemorial, and we could not
reach it. To attempt to ascend the hill, up the trail,
on our tired horses, had been certain death.
The officer called as;ain. The Indian drew his
pistol, called to us to leap our horses down the bank
into the river, and as we did so, fired in the face of
384 DEA TE OF PA Q HIT A.
the officer. Then, with a yell of defiance, he followed
us over the precipice into the boiling, surging river,
cold and swollen from the melting snows of Mount
Shasta.
It was a fearful leap; not far, but sudden and
ugly, with everything on earth against us. My horse
and myself went far down in the blue, cold river, but
he rose bravely, and struck out fairly for the other
side.
But poor Paquita and her brave companion were
not so fortunate. The river ran in an eddy, and their
weak and bewildered horses w^ere spun around like
burrs in a whirlpool.
The soldiers had discharged a volley as we disap-
peared, but I think none of us were touched from
this first fire. My horse swam very slow, and dropped
far down the current. The soldiers came up, stood
on the bank, deliberately loaded, aimed their pieces,
and fired every shot of the platoon at me, but only
touched my horse. They had not yet discovered
Paquita and her companion struggling in the eddy,
almost under their feet, else neither of them had ever
left it. Now, they got their horses turned and struck
out, diving and holding on to the mane.
They were not forty feet from the soldiers when
discovered. The guns were dropped, pistols were
drawn, and a hundred shots, and still another hun-
dred, rained down upon and around those two brave
children, but they gave no answer.
THE STRUGGLE FOR LIFE
DEA Til OF PA Q UITA. 385
I was down the stream out of reach, and nearing
the shore. I witnessed the dreadful struggle for life,
looking back, clinging to my almost helpless horse's
mane.
They would dive, then the black heads and shiny
shoulders would reappear, a volley of shot, down
again till almost stifled; up, again a volley, and
shouts and laughter from the shore.
It seemed they would never get away from out the
rain of lead. Slowly, oh ! how slowly, their weary,
wounded horses struggled on against the cold, blue
flood that boiled and swept about them.
At last my spent horse touched a reach of sand
far below, that made a shoal from shore, and I
again looked back. I saw but one figure now. The
brave and fearless warrior had gone down pierced by
a dozen balls.
My horse refused to go further, but stood bleeding
and trembling in the water up to his breast, and I
managed to make land alone. I crept up the bank,
clutching the long wiry grass and water-plants.
I drew myself up and sat down on the rocks still
warm from the vanished sunshine.
When I had strength to rise, I went up the warm
grassy river-bank, peering through the tules in an
almost hopeless search for my companions. Nothing
was to be seen. The troops on the other bank had
gone away, not knowing, perhaps not caring, what
they had done.
386 DEATH OF PA Q VITA.
The deep, "blue river gave no sign of the tragedy
now. All was as still as the tomb. I stole close and
slowly along the bank. I felt a desolation that was
new and dreadful in its awful solemnity. The bluff
of the river hung in basaltic columns a thousand feet
above my head ; only a narrow little strip of grass
and tules, and reeds and willows, nodding, dipping,
dripping, in the swift, strong river.
Not a bird flew over, not a cricket called from out
the long grass. " Ah, what an ending is this ! " I
said, and sat down in despair. My eyes were riveted
on the river. Up and down on the other side, every-
where I scanned with Indian eyes for even a sign of
life, for friend or foe. Nothing but the bubble and
gurgle of the waters, the nodding, dipping, dripping
of the reeds, the willows, and the tules.
If earth has any place more solemn, more solitary,
more awful than the banks of a strong, deep river
rushing, at nightfall, through a mountain forest,
where even the birds have forgotten to sing, or the
katydid to call from the grass, I know not where
it is.
I stole further up the bank ; and there, almost at
my feet, a little face was lifted as if rising from the
water into mine.
Blood was flowing from her mouth and she could
not speak. Her naked arms were reached out and
holding on to the grassy bank, but she could not
DEA TE OF PA Q UITA. 387
draw her body from the water. I put my arms
about her, and, with sudden and singular strength,
lifted her up and back to some warm, dry rocks, and
there sat down with the dying girl in my arm's.
Her robe had floated away in the flood and she was
nearly naked. She was bleeding from many wounds.
Her whole body seemed to be covered with blood as
I drew her from the water. Blood spreads with water
over a warm body in streams and seams ; and at such
a time a body seems to be covered with a sheet of
crimson.
Paquita ?
I entreated her to speak. I called to her, but she
could not answer. The desolation and solitude was
now only the more dreadful. My voice came back
in strange echoes from the basalt bluffs, and that was
all the answer I ever had.
The Indian maiden, pure as vestal virgin, brave as
was Lucretia, beautiful as any picture lay dying in my
arms. Blood on my hands, blood on my clothes,
and blood on the grass and stones.
The lonely July night was soft and sultry. The
great white moon rose up and rolled along the
heavens, and sifted through the boughs that lifted
above and reached from the hanging cliff, and fell in
lines and spangles across the face and form of my
dead.
Paquita !
388 DEA TR OF PA Q UITA.
Once so alone in the awful presence of death, I
became terrified. My heart and soul were strung to
such a tension, it became intolerable. I would
have started up and fled. But where could I have
fled, even had I had the strength to fly ? I bent my
head, and tried to hide my face.
Paquita dead !
Our lives had first run together in currents of
blood on the snow, in persecution, ruin, and de-
struction ; in the shadows and in the desolation of
death ; and so now they separated for ever.
Paquita dead !
We had starved together ; stood by the sounding
cataracts, threaded the forests, roamed by the river-
banks together; grown from childhood, as it were,
together. But now she had gone away, crossed the
dark and mystic river alone, and left me to make
the rest of the journey with strangers and without a,
friend.
Paquita !
Why, we had watched the great sun land, like some
mighty navigator sailing the blue seas of heaven,
on the flashing summit of Shasta ; had seen him come
with lifted sword and shield, and take possession of
the continent of darkness ; had watched him in the
twilight marshal his forces there for the last great
struggle with the shadows, creeping like evil spirits
through the woods, and, like the red man, make a
DEATH OF PA Q VITA. 389
last grand battle there for his old dominions. We
had seen him fall and die at last with all the snow-
peak crimsoned in his blood.
No more now. Paquita, the child of nature,
the sunbeam of the forest, the star that had seen
so little of light, lay wrapped in darkness. Paquita
lay cold and lifeless in my arms.
That night my life widened and widened away
till it touched and took in the shores of death.
mm
CHAPTER XXXI.
THE LAST BATTLE FOE THE KEPUBLIC.
'ENDERLY at last I laid her down, and
moved about. Glad of something to do, I
gathered fallen branches, decayed wood, and
dry, dead reeds, and built a ready pyre.
I struck flints together, made a fire, and when the
surf of light again broke in across the eastern wall, I
lifted her up, laid her tenderly on the pile, composed
her face and laid her little hands across her breast.
I lighted the grass and tules. The fire took hold
and leaped and laughed, and crackled, and reached,
as if to touch the solemn boughs that bent and waved
from the cliffs above, as bending and looking into a
grave. I gathered white stones and laid a circle
around the embers. How rank and tall the grass is
growing above her ashes now ! The stones have
settled and settled till almost sunk in the earth, but
this girl is not forgotten. This is the monument I
raise above her ashes and her faithful life. I have
written this that she shall be remembered, and prop-
erly this narrative should here have an end.
390
TIIK FUNERAL OF PAQUITA.
LAST BATTLE FOE THE REP UBLIC. 391
The " Tale of the Tall Alcalde/' which men assert
on their own authority to be a true story of my life
here and her death, was written for her. I could not
then make it literally true, because the events were
too new in my mind. It had been like opening
wounds not yet half healed. I was then a judge in
the northern part of Oregon. I had, with one law
book and two six-shooters, administered justice suc-
cessfully for four years, and was then an aspirant for
a seat on the Supreme Bench of the State. Men who
had some vague knowledge of my life with the In-
dians were seeking to get at the secrets of it and
accomplish my destruction. I wrote that poem, and
took upon myself all the contumely, real or fancied,
that could follow such an admission.
At sunrise I began to make my way slowly up the
river, towards the Indian camp, which I knew was
not more than a day's journey away. I ate berries
and roots as I could find them in my way, and at
night I entered the village and sat down by the door
of a lodge
An old woman brought me water, but she could
not restrain her eagerness to know of my companions,
and at once broke the accustomed silence.
"UtiPaquita? UtiOlale?"
I pointed my thumbs to the earth.
She threw up her arms and turned away. The
camp was a camp of mourning, for nothing but defeat
392 TEE LAST BATTLE
and disaster had followed them all the summer. Still
they would mourn for Paquita and the brave young
warrior, and they went up to the hill-top among the
pines and filled the woods with lamentations.
Let us hasten to the conclusion of these unhappy
days. I rested a little while, then took part in a
skirmish, captured a few cavalry horses, and two
prisoners, whose lives I managed to save at the risk
of my own, for the Indians w^ere now made desperate.
The Indians were now doing what little fighting was
done, entirely with arrows.
The Modoc Indians had exhausted all their arrows
and were returning home. A general despondency
was upon the Indians. No supplies whatever for the
approaching winter had been secured. The Indians
had been kept back from the fisheries on the rivers
and the hunting grounds in the valleys. The Indian
men had been losing time in war and the Indian
women in making arrows and nursing the wounded.
Even in the plentiful season of early autumn a famine
was looking them in the face.
No gentleness marked our actions now ; I did not
restrain my Indians in any ruthless thing they under-
took short of taking the lives of prisoners.
I made a hurried ride through the Modoc plains
around Tula lake and saw there but little hope of
continuing a successful struggle as it was then being
conducted. Lieutenant Crook, now the General
, FOR TEE REPUBLIC. 393
Crook famous in American history, had established a
military post on the - head-lakes of Pit river. This
was in the heart of the Indian country, and almost
on the spot where the three corners of the lands of
the three tribes met, and he could from this point
reach the principal valleys and the great eastern
plains of the Indians with but little trouble.
A new and most desperate undertaking now entered
my mind. It was impossible to dislodge the military
from the Indian country as things then stood. I
resolved to " carry the war into Africa."
I laid my plan before the Modocs, and they, poor
devils, made desperate with the long and wasting
struggle, were mad with delight.
It was resolved to gather the Indian forces together,
send the women and children into the caves to hide
and subsist as best they could, leave our own homes,
and then boldly descend upon the white settlements.
This we were certain would draw the enemy, for a
time at least, from our country.
I never witnessed such enthusiasm. These battle-
scarred, worn-out, ragged, half-starved Indians arose
under the thought of the enterprise as if touched by
inspiration.
I was to go down to Yreka, note the approaches
to the town, the probable strength of the place, the
proper time to attack, while they gathered their
forces together for the campaign and disposed of the
women and children.
394 THE LAST BATTLE
The attack was to be made on the city itself.
There we were to strike the first blow. The plan
was to move the whole available Indian force to the
edge of the settlement and there leave the main
body. Then I was to take the flower of the force,
mounted on the swiftest horses, and, descending upon
the town suddenly, attack, sack, and burn it to the
ground.
We had had many a lesson in this mode of warfare
from the whites and knew perfectly well how the
work was to be done.
I mounted a strong, fleet horse and set out. On
reaching the mountain's rim overlooking the valley I
was struck by the peaceful scene below me. All
the fertile plain was dotted yellow, and brown, and
green from fields of grain. It looked like some
great map. Peace and plenty all the way across the
valley to the city lying on the other side, and thirty
miles ahead.
At dusk I came to a quiet farm-house and asked
for hospitality.
The old settler came bustling out bare-headed and
in his shirt- sleeves, as if he was coming to welcome
a son.
He took care of my horse, hurried me into the
house, hurried his good wife about the kitchen, and
I soon was seated at the table of a Christian eating a
Christian meal.
FOR THE REP UBLIC. 395
It was the first for a long, long time; I fell to
thinking as of old, and held down my head.
After supper the old man sat and talked of his
cattle and his crops and the two children climbed
about my knees.
No sign of war here. Not a hundred miles away
a people all summer had been battling for their fire-
sides, for existence, and yet it had been hardly felt
in the settlements. Such is the effect of the quiet,
steady, eternal warfare on the border. It is never
felt, never hardly heard of, till the Indians become
the aggressors which is seldom indeed.
The old lady came at last and sat down with her
knitting and a ball of yarn in her lap. She talked
of the price of butter and eggs, and said they should
soon be well-to-do and prosperous in their new
home.
I retired early, and rising with the dawn, left a
gold coin on the table, and rode rapidly toward the
city.
I was not satisfied with my desperate and bloody
undertaking. As I passed little farm-houses with
vines and blossoms and children about the doors, I
began to wonder how many kind and honest people
were to be ruined in my descent upon the settle-
ments.
The city I found assailable from every side. There
was not a soldier within ten miles. Fifty men could
396 THE LAST BA TTLE
ride into the place, hold it long enough to fire it in
a hundred places, and then ride out unhindered.
It seems a little strange that I met kindness and
civility now when I did not want it. Of course I
was utterly unknown, and having taken care from
the first to dress in the plainest and commonest dress
of the time, there was not the least suspicion of my
name or mission.
As I rode back, the farmers were gathering in their
grain. On the low marshy plains of Shasta river
they were mowing and making hay. I heard the
mowers whetting their scythes and the clear ringing
melody came to me full of memories and stories of
my childhood.
I passed close to some of these broad-shouldered
merry men, as they sat on the grass at lunch, and
they called to me kindly to stop and rest and share
their meal. It was like merry hay-making of the
Old World. All peace, merriment and prosperity
here; out yonder, burning camps, starving children,
and mourning mothers; and only a hundred miles
away.
I did not again enter a house or partake of hospi-
tality. I slept on the wild grass that night, and in
another day rode into the camp where the Indians
had gathered in such force as they could to await my
action.
A council was called, and I told them all. I told
FOR THE REPUBLIC. 397
them it was possible to take the city, that my plan
was feasible, and yet I could not lead them where
women and children and old men and honest labour-
ers would be ruined, and perish alike with the
arrogant and cruel destroyers. An old man answered
me; his women, his children, his old father, his
lodges, his horses had all been swept away ; it was
now time to be revenged and then to die.
Never have I been placed in so critical a position,
never have I been so crucified between two plans of
life. But I had said when I climbed the mountain
and looked back on the green and yellow fields and
peaceful farm-houses below, that I would not lead
my allies there, come what might, and I doggedly
kept my promise through all the stormy council of
that long and unhappy night.
Time has shown that I was wrong ; I should have
taken that city and held on, and kept up an aggres-
sive warfare till the Government came to terms, and
recognized the rights of this people.
I rode south with my warriors, and we gathered in
diminished force on a plateau not far from Pit Kiver,
and prepared to make another fight.
If there is a race of men that has the gift of
prophecy or prescience I think it is the Indian. It
may be a keen instinct sharpened by meditation that
makes them foretell many things with such precision ;
but I have seen some things that looked much like
the fulfilment of prophecies.
398 THE LAST BA TTLE
They believe in the gift of prophecy thoroughly
and are never without their seers. Besides the war-
riors are constantly foretelling their own fate. A dis-
tinguished warrior rarely goes into battle without
telling what he will do, whom he w411 encounter, who
will be killed, and how the battle will be determined.
They often foretell their own deaths with a singular
accuracy. They believe in signs of all kinds : signs
in the heavens, signs in the woods, on the waters, any-
where ; and a chief will sometimes suddenly, in the
midst of battle, call off his warriors even when about
to reap a victory, should a sign inauspicious appear.
Klamat, shadowy, mysterious, dark-browed little
Klamat, now a tall and sinewy warrior, was strangely
thoughtful all this time. He went about his duties
as in a dream, but he left no duty unperformed. He
prepared his arms and all things for the approaching
battle with the utmost care. He bared his limbs
and breast and painted them red, and bound up his
hair in a flowing tuft with eagle feathers pointing
up from the defiant scalp-lock.
At last he painted his face in mourning. That
means a great deal. When a warrior paints his face
black it means victory or death. When a warrior
paints his face black before going into battle he does
not survive a defeat. It is rarely done, but an
Indian is greatly honoured who goes to this extreme,
and when he goes out to battle the women sit on
KLAMAT'S PROPHECY.
FOR THE REPUBLIC. 399
the hills above the war-path and sing a battle song
with his name in a kind of chorus, calling their deity
to witness his valour to defend him in battle, and
bring him back victorious.
I was standing down by the river alone, waiting
and looking in the water, when he came and laid his
hand upon my shoulder. He had his rifle in his
other hand and his knife, tomahawk, and pistol in his
belt. He looked wild and fierce. He scarcely spoke
above a whisper.
" I will not come back," he began, " I have seen the
signs, and I shall not come back. It is all right, I
am going to die like a chief. To-morrow I will be
with my people on the other side of darkness.
They will meet me on my way, for I have had their
revenge."
He looked at me sharp and sudden, and his black
eyes shot fire. He lifted his hand high above his
head and twirled it around as if shaping a beaver
hat. His eyes danced with a fierce delight as he
hissed between his teeth,
"The Judge! Spades!"
He struck out savagely, as if striking with a knife ;
as if these men stood before him, and then laid his
hand upon his own breast.
Great Heavens ! I said to myself, as he shouldered
his rifle and joined his comrades, and it was this boy
that killed them. The Doctor and the Prince had
400 TEE LAST BA TTLE
understood this all the time and could not trust me
with the secret. They had borne the peril and re-
proach that they might save these two and bring
them back beyond the reach of the white man. I
never till that moment knew how great and noble
were the two men whose lives mine had touched,
spoken to, and parted from as ships that meet and
part upon the seas.
We had to fight a mixed body of soldiers and
settlers, and a short, but for the Indians bloody,
battle took place.
The chief of the Pit River Indians fell, and many
of his best warriors around him. Early in the fight
I received an ugly cut on the forehead, which bled
profusely and so blinded me that I could do nothing
further for my unhappy allies. It was a hopeless
case. While the fight waxed hot I stole off up a
canon with a number of the Shasta Indians and
escaped. I came upon an old wounded warrior
leaning on his bow by the trail. The old man said
" Klamat ! " bowed his head and pointed to the
ground.
The prophecy had been fulfilled.
Do not imagine these were great battles. Other
events had the ears of the world then, and they
were probably hardly heard of beyond the lines
of the State. Half armed, and wholly untrained, the
Indians could not or did not make a single respectable
FOR TEE REP UBL1C. 401
stand. The losses were almost always wholly on
their side.
Had they been able to make one or two bold
advances against the whites, then negotiations would
have been opened, terms offered, opinions exchanged,
rights and wrongs discussed, and the Indians would
at least have had a hearing. But so long as the
troops had it their own way, the only terms were the
Reservation, or annihilation.
The few remaining Modoc warriors now returned
to their sage-brush plains and tule lakes to the east ;
the Shastas withdrew to the head-waters of the
McCloud, thus abandoning lands that it would take
you days of journey to encompass; and the Pit
River Indians, now almost starving, with an approach-
ing winter to confront, sent in their remaining women
and children in sign of submission. They were
sadly reduced in numbers, and perhaps less than a
thousand were taken to the Reservation. To-day
the tribe is nearly extinct.
And why did the Government insist to the bitter
end that the Indians should leave this the richest
and finest valley of northern California? Because
the white settlers wanted it. Voters wanted it, and
no aspirant for office dared say a word for the Indian.
So it goes.
The last fight was a sort of Waterloo. There was
now no hope. My plans for the little Republic were
402 THE LAST BA TTLE
utterly overthrown. I could now only bring ruin
upon the Indians and destruction upon myself by
remaining. I resolved to go.
At last a thought like this began to take shape. I
will descend into the active world. I will go down
from my snowy island into the strong sea of people,
and try my fortunes for only a few short years.
With this mountain at my back, this forest to retreat
to if I am worsted, I can feel strong and brave ; and
if by chance I win the fight, I will here return and
rest.
My presence there, instead of being a protection, was
only a peril now to the Indians. I told Warrottetot r
the old warrior, frankly that I wished to go, that it
was best I should, for the white men could not
understand why I was there, except it was to in-
cite them to battle or plunder.
I sat down with him by the river, and with a stick
marked out the world in the sand, showed him how
narrow were his possessions now, and told him where
all his wars must end. He gave me permission to go,
and said nothing more. He seemed bewildered.
The old chief, the day before my departure, rode
down with me from the high mountains to the beau-
tiful Now-aw-aw valley, where I had built a cabin
years before. We stopped on a hill overlooking the
valley and dismounted; he took fragments of lava
and built a little monument. He pointed out high
FOB THE REPUBLIC. 403
landmarks away below the valley embracing almost
as mucli land as you could journey around in a day's
travel.
"This is yours. All this valley is yours; I give
it to you with my own hand." He went down the
hill a little way, and taking up some of the earth
brought it to me and sprinkled it upon and before
my feet.
" It is all yours," he said, " you have done all you
could do, and deserve it ; besides, I have no one to
leave it to now but you."
" You will go on your way, will win a place among
your own people, and when you return you will have
lands, a home and hunting-grounds. These you will
find here when you return, but you will not find me,
nor one of my children, nor one of my tribe."
The poor old Indian, battle-worn, wounded and
broken in spirit, was all heart, all tenderness and
truth and devotion. He could not understand why
that land should not be wholly mine. He had not
the shadow of a doubt that this gift of his made the
little valley as surely and wholly mine as if a thou-
sand deeds had testified to the inheritance. He could
not understand why he was not the lord and owner
of the land which had been handed down to him
through a thousand generations, that had been fought
for and defended from a time as old, perhaps, as the
history of the invader.
404 LAST BATTLE FOE TILE EEP UBLIG.
Under the madronos my horse stood saddled for a
long, hard ride. Good-byes were said, I led my
steed a little way, and an Indian woman walked at
my side.
Some things shall be sacred. Kecital is sometimes
profanity.
It was a sudden impulse that made me set my
horse back on his haunches as- he bounded away, un-
wind my red silk sash, wave a farewell with it, toss
it to her, and bid her keep it till my return. In less
than forty days, I rested beneath the palms of Nicara-
gua.
CHAPTER XXXII
AFTER A DOZEN YEARS.
% ORE than a dozen years had passed away.
And what years ! I had gone through almost
every stage and experience of human life. I
had gone far out and away from my life in the moun-
tains among the Indians. I had come to look upon
it as upon the life of another. It seemed to be no
longer a part of my nature or myself, much as I loved
it and fondly as I cherished the memory of the dead
days and their dead.
Irresistibly I was drawn to return at the first pos-
sible opportunity, and now in the yellow autumn I
was nearing my old home. The narrow trails were
no longer in use. A broad stasre road was hewn
from out the mountain-sides, and we dashed through
the forests as if on the highway of an old civilization.
I was an utter stranger to all. I saw no familiar
faces among the few worthless Indians about the
stations, and no white man suspected that I had once
held dominion in all that wild and splendid region.
405
406 AFTER A
I sat with, the driver as the six horses spun us at
a gallop around the spurs of the mountain crags over-
hanging the Sacramento River. Our road, cut from
the rocks, had looked like a spider web swinging in
the air when we saw it first from the waters of the
Sacramento, that boiled and foamed in a bed-rock
flume now thousands of feet below us.
The passengers, who had been very loud and
hilarious, were now very quiet, and an old gentleman,
who was engaged in some quartz speculation, and
had been extremely anxious to get ahead, here stuck
his head out of the window as he gasped for breath,
and protested to the driver that he had changed his
mind about reaching camp so soon, that, in fact, he
was in no hurry at all, and that, if he was a mind to,
he might go a little slow.
The driver then gently threaded the ribbons
through his fingers as if to get a firmer hold, threw
his right arm out, and snapped the silk under the
heels of his leaders.
This was the nervous man's only answer.
It was perfectly splendid. We were playing spider
and fly in the heavens. Down at the mountain's base
and pressed to the foamy rim of the river, stood the
madrono and manzanita, light, but trim-limbed, like
sycamore ; and up a little way were oak, and ash,
and poplar trees, yellow as the autumn frosts could
paint them ; and as the eye ascended the steep and
DOZEN YEARS. 407
stupendous mountain that stood over across the
river against us, yet so close at hand, the fir and
tamarack grew dense and dark, with only now and
then a clump of yellow trees, like islands set in a sea
of green.
Here and there a scarlet maple blazed like the
burning bush, and to a mind careless of appropriate
figures, might have suggested Jacob's kine, or the
coat of many colours. How we flew and dashed
around the rocky spurs i Some chipmunks dusted
down the road and across the track, and now and
then perched on a limb in easy pistol-shot ; a splendid
grey squirrel looked at us under his bushy tail, and
barked and chattered undisturbed; but we saw no
other game. In a country famous for its bear, we
saw not so much as a track.
Down under us on the river-bank the smoke
of a solitary wigwam curled lazily up through the
trees, and the Indian that stood on the rocks spear-
ing the autumn run of salmon looked no taller than
a span.
Again we dashed around a rocky point, and the
driver set his leaders back on their haunches with a
jerk that made six full groans issue from inside the
stage, and as many heads hurry through the windows.
The driver pushed back his hat, the hat that stage
drivers persist in wearing down on their noses,
pointed with his whip into the air, and said,
408 AFTER A
" How's that for high?"
Then again he snapped his silk, settled the
insiders in their seats, and we were dashing on
as before.
Mount Shasta ! Shasta the magnificent was
before us, above us ! And so sudden ! And at
last, and after so many, many years !
As if a great iceberg, a portion of Alaska, had
broken loose, and, seamed and scarred by the sun,
drifted through the air upon us.
The driver felt and silently acknowledged the
power of this majestic presence, for he held the silk
in his hands very quietly, and let the tired horses
have it their own way till he drew the reins and
called out at the end of the next half hour, " Fifteen
minutes for supper!"
Even the foaming horses, weary as they were,
lifted their ears a little and stepped more alert and
lively when the sun flashed back upon us from the
snowy breastplate of kingly Shasta.
Here I determined to cross the Sacramento, climb
the mountains of the other side, pierce the splendid
forests, and reach the valleys of McCloud at the base
of Shasta.
In my mind, the wigwams still sent up their
smoke through the dense firs of the McCloud, and
pretty maidens still bore water on their heads in
willow baskets from the river to the village, I
DOZEN YEARS. 409
almost heard the ancient, wrinkled squaws, grinding
acorn bread, and the shouts of the naked children at
their sports.
I could get no ponies, and so had to take little lean
Mexican mules, old and lazy as possible, the remnant
of some of the great pack trains that strung across
these mountains in the days when they were only
marked by narrow trails, and everything was trans-
ported on the backs of these patient little animals.
My guide, sent along by the ranchero to take care
of the mules and return them, was a singular Indian.
His name was " Limber Jim." I should have known
his name was Limber Jim before I heard it. Out
here things take their names just as they impress
you. Once a six-foot desperado said to a man with
a freckled face, who had wedged himself into a party
as they were lifting glasses, " What is your name \ "
" P. Archibald Brown."
" P. Archibald Hell ! — your name is Ginger."
A Californian desperado is not a fool ; he is oftener
a genius. " P. Archibald Brown " was never heard
of after that. Down in Arizona is now a board at the
head of a little sandy hillock marked u Ginger."
When Limber Jim moved, every limb and muscle
was in motion. When he opened his mouth he also
opened his hands, and when he opened his hands he
would helplessly open his mouth.
After we had forded the Sacramento and climbed
410 AFTER A
the long and rugged trail on the other side, we rested
in the shade and I asked the creature his history.
His short and simple annals were to the effect that
he was an Indian lad in good standing with the
whites while they were at war wath his fathers, and
was a great pet among them.
But one morning after a pack train had disappeared
a rancheria was surrounded and all the men and
boys taken to the camp for execution, in case the
mules were not returned in a given time.
The animals, of course, did not come back, and
the Indians, a dozen or more, were punctually sus-
pended to the nearest tree, and Jim was hung among
the rest. He said he was hung by mistake; and
was very confident there was no intention of hanging
him, but that he got mixed up with the rest, and
that men who did not know his face suspended him,
where he hung all day by the neck till it got very
dark, when they took him down and told him they
were very sorry. He added mournfully, that his
nerves had never been reliable since.
We pushed our little Spanish mules along the worn
trail that stretched across the mountain. At noon
we came down to the McCloud, which we found too
deep to ford, and therefore bore up the stream a little
way till we could find a lodge and log canoe. It
looked so very lonely. Here stood lodges, but they
were empty. There, on a point where I had left a
DOZEN YEARS. 411
thriving, prosperous village, the rye grass grew rank
and tall as our shoulders as we rode along.
The lodges stood still as of old. An Indian never
tears down his house. It will serve to shelter some
one who is lost or homeless ; besides, there is a super-
stition which forbids it. From one of these lodges a
small black wolf started out and stole swiftly across
the hill. When a white man leaves a habitation he
changes the face of things; an Indian leaves them
unimpaired. His deserted house is the perfect body
w T ith only the soul withdrawn. An empty Indian
village is the gloomiest place in the world.
We crossed the McCloud, and our course lay
through a saddle in the mountains to Pit River ; so
called from the blind pits dug out like a jug by the
Indians in places where their enemies or game are
likely to pass. These pits are dangerous traps ; they
are ten or fifteen feet deep, small at the mouth, but
made to diverge in descent, so that it is impossible
for anything to escape that once falls into their
capacious maws. To add to their horror, at the
bottom, elk and deer antlers that have been ground
sharp at the points are set up so as to pierce any
unfortunate man or beast they may chance to
swallow up.
They are dug by the squaws, and the earth taken
from them is carried in baskets and thrown into the
river. They are covered in the most cunning manner ;
412 AFTER A
even footprints in an old beaten trail are made above
the treacherous pits, and no depression, no broken
earth, nothing at all indicates their presence except
the talismanic stones or the broken twigs and other
signs of a sort of rude freemasonry which only the
members of a tribe can understand.
Here we passed groves of most magnificent oak.
Their trunks are live and six feet in diameter, and
the boughs were then covered with acorns and fairly
matted with the mistletoe.
Coming down on to the banks of Pit River, we
heard the songs and shouts of Indian girls gathering
acorns. They were up in the oaks, and half covered
in the mistletoe. They would beat off the acorns
with sticks, or cut off the little branches with toma-
hawks, and the older squaws gathered them from
the ground, and threw them over their shoulders in
baskets borne by a strap around the forehead. I
must here expose a popular delusion.
I have heard parents insist that their girls should
wear shoes, and tight ones at that, in childhood, so
that their feet should be small and neat when
grown. Now, I am bound to say that these Indian
women, who never wear anything closer than a
moccasin or Mexican sandal, and not half of the
time either of the two, have the smallest and
prettiest feet, and hands also, I have ever seen.
These few Indian girls were pretty. Some of them
DOZEN YEARS. 413
were painted red ; and their splendid flow of intense
black hair showed well in the yellow leaves and the
rich green mistletoe. Some warriors watched a little
way off on a hill, lest some savage border ruffians,
under a modern Komulus, should swoop down upon
them and carry them off.
We rode under the oaks and they laughed play-
fully and crept closer into the leaves. One little
sun-browned savage pelted Limber Jim with acorns.
Then he opened his mouth and laughed, and opened
his hands and let go his reins, and rolled and shook
in his saddle as if possessed by an earthquake.
Toward evening, in the bend of Pit Eiver, we
came upon an old Indian herding ponies, and it
occurred to us to leave our mules to rest and get
fresh horses. Accordingly, we approached the old
fellow, sunning himself on the sand before his lodge,
and said, in the old words by which a favour was
asked when first I knew this people, and had for the
asking,
"Brother, the sun goes on. Your brothers are
weary and have far to go. Bring us better horses."
The old tender of herds turned his head half way,
and informed me in broken English and butchered
Mexican, badly put together, that he had some
horses to sell, but none to give away. Consterna-
tion ! These Indians are getting civilized, I said to
myself. Here has been a missionary in my absence ;
and we rode on.
414 AFTER A
Every foot of ground here, even up to the rugged
base of Shasta, was familiar to me. Sometimes, to
the terror of Limber Jim, I took the lead in the trail.
I knew as well as he the stones or the broken twigs
that pointed out the pit. All the afternoon we rode
along the rim of the bright blue river, except when
forced to climb a spur of mountain that ran its nose
fairly into the water and cut us off.
All along the shores stood deserted lodges, and
the grass grew rank and tall around them. They
had been depopulated for years. I had not as yet
met a single old acquaintance.
It was fairly dark before we dismounted at an
empty lodge and pitched camp for the night.
Early we set out next morning on our solitary
ride for the camp, where the little remnant of the
Shastas were said to be gathered high up on the
mountain. More empty lodges, right and left only
solitude and desertion.
We left the river and turned up a gorge. Some-
times, in the great canon running to the sun, the air was
warm and fresh of falling leaves; and then again as we
turned a point it came pitching down upon us, keen
and sharp from the snows of Shasta. But few birds
sing here. There are some robins and larks, and
also some turtle-doves, which the Indians will not
harm. Partridges in splendid crests ran in hun-
dreds across the trails, and these whistle all the year ;
DOZEN YEARS. 415
but there was an unaccountable scarcity of birds for
a country so densely timbered.
At last, when the shadows were very long, we
climbed a rugged, rocky hill, nearly impassable for
man or mule, and saw on a point in a clump of pines,
that could only be reached by crossing an open space
of rocks and lava, the camp we sought.
Indians have no terms of salutation. If the dogs
do not celebrate your arrival, all things go on the
same as if you had never been. You dismount, un-
saddle your mule, turn it to grass, take a drink of
water, and then light your pipe, when the men will
gather about you by degrees and the women
bring refreshments. But our arrival here was an
uncommon occasion. No white man had as yet set
foot on this rocky ridge and natural fortress ; and
then when it was known that one had returned to
their mountains whom they had known of old, and
whose exploits and manners they have magnified by
repeated narration, no Indian stolidity could keep up
their traditional dignity. Children peeped from the
lodges, and squaws came out from among the trees,
with babies in willow baskets. There was a little
consultation, and we were taken to a lodge of great
dimensions, made of cedar bark fastened by withes
and weights to a framework of fir and cedar poles.
The walls were about eight feet high ; the roof slop-
ing like that of an ordinary cabin, with an opening
in the comb for the smoke.
416 AFTER A
We had refreshments ; meats roasted by the fire,
and manzanita berries ground to powder, and acorn
bread.
Runners were sent to the Modoc camp, a half-
day distant, and the few warriors came. But I
did not know a single face. The old warriors had
all perished. New men had grown in their places.
It seemed as if I had outlived my generation even
in my youth. Then a long smoke in silence, a little
time for thought, and preparations were made for a
great talk.
And what a talk it was ! Indians, like white men,
talk best about themselves. They spoke by turns,
each rising in his place, speaking but once, and few
or many minutes, according to his age and inclina-
tion. They gesticulated greatly, and spoke rapidly ;
sometimes striking with imaginary knives, twanging
bows, and hurling tomahawks ; and all the time boast-
ing of their own deeds or those of their fathers.
One young man who had not yet been in battle told
of killing a bear; this made another young man
laugh, and then all the Indians frowned terribly. To
think that a young man should so far forget himself
as to laugh in council !
Nearly all the speeches were mournful, sad, and
pathetic, but some very fine things were said. As of
old, all their invectives were hurled at their hereditary
enemy. One old man said, " The whites were as the
DOZEN YEARS. 417
ocean, strong and aggressive; while the red men
were as the sand, silent, helpless, tossed about, run
upon, and swallowed up." He was the only one
that stood up tall and talked like a reasonable man.
He wore a robe of panther skins thrown back from
his shoulders.
I saw that even these few surviving people would
not die in silence. They were as a wounded serpent
that could yet strike if a foot was set in reach.
To me all this was sad beyond recital. "What had
these people seen, endured, felt, suffered in all the
years of my absence ! And the end was not yet.
The struggles of many years were recounted many
times, by each man telling the part he had borne in
the battles, and from an Indian's standpoint it looked
sad enough. The old savage spoken of had not much
to say of himself, but now and then his long fingers
would point to scars on his naked breast, when
alluding to some battle.
" Once," said he, in conclusion, " we were so many
we could not all stand upon this hill ; now we are all in
one little cawel ; " and here he made a solemn sweep
with his arm, which was very grand. Then after a
pause he said : " Once I had seven wives, now I have
only two."
At midnight, with solemn good-nights, the men
arose one by one and retired.
Over all things there hung a gloom. I went out
A-
418 AFTER A DOZEN YEARS.
into the village of a dozen houses that crouched down
under the dense black pines. What a glorious moon !
Only such a moon as California can afford. A long
white cloud of swans stretched overhead, croaking
dolefully enough ; the sea of evergreen pines that
rolled about the bluff and belted the base of Shasta
was sable as a pall, but the snowy summit in the
splendours of the moon, flashed like a pyramid of
silver ! All these mountains, all these mighty forests,
were to me a schoolboy's play-ground, the playmates
gone, the master dead.
CHAPTER XXXIIL
THE LAST OF THE CHILDREN OF SHASTA.
LEANED from the black stone wall that
sheltered the lodges from the south, and
watched the white McCloud riding like a stream
of light through the forest under me, and thought of
many things.
Yonder lay my beautiful Now-aw-wa valley ; that
was wholly mine, that I should never possess, to
which I should never dare assert my right, and there,
not far away, were the ashes of the great Chief of
the Shastas. Strangely enough he had fought his
last fight there, not far from the spot where he had
stood and given me possession of the cherished part
of his old inheritance.
How still, how silent were all things ! Not a camp-
fire shining through all the solemn forest. It was a
tomb, dark and typical; — the Cyprus and the cedar
trees drooped their sable plumes above the dead of
a departed race.
Why had I returned here? The reasons were
419
420 THE LAST OF THE
many and all-sufficient. Among others I had heard
that another had come upon the scene. A rumour
had reached me that a little brown girl was flitting
through these forests ; wild, frightened at the sight
of man, timid, sensitive, and strangely beautiful.
Who was she ? Was she the last of the family of
Mountain Joe \ Was she one of the Doctor's chil-
dren, half prophetess, half spirit, gliding through
the pines, shunning the face of the Saxon, or was
she even something more ? Well, here is a little
secret which shall remain hers. She is a dreamer,
and delights in mystery. Who she was or who she is
I have hardly a right to say. Her name is Calli Shasta.
What was I to do ? Leave her to perish there in
the gathering storm that was to fall upon the
Modocs and their few allies, or tear her away from
her mother and the mountains ?
But where was the little maiden now, as I looked
from the battlement on the world below ? They told
me she was with my Modocs away to the east among
the lakes. I waited, enquired, delayed many days,
but neither she nor her mother would appear. Her
mother, poor broken-hearted Indian woman, once a
princess, was afraid I would carry away her little
girl. At last I bade farewell, and turned down the
winding hill. I heard a cry and looked up.
There on the wall she stood, waving a red scarf.
Was it the same? Surely it was the same I
THE INDIAN MOTHER.
CHILDREN OF SHASTA. 421
had thrown her years and years before, when I left
the land a fugitive.
There was a little girl beside her, too, not so
brown as she, waving one pretty hand as she held to
the woman's robe with the other. I stopped and
raised my hat, and called a kind farewell, and under-
took to say some pretty things, but just that moment
my mule, as mules always will, opened his mouth
and brayed and brayed as if he would die. I jerked
and kicked him into silence, and then began again ;
and again the mule began, this time joined by
Limber Jim's. Limber Jim swore in wretched
English, but it was no use — the scarlet banner from
the wall was to them the signal of war, and they
refused to be silenced until we mounted and de-
scended to the glorious pines, where I had rode and
roved the sweetest years of my life.
Yet still the two hands were lifted from the wall,
and the red scarf waved till the tops of the pines
came down, and we could see no more.
Then I lifted my hat and said, " Adieu ! I reckon
I shall never see you any more. Never, unless it
may come to pass that the world turns utterly
against me. And then, what if I were to return
and find not a single living savage % "
I think I was as a man whose senses were in
another world. Once I stopped, dismounted, leaned
on my little mule, looking earnestly back to the rocky
422 tub: last of tee
point as if about to return ; as if almost determined
to return at once and there to remain. There was a
battle in my heart. At length awakened, I mounted
my mule mechanically and went on.
The Doctor still lived. I would see him once
more before I left the land for ever. It was a hard
and a long day's journey, and was nearly sundown
when we reached the little path planted with cherry
trees, and overhung in places with vines of grape,
leading from the river up the hill to his house. I
heard the shouts of children in the hills, and saw
the old man sitting in his cabin porch that overlooks
the river. He had some books and papers near him.
His face and demeanour were majesty itself.
He arose as he saw us through the trees and
vines, and shaded his brow with his hand as he
peered down the path. Men in the mountains do
not forget faces. Mountaineers never forget each
other, though they may separate for twenty years.
In a city you may meet a thousand new faces a
year ; there a new face is a rare thing.
He came down the steps in moccasins and a rich
dress of skins and fur. His thin hair fell in long
silver tresses on his shoulders. He was stouter than
before, and seemed quite strong. He took my hands,
led me up to a seat, sat down by my side, and we
two together looked up the river and up to the
north.
CHILDREN OF SHASTA. 423
The same old golden glory rested like a mantle on
the shoulders and about the brows of Shasta; the
same sunset splendour as of old ; the purple tint, the
streaming bars, the banner of red and blue and gold
was stretching away from the summit across the sky.
He had learned the Indians' custom of silent
salutation, which means so much ; but I knew his
thoughts. He was saying in his heart so loud that I
heard him : u You and I are changed, the world has
changed, men and women have grown old and ugly,
and a new generation now controls and possesses the
world below. Here there is no change."
I looked often at my old companion there, as he
looked away across the scarlet and yellow woods in
the dying sunlight or lifted his face to the mountain.
The old, old face, but nobler now, a sort of strength
in its very weakness, an earnestness very finely
marked, a sincerity not stamped in broad furrows or
laid in brick and mortar, but set in threads of silver
and of gold.
He had settled here in a stormy time. For the
good he could do he came down here on the line
between the white man and the red, where the worst
of both men are always found, and you have nothing
to expect from either but suspicion, treachery, and
abuse, and here gathered a few Indians about him,
and took up his abode.
He had planted trees, tilled the soil a little, grew
424 THE LAST OF THE
some stock, and now had a pleasant home, and horses
and cattle in herds np and down the river.
As the sun went down, the children, — brown,
beautiful, and healthy children, strong and supple, —
came in from the hills with the herds, and dis-
mounted, while some Indians came up from the river
and led their ponies down to water.
A little girl came up the steps ; the eldest, a shy
child of not more than a dozen years, yet almost a
woman, for this Californian sun is passionate, and
matures us early. A great black pet bear was by
her side, and she seemed to shrink as she saw me, a
stranger, there, and half hid behind his shaggy coat.
She took an apple from the ground that had fallen in
the path, and then the huge bear reared himself on
his hind legs before her as she turned, showing the
white of his breast to us, and opened his red mouth,
and held his head coaxingly to one side to receive
the apple. The bear was as tall as the little woman.
The next morning, when I persisted that I could
not remain, fresh horses were saddled for us, and an
Indian given to return the tired mules to the station.
" Why did you not tell me," said I, as we walked
down the path to the canoe, " that you bore nothing
of the blood of those men t "
The old nervousness swept across his face, but he
was composed and pleasant.
" Would men have believed me ? And if they had
CHILDREN OF SHASTA. 425
believed me, was I not as able to bear the blame as
the poor, desperate and outraged little Indian ? As
a true Indian, he could not have done otherwise than
he did. If ever men deserved death those did. Yet,
had it even been believed that they fell by an
Indian's hand, not only those two children, but
every Indian that set his foot in camp had been
butchered."
I could not answer. I could only think how this
man must have suffered to save those two waifs of
the forest, how he had thought it all out in the old
mining camp, balanced the chances, counted the cost,
and deliberately at last decided to become an out-
cast from the civilized world.
He stood with his moccasins down to the river's
rim, and took my hand, as the Indian seated himself
in the canoe and lifted his paddle.
" Come back," he said, " to the mountains. The
world is fooling you. It will laugh and be amused
to-day, as you dance before it in your youth, and
sing wild songs, but to-morrow it will tire of the
forest fragrance and the breath of the California lily ;
your green leaves will wither in the hot atmosphere
of fashion, and in a year or two you will be more
wretched than you can think; you will be neither
mountaineer nor man of the world, but vibrate hope-
lessly between, and be at home in neither capacity.
Come, be brave ! It is no merit to leave the world
420 TEE LAST OF TEE
when it has left you, and requires no courage ; but
now — "
u Say no more," 1 cried, " I will come ! Yonder,
across the hills, where the morning sun is resting on
the broad plateau, there among the oaks and pines,
I will pitch a tent, and there take up my everlasting
rest."
A pressure of the hand for the promise ; the canoe
swung free, the Indian's paddle made eddies in the
bright blue water, the horses blew the bubbles from
their nostrils, and their long manes floated in the
sweeping tide.
* ******
I am now in my new home where I have rested
and written this history of my life among the Indians
of Mount Shasta. I have seen enough of cities and
civilization — too much. I can endure storms, floods,
earthquakes, but not this rush and crush and crowd-
ing of men, this sort of moral cannibalism, where
souls eat souls, where men kill each other to get
their places. I have returned to my mountains. I
have room here. No man wants my place, there is
no rivalry, no jealousy ; no monster will eat me up
while I sleep, no man will stab me in the back when
I stoop to drink from the spring.
And yet how many noble and generous men have
I met away out in the sea of human life, far from my
snowy island in the clouds ! Possibly, after all, I
THE DOCTOR'S HOME.
CHILDREN OF SHASTA 427
am here, not that I love society less, but the solitude
more.
The heart takes root like a tree when it is young
and strong, and fresh and growing. It shoots ten-
drils like a vine. You cannot tear it from its place
at will. You may be very strong ; you may even
uproot and transplant, but it will never nourish in
the new place or be satisfied.
We have a cabin here among the oaks and the
pines, on a bench of the mountain, looking down on
the Sacramento valley, a day's ride distant.
A stream, white as cotton, is foaming among the
mossy rocks in a canon below the house, with balm
and madrono on its banks, and I have some horses
on the plain below. I have cattle on the manzanita
hills above me, towards the snow, where the grass is
fresh the season through. You can hear the old
white bull, the leader of the herd, lift up his voice
in the morning, and challenge the whole world below
to battle, but no David comes to meet him. When
we want a fresh horse here, we mount one of those
staked out yonder by lariat and hackamore, ride
down to the band in the plain, take, with the lasso,
the strongest and fastest of them all, saddle him,
mount, and turn the other loose to run till strong and
fresh again.
1 have a field too, down yonder, where we lead the
water through the corn, and the rich, rank growth of
428 TEE LAST OF THE
many kinds of vines. We have planted an orchard,
and grape vines are climbing up the banks, and
across the boulders that time has tumbled down from
the manzanita hills. We will remain here by our
vine and our fig tree till we can take shelter under
their boughs.
We will yet eat fruit from the trees we have
planted.
We? Why, yes! That means little " Calli Shasta,"
the little shy, brown girl that tried to hide, and
refused to see me w r hen I first returned to the
mountains. She is with me now, and wears a red
sash, and a scarf gracefully folded about her shoulders
under her rich flow of hair. I call her Shasta because
she was born here, under the shadows of Mount
Shasta, many stormy years ago. How she can ride,
shoot, hunt, and track the deer, and take the salmon !
Beautiful ? I think so. And then she is so fresh, in-
nocent and affectionate. Last night I was telling her
about the people in the world below, how crowded
they were in cities, and how they had to struggle.
u Poor things ! " she said, " poor things ! how I
pity them all that they have to stay down there.
Why cannot they come up here from their troubles
and be happy with us ? "
She is learning to read, and believes everything
she has yet found in the school books — George
Washington with his hatchet and all. The sweet.
CHILDREN OF SHASTA. 429
sweet child ! I am waiting to see what she will say
when she comes to the story, of Jonah and the
whale.
The Prince is here too. There is a tinge of gray in
his hair and a touch of sadness in his face. He is
back from his wanderings. Up from the world, up
to this sort of half-way house to the better land.
To-day, when the sun was low, we sat down in the
shadow of the pines on a mossy trunk, a little way out
from the door. The sun threw lances against the
shining mail of Shasta, and they glanced aside and
fell, quivering, at our feet, on the quills and dropping
acorns. A dreamy sound of waters came up through
the tops of the alder and madrono trees below us.
The world, no doubt, went on in its strong, old
way, afar off, but we did not hear it. The sailing
of ships, the conventions of men, the praise of men,
and the abuse of men ; the gathering together of the
air in silks, and laces, and diamonds under the
lights ; the success or defeat of this measure or of that
man ; profit and loss ; the rise and fall of stocks :
what were they all to us?
Peace ! After many a year of battle with the
world, we had retreated, thankful for a place of
retreat, and found rest — peace. Now and then an
acorn dropped ; now and then an early leaf fell
down ; and once I heard the whistle of an an tiered
deer getting his herd together to lead them down the
430 THE LAST OF TEE
mountain ; but that was all that broke the perfect
stillness.
A chipmunk dusted across the burrs, mounted the
further end of the mossy trunk, lifted on his hind
legs, and looked all around ; then, finding no hand
against him, let himself down, ran past my elbow on
to the ground again, and gathered in his paws, then
into his mouth, an acorn at our feet.
Peace ! Peace ! Who, my little brown neighbour
in the striped jacket, who would have allowed you to
take that, even that acorn, in peace, down in the busy,
battling world ? But we are above it. The storms
of the social sea may blow, the surf may break
against the rocky base of this retreat, may even
sweep a little way into the sable fringe of firs, but
it shall never reach us here.
I looked at the Prince as the sun went down. I
had so longed to know the secret of his life. Yet I
had never doubted that he was all he looked and
seemed : a genuine, splendid Prince.
Strange, nay, more than strange, that men should
live together in the mountains, year after year, and
not even know each other's names, not even the place
of their birth. Yet such is the case here, and all up
and down the Sierras. A sort of tacit agreement it
seems to have been from the first, that they should
not ask of the past, that they began a new life here.
The plains and the great seas they had crossed were
OA.LLI SHASTA.
CHILDREN OF SHASTA. 431
as gulfs of oblivion. Was it an agreement that we
should all begin life even here, and equal ? or was it
because these men were above any low curiosity, be-
cause they had something to do beside prying into
the past lives of their neighbours? I should say that
this fine peculiarity grew largely out of the latter.
But here it seemed the Prince and I had at last
pitched our tent for good, together. I had told him
of my ten years' battle just past, and he had re-
counted his. He had crossed and recrossed the
Cordilleras and the Andes, sailed up and down the
Amazon, fought in Nicaragua, and at last raised an old
Spanish galleon from Fonseca filled with doubloons
and Mexican dollars that had gone down in the sea
half a century before.
But his name ? Was he really a Prince, and if he
was really a Prince why follow the mountains so far ?
Why seek for gold, and why at last return to Shasta,
instead of to his people and his possessions ? My faith
was surely shaken. So many years of practical life
had taken something of the hero-worship out of my
nature. There was no longer the haze of sovereignty
about the head of this man, and yet I believe I loved
him as truly as ever.
Little Shasta came dashing up with the hounds at
her horse's heels. A chill breath came pitching down
from the mountain tops, keen and crisp, and we arose
to enter the cabin.
432 THE LAST OF THE
I put my hand on his arm, reached up and
touched the long, black curls that lay on his
shoulder, for I am now as tall as he.
" Nevertheless," said I, " you are really a Prince,
are you not ? "
" A Prince ! " said he with surprise. u Why, what
in the world put that into your head \ " and he put
my hand playfully aside and looked in my face.
Pie patted the ground in the old, old way, smiled
so gently, so graciously and kind, that I almost
regretted I had spoken. " A Prince ! indeed ! "
"Then pray, once for all, tell me who you are,
and what is your real Christian proper name."
He laughed a little, tossed his black hair back
from his face, stooped, picked up an acorn and tossed
it lightly after a chipmunk that ran along the mossy
trunk, and said : —
" Why, a man, of course, like yourself. An
American, born of poor parents, so that I had to
make the best of it ; drifted into Mexico after awhile,
and have been drifting ever since ; aimless, idle, till
I met you and undertook to pull you through the
winter. As for my name, it is Thompson, James
Thompson." Here he stooped, picked another acorn
from the ground, and cast it at the hounds that stood
listening to the whistle of the deer.
" Ah, Prince ! Prince ! You should at least have
had a romantic and prince-like name," I said to
CHILDREN OF SHASTA. 433
myself, as I filled a pipe with killikinick and re-
clined on the panther skins in the cabin when we
had entered.
" But see," I said with paternal air, to Calli, as I
blew the smoke towards the thatch, and she came
bounding in, filling the house like sunshine, with
cheerfulness and content ; " see what silence, coupled
with gentlemanly bearing, may do in the world.
Even plain Mr. Thompson may be named a Prince."
He is indeed a Prince, none the less a Prince
than before. Here we shall dwell together. Here
we shall be and abide in the dark days of winter
and the strong full days of the summer. Here we
have pitched our tents, and here we shall rest and
remain unto the end.
I have seen enough, too much to be in love with
life as I find it where men are gathered together. As
for civilization, it has been my fate or my fortune to
see it in every stage and grade, from the bottom to
the top. And I am bound to say that I have found
it much like my great snow peaks of the Sierras.
The higher up you go the colder it becomes.
Yet a good and true man will not withhold himself
utterly from society, no matter how much he may
dislike it. He will go among the people there much
as a missionary goes among the heathen, for the good
he can do in their midst.
How it amuses me to see my friends, the men I have
434 THE LAST OF THE
met in civilization, denying and attempting to dispute
the story that I am the man who lived with the
Indians and led them in war. Ah, my friends, you do
not know me at all.
There is much, no doubt, in my life to regret, but
there is nothing at all to conceal.
And let it be understood once for all that the
things I have to regret are not of my life with the
Indians or my attempt to ameliorate their condition.
I only regret that I failed.
Nay, I snap my fingers at the world and say, I am
proud of that period of my life. It is the one white
spot in my character, the only effort of my life to
look back to with exultation, the only thing I have
ever done or endeavoured to do that entitles me to
rank among the men of a great country.
And what has been my reward? No
matter, I appeal to time. It may be that a Phillips
will rise up yet to speak for these people, or a John
Brown to fire a gun, and then I will be remembered.
# # * * * * * #
Ah, thus I wrote, felt and believed in the few
days that I sat again in the shadows of Shasta, where
I wrote all but the opening and concluding lines of
this narrative. But I had mixed too much with the
restless and bustling life below me. I had bound
myself in ties not to be broken at pleasure.
Besides, it was now so lonely. The grass grew
CHILDREN OF SHASTA. 435
tall and entangled in the trails. It was rank and
green from the dust and ashes of the dead. It
flourished with all that rich and intense verdure that
marks the grasses growing above your friends. Here
it was like living in one great graveyard.
We went down to the busy world below, the
Prince and I, and ships have borne us into other and
different lands; wanderers again upon the earth;
drifting with the world, borne up and down, and on,
like the shifting levels of the sea.
The origin of the late Modoc war, which was really
of less importance than the earlier ones, and in which
the last brave remnant of the tribe perished, may be
briefly chronicled.
Among the Indians, as well as Christian nations,
there is often more than one man who aspires to or
claims to be at the head of the people. It is a
favourite practice of the Indian agents to take up
some coward or imbecile who may be easily managed,
and make him the head of a tribe, and so treat with
him, and hold the whole tribe to answer for his con-
tracts. In this way vast tracts of land and the
rights of a tribe are often surrendered for a mere
song. If anyone dissents, then the army is called to
enforce the treaty.
The old treaty with the Moclocs was not much
unlike this. Every foot of their great possessions
had been ceded away by one who had not authority
to cede, or influence to control the Indians.
436 THE LAST OF THE
They were mostly taken from their old possessions
to a reservation to the north, and on the lands of the
Klamat Indians, their old and most bitter enemies.
It was a bleak and barren land, and the Indians were
well-nigh starved to death.
Captain Jack, who was now the real and recognized
chief among the Indians, still held on to the home of
his fathers, an honest and upright Indian, and gath-
ered about him the best and bravest of his tribe.
Here they remained, raising horses and cattle, hunt-
ing, fishing, and generally following their old pursuits,
till the white settlers began to want the little land
they occupied.
Then the authorities came to Captain Jack, and
told him he must go to the Reservation, abandon his
lands, and live with his enemies. The Indians refused
to go.
" Then you must die."
"Very well," answered Captain Jack; "it is die
if we go, and die if we stay. We will die where our
fathers died."
At night — that time which the Indians surrender
to the wild beasts, and when they give themselves up
in trust to the Great Spirit — the troops poured in
upon them. They met their enemies like Spartans.
After long holding their ground, then came the
Peace Commissioners to talk of peace. The Indians,
remembering the tragedy of twenty years before,
CHILDREN OF SHASTA. 437
desperate and burning for revenge, believing that the
only alternative was to kill or be killed, killed the
Commissioners, as their own Peace Commissioners
had been killed. They were surrounded, there was
not even a possibility of escape, no hope, nothing but
death, yet they did this deed right in the face of the
desperate consequences which they knew must follow.
If we may be permitted to exult in any deeds of
war, how can we but glory in the valour of these few
men, battling there in the shadows of Shasta for all
that is sacred to the Christian or the savage, holding
the forces of the United States at bay for half a
year, looking death firmly in the face and fighting
on without a word day by day, every day counting
a diminished number, shrinking to a diminished
circle; bleeding, starving, dying; knowing that an-
nihilation was only a question of time. Knowing the
awful cost and yet counting down the price bravely
and without a murmur. There is nothing nobler in
all the histories of the hemispheres. But they shall
not be forgotten. Passion will pass away, and even
their enemies of to-day will yet speak of them with
respect.
I know that men will answer that it is impossible
to deal peaceably with the Indians. I ask, who has
tried it? Penn tried it, and found them the most
peaceable, upright, and gentle of beings. The
Mormons, certainly not the most noble type of men
438 THE LAST OF THE
at first, tried it, and they were treated like brothers.
A destitute and half-desperate band of wanderers, they
sat down in the midst of the wildest and the worst of
Indians, and the red men gave them meat to eat,
lands to plough, and protection and food till they
could protect and feed themselves. These are the
only two examples of an honest and continued
attempt to deal peaceably and fairly with the Indians
that you can point to since the savage first lifted his
hands in welcome to Columbus.
When I die I shall take this book in my hand
and hold it up in the Day of Judgement as a sworn
indictment against the rulers of my country for the
destruction of this people.
Here lies a letter giving a long account of the
last struggle of the Indians of Mount Shasta. Strange
how this one little war of the Modoc Indians
has got to the ears of world, while a thousand
not much unlike it have gone by in the last century
unwritten and unremembered ; perhaps it is because
it came in a time of such universal peace.
Brave little handful of heroes ! if ever I return to
Mount Shasta I will seek out the spot where the
last man fell ; I will rear a monument of stones, and
name the place Thermopylae.
And little Calli Shasta, the last of her tribe ?
At school in San Francisco. Her great black
eyes, deep and sad and pathetic, that seem to lay
' CHILDREN OF SHASTA. 439
hold of you, that seem to look you through and
understand you, turn dreamily upon the strange,
strong sea of people about her, but she gazes uncon-
cerned upon it all. She is looking there, but she is
living elsewhere. She is sitting there in silence, yet
her heart, her soul, her spirit, is threading the dark
and fragrant wood. She is listening to the sound-
ing waterfall, watching the shining fish that dart
below the grassy border. Seeing all things here, she
understands nothing at all. What will become of
her ? The world would say that she should become
a prodigy, that she should at once become civilized,
lay hold of the life around her, look up and climb
to eminence ; crush out all her nature, forget her
childhood; compete with those educated from the
cradle up, and win distinction above all these. The
world is an ass !
" And whose child is she ? " I hear you ask. Well
now, here is a little secret.
On her mother's side you must know that the last
and best blood of a once great tribe is in her veins.
And her father? Ah, that is the little secret.
We only know. We laugh at the many guesses and
speculations of the world, but we keep the little
maiden's secret.
If I fail in my uncertain ventures with an un-
schooled pen, as I have failed in all other things,
then she is not mine ; but if I win a name worth
having, then that name shall be hers.
440 THE LAST OF THE
Getting along in her new life ?
"Well, here is a paragraph clipped from an article
of many columns in a San Francisco journal: —
" She is now fifteen years old, and is living in San Erancisco,
supported from the poet's purse. She is described as strikingly
beautiful. She has her mother's deep, dark eyes, and wealth of
raven hair, and her father's clear Caucasian skin. Her neigh-
bours call her the beautiful Spanish girl, for they know not her
romantic history; but to her own immediate friends she is known
as the poet's gifted child. It is but justice to this rough, half-
savage man, to say that he is exceedingly fond of her, and does
everything in his power to make her comfortable and happy. "
What a joke it would be on this modern Gorgon, —
this monster daily press of America that eats up
men and women, soul and body, — this monster that
must be fed night . and morning on live men who
dare to come to the surface, if it should in this case
be utterly mistaken !
What if this busy, searching, man-devouring press,
which has compelled me to add to this narrative, or
live and die misunderstood, should discover after all
that this little lady is only the old Doctor's daughter
sent down to the city in my care to be educated ?
What will become of her ? The poor little waif,
when I look into her great wondering eyes, I fancy
she is a little rabbit, startled and frightened from
the forest into the clearing, where she knows not
whether to return or bound forward, and so sits still
and looks in wonderment around her. A little waif
is she, blown like some strange bird from out the
forest into a strange and uncertain land.
CHILDREN OF SHASTA. 441
Will she succeed in the new scene ? Poor child,
the chances are against her. Only fancy yourself
the last one of your race, compelled to seek out and
live with another and not an over-friendly people.
And then you would be always thinking in spite of
yourself; the heart would be full of memories; the
soul would not take root in the new soiL
How lost and how out of place she must
feel ! Poor little lady, she will never hear the
voices of her childhood any more. There is no true
Indian of Shasta living now to speak her language.
Touch her gently, O Fate, for she is so alone ! she
is the last of the children of Shasta.
APPENDIX
The following extracts are made from papers accompany-
ing the report of the Commissioner of Indian affairs, 1873,
which show in some measure the conflicts of the Indians and
the foundation for them.
From Report of J. G. Ames on California Indians.
"The burden of their complaint was to the effect that they had been
gradually driven from the lands which they or their fathers once occupied,
the title to which they thought justly belonged to them, until at the present
time but little available land remained to them ; that white men were in
many cases endeavoring to take from them the lands upon which they are
living, and by the cultivation of which they gain a partial support ; that they
were frequently annoyed by the settlers interfering with water upon which
they depended for irrigation, corraling their stock, and subjecting them to
fine for the same, or taking it from them altogether, threatening them with .
violence, and in other ways invading what they believe to be their rights ;
that in disposing of lands the agents of the Government have never recog-
nized the possessory rights of the Indians, and that in consequence they
have been, and are still, obliged to abandon lands which they have held in
immemorial possession, and to remove from places to which they are specially
attached, as the home and burial-ground of their ancestors, and this without
any provision being made for them elsewhere.
" They desired the Government to interfere to prevent this being done
hereafter, and to secure them in the possession of the lands now. occupied
by them. If this was done they could readily support themselves, and were
willing to do so, without aid from the Government, except in the matter of
farming implements and seed and clothing for the supply of their immediate
wants.
" They urged, furthermore, as a special grievance, that their right to ele2t
their own chief had been interfered with by the late superintendent, and that
the Government recognizes as chief an Indian who was repudiated by nearly
all the tribe, against whom they protested at the time of his appointment,
two years ago, and whose . authority they had since disregarded. They
wished a new election ordered, that the tribe might choose its own chief and
be no longer even nominally subject to one to whom so few owed allegianee."
" In accordance with this view, the assumed Indian title has always been
disregarded by the land-officers of the Government in this district and by
settlers. As expressed by the present register of the land-office, the location
of an Indian family or families on land upon which a white man desires to
settle is, in law, no more a bar to such settlement than would be the presence
REPORT ON INDIANS. 443
of a stray sheep or cow. And so, like sheep or cattle, they have been too
often driven from their homes and their cultivated fields, the Government,
through its officers, refusing to hear their protests, as though in equity as
well as in law they had no rights in the least deserving consideration."
" While they complain of the manner in which they have been treated by
the whites, I discovered very little of the spirit of revenge among thorn. So
far from this, I think no other race would have borne so patiently and with
so little effort at retaliation the indignities and wrongs to which they have
been subject."
From Report of L. E. Sleigh on California Indians.
"The villagers began to assemble early. At the appointed hour the
captain rose, and in a short speech in the Indian language, which seemed to
be both eloquent and well appreciated, gave his hearers to understand the
errand upon which I visited them. A lively interest was manifested by
every one. They complained of the encroachments of their American
neighbors upon their land, and pointed to a house near by, built by one of
the more adventurous of his class, who claimed to have pre-empted the land
upon which the larger part of the village lies. On calling upon the man
afterward, I found that such was really the case, and that he had actually
paid the price of the land to the register of the land-office of this district,
and was daily expecting the patent from Washington. He owned it was
hard to wrest from these well-disposed and industrious creatures the homes
they had built up. ' But,' said he, ' if I had not done it somebody else
would, for all agree that the Indian has no right to public lands.' These
Indians further complain that settlers take advantage of them in every way
possible ; employ them to work and insist on paying them in trifles that are
of no account to them ; ' dock ' them for imaginary neglect, or fail entirely
to pay them ; take up their stock on the slightest pretext and make exorbi-
tant charges for damages and detention of the stock seized. They are in
many cases unable to redeem it. They have therefore little encouragement
to work or to raise stock. Nor do they care to plant fruit-trees or grape-
vines as long as land thus improved may be taken from them, as has been
the case in very many instances. Among the little homes included in the
pre-emption claim above referred to are those adorned with trees and vines.
Instead of feeling secure and happy in the possession of what little is left to
them, they are continually filled with anxiety. They claim that they ought
to be allowed to remain where their forefathers have lived for so long, and
that they should be protected by law in the peaceful possession of the homes
that have been handed down to them."
From Report of J. W. Powell and G. W. Ingalls on Indians in Utah,
Nevada, §c.
"In their association with the white settlers in the valleys of Utah, many
difficulties have arisen from time to time, and frequent complaints have come
up to the Indian Department at Washington against these Indians, on the
ground that they would not remain on the reservation. But it has not been
possible for them to remain ; they have been compelled to go elsewhere to
obtain a living.
** When told that they would be forced to go back, they openly defied the
authorities, and challenged some of the officers who were present to fight.
When afterward informed that they would be furnished with food on the
agency, that herds of cattle and loads of flour should be immediately taken
there, they agreed to go, and some of these Indians have this summer told
the commission that, at that time, they had determined to fight rather than
6tay on the reservation and starve, for they feared hunger more than they
did the soldiers. Under the existing state of facts, it is unreasonable to
expect these Indians to remain on the reservation."
" In war we deal with people as organized into nationalities, not as indi-
444 APPENDIX.
viduals. Some hungry Indian steals a beef, some tired Indian steals a
horse, a vicious Indian commits a depredation, and flies to the mountains.
No effort is made to punish the real offender, but the first Indian met is shot
at sight. Then, perhaps, the Indians retaliate, and the news is spread
through the country that war has broken out with the Indians. Troops are
sent to the district and wander around among the mountains and return.
Perhaps a few Indians are killed, and perhaps a few white men. Usually in
all such cases the white man is the chief sufferer, for he has property which
can be spoiled, and the Indian has none that he cannot easily hide in the
rocks. His methods of warfare are such that we cannot cope with him
without resorting to means which are repugnant to civilized people; and,
after spending thousands, or even millions of dollars, on an affair which, at
its inception, was but a petty larceny, we make a peace with the Indians,
and enter into an agreement to secure him lands, which we cannot fulfill,
and to give him annuities, the expense of which are a burden on the public
Treasury."
From Rejiort of A. B. Meacham on the Modoc Indians.
" The first difficulty with the emigrants, as. they (the. Modocs) reported,
grew out of the efforts of the emigrants to recapture horses found in their
possession, which they claimed they had purchased from the Snake and Pitt
River Indians.
"After hostilities began, continued at intervals, during which time many
Modocs were killed and many emigrants were cruelly butchered. Perhaps
the most revolting among the many scenes was that of the killing of seventy-
five white persons in 1852.
" This terrible tragedy called out a company of volunteers 'for the pro-
tection of emigrants," who, under command of Ben Wright, of Yreka, Cal.,
arrived on Tule Lake, at Bloody Point, the scene of the wholesale butchery
above referred to. Failing to engage the Modocs in a fair battle, proposed a
' peace talk,' which, was finally accepted, and forty-six Modoc warriors
responded, and were by him and his company attacked, and forty-one of
them slain. This act of treachery has always been remembered by the
Modoc people, and had much to do in perpetuating the bitter feelings that
have since existed, and doubtless had influence in the late assassination.
Ben Wright was received at Yreka with great demonstrations, bonfires and
banquets, and was afterward appointed an Indian agent as a reward for this
heroic act of treachery to a trusting people, and a violation of the sacred
rights of a flag of truce. Had he been held to account for this unauthorized
act, it would have done much to secure the confidence of the Modocs, and
other tribes as well. Hostilities continued until 1864, when ex- Superintend-
ent Steele, of California, made a temporary treaty with the several tribes in
the vicinity of Yreka, including the Modocs. In October following, Super-
intendent Huntington, of Oregon, under authority of the General Govern-
ment, held a treaty-council at Council Grove, near Fort Klamath, with the
Modocs and Klamath Indians, when all the country claimed by these tribes
was ceded to the Government, except so much as may be embraced within
the boundaries of what is known as Klamath reservation, and described in
the second article of said treaty. Schonchin, as head chief, (a brother of the
Schonchin who was executed,) Captain Jack, (as Kient-poos,) and other
members of the Modoc tribe, signed the treaty in the presence of witnesses.
It is in evidence that the Modocs, including Captain Jack, in conformity of
said treaty, accepted goods and subsistence, and remained on the new reser-
vation several months, and finally left, returning to the Modoc country, and
ignored the treaty, and refused to return to the reservation until December,
1869, at which time he accepted annuity goods and subsistence; and, under
promise of protection from the taunts and insults of the Klamaths, he again
took his abode on the Klamath reservation, together with the remainder of
the tribe, selecting Modoc Point as the site for a home. They began toniake
arrangements for a permanent settlement, and no doubt with bona-Jide inten-
REPORT ON ■ INDIANS. 445
tions to remain. All this was agreed to, and fairly understood by all parties
interested, Klamath and Modoc Indians included. The former, however,
began soon thereafter to taunt the latter with being ' strangers, orphans, poor
men, etc.,' claiming the timber, fish, grass, and water, and in various ways
annoying them. Captain Jack appealed to Captain Knapp, then acting agent,
for protection from their insults. Agent Knapp, not fully comprehending
how much was involved in his action, removed Captain Jack's band of Mo-
docs to a new location, where they began again to make tails, and prepare
logs for building, when the Klamaths, emboldened by the success of their
first interference, and being in no wise punished, or reprimanded, repeated
the insults. Captain Jack again • appealed for protection to Agent Knapp,
who proposed still another home for the Modocs. Captain Jack again
sought a resting-place' for his people, and not finding one to his satisfaction
he called them together, and declared his intention to leave the reservation,
which he did, returning to the Lost Kiver country, where he remained
several months, and until persuaded to return to Klamath reservation, at
Yainax station. Unfortunately he here employed an Indian doctor to act
as a physician, and, under an old Indian law, when the patient died, he
killed, or caused to be killed, the Indian doctor. The reservation Indians
demanded his arrest and punishment. He fled to the Modoc country, was
pursued, but, eluding arrest, he sent messengers proposing a conference.
Commissions were sent to meet him, and a temporary peace secured, on the
condition that he would keep his people aAvay from the settlements, and sub-
mit to arrest, if demand should be made. He insisted then, as he had pre-
viously done, for a home on Lost Iliver. The commissioner, under instruc-
tions from superintendent of Indian affairs, promised to lay the request
before the Commissioner at Washington, which was done, together with the
reasons for so doing, also recommending that a small reservation of six
milts square be allowed them at the mouth of Lost Kiver. No action was
ever taken."
" 1st. In 18G9, satisfied that force would be errployed if they resisted,
they (the Modocs) went on to Klamath reservation under promises of pro-
tection.
"2d. Had they been thus protected in their rights as against the insults
of the Klamath Indians they would have remained, and no second stampede
would have followed; that the failure to keep the promise of protection im-
paired the confidence of the Modocs in subsequent promises.
" 3d. That in 1870 an understanding was had that an effort would be
made to obtain a small reservation for them on Lost Kiver, on condition that
they kept the peace. No action was taken by the Department on this mat-
ter. The Modocs, discouraged by the delay and emboldened thereby, be-
came an unbearable annoyance to the settlers, and removal of location could
not be deferred.
"4th. A small reservation, as recommended, would have averted all
trouble with these people, and the failure to notify them that no action would
be had on the matter was a blunder.
"5th. Had they been fully apprised of the fact in a way to give them
confidence that no home would be allowed them on Lost River, and an
appeal been properly made by some officer of the Indian Department, they
might not have resisted.
" 6th. Superstitious Indian religion had much to do in causing them to
resist.
" 7th. Want of adaptability of Government agents produces confusion
and sometimes war.
" Finally, this war was the result of changing agents and policies too
often, and the absence of well-defined regulations regarding the relative
duties and powers of the Indian and military Departments, the citizens, and
Inuians.
CATALOGUE OF BOOKS
PUBLISHED
BY
|tfie J^mmijatt p
itblisljiug %
»♦»
HABTFORD, ■
■ CONN.
PKICK IN CLOTH.
The Gilded Age, - - - y
■ Bv \ ^ ARK Twain and
y ( Chas. Dudley Warner. $3.50
Everybody's Friend, -
" Josh Billings.
3.50
Life Amongst the Modocs,
1 " Joaquin Miller.
3.00
My Opinions and Betsey Bobbet's,
" Marietta Holley.
2.50
Roughing It, - -
By Mark Twain.
S.50
Innocents Abroad, - -
a (i *t
3.50
Sights and Sensations in Europe, -
" Junius Eenri Brown.
3.00
Overland Through Asia,
« Thomas W. Knox.
3.50
My Captivity Among the Sioux, -
" Fanny Kelly.
1.50
Agriculture, -
" Alexander Hyde.
1.50
The Uncivilized Races of Men,
" J. G. Wood.
6.00
Personal History of U. S. Grant,
" A. D. Richardson.
3.00
Beyond the Mississippi,
U «( U • m
3.50
Field, Dungeon and Escape,
u a u m
8.00
The Great Rebellion, -
" J. T. Headley. -
5.00
Pebbles and Pearls,
" Mrs. A. D. Richardson.
1.25
Family Bible, (Steel Engravings.) In Fine Bindings, from 6.50 to 13.00
Bible History, (Steel Engravings,)
By J. E. Stebbins.
3.50
Steady Employment given to persons to introduce these
books into every city town and village in the land. A good
paying, honorable and permanent business can be built up by
any one who will give it the attention and time necessary
to secure success in any other business. Selling books by sub-
scription has become recognized as legitimate by the public,
and the largest publishers have added subscription branches
to their concerns, and publish their best books that way.
New Books in preparation by us, from the pens of the most
popular authors of the day. Full information sent free to all
asking it. Address,
AMERICAN PUBLISHING CO., Hartford, Conn.
Ivl^RKl TWAIN
AND
CHARLES TDTTTDX-EY AATAPL^rEPL'S
NEW BOOK,
With nearly 250 illustrative engravings from new designs by
HOPPIN, STEPHENS, WILLIAMS, WHITE, &c. <Scc.
40,000 Sold in Six Weeks I
3Iost Rapid Sale of any Booh on llccord I
AGENTS IIAVE BUT TO SHOW THE BOOK TO OBTAIN A SUBSCRIBER.
The patire of the book is pungent enough to have grown on a red pepper plant,
and tl.e accuracy of aim with which it is delivered is not excelled by thai of a Wimbledon
prize w inner. — Hearth and Home N. Y.
The result has been a careful reading of the book from beginning to end : and what we
undertook as a duty we finished with no little zest. We wish *ome Tract Society would see that
it is widely circulated at Washington.— Boston c-ou/regatioualist .
They have given most of the falsities of the time a sound thrashing that will be appreciated,
and of all the levers wherewith to topple over the thrones of Sham, ridicule such as this is the
strongest. — Appleton's Journal.
It is one of the most active pieces of composition we have lately rend. Tt is wonderfully
varied and vivacious, a broadside discharge of heavy guns at everything hollow in modern
society. — Utica Herald.
Just what might lie expected from Twain and Warner. It hits about every head that shows
itself prominently above the surface of society, politics, aud finance.— Syracuse Journal.
PlilCES ;
Cloth, $3.50. Zibrary, $1.00. Half Morocco, $5.00.
For an agency, address AMERICAN PUBLISHING" CO .
HARTFORD, CONX.
DOUBLE ATTEAOTION.
JOSH BILLINGS' NEW BOOK,
ILLUSTRATED BY
THOMAS NAST,
Is sold only by subscription, and is now ready for Canvassers.
The combination of talent in the text and illustrations of this book, has
made it one of the most humorous and readable volumes ever printed. Its title,
" EVERYBODY'S FRIEND,"
Is a Iruex inde to its character, and everybody wants to see and read it.
It is full of cuts in Nast's happiest style, and Billings says his sharpest says
in it. It is a decided hit.
Agents wanted to introduce this work.
New banners never had a better book to practise upon, and old agents can
astonish themselves with it.
Now is the time to get choice territory.
Full information, with circulars, etc., etc., sent free to all applicants.
PRICES.
Cloth, $3.50. Zibrary, $A.OO. Salf Morocco, $4-. 50.
Address,
AMERICAN PUBLISHING CO.,
SABTFOBD, CONF.
SOMETHING RICH AND RACY!
Husbands should buy it for their wives. "Wives should buy it for their hus-
bands. Have it in the house someway. It will let the sunlight in.
A Sll.lItP, PUJTGEJTT BOOK,
BY
JOSIAH ALLEN'S WIFE,
Who wrote it in spite of Josiah's determination not to pay a cent to hire
anybody to read it.
It tells its own story. No one can read it without the keenest enjoyment.
It is full of humor, sarcasm and instruction.
What tlie Press Say :
Dickens or Mark Twain in their happiest moments never produced anything
equal to "My Opinions." — Flint {Mich.) Globe.
There have been f ew books written which have contained such a fund of quiet
and cunning humor, sarcasm and philosophy. — Bridgeport (Conn.) Standard.
11 My Opinions and Betsey Bobbet's," by Josiah Allen's Wife, a new book in
the humorous vein, has great power to amuse. Many of the chapters on the
mishaps and oddities of home life in the country, with portraiture of character,
and rei.dering of conversation and exposition of view, are irresistibly funny.
There is much extravagance in it, much nonsense, and also much point, and an
indefinite amount of fun. — Toledo Weekly Blade.
" Josiah Allen's Wife" is a right down sensiblewoman, and her " Opinions" are
worth considering. She proves herself a dangerous rival to any of our popular
humorists. — Putnam Patriot.
The American Publishing Company, of Hartford, have published a humorous
work entitled " My Opinions and Betsey Bobbet's " by Josiah Allen's wife. It is
written in dialect, and is as full of fun from beginning to end as can well be. To
those in want of a good laugh, it can confidently be recommended, both as regards
text and illustrations, which are plentiful.— Morning Herald, Prov., M. I.
"My Opinions and Betsey Bobbet's," is "by Josiah Allen's wife," who, if she
don't know how to spell, certainly knows how to write a book, and in this par-
ticular she is not unlike Josh Billings, or the late lamented Artemus Ward. , The
book is exceedingly droll and humorous, cute, sarcastic and smart; and "Josiah
Allen's " wife shows that she is nobody's fool, when she "rises to explain" a
point. The illustrations are numerous and funny, and the whole thing is the
funniest book that has come to our notice since Mark Twain's " Innocents" got
abroad. In fact the latter will have to return home a while now, until the pub-
lic read and laugh over "Josiah Allen's wife," which will have a great sale.—
Webster Times.
The book has been republished in England. The following
shows the way it is spoken of by the press there.
" Every part of the book is written with exquisite humor, end it will be
read with real amusement, many questions of interest to the student of woman's
rights are discussed, and with much common sense. We strongly recommend
this little volume to those who are seeking for a thoroughly entertaining book.
They will pity and perhaps despise Betsey Bobbet, even though she will amuse
them ; but we are deceived if they do not learn to respect Josiah Allen's Wife,
in spite of her absurd blunders, as a woman whose heart is right, and whose
brains are not addled." — London Queen.
PRICES :
Fine English Cloth, $2.50. Library, $3.00, Half Morocco, $4.00,
For an agency, address AMERICAN PUBLISHING CO ,
HAJtTJFORD, CON2T.
MAEK TWAIN'S WOEKS.
OR,
The New Pilgrim's Progress.
The names of this book and its author have become household
words, The work is universally acknowledged to be one of the
most fascinating volumes ever written.
150,000 COPIES SOLID.
Notices or the Press.
" The book i* a Golconda of wit; a very mine of pparklinj* entertainment."— \N.Y. Express.
" He sees Palestine with eyes wide open and with a full appreciation of the Holy Land as
it was and is. 1 '— [Munionary Herald,
" Beautifully printed, and swarming with illustrations, which, in their way, are as effective
and amusing as the letter press."— [New York limes.
"It is fresh, racy, and sparkling as a glass of iced champagne— and a good deal better for
the health and digestion."— [Har(fo?d (Ct.) Times.
" Buy it, ULd you will bless Mark Twain to the end of your existence."— [Moliawk Valley
Register.
PRICES.
Cloth, $3.50. JAbrary, $6.00. Half Morocco, $5.00.
IS A COMPANION VOLUME TO
THE INNOCENTS ABROAD,
And like it is filled with descriptions of people and things seen by
the author himself, with his own eyes, which differ in some respects
from those of others; related in his own style, which if in no other
way meritorious, is at least an original one.
It is suited to the wants of the old, the young, the rich, the poor,
the sad, and the gay. " There is a time to laugh," and those who
buy this book, will see clearly that the time has arrived.
To all, we say buy this book, carry it home, do good with it. read
it to your family and your friends,
" And make all laugh who never laughed before,
And those who always laugh, make laugh the more."
SUPERBLY ILLUSTRATED.
TRICES.
Cloth, $3.50. Zibrary, $6.00. Half Morocco, $5.00.
Persons wishing either of these volumes, by addressing the Publishers will
be supplied.
^ B^" Wanted, parties to deliver these books to subscribers, a very remunera*
tive business. Address,
AMERICAN PUBLISHING CO.,
HARTFORD, COIS1V.
COUNTRIES AND PEOPLE WE SHOULD KNOW.
OVERLAND THROUGH ASIA
Pictures of Siberian, Chinese, and Tartar Life, Travels and
Adventures in Kamchatka, Siberia, China, Mongolia,
Chinese Tartary, and Russia.
Experiences on tSic hitherto almost unknown A moor Iiiver, rivalling the
Mississippi in size and grandeur ; describing its Splendid Valley,
with its Gold Mines, Inhabitants, etc., etc.
Full Account of the Siberian Exiles, with their world of Incidents and
Romance. Thousands of Miles in, Sleighs, etc.
WITH AN ACCURATE AND MINUTE MAP AND NEARLY
TWO HUHDBED FINE AND APPEOPSIATE ENGRAVINGS,
BY THE BEST ARTISTS.
BEING A COMPREHENSIVE AND VALUABLE EXPOSITION OF THE COUNTRIES OP
Alaska, Kamchatka, Siberia, China, & Russia, as they are to-day.
By THOMAS W. KNOX, '
-A.-uth.or> of "Camp Eire and. Cotton Eield."
Pew know anything of the great country explored by the author, except so far as they have
fathered ideas of it from floating rumors and unreliable stories. Comparatively few even would
now how to proceed to reach it from San Francisco. Scarcely any know of the magnificent
river, the A moor, and of the vast valley it water". All will be surprised, on reading this book,
to see how different is the truth, from their imaginings of this entire region and its inhabitants.
The author of this work came prominently before the public as one of the old War Cor-
respondents, and has been more recently known as one of the most able and popular writers
and journalists of the day.
His attempt to go around the world by way of Kamchatka, Siberia, Russia, etc., involving
thousands of miles travel through an almost unknown country, drew great attention at the
time. The successful result, and the safe arrival of the traveller at St. Petersburg, after a
journey through the vast region between the mouth of the Amoor river and that city — a feat
scarcely ever before performed by a foreigner, — created great interest in the trip; and no
subject to-day can be more intensely fascinating than that presented in this book.
Agents wanted. Apply to AMERICAN PUBLISHING CO., Hartford, Conn.
THE UNCIVILIZED RACES;
Or, NATURAL HISTORY OF MAN.
A. complete account of the Manners and Customs, and the I'ltysical, Social, and
Jtelijious Conditions and Characteristics of the Uncivilized Iiaces of Men
THROUGrHOUT TH3H 3E 3>T 1* X H. IE WORLD.
By Rev. J. G. WOOD, M. A., F. L. S.,
■A-utlior of Natural History of Animals, 33ible Animals, etc., etc.
"With over 700 Fine Illustrations from Ke-w Designs, by Zwecker,
Angas Danfty, Haadley, Wolf, etc.,
Bound in 2 Volumes : also in 1 Volume Complete, of nearly 1,700 Pages.
The author of this work has the endorsement of the most literary men of Great Britain.
He has. by his exhaustive and invaluable works on men, birds, beasts, etc., placed himself
foremost among writers on Natural History.
The work here offered is the most interesting of all his writings. Years of travel and care-
ful research have been spent in its preparation, the records of the most famous explorers have
been studied and compared, living travellers have given their aid to the work, and have con-
tributed 10 the author's collection of the dresses, ornaments, maps, etc., of barbarous races,
from which ample drawings have been made to fully illustrate the work.
Reflecting every phase of uncivilized life and society, giving lite-like pictures of the pecu-
liar institutions and the manners and customs of every cla*s and race of men, except the white,
on the entire globe, their modes and habits of life, where and how they live, in fact showing up
the whole outer and inner life of the great majority of the people in the known world, in a
manner and with a fulness never equalled, the work is offered by the publishers with implicit
faith in its being recognized as a book of rare merit and value.
Agents wanted. Apply to AMERICAN PUBLISHING CO,, Hartford, Conn.
:ntew JLisnD enlarged edition
OF
EIOHARDSON'S
"BEYOND THE MISSISSIPPI."
BROUGHT FORWARD TO THE SUMMER OF 1869,
DESCRIBING
THE OLD WEST AS IT WAS, and THE NEW WEST AS IT IS,
FROM THE GREAT RIVER TO THE GREAT OCEAX.
620 LARGE OCTAVO PAGES.— 216 ILLUSTRATIONS,
and the most Minute and Accurate Map of the country in existence.
1857 to 1869.
THE
OPENING OF THE PACIFIC RAILROAD,
its Origin, Progress, and Completion, together with all the Great Changes in the
country incident thereto, are fully and faithfully described. It gives even/ Station on
the road, Distances apart, and such other Important Statistics as render it invaluable to all.
All other proposed Railroad Routes to the Pacific are found upon its map, and are
duly considered and explained. Ail subjects connected with these roads are fully
written up.
This work gives graphic accounts of the Progress of the Western half of our con-
tinent, and the most romantic, stirring, and picturesque incidents in its history.
OF MORMONISM AND POLYGAMY IN UTAH,
With fine Illustrations of Life in Salt Lake city, of Brigham Young, his Wives,
Children, Residences, &c, &c.
Of the great NATURAL CURIOSITIES, of which there are more in Western
America than on all the globe beside : among which are the Rocky Mountains and
the Sierra Ncvadas ; Pictured Rocks ; Lakes among the Clouds ; hundreds of Mineral
Springs ; Great Salt Lake and its Basin ; the Snake River Cataract of Idaho ; the
Great Falls of the Missouri ; the unapproached Scenery of Columbia River ; the
boundless Forests and beautiful Puget Sound of far Washington Territory ; Pike's
Peak; Long's Peak; Mount Shasta, Mount Hood, Mount Rainer; the Geysers, Big
Tree Groves, and the stupendous Yosemite Valley of California.
It describes and gives views of THE BIG CANYON OF THE COLORADO
RIVER, 500 miles long, with the incredible journey of James White through it,
upon a raft, occupying 14 days, during 7 of which White was without food; of the
DISCOVERY AND OPENING UP of the
NEW WHITE PINE SILVER REGION OF NEVADA,
which is attracting thousands of emigrants and causing the wildest excitement ever
known in our mining history.
COMPLETE STATISTICS OF EACH STATE AND TERRITORY,
in Gold and Silver, and other Products, increase of Population, number of acres of
Public Land, value of same, surrounding Markets, with the inducements offered to
settlers, can be found in its pages. No other book extant contains one-half the in-
formation on the subject contained in this.
To the Emigrant, to the Traveler, and to all others whose interests or inclinations
draw their attention westward, this book will be invaluable, treating fully of this part
of our country, its vast and unequalled resources, and of the comparative extent,
capabilities, and availabilities of its different sections, giving such information as can
be obtained from no other source. «
CO NDITIONS.
"We sell this work with all additions at the original prices.
Bound in Fine English Cloth, ------ $3.50
" " •' u Gilt Edge, - 4.00
" Leather, (Library Style,) 4 00
Agents wanted. Apply to AMERICAN PUBLISHING 00., Hartford, Ct.
SELLING BOOKS BY SUBSCEIPTKM.
THE AMERICAN PUBLISHING COMPANY
— OF —
HAETFORD, CONN".,
Are engaged in the publication of rare and valuable
Standard Works,
Selling them by
SUBSCRIF'TION ONLY.
-»♦«■ » ««»■
By this method they reach directly the whole reading public,
multiply their sales ten fold, and place the works in the hands of
thousands whose attention otherwise would not be called to them.
This enables the publishers not only to give honorable and remu-
nerative employment to a very large class of worthy persons act-
ing as agents, but to expend largely upon their books in their prep-
aration and publication, to illustrate them profusely and to sell
them at much lower prices than works of equal cost are sold by
the regular trade. They also are enabled by this method to main-
tain an uniformity of price throughout the country, and to see
that all subscribers receive what they actually contract for.
THE AMERICAN PUBLISHING COMPANY
have universally given better books than they promised. They
look back with gratification over their list, and the unqualified praise
each volume has received from the press and the public. They
publish nothing but books worthy a place in the libraries of the
educated and the refined; and such books, by their system of
agents, they bring to the direct notice of almost every person in
the country. No recommendations are given to the public except
those sent from voluntary sources ; and no unworthy means are
taken to procure them.
We Want Agents Throughout the Country.
The sale of our works is an honorable and praiseworthy em-
ployment, and is particularly adapted to disabled Soldiers, aged
and other Clergymen having leisure hours, Teachers and Students
during vacation, &c., Invalids unable to endure hard physical labor,
Young Men who wish to travel and gather knowledge and experi-
ence by contact with the world, and all who can bring industry,
perseverance, and a determined will to the work. Women who
can devote time to the work, often make the best of canvassers. Our
terms to agents are very liberal ; we give exclusive territory to
operate in ; Catalogues and Circulars sent free upon application.
Address AMERICAN PUBLISHING CO., Hartford, Conn.
T~^rr
UJ
HOME USE
CIRCULATION DEPARTMENT
t- k MA,N L 'BRARY
J
3
OEC '-tWIWWfH^ee JQCLU2QQ3_jl -5 pm
r^ cm ?;.«y I t ; 'fri .
67'1IAM
Mffi
. General Library
Un,v e rs/tyofcal,f; r nfa
Berkeley
YC 49417
U.C. BERKELEY LIBRARIES
I
CQDbE32MDfl