Wigwam and War-path Or the Royal Chief in Chains Part 49

Lieut. Eagan is still improving. Fairchild is in camp, and a.s.suring Gen.

Gilliam that as "soon as the Oregon volunteers arrive, the Modocs will throw down their guns and come right out and surrender;" Riddle and wife in camp also, and a.s.sisting to care for the sick. "Muybridge," the celebrated landscape artist, of San Francisco, is here with his instruments, photographing the "Lava Beds," the council tent, and the scene of the a.s.sa.s.sination. "Bunker," of the "San Francis...o...b..lletin," is on the ground reporting for his paper. "Bill Dad," with his long hair floating in the wind and a pipe in his mouth, slipshod and sloven, still hovers around to keep the readers of the "Record" posted.

Gen. Gilliam is consulting with his officers; they are indignant at the inaction manifested. Donald McKay and his Warm Springs Indians are scouting under the direction of army officers. Both Donald and his men are disgusted with the _red-tape way of fighting_ Modocs.

Captain Jack and his people are quiet this morning. They are so closely hidden that even the sharp eyes of Donald McKay cannot discern their whereabouts. Captain Jack's men are anxious to be on the warpath; but the chief restrains them. They, in turn, reproach him with want of courage. He insists that they must act on the defensive. Bogus, Boston, Shacknasty Jim and Hooker Jim are rebellious and threaten to desert. Couriers are bearing despatches to Y-re-ka announcing that "_the Modocs cannot escape_."

A gun from the deck of the "_Oriflamme_" tells the people of San Francisco of her arrival with the remains of Gen. Canby. An immense concourse of citizens escort the hea.r.s.e to the head-quarters of the army.

The widow sits in a carriage, with unmoistened eyes, while the populace pay homage to the great character of her husband. The body of Dr. Thomas is quietly resting with the dead, while he in spirit is enjoying the glories of eternal life; his last sermon preached, his trials over.

The three children of Meacham are drying their tears, and thanking G.o.d that they are not fatherless, and for the love of a brotherhood that brings to their home sunshine in the faces and words of Secretary Chadwick and Col. T. H. Cann, who have called this morning.

Away up in Umatilla, a young man, who has been bowed down with grief over a second great bereavement, this morning reads to the little orphans that climb on his knees, and their widowed mother, the telegram signed by Capt.

Ferree, announcing the recovery of his brother. His joy is unbounded. A great load has been lifted from his shoulders and his heart.

Midway between the oceans and near Solon, Iowa, in the sitting-room of an old homestead, a group is kneeling around a family altar. The bent form of a silver-haired man is surrounded by his aged second wife, his two living daughters; and perhaps, too, the invisible presence of _two_ daughters and two sons that have gone before, and _their own_ mother, are also there.

His voice is tremulous while he leads in prayer and recounts that half of his family has gone and half remains; blesses G.o.d that the dark sorrow that threatened them has pa.s.sed away, and invokes Heaven's blessings on the living loved ones.

_Thursday morning_, and we are in a cabin at Ferree's ranch. The proprietor enters, holding a letter in his hand. "See here, old man, I don't know but what you have jumped out of the frying-pan into the fire.

How does this suit you?"

KLAMATH AGENCY, Thursday morning, April 23.

FRIEND FERREE:--Be on your guard. The Klamath Indians were in war council last night.... We have sent our women and children to Fort Klamath for safety....

L. S. DYER, _Agent Klamath_.

"That don't look wholesome for us, old man; but you are all right, you can _play dead_ on 'em again, and they _can't scalp you nohow_. We are pretty well stockaded and well armed. We can play them a merry string, if they do come. If we have to fight, why, you can't do much, that's so, except as old man Jones did at the camp-meeting last year. He said he couldn't _preach_, he couldn't pray _much_, but he could say _Amen_ as well as anybody; and all through the meeting old Father Jones was shouting 'Amen!'

'_A-men!_' until they stopped the old fellow. Didn't I never tell you about that? Well, brother Congar was preaching brimstone pretty lively, and Father Jones was shouting Amen occasionally. Brother Congar was saying to the congregation, 'If you don't repent and be baptized, you'll all go to h.e.l.l, shure as you're born,'--'Amen! Thank G.o.d!--Amen!' shouts Father Jones. Brother Congar stops. 'Father Jones, you didn't understand what I was a-sayin,'--'Yes, I guess I did, Bro. Congar, you told me if we come over here that, whenever you said anything powerful smart, I was to say 'Amen!' You said you couldn't preach _worth a cent_ unless I did, and I've done it, so I have. If it aint satisfactory, I quit and go back home,'--'Amen!' shouted brother Congar, and went on with the preaching.

Now all we will ask of you, 'old man,' is to say 'Amen,' but don't act the fool about it like Father Jones did, that's all. We'll tend to administering sulphur in broken doses, if they try to take us in. Don't think there's any danger though. Dyer isn't over the scare he got in the race with _Hooker Jim_ yet."

_Friday morning, April 24th._--The army at the Lava Beds is performing some masterly feats of inactivity that would have been a credit to Gen.

McClellan on the peninsula. The wild fowls that fly over the Lava Beds look down on the army of a thousand recuperating after the big battle of last week. Col. Miller is in charge of Captain Jack's stronghold. The Warm Springs are divided up, and a.s.signed to duty with the different squadrons of cavalry. Quartermaster Grier is having a coffin made and a grave prepared for a soldier that is dear to somebody somewhere, who is in blissful ignorance of his fate.

_Ferree's Ranch, Sunday morning, April 25, '72._--A horseman arrives, and, taking Ferree aside, he informs him that a reliable friendly Indian had come in to Linkville and reported that it was understood that Meacham had killed Schonchin, and that some of Schonchin's friends had been to Yai-nax--an Indian station on Klamath Reservation--and learned that Meacham was at Ferree's. Further, that it was thought advisable that he be immediately removed to Linkville, lest the Modocs should make an attack on the ranch, seeking revenge for the death of Schonchin. The ambulance is ordered out, and the convalescent Peace Commissioner was again on wheels.

Here we take leave of our inveterate joker--the Iowa veteran--Capt. Ferree leaving him to administer "_saltpetre_ and _blue-pills_" to the red skins in the event of an attack.

_Lava Beds, Gilliam's Camp, Sunday morning, April 26th._--Something is to be done to-day. The location of the Modocs has been ascertained through the efforts of the Warm Springs Indian scouts. A reconnoissance of the new stronghold is ordered. The detachment designated for this purpose consisted of sixty-six white men and fourteen Warm Springs Indians under McKay; the whole under command of Capt. E. Thomas of 4th Artillery. First Lieut. Thomas Wright--spoken of in this volume as Col. Wright of Twelfth Infantry, a son of the gallant old General Wright--is of the party, and in immediate command of his own and Lieut. Eagan's companies.

Lieut. Arthur Cranston and Lieut. Albion Howe of Fourth Artillery, Lieut.

Harris also of the Fourth, a.s.sistant Surgeon B. Semig, H. C. Tichnor as guide, Louis Webber, chief packer, and two a.s.sistants; the whole, exclusive of Warm Springs scouts, seventy-six. I may be pardoned for making more than mere mention of this expedition and the manner of its organization, because of its results; to understand it fairly, it should be stated that the parties named, except the Warm Springs scouts, were all of the army camp at the foot of the bluff, the head-quarters of Gen.

Gilliam, commander of the army in the Modoc campaign.

The Warm Springs scouts were encamped near the old Modoc stronghold, and had been ordered to join the command of Capt. Thomas, while _en route_, or at the point of destination, which was a low b.u.t.te or mound-like hill, on the further side of the Lava Beds, from the several camps. The outfit of this reconnoitring party, aside from the men and arms, consisted of a small train of pack mules. This train of packs was suggestive. Tacked on to the _apparahos_--pack-saddles--were subsistence and medical stores for the party, and also several _stretchers_. The object of the reconnoissance was to ascertain whether the field-pieces could be planted so as to command the new position of the _Modoc General, Jack Kientpoos_. Sh.e.l.ls had done _wonderful execution_ in the three days' battle, and, of course, were _the thing to fight_ MODOCS with; provided, however, that the fools of the Modoc camp were not all dead; for it is an undoubted fact that out of only two or three hundred tossed into the Modoc stronghold, _one of them had done more execution_ than _all the bullets fired by the soldiers_ in the three days.

Capt. Thomas was instructed, in "no event, to bring on an engagement." The point of destination was in full view of the signal station at Gilliam's camp, and not more than three miles distant. The command proceeded with skirmishes thrown out, and proper caution, until their arrival at the foot of the b.u.t.te. The Warm Springs scouts had not joined the command. Capt.

Thomas remarked that, since no Indians were to be seen, the command would take lunch. Lieut. Wright replied, that "_when you don't see Indians is just the time to be on the look out for them_." The skirmish guards were called in, and the whole command, except Lieut. Cranston and twelve men, sat down to bivouac for an hour; Cranston, in the mean time, remarking that he "was going to raise some Indians," proceeded to explore the surroundings. In so doing he pa.s.sed entirely out of sight of the main party. The foot of the b.u.t.te is similar to other portions of the Lava Beds, thrown into irregular ledges, or cut into chasms and crevices.

[Ill.u.s.tration: WARM-SPRING INDIAN PICKETS.]

Now Cranston has pa.s.sed over a ledge, when suddenly from the rocks, that had been so quiet, a volley of rifles opens on both parties. It is not known whether Cranston and his men all fell on the first fire; it is, however, probable that _he_ did not, as his remains were afterwards found several rods from where he was last seen by the survivors. Capt. Thomas's party were thrown into confusion. He ordered Lieut. Harris to take a position on the hill-side, and when the point was reached, Harris found that the enemy was _still above_ him and commanding his new position. His men were falling around him, and he was compelled to fall back, leaving two dead and wounded.

In making the retreat, Lieut. Harris was mortally wounded. The scene that followed is without a precedent in Indian warfare. Every commissioned officer was killed, except Surgeon Semig, who was wounded; and of the sixty-six enlisted men but _twenty-three_ reached head-quarters.

Donald McKay and his scouts hurried to the scene, and arrived in time to prevent the annihilation of the entire party. That the soldiers were demoralized at the suddenness of the attack, there is no doubt. It seems to have had an unusual combination of circ.u.mstances attending the carnage.

That Capt. Thomas should have permitted himself to be surprised by an enemy, for whose destruction he was at that time seeking a location for the batteries, is strange, especially after the warning suggestions of Lieut. Wright, whose long experience on the frontier--of almost a life-time--should have given weight to his views. Strange, too, that _every officer_ should have fallen so early in the attack, and that Donald McKay, with his Warm Springs, should have been thirty minutes behind time, and then, when coming to the rescue, should have been held off by the fire of the soldiers, who mistook him and his men for Modocs, and compelled them to remain out of range so long that the soldiers were nearly all killed or wounded before Donald was recognized.

Singular that this butchery should have continued three hours in sight of the signal station before reinforcements were ordered to the rescue.

Indeed, it is stated on good authority, that soldiers who escaped made their way into camp one or two hours before Col. Green was ordered to go to the scene with his command. Singular, indeed, that fifty-three men were killed or wounded by twenty-four Modocs, on ground where the chances were even for once, and _not one of the twenty-four Modocs was wounded_.

What is still more unaccountable is, that the Modocs should have become _surfeited_ with the butchery, and desisted from satiety, calling out in plain Boston English,--"_All you fellows that aint dead had better go home. We don't want to kill you all in one day._"

This speech was heard by soldiers who still live, and for the truth of which abundant evidence can be had. We have it on Modoc authority that Scar-face Charley made this speech, and repeated it several times, and that he insisted that the Modocs should desist, because his "heart was sick seeing so much blood, and so many men lying dead."

Follow the advancing wave of civilization from ocean to ocean, and no parallel can be found living, on printed page, or tradition's tongue.

_Seventy-six well-armed men_, with equal chances for cover, shot down by a mere handful of red men, until in charity they _permitted twenty-three_ to return to camp!

Can we understand how this was done? It seems incredible, and yet it is true. While we shudder, and in our rage vow vengeance on the perpetrators, we are compelled to admit that there was behind every Modoc gun _a man_ who was far above his white brother in fighting qualities. Much as we are inclined to underrate the red man, we are forced to admit that _twenty-four men_ leaving a stronghold, and going out among rocks that gave even chances against them, was an act of heroism that if performed by white men would have immortalized every name, and inscribed them among the bravest and most successful warriors that this country has produced.

Performed by a band of red-handed Indians, it is scarcely worthy of mention. While we do most _emphatically_ condemn all acts of treachery, no matter by whom committed, we are not insensible to emotions of admiration for acts of bravery, no matter by whom performed. In speaking of this battle Gen. Jeff. C. Davis says, "It proved to be one of the most disastrous affairs our army has had to record. Its effects were very visible upon the morale of the command, so much so that I deemed it imprudent to order the aggressive movements it was my desire and intention to make at once upon my arrival, in order to watch the movements of the Indians."

What, is it so, that with all the slaughter reported from time to time, Captain Jack still has men enough left to cause an army of _one thousand_ to wait for recuperation and reinforcements before again attacking him?

This battle was fought on the 26th of April, ten days after the three days' battle. Curious that "the press," or that portion of it that was so loud in denunciation of the Peace Commissioners, did not find fault, and enter "_protest_" against the delay. The commission has been "_out of the way_" since the 11th inst., and three days' battle has been fought, and one day's slaughter withstood, and it has not cost much over half a hundred lives, that were required to satisfy the clamor for vengeance, and now why not raise your trumpet notes again, brave editors, and a proportionate howl for vengeance? You are safely seated behind your thrones, where no shot could reach you.

Why don't you howl with rage because a few "_cut-throats_" have murdered ten per cent. of an army of a thousand, _"who were hired to fight and die if need be"? You did not want peace except "through war."_ You have done your part to secure the shedding of blood. Are you satisfied now when, through the failure of the Peace Commission, so many men have yielded up their lives? This short apostrophe is intended for those who _appropriate_ it; not for the really brave editors who were fearless enough to defend "The humane policy of the President and Secretary Delano," in the face of a clamor that filled the country from the 1st of February to the 11th of April 1873.

BATTLE OF DRY LAKE.

_Morning of the 10th, of May, 1873._--Fourteen days have pa.s.sed, and Gen.

Canby has been placed in his tomb, Indianapolis, Indiana. The widow, grief-stricken and heart-broken, is with her friends. Orderly Scott has been ordered to report at Louisville, Kentucky; Adjutant Anderson, to head-quarters, Department Columbia. The emblems of mourning are everywhere visible around the home of Dr. Thomas. Meacham is at his home in Salem, Oregon, recovering rapidly, and with a heart full of grat.i.tude and kindly feelings to Dr. Calvin DeWitt, U. S. A., who brought him safely through the hospital at the Lava Beds.

The mother of Lieut. Harris is sitting beside her wounded son, in the hospital at Gillam's Camp. Gen. Jeff. C. Davis has a.s.sumed command of the expedition against the Modocs. Captain Jack and his people have left the Lava Beds. Dissensions are of every-day occurrence among them. Bogus and Hooker Jim, Shacknasty, and "Ellen's man" are contentious and quarrelsome.

Read the telegram of Jeff. C. Davis to Gen. Schofield, and we may know something of what has occurred:--

HEAD-QUARTERS IN THE FIELD, Tule Lake, Cal., May 8, 1873.

I sent two friendly squaws into the Lava Beds day before yesterday; they returned yesterday, having found the bodies of Lieutenant Cranston and party, but no Indians. Last night I sent the Warm Springs Indians out. They find that the Modocs have gone in a southeasterly direction. This is also confirmed by the attack and capture of a train of four wagons and fifteen animals yesterday P.M. near Supply Camp, on east side of Tule lake. The Modocs in this party reported fifteen or twenty in number; escort to train about the same; escort whipped, with three wounded. No Indians known to have been killed. I will put the troops in search of the Indians with five days' rations.

JEFF. C. DAVIS,

_Col. Twenty-Third Infantry, Com. Dept._

In his final report, Nov. 1st, 1853, he says:--

Hasbrouck's and Jackson's companies, with the Warm Springs Indians, all under command of the former, were immediately sent out in pursuit, and signs of Indians were found near Sora.s.s lake, where the troops camped for the night. On the morning of the 10th the Indians attacked the troops at daylight; they were not fully prepared for it, but at once sprang to their arms, and returned the fire in gallant style. The Indians soon broke and retreated in the direction of the Lava Beds. They contested the ground with the troops hotly for some three miles.

The object of this hasty movement of the troops was to overhaul the Indians, if out of the Lava Beds, as reported, and prevent them from murdering settlers in their probable retreat to another locality. This object was obtained, and more. The troops have had, all things considered, a very square fight, and whipped the Modocs for the first time. But the whole band was again in the rocky stronghold....