CHAPTER XXXV.

Six indians keeping lookout from rocky promontory.Warm-Spring Indian Pickets.

Now Cranston has passed 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 thefirst fire; it is, however, probable thathedid 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 wasstill abovehim 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 buttwenty-threereached 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 circumstances 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, thatevery officershould 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, whomistook 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, andnot one of the twenty-four Modocs was wounded.

What is still more unaccountable is, that the Modocs should have becomesurfeitedwith 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 theypermitted twenty-threeto 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 guna manwho was far above his white brother in fighting qualities. Much as we are inclined to underrate the red man, we are forced to admit thattwenty-four menleaving 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 mostemphaticallycondemn 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 ofone thousandto 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 “thepress,” 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 whoappropriateit; 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 passed, and Gen. Canby has been placed in his tomb, Indianapolis, Indiana. The widow, grief-stricken and heart-broken, is with her friends. Orderly Scott has been ordered to report at Louisville, Kentucky;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 gratitude and kindly feelings to Dr. Calvin DeWitt,U. S. A., who brought him safely through the hospital at the Lava Beds.

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

Read the telegram of Jeff. C. Davis to Gen. 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.

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 Sorass 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....

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 Sorass 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....

Gen. Davis does not state all the facts in the case. While it is generally admitted that Captain Jackwas whippedthistime, it is also true that Donald McKay and his Warm Springs Indian boys turn upat the right time againand assist in driving the Modocs three miles, recapturing the horses that were taken from the escort a few days since. Two Warm Springs scouts were killed in this fight, but theirnames have never been reported.

Captain Jack appears in this fight in Gen. Canby’s uniform. One Modoc was certainly killed this morning, becausehis body was captured. There can be no mistake; several persons saw it with their naked eyes,—so they did, oh! This Modoc, whose name was George, “Ellen’s man,” was Captain Jack’s assistant in the murder of Gen. Canby. His death was the signal for new quarrels among the Modocs, which ultimated in the division of the band, and made it possible for thethousandmen towhiptheremainder. The seceding Modocs, who are double-dyed traitors, wereBogus Charley,Hooker Jim,Shacknasty Jim,Steamboat Frank, and ten others, mostly Hot Creek Indians, and the same, except Hooker Jim, who were driven back to the Lava Beds after they had started under escort of Fairchild and Dorris to the Klamath Reservation, last December, ten days after the Lost-river battle, by the howl forblood that cameup from every quarter. At that time they had committed no crimes; had not been in battle or butchery. After joining Captain Jack they had espoused the cause of the murderers who killed the Lost-river settlers. They were not indicted, and had less excuse than any other Modocs. Their home in “Hot Creek” was several miles from any scene of slaughter on either side. They had steadily opposed every peace measure offered, while Bogus had played his part so well that he was the favorite of the army officers, and had friends among the white citizens; he had instigated the assassination of the Peace Commissioners, laid the plans, and even slept in the camp of Gen. Canby, and ate his breakfast off the general’s table, and to his friend Fairchild declared, even after Canby and Thomas had started for the Lava Beds, that there was no intention of killing the Peace Commissioners.

The cause of the quarrel between these men and Captain Jack was the fact that the few deaths that had occurred among the Modocs had been of those who did not belong to Jack’s immediate family or band. They accused him of placing the outside Indians—Hot Creek and Cum-ba-twas warriors—in the front of the battles.

He replied that they had voted every time for war and against peace proposals. The quarrel increased, and after the defeat at Dry Lake, Captain Jack rebuked them for forcing the band into that fight against their will. The death of “Ellen’s man” brought the crisis. We see the band who started into the war with fifty-three braves, after having accomplished more than any band of an equal or proportionate number of men, of any race or color, in any age or country, quarrelling among themselves, now divided into two parties; one of whom, withfourteenmen,every one of whom hadvoted for war, turning traitor to his chief, and offering themselves as scouts against himwithout promise of amnestyor other reward. Such perfidy stands unparalleled, andalone, as an act that has no precedent to compare it with. The succeeding events are clearly told in Gen. Davis’ report.

The chief could no longer keep his warriors up to the work required of them, lying on their arms night and day, and watching for an attack. These exactions were so great, and the conduct of the leader so tyrannical, that insubordination sprang up, which led to dissensions, and the final separation of the band into two parties; they left the Lava Beds bitter enemies. The troops soon discovered their departure, and were sent in pursuit. Their trails were found leading in a westerly direction. Hasbrouck’s command of cavalry, after a hard march of some fifty miles, came upon the Cottonwood band, and had a sharp running fight of seven or eight miles. The Indians scattered, in order to avoid death or capture. The cavalry horses were completely exhausted in the chase, and night coming on he withdrew his troops a few miles’ distance to Fairchild’s ranch for food and forage.Indians captured in this engagement expressed the belief that this band would like to give themselves up if opportunity were offered. When given this, through the medium of friendly Indians,they made an effort to obtain terms, but I at once refused to entertain anything of the kind; they could only be allowed safe-conduct through the camp to my head-quarters when they arrived at the picket-line. They came in on the 22d of May, and laid down their arms, accompanied by their old women and children, about seventy-five.To learn the exact whereabouts of the Indians was now very important, and I determined to accept of the offered services of a Modoc captive; one who, up to the time of their separation, was known to be in the confidence of his chief, and could lead us to the hiding-place of the band. He was an unmitigated cut-throat, and for this reason I was loth to make any use of him that would compromise his well-earned claims to the halter. He desired eight others to accompany and support him, under the belief his chief would kill him on sight; but three others only were accepted, and these of the least guilty ones. They were promised no rewards for this service whatever. Believing the end justified the means, I sent them out, thoroughly armed for the service.After nearly three days’ hunting they came upon Jack’s camp on Willow creek, east of Wright lake, fifteen miles from Applegate’s ranch, to which I had gone, after separation from them at Tule lake, to await their return and the arrival of the cavalry.The scouts reported a stormy interview with their angry chief. He denounced them in severe terms for leaving him; he intended to die with his gun in his hand; they were squaws, not men. He intended to jump Applegate’s ranch that night (the 28th), etc.On the return of these scouts, I immediately sent Capt. E. V. Sumner, aide-de-camp, back to the rendezvous, at Tule lake, with orders to push forward Capts. H. C. Hasbrouck’s and James Jackson’s commands to Applegate’s ranch, with rations for three days in haversacks, and pack-mules with ten days’ supply. All arrived and reported by nine o’clock A.M., the 29th, under command of Maj. John Green, their veteran cavalry leader since the commencement of the Modoc war, in excellent spirits. The impenetrable rocky region was behind them; the desperado and his band were ahead of them, in comparatively an open country.After allowing the animals an hour’s rest the pursuit was renewed, and about one o’clock P.M. Jack and band were “jumped” on Willow creek near its crossing with the old emigrant road. Thisstream forms the head-waters of Lost river. It was a complete surprise. The Indians fled in the direction of Langell valley. The pursuit from this time on, until the final captures, June 3d, partook more of a chase after wild beasts than war; each detachment vying with each other as to which should be first in at the finish.Lieut. Col. Frank Wheaton, Twenty-first Infantry, reported to me, in compliance with his orders, from Camp Warner, on the 22d, at Fairchild’s ranch. He was placed in command of the District of the Lakes, and the troops composing the Modoc expedition.After making necessary disposition of the foot troops and captives at Fairchild’s ranch, he came forward to Clear lake, and joined me at Applegate’s with Perry’s detachment of cavalry; these troops were at once sent to join the hunt. Most of the band had by this time been run down and captured; but the chief and a few of his most noted warriors were still running in every direction.It fell to the lot of these troopers to catch Jack. When surrounded and captured he said his “legs had given out.” Two or three other warriors gave themselves up with him.Though called for, no reports have been received of these operations from the different detachment commanders; hence details cannot be given.As soon as the captives were brought in, directions were given to concentrate the troops, and all captives, etc., at Boyle’s camp on Tule lake. There the Oregon volunteers, who had been called into the field by the governor, turned over a few captives they had taken over on their side of the line. It is proper to mention, in this connection, that these volunteers were not under my command. They confined their operations to protecting the citizens of their own State. Yet on several occasions they offered their services informally to report to me for duty in case I needed them. No emergency arose requiring me to call upon them.By the 5th of June the whole band, with a few unimportant exceptions, had been captured, and was assembled in our camp on Tule lake, when I received orders from the General of the Army to hold them under guard until further instructions as to what disposition would be made of them. It was my intention to execute some eight or ten of the ringleaders of the band on the spot; these orders, however, relieved me of this stern duty,—a duty imposed upon me, as I believed, by the spirit of the orders issued for theguidance of the commander of the Modoc expedition, immediately after the murder of the Peace Commissioners; as well as by the requirements of the case, judging from my stand-point of view, a commander in the field. I was glad to be relieved from this grave responsibility. I only regretted not being better informed of the intentions of the authorities at Washington, in regard to these prisoners after capture. In accordance with instructions, as soon as the attorney-general’s decision was received, I ordered a military commission for their trial, and with that view moved them to Fort Klamath, as a more suitable place to guard and try them. Six were tried and convicted of murder; four have been executed; two have had their sentences commuted to imprisonment for life by the President.A few days after these executions took place at Fort Klamath, on the 3d ultimo, the remainder of the band was started to their new homes in Wyoming territory; they are probably there by this time.The number of officers killed in this expedition is eight; wounded, three; total, eleven. Enlisted men killed, thirty-nine; wounded, sixty-one; total, one hundred. Citizens killed, sixteen; wounded, one; total, seventeen. Warm Springs Indian scouts killed, two; wounded, two; total, four. Grand total, killed and wounded, one hundred and thirty-two. A large number of the killed were murdered after being wounded and falling into the hands of the Indians. (See accompanying list of killed and wounded, marked D.)During the Modoc excitement many of the Indian tribes of Oregon, Idaho, and Washington territory showed a very discontented feeling, and strong sympathies with the hostile tribe. The settlers seemed much alarmed in some localities. To meet this state of affairs I thought it best to organize as large a force as practicable, and make a tour through the country en route to the proper stations of the troops. The march was made through Eastern Oregon and Washington territory; it was about six hundred miles. The cavalry was commanded by Maj. John Green, the foot-troops by Maj. E. C. Mason. The march was well conducted by these commanders, and well performed by the troops. I was gratified to see that with the capture of the Modoc band the excitement ceased. All the tribes throughout the department are now perfectly quiet.

The chief could no longer keep his warriors up to the work required of them, lying on their arms night and day, and watching for an attack. These exactions were so great, and the conduct of the leader so tyrannical, that insubordination sprang up, which led to dissensions, and the final separation of the band into two parties; they left the Lava Beds bitter enemies. The troops soon discovered their departure, and were sent in pursuit. Their trails were found leading in a westerly direction. Hasbrouck’s command of cavalry, after a hard march of some fifty miles, came upon the Cottonwood band, and had a sharp running fight of seven or eight miles. The Indians scattered, in order to avoid death or capture. The cavalry horses were completely exhausted in the chase, and night coming on he withdrew his troops a few miles’ distance to Fairchild’s ranch for food and forage.

Indians captured in this engagement expressed the belief that this band would like to give themselves up if opportunity were offered. When given this, through the medium of friendly Indians,they made an effort to obtain terms, but I at once refused to entertain anything of the kind; they could only be allowed safe-conduct through the camp to my head-quarters when they arrived at the picket-line. They came in on the 22d of May, and laid down their arms, accompanied by their old women and children, about seventy-five.

To learn the exact whereabouts of the Indians was now very important, and I determined to accept of the offered services of a Modoc captive; one who, up to the time of their separation, was known to be in the confidence of his chief, and could lead us to the hiding-place of the band. He was an unmitigated cut-throat, and for this reason I was loth to make any use of him that would compromise his well-earned claims to the halter. He desired eight others to accompany and support him, under the belief his chief would kill him on sight; but three others only were accepted, and these of the least guilty ones. They were promised no rewards for this service whatever. Believing the end justified the means, I sent them out, thoroughly armed for the service.

After nearly three days’ hunting they came upon Jack’s camp on Willow creek, east of Wright lake, fifteen miles from Applegate’s ranch, to which I had gone, after separation from them at Tule lake, to await their return and the arrival of the cavalry.

The scouts reported a stormy interview with their angry chief. He denounced them in severe terms for leaving him; he intended to die with his gun in his hand; they were squaws, not men. He intended to jump Applegate’s ranch that night (the 28th), etc.

On the return of these scouts, I immediately sent Capt. E. V. Sumner, aide-de-camp, back to the rendezvous, at Tule lake, with orders to push forward Capts. H. C. Hasbrouck’s and James Jackson’s commands to Applegate’s ranch, with rations for three days in haversacks, and pack-mules with ten days’ supply. All arrived and reported by nine o’clock A.M., the 29th, under command of Maj. John Green, their veteran cavalry leader since the commencement of the Modoc war, in excellent spirits. The impenetrable rocky region was behind them; the desperado and his band were ahead of them, in comparatively an open country.

After allowing the animals an hour’s rest the pursuit was renewed, and about one o’clock P.M. Jack and band were “jumped” on Willow creek near its crossing with the old emigrant road. Thisstream forms the head-waters of Lost river. It was a complete surprise. The Indians fled in the direction of Langell valley. The pursuit from this time on, until the final captures, June 3d, partook more of a chase after wild beasts than war; each detachment vying with each other as to which should be first in at the finish.

Lieut. Col. Frank Wheaton, Twenty-first Infantry, reported to me, in compliance with his orders, from Camp Warner, on the 22d, at Fairchild’s ranch. He was placed in command of the District of the Lakes, and the troops composing the Modoc expedition.

After making necessary disposition of the foot troops and captives at Fairchild’s ranch, he came forward to Clear lake, and joined me at Applegate’s with Perry’s detachment of cavalry; these troops were at once sent to join the hunt. Most of the band had by this time been run down and captured; but the chief and a few of his most noted warriors were still running in every direction.

It fell to the lot of these troopers to catch Jack. When surrounded and captured he said his “legs had given out.” Two or three other warriors gave themselves up with him.

Though called for, no reports have been received of these operations from the different detachment commanders; hence details cannot be given.

As soon as the captives were brought in, directions were given to concentrate the troops, and all captives, etc., at Boyle’s camp on Tule lake. There the Oregon volunteers, who had been called into the field by the governor, turned over a few captives they had taken over on their side of the line. It is proper to mention, in this connection, that these volunteers were not under my command. They confined their operations to protecting the citizens of their own State. Yet on several occasions they offered their services informally to report to me for duty in case I needed them. No emergency arose requiring me to call upon them.

By the 5th of June the whole band, with a few unimportant exceptions, had been captured, and was assembled in our camp on Tule lake, when I received orders from the General of the Army to hold them under guard until further instructions as to what disposition would be made of them. It was my intention to execute some eight or ten of the ringleaders of the band on the spot; these orders, however, relieved me of this stern duty,—a duty imposed upon me, as I believed, by the spirit of the orders issued for theguidance of the commander of the Modoc expedition, immediately after the murder of the Peace Commissioners; as well as by the requirements of the case, judging from my stand-point of view, a commander in the field. I was glad to be relieved from this grave responsibility. I only regretted not being better informed of the intentions of the authorities at Washington, in regard to these prisoners after capture. In accordance with instructions, as soon as the attorney-general’s decision was received, I ordered a military commission for their trial, and with that view moved them to Fort Klamath, as a more suitable place to guard and try them. Six were tried and convicted of murder; four have been executed; two have had their sentences commuted to imprisonment for life by the President.

A few days after these executions took place at Fort Klamath, on the 3d ultimo, the remainder of the band was started to their new homes in Wyoming territory; they are probably there by this time.

The number of officers killed in this expedition is eight; wounded, three; total, eleven. Enlisted men killed, thirty-nine; wounded, sixty-one; total, one hundred. Citizens killed, sixteen; wounded, one; total, seventeen. Warm Springs Indian scouts killed, two; wounded, two; total, four. Grand total, killed and wounded, one hundred and thirty-two. A large number of the killed were murdered after being wounded and falling into the hands of the Indians. (See accompanying list of killed and wounded, marked D.)

During the Modoc excitement many of the Indian tribes of Oregon, Idaho, and Washington territory showed a very discontented feeling, and strong sympathies with the hostile tribe. The settlers seemed much alarmed in some localities. To meet this state of affairs I thought it best to organize as large a force as practicable, and make a tour through the country en route to the proper stations of the troops. The march was made through Eastern Oregon and Washington territory; it was about six hundred miles. The cavalry was commanded by Maj. John Green, the foot-troops by Maj. E. C. Mason. The march was well conducted by these commanders, and well performed by the troops. I was gratified to see that with the capture of the Modoc band the excitement ceased. All the tribes throughout the department are now perfectly quiet.

LAST HIDING-PLACE—HANGING-MACHINE UNTRIED—MODOC BUTCHERS OUTDONE.

For an account of the immediate circumstances attending the final surrender of the Modoc chieftain, I subjoin the following from the pen of Samuel A. Clarke, of Salem, Oregon, who was on the ground, and had abundant opportunity to learn the facts and incidents connected therewith. He was correspondent for the “New York Times,” from which paper of June 17, 1873, this graphic account of one of the most important events of 1873 is taken:—

Boyle’s Camp, Tule Lake, Modoc Country,Tuesday, June 3, 1873.The Modoc campaign is considered at an end. The eight or ten of the lately hostile band who have not been captured dare not commit any depredations, and efforts are being made to secure them without further contest. It remains to sum up the last few days, and present the facts of the capture of Captain Jack and his band, and I am now prepared to give a full and complete statement of the closing movements of the campaign.The beginning of the end was when Bogus Charley and his band of Cottonwoods and Hot Springs Indians, which means those who were brought up in the vicinity of Dorris’ and Fairchild’s ranches, which are on the creeks so called, came in and surrendered, about two weeks ago. The attempt made to surprise the train and camp at Sorass lake, over three weeks ago, was a failure, and though the Indians inflicted some damage, they still suffered defeat, being driven off with the loss of most of their own horsesand their loads. This discouraged them, and disaffection took place. The troops followed them up persistently; many who had supported the war with reluctance complained of their fate; bickerings led to separation, and Captain Jack was left with scarce more than half his force to carry on the desperate struggle as he could.I have described the manner of the campaign in former letters, and told how three squadrons of cavalry and artillery mounted, accompanied by detachments of Warm Springs Indians, have been put in the field. Then came the startling proposition from Bogus Charley, Steamboat Frank, Hooker Jim, and Shacknasty Jim, that they would join the troops and act as guides, and lead them to Captain Jack. They gave it as their opinion that Jack and his men would be either at Willow creek, in the cañon east of Clear lake, or at Cayote Springs, south-east of there, or at a place ten miles from Boiling Springs, on Pitt river, hard to find and easily defended; or, fourth, at a cañon near Goose lake, much further off, on the very verge of Modoc territory. They inclined to the opinion that he was at Willow creek, because it is a strong natural position, and in a good neighborhood for a supply of roots, herbs, game, and fish; and the result proved that their first surmise was correct.General Davis and a squad of cavalry left with them eight days ago, and proceeded to Boyle’s camp, east and south of the Lava Beds, whence the four renegades proceeded on their way Tuesday, a week ago, to hunt for the Modoc trail. They were entirely successful, and returned the next day with an interesting account of their expedition. Striking out south of Tule and Clear lakes, they found and followed the trail to Willow creek cañon, fifteen miles east of Applegate’s ranch on Clear lake. As they approached they found Modoc pickets out four miles in advance; the pickets went with them to within about a quarter of a mile of the Modoc camp, and the Modoc warriors, twenty-four in all, came out and formed a line. Jack ordered the spies to give up their guns; but they refused to do so, and retained their guns in their hands during all the talk that followed. The Modocs wanted to know what they came for, and who sent them; they recognized that they rode Fairchild’s horses, and wanted to know how that came. The four Peace Commissioners gave for answer the precisefacts that had occurred; stated the fact of the surrender of Fairchild’s place, of all the Cottonwoods, and the way they had been treated, and advised them all to give up the war and do the same.At that point Bogus Charley and his comrades wanted to have a free talk with their old friends, but Captain Jack forbade it. He said he would never surrender; he didn’t want to be hung like a woman, without resistance, but was determined to die fighting with his gun in his hand, as a warrior should. He told them not to talk any more about surrender, to go back to the whites and stay with them if they wanted to, but never to come back to him again, for if they did he would certainly kill them. He wanted to receive no more messages and hear no more talk.But Jack’s power was evidently on the wane; he was no longer a dictator, with unlimited confidence and authority. Scar-faced Charley and some of the rest very deliberately declared they would talk; they told Bogus they were tired of fighting, and didn’t want to be driven around all the time, afraid of their lives, and obliged to live like dogs. They complained bitterly of their hardships and poverty, and that they could not see their friends as of old time. Bogus told them that the soldiers and Warm Springs Indians were coming right after them; that Gen. Davis had ordered them to hunt the Modocs down, and they would do so. Then they wanted to know when the soldiers would come; the answer was, at any place and at any moment. Some of them bitterly asked if they four were intending to bring the soldiers there; but Bogus evaded that by saying the soldiers would come anyhow. Despite Jack’s command, and his refusal to talk, the four spies had a long, free conversation with their old associates, and the result was to greatly increase the demoralization existing in their ranks. The talk ended without any promise being made, and the four spies returned the next afternoon, and were intercepted at Applegate’s ranch, on Clear lake, Gen. Davis having in the mean time removed to that place. The spies were detained there, and word was sent to have the troops immediately move, and the next morning (Thursday), at daybreak, they were in motion, bound for the last Modoc stronghold.The Modoc spies seem to have acted in the most perfect good faith. They, with Fairchild in company, went with the troops, which were under command of Col. Green, and led them directlyto the place, warning them as they drew near that they might be ambushed, and advising every necessary precaution. The troops, in three squadrons, each with a detachment of Warm Springs Indians, moved to within three miles of the Modoc camp about eleven o’clock Thursday morning, and were then divided. Hasbrouck and his command, guided by Hooker Jim, taking the north side of the cañon; Col. Green and the remaining force, with Steamboat Frank as their guide, going on the south side; Fairchild and the other two spies being in company. The Modocs seem not to have dreamed that the troops could reach them so soon, and had no strict watch out. No one was seen until within less than a mile of Jack’s centre, when the troops ran on four Modoc sentinels. Frank gave advice to surround the camp by sending men around and over a little mountain, and, this being done, a march was ordered and the Warm Springs got within three hundred yards of three Modocs, who hallooed not to shoot, and wanted to know what they were bringing so many men there for; they wanted to talk. Fairchild and the Modoc guides were sent for, and a talk had. Boston Charley came over to see Fairchild, and laid his gun down; the Warm Springs Indians all laid their guns down, and came over and shook hands with him in the most amicable manner. Movements were stopped to give opportunity for the surrender of the band, and a talk was progressing, when an unfortunate accident made the Modocs scatter in apprehension. Modoc Frank, one of the guides, happened to have his gun accidentally discharged by the hammer catching as he turned his horse. The Modocs evidently supposed that Boston Charley, who had been sent to talk, had been shot, and that caused a stampede, and prevented the surrender that evening. Boston said they all wanted to quit the fight, and he was told to go back and tell them all to come in and lay down their arms. While he was attempting to do this, Hasbrouck’s men closed up on the other side and made him prisoner, not knowing the errand he was engaged on. Donald McKay sent word over to let him go free, as the Indians wanted to come in; but Boston had been delayed an hour and a half, and he came back at dark with word that the Indians had all run away, except seven squaws, including Captain Jack’s sister and some children, who were captured.At early day, on Friday, the troops moved up each side of the cañon, skirmishing for three miles, when scouts came in and reportedthat the trail led off north, toward Gainox, and laid on high ground, where it was difficult to track. The troops followed it until noon, when they struck Langell’s valley in twelve miles. The Modocs were in scattered bands. About one o’clock Fairchild, the Modoc guide, and some Warm Springs Indians struck a plain trail, and followed it for about six miles north-east, and discovered three bucks ahead, who called back and then ran away. They were headed off, and ran down into a cañon and hid. During the day thirteen bucks and a number of women got into the same cañon, and were discovered by the Warm Springs Indians. A few shots were fired by Captain Jack himself, but it was thought that he didn’t try to hit anybody, and only fired to keep them off. They called to each other, and Scar-faced Charley came down off the bluffs and talked with Dr. Cabanis. Scar-face said Captain Jack was there, and they all wanted to give up. Dr. Cabanis went up and talked with Jack, who wanted to know what they would do with him. He said he would surrender the next morning; it was late then, and their women were tired. He said they were out of food and clothes; that their feet were sore, and that all hands would come in in the morning and give up their guns.That happened on Friday evening, the 30th of May. The troops then went down to Lost river, five miles, and camped. Dr. Cabanis and Modoc Mose, one of the captured Indians, afterwards went back to the Modoc camp, and carried them a supply of bread, and stayed all night. They returned the next morning with the word that Jack had gone before their return, and left behind some pretext that he went to find a better camp on the bluff. But that morning Scar-faced Charley came in and laid his gun down, and did it with an exceeding sorrowfulness, as if he felt and understood all that he surrendered in doing so. Scar-face is more respected than any other Indian, and there is much sympathy felt for him among the whites, as he went to war unwillingly, and has done his work in open warfare, and not been engaged in any savage and merely murderous work. He is considered the best and bravest of the entire Modoc band of braves. Next came Sconchin John, the old villain, who drove the tribe to war more than almost any other man, and who is considered responsible for many of the inhuman acts committed. He laid down his repeating rifle, with a look of the most profound and savage mistrust and gloomy sorrow.His manner was untranslatable, for he had much to dread, and all his fears and half his hate of white men were visible in his sullen manner. The lesser lights then came up in turn, and went through the form of surrender. There were twelve or thirteen in all who gave up their guns, and all of them gave evidence of gloomy terror. They were shown a place to camp on Lost river, in Langell’s valley, and the next morning were sent with Fairchild, Lieut. Taylor, of the artillery, and sixteen mounted light-battery men, to Gen. Davis’ quarters, at Jesse Applegate’s, on Clear lake.In the mean time Gen. Davis had sent Maj. Trimble, with his squadron, including some Warm Springs scouts, with young Applegate and Jesse Applegate’s nephew, Charley Putnam, as guides, to intercept Captain Jack, in an easterly direction. They struck the trail ten miles north-east, and followed it five miles south, back to the Willow creek cañon, below the first Modoc place of retreat or stronghold. Then part of the force crossed to the south side and skirmished up the cañon. The scouts soon discovered a Modoc man, named Humpy Joe, a hunchback, who is half-brother to Captain Jack. He asked for Fairchild, and Charley Putnam told him he was on the other side of the creek, and asked where Captain Jack was. Humpy said he was down the creek, hid in the rocks, and would surrender to-morrow. Charley said they had him surrounded, and he must surrender now. He and Maj. Trimble went with Humpy Joe, who called for Captain Jack to come forth, and the famous chief stepped boldly out on a shelf of rock, with his gun in his hand. He showed no timid fear or trepidation, and his conduct commanded the admiration of those who were his captors, for a certain sort of native dignity was apparent, and even in defeat, and at the moment of his surrender, the great Modoc chief was self-possessed, and acted a manly part. Major Trimble went up to him and demanded his gun. He also asked if Fairchild was there, and, learning that he was near, gave up his trusty Springfield rifle, a remodelled breech-loader. Thus ended the Modoc war, for its soul and leading spirit of evil stood there a captive, with his arms given up, and powerless for future evil. There were two others with him, and four squaws and their children made up the list of prisoners taken at that time. Captain Jack had two wives, and one of them had a bright little girl of six years old.Captain Jack then walked coolly up to where the Warm SpringsIndians were, and they, with a commendable spirit of forbearance, and no doubt with an appreciation of the heroism that had so long and successfully resisted them, laid down their guns, and all around shook hands with the Modoc chief. They talked some with him; but he is not much of a talker either in English or Chinook, and his half brother, Humpy Joe, did most of the talking. Captain Jack then called up the squaws and children, and they were all mounted behind the Warm Springs Indians, and started for Gen. Davis’ camp, ten miles distant. It would seem as if the Modoc chief must have felt crest-fallen, and have been humiliated to find himself mounted in the same manner; but those who saw it say that, mounted behind a Warm Springs Indian, he still bore himself with dignity, and sat there like a Roman hero, as my informant graphically expressed it. He never moved a muscle or bore evidence in his look that he felt humiliated at his defeat. He bowed to Fairchild as he passed him, but made no other sign.Captain Jack was looking rather shabby when discovered, and was allowed to don his better suit before being taken to head-quarters; for it is not too much to say that the chieftain was in a very dirty guise; his favorite wife, too, was looking rather untidy; the wife improved her attire by the very simple process of donning a new delaine dress, not exactly made in the latest style, but she put it on over the plainer calico, which was too much soiled to be presentable. I do not learn that any portion of Gen. Canby’s dress was found when he was taken.Not happy.Schonchin and Jack in Chains.He was taken, under guard, to the Modoc camp on Clear lake, where the rest of the prisoners were placed. This happened Sunday afternoon, June 1. The Warm Springs Indians were jubilant over the fact that they had finally run the fox to earth. Captain Jack’s stoical fortitude must have been sorely tried as he rode, a captive, behind one of them; for, as the procession moved, it assumed the appearance of a triumph, and he formed a part of and listened to the triumphal chant, the song of victory, that swelled along the line of his captors as they bore him away to await his fate. But they who saw it say he gave no token, by look, or word, or act, that would have shown that he was interested, or that he resented the rejoicing over his defeat. Again the song of triumph rose and swelled as they approached the camp on Clear lake, and rode into the presence of Gen. Davis and Gen. Wheaton. Thecommander-in-chief can certainly congratulate himself that his well-directed efforts have been successfully rewarded, and that the efficiency of the army has been maintained under extraordinary circumstances. The Warm Springs band came up to head-quarters, ranged in a long line, with their strange, wild chant ringing on the air, and delivered their prisoners, who were ordered under guard with the rest.A greater humiliation still awaited the discomfited Modoc chief. Gen. Davis ordered leg-shackles to be made for Captain Jack and Schonchin, and toward evening they were led out to be ironed. Great excitement pervaded the Modoc camp as these leaders were taken from it, and led away, they knew not where. They were taken to the blacksmith under a guard of six men, and for the first time Jack showed apprehension. As his guards passed where Fairchild stood, he stopped and asked his old friend where they were taking him. I allude to Fairchild here as his friend, because, while he has never excused their war conduct, he has been always, for many years, well acquainted with them, and has possessed great influence over them. They have learned to place great confidence in him, and have never found it misplaced. So in all their movements of surrender they have wanted to have him present, and have done it at his advice when otherwise no one could have induced it. He gave Captain Jack no answer but to tell him kindly to go on with the men, and he went on unhesitatingly. He may have thought he was going to execution, but he went on nevertheless. At Fairchild’s suggestion, Scar-face Charley was sent for to act as interpreter. Scar-face speaks good English, and he explained to Jack and Schonchin that they were to be shackled to prevent any attempt at escape. They made the most earnest protestations that they had surrendered in good faith; that they had no desire to get away, and under no circumstances should make such an attempt. It was really an affecting scene to witness the grief with which they submitted to have the shackles placed on them; but when they saw that their fate was inexorable, they made no complaint or resistance, though they keenly felt the indignity, but stood silently to let the rivets tighten to bind them in chains they will never cease to wear, for it is probable they will be tried by a military tribunal, and that they will suffer the penalty of their crimes as soon as the form of a trial and securing of evidence to convict them can be gone through with.The short and decisive campaign that has resulted in practically ending the Modoc war has been a rough one. The troops were fully equipped, and the horses all shod and in good order; but the ten days’ scouting through a terribly rough country has left men and horses considerably worse for wear. It is now ordered that the troops under Col. Mason shall move to this place from Fairchild’s ranch. This place will be head-quarters until the whole matter is wound up. There are still eight or ten Modoc warriors out; but they will not undertake to make a fight, and only time and good management are required to lead them also in and bring the end.Captain Jack maintains a gloomy reserve, and will not converse with his captors on any subject. It is safe to say that he will make no explanation or revelations, but die and make no sign. Bogus Charley says all the men expect to die, and await their fate without fear. Captain Jack himself has no fears of what the result may be, and waits it with stoical fortitude. He will die heroically, I have no doubt, for he has evidently less regard for life than the rest of the Modoc warriors.

Boyle’s Camp, Tule Lake, Modoc Country,Tuesday, June 3, 1873.

The Modoc campaign is considered at an end. The eight or ten of the lately hostile band who have not been captured dare not commit any depredations, and efforts are being made to secure them without further contest. It remains to sum up the last few days, and present the facts of the capture of Captain Jack and his band, and I am now prepared to give a full and complete statement of the closing movements of the campaign.

The beginning of the end was when Bogus Charley and his band of Cottonwoods and Hot Springs Indians, which means those who were brought up in the vicinity of Dorris’ and Fairchild’s ranches, which are on the creeks so called, came in and surrendered, about two weeks ago. The attempt made to surprise the train and camp at Sorass lake, over three weeks ago, was a failure, and though the Indians inflicted some damage, they still suffered defeat, being driven off with the loss of most of their own horsesand their loads. This discouraged them, and disaffection took place. The troops followed them up persistently; many who had supported the war with reluctance complained of their fate; bickerings led to separation, and Captain Jack was left with scarce more than half his force to carry on the desperate struggle as he could.

I have described the manner of the campaign in former letters, and told how three squadrons of cavalry and artillery mounted, accompanied by detachments of Warm Springs Indians, have been put in the field. Then came the startling proposition from Bogus Charley, Steamboat Frank, Hooker Jim, and Shacknasty Jim, that they would join the troops and act as guides, and lead them to Captain Jack. They gave it as their opinion that Jack and his men would be either at Willow creek, in the cañon east of Clear lake, or at Cayote Springs, south-east of there, or at a place ten miles from Boiling Springs, on Pitt river, hard to find and easily defended; or, fourth, at a cañon near Goose lake, much further off, on the very verge of Modoc territory. They inclined to the opinion that he was at Willow creek, because it is a strong natural position, and in a good neighborhood for a supply of roots, herbs, game, and fish; and the result proved that their first surmise was correct.

General Davis and a squad of cavalry left with them eight days ago, and proceeded to Boyle’s camp, east and south of the Lava Beds, whence the four renegades proceeded on their way Tuesday, a week ago, to hunt for the Modoc trail. They were entirely successful, and returned the next day with an interesting account of their expedition. Striking out south of Tule and Clear lakes, they found and followed the trail to Willow creek cañon, fifteen miles east of Applegate’s ranch on Clear lake. As they approached they found Modoc pickets out four miles in advance; the pickets went with them to within about a quarter of a mile of the Modoc camp, and the Modoc warriors, twenty-four in all, came out and formed a line. Jack ordered the spies to give up their guns; but they refused to do so, and retained their guns in their hands during all the talk that followed. The Modocs wanted to know what they came for, and who sent them; they recognized that they rode Fairchild’s horses, and wanted to know how that came. The four Peace Commissioners gave for answer the precisefacts that had occurred; stated the fact of the surrender of Fairchild’s place, of all the Cottonwoods, and the way they had been treated, and advised them all to give up the war and do the same.

At that point Bogus Charley and his comrades wanted to have a free talk with their old friends, but Captain Jack forbade it. He said he would never surrender; he didn’t want to be hung like a woman, without resistance, but was determined to die fighting with his gun in his hand, as a warrior should. He told them not to talk any more about surrender, to go back to the whites and stay with them if they wanted to, but never to come back to him again, for if they did he would certainly kill them. He wanted to receive no more messages and hear no more talk.

But Jack’s power was evidently on the wane; he was no longer a dictator, with unlimited confidence and authority. Scar-faced Charley and some of the rest very deliberately declared they would talk; they told Bogus they were tired of fighting, and didn’t want to be driven around all the time, afraid of their lives, and obliged to live like dogs. They complained bitterly of their hardships and poverty, and that they could not see their friends as of old time. Bogus told them that the soldiers and Warm Springs Indians were coming right after them; that Gen. Davis had ordered them to hunt the Modocs down, and they would do so. Then they wanted to know when the soldiers would come; the answer was, at any place and at any moment. Some of them bitterly asked if they four were intending to bring the soldiers there; but Bogus evaded that by saying the soldiers would come anyhow. Despite Jack’s command, and his refusal to talk, the four spies had a long, free conversation with their old associates, and the result was to greatly increase the demoralization existing in their ranks. The talk ended without any promise being made, and the four spies returned the next afternoon, and were intercepted at Applegate’s ranch, on Clear lake, Gen. Davis having in the mean time removed to that place. The spies were detained there, and word was sent to have the troops immediately move, and the next morning (Thursday), at daybreak, they were in motion, bound for the last Modoc stronghold.

The Modoc spies seem to have acted in the most perfect good faith. They, with Fairchild in company, went with the troops, which were under command of Col. Green, and led them directlyto the place, warning them as they drew near that they might be ambushed, and advising every necessary precaution. The troops, in three squadrons, each with a detachment of Warm Springs Indians, moved to within three miles of the Modoc camp about eleven o’clock Thursday morning, and were then divided. Hasbrouck and his command, guided by Hooker Jim, taking the north side of the cañon; Col. Green and the remaining force, with Steamboat Frank as their guide, going on the south side; Fairchild and the other two spies being in company. The Modocs seem not to have dreamed that the troops could reach them so soon, and had no strict watch out. No one was seen until within less than a mile of Jack’s centre, when the troops ran on four Modoc sentinels. Frank gave advice to surround the camp by sending men around and over a little mountain, and, this being done, a march was ordered and the Warm Springs got within three hundred yards of three Modocs, who hallooed not to shoot, and wanted to know what they were bringing so many men there for; they wanted to talk. Fairchild and the Modoc guides were sent for, and a talk had. Boston Charley came over to see Fairchild, and laid his gun down; the Warm Springs Indians all laid their guns down, and came over and shook hands with him in the most amicable manner. Movements were stopped to give opportunity for the surrender of the band, and a talk was progressing, when an unfortunate accident made the Modocs scatter in apprehension. Modoc Frank, one of the guides, happened to have his gun accidentally discharged by the hammer catching as he turned his horse. The Modocs evidently supposed that Boston Charley, who had been sent to talk, had been shot, and that caused a stampede, and prevented the surrender that evening. Boston said they all wanted to quit the fight, and he was told to go back and tell them all to come in and lay down their arms. While he was attempting to do this, Hasbrouck’s men closed up on the other side and made him prisoner, not knowing the errand he was engaged on. Donald McKay sent word over to let him go free, as the Indians wanted to come in; but Boston had been delayed an hour and a half, and he came back at dark with word that the Indians had all run away, except seven squaws, including Captain Jack’s sister and some children, who were captured.

At early day, on Friday, the troops moved up each side of the cañon, skirmishing for three miles, when scouts came in and reportedthat the trail led off north, toward Gainox, and laid on high ground, where it was difficult to track. The troops followed it until noon, when they struck Langell’s valley in twelve miles. The Modocs were in scattered bands. About one o’clock Fairchild, the Modoc guide, and some Warm Springs Indians struck a plain trail, and followed it for about six miles north-east, and discovered three bucks ahead, who called back and then ran away. They were headed off, and ran down into a cañon and hid. During the day thirteen bucks and a number of women got into the same cañon, and were discovered by the Warm Springs Indians. A few shots were fired by Captain Jack himself, but it was thought that he didn’t try to hit anybody, and only fired to keep them off. They called to each other, and Scar-faced Charley came down off the bluffs and talked with Dr. Cabanis. Scar-face said Captain Jack was there, and they all wanted to give up. Dr. Cabanis went up and talked with Jack, who wanted to know what they would do with him. He said he would surrender the next morning; it was late then, and their women were tired. He said they were out of food and clothes; that their feet were sore, and that all hands would come in in the morning and give up their guns.

That happened on Friday evening, the 30th of May. The troops then went down to Lost river, five miles, and camped. Dr. Cabanis and Modoc Mose, one of the captured Indians, afterwards went back to the Modoc camp, and carried them a supply of bread, and stayed all night. They returned the next morning with the word that Jack had gone before their return, and left behind some pretext that he went to find a better camp on the bluff. But that morning Scar-faced Charley came in and laid his gun down, and did it with an exceeding sorrowfulness, as if he felt and understood all that he surrendered in doing so. Scar-face is more respected than any other Indian, and there is much sympathy felt for him among the whites, as he went to war unwillingly, and has done his work in open warfare, and not been engaged in any savage and merely murderous work. He is considered the best and bravest of the entire Modoc band of braves. Next came Sconchin John, the old villain, who drove the tribe to war more than almost any other man, and who is considered responsible for many of the inhuman acts committed. He laid down his repeating rifle, with a look of the most profound and savage mistrust and gloomy sorrow.His manner was untranslatable, for he had much to dread, and all his fears and half his hate of white men were visible in his sullen manner. The lesser lights then came up in turn, and went through the form of surrender. There were twelve or thirteen in all who gave up their guns, and all of them gave evidence of gloomy terror. They were shown a place to camp on Lost river, in Langell’s valley, and the next morning were sent with Fairchild, Lieut. Taylor, of the artillery, and sixteen mounted light-battery men, to Gen. Davis’ quarters, at Jesse Applegate’s, on Clear lake.

In the mean time Gen. Davis had sent Maj. Trimble, with his squadron, including some Warm Springs scouts, with young Applegate and Jesse Applegate’s nephew, Charley Putnam, as guides, to intercept Captain Jack, in an easterly direction. They struck the trail ten miles north-east, and followed it five miles south, back to the Willow creek cañon, below the first Modoc place of retreat or stronghold. Then part of the force crossed to the south side and skirmished up the cañon. The scouts soon discovered a Modoc man, named Humpy Joe, a hunchback, who is half-brother to Captain Jack. He asked for Fairchild, and Charley Putnam told him he was on the other side of the creek, and asked where Captain Jack was. Humpy said he was down the creek, hid in the rocks, and would surrender to-morrow. Charley said they had him surrounded, and he must surrender now. He and Maj. Trimble went with Humpy Joe, who called for Captain Jack to come forth, and the famous chief stepped boldly out on a shelf of rock, with his gun in his hand. He showed no timid fear or trepidation, and his conduct commanded the admiration of those who were his captors, for a certain sort of native dignity was apparent, and even in defeat, and at the moment of his surrender, the great Modoc chief was self-possessed, and acted a manly part. Major Trimble went up to him and demanded his gun. He also asked if Fairchild was there, and, learning that he was near, gave up his trusty Springfield rifle, a remodelled breech-loader. Thus ended the Modoc war, for its soul and leading spirit of evil stood there a captive, with his arms given up, and powerless for future evil. There were two others with him, and four squaws and their children made up the list of prisoners taken at that time. Captain Jack had two wives, and one of them had a bright little girl of six years old.

Captain Jack then walked coolly up to where the Warm SpringsIndians were, and they, with a commendable spirit of forbearance, and no doubt with an appreciation of the heroism that had so long and successfully resisted them, laid down their guns, and all around shook hands with the Modoc chief. They talked some with him; but he is not much of a talker either in English or Chinook, and his half brother, Humpy Joe, did most of the talking. Captain Jack then called up the squaws and children, and they were all mounted behind the Warm Springs Indians, and started for Gen. Davis’ camp, ten miles distant. It would seem as if the Modoc chief must have felt crest-fallen, and have been humiliated to find himself mounted in the same manner; but those who saw it say that, mounted behind a Warm Springs Indian, he still bore himself with dignity, and sat there like a Roman hero, as my informant graphically expressed it. He never moved a muscle or bore evidence in his look that he felt humiliated at his defeat. He bowed to Fairchild as he passed him, but made no other sign.

Captain Jack was looking rather shabby when discovered, and was allowed to don his better suit before being taken to head-quarters; for it is not too much to say that the chieftain was in a very dirty guise; his favorite wife, too, was looking rather untidy; the wife improved her attire by the very simple process of donning a new delaine dress, not exactly made in the latest style, but she put it on over the plainer calico, which was too much soiled to be presentable. I do not learn that any portion of Gen. Canby’s dress was found when he was taken.

Not happy.Schonchin and Jack in Chains.

He was taken, under guard, to the Modoc camp on Clear lake, where the rest of the prisoners were placed. This happened Sunday afternoon, June 1. The Warm Springs Indians were jubilant over the fact that they had finally run the fox to earth. Captain Jack’s stoical fortitude must have been sorely tried as he rode, a captive, behind one of them; for, as the procession moved, it assumed the appearance of a triumph, and he formed a part of and listened to the triumphal chant, the song of victory, that swelled along the line of his captors as they bore him away to await his fate. But they who saw it say he gave no token, by look, or word, or act, that would have shown that he was interested, or that he resented the rejoicing over his defeat. Again the song of triumph rose and swelled as they approached the camp on Clear lake, and rode into the presence of Gen. Davis and Gen. Wheaton. Thecommander-in-chief can certainly congratulate himself that his well-directed efforts have been successfully rewarded, and that the efficiency of the army has been maintained under extraordinary circumstances. The Warm Springs band came up to head-quarters, ranged in a long line, with their strange, wild chant ringing on the air, and delivered their prisoners, who were ordered under guard with the rest.

A greater humiliation still awaited the discomfited Modoc chief. Gen. Davis ordered leg-shackles to be made for Captain Jack and Schonchin, and toward evening they were led out to be ironed. Great excitement pervaded the Modoc camp as these leaders were taken from it, and led away, they knew not where. They were taken to the blacksmith under a guard of six men, and for the first time Jack showed apprehension. As his guards passed where Fairchild stood, he stopped and asked his old friend where they were taking him. I allude to Fairchild here as his friend, because, while he has never excused their war conduct, he has been always, for many years, well acquainted with them, and has possessed great influence over them. They have learned to place great confidence in him, and have never found it misplaced. So in all their movements of surrender they have wanted to have him present, and have done it at his advice when otherwise no one could have induced it. He gave Captain Jack no answer but to tell him kindly to go on with the men, and he went on unhesitatingly. He may have thought he was going to execution, but he went on nevertheless. At Fairchild’s suggestion, Scar-face Charley was sent for to act as interpreter. Scar-face speaks good English, and he explained to Jack and Schonchin that they were to be shackled to prevent any attempt at escape. They made the most earnest protestations that they had surrendered in good faith; that they had no desire to get away, and under no circumstances should make such an attempt. It was really an affecting scene to witness the grief with which they submitted to have the shackles placed on them; but when they saw that their fate was inexorable, they made no complaint or resistance, though they keenly felt the indignity, but stood silently to let the rivets tighten to bind them in chains they will never cease to wear, for it is probable they will be tried by a military tribunal, and that they will suffer the penalty of their crimes as soon as the form of a trial and securing of evidence to convict them can be gone through with.

The short and decisive campaign that has resulted in practically ending the Modoc war has been a rough one. The troops were fully equipped, and the horses all shod and in good order; but the ten days’ scouting through a terribly rough country has left men and horses considerably worse for wear. It is now ordered that the troops under Col. Mason shall move to this place from Fairchild’s ranch. This place will be head-quarters until the whole matter is wound up. There are still eight or ten Modoc warriors out; but they will not undertake to make a fight, and only time and good management are required to lead them also in and bring the end.

Captain Jack maintains a gloomy reserve, and will not converse with his captors on any subject. It is safe to say that he will make no explanation or revelations, but die and make no sign. Bogus Charley says all the men expect to die, and await their fate without fear. Captain Jack himself has no fears of what the result may be, and waits it with stoical fortitude. He will die heroically, I have no doubt, for he has evidently less regard for life than the rest of the Modoc warriors.

This was substantially the end of the great Modoc war. The closing scenes were very exciting. Some of them are worthy of mention as having an immediate bearing on the question of Peace and War as between thesuperior raceand the originalinheritorsof the soil.

Time, June 8th, 1873. Location of the scene, Rocky Point, near the mouth of Lost river.—Characters in this tragedy: first,Civilized Christianized white men; second, Helpless Modoc captives.

James Fairchild—a brother to John A., the “gray-eyed man”—left Fairchild’s ranch on the morning of the 8th, with a four-mule team, and a wagon filled with Modocmen,women, andchildren, who had surrendered and were entirely unarmed.

Very little things sometimes turn the current of great events. When leaving Fairchild’s ranch on the morning in question, the entire party consisted of seventeen Modoc captives and the brothers Fairchild. Among the captives were Bogus Charley and Shacknasty Jim. Before arriving at Lost river the party divided, James Fairchild driving the team and going by a longer route, on account of crossing Lost river at a wagon ford; John A. Fairchild, together with Shacknasty Jim and Bogus on horseback, going by a shorter route. The latter party, not mistrusting danger, continued on their way, not waiting for the team to come up to the junction of the roads.

While James was crossing the river he encountered a body of Oregon volunteers, under command of Capt. Hizer. The soldiers gather around the wagon and question Fairchild. He explains to them that the Indians under his care are Modoc captives, all of them Hot Creeks; that he is taking them to the head-quarters of General Davis on “the peninsula,” to deliver them up; that none of them have been accused of being parties to any murder or assassination. This seems to satisfy the soldiers, and they retire to their camp. Fairchild passes on towards his point of destination. After proceeding a few miles he sees two men going towards the road, with the evident intention of intercepting him. The Indians in the wagon also make the discovery, and beg Fairchild to turn back, to save them. He feels that trouble is brewing. He looks in vain for his brother John and the Indians that are with him. The two men have halted by the roadside. Fairchild comes up to them. They order him to halt, and accompany the order with aheavy “persuader” in close proximity to his head. The music made by “spring steel” under the manipulation of a man’s hand has but two notes,—a short tick and a long click; and then the “persuader” is ready for business. Fairchild, hearing this kind of music,halts, and to the “Get down, you old white headed ——,” etc., demands, “By whose authority?” “By mine. I am going to kill them Ingens, and you too, —— you!”

One of the civilized white men cuts the mules clear of the wagon. Fairchild leaps to the ground, still clinging to the lines. The unarmed captive women beg for mercy. They plead with Fairchild to save them. They raise imploring hands and cry, “Don’t kill! don’t kill!” The four Indian warriors are mute; they know resistance is in vain. Fairchild entreats the white men to desist. The muzzle of a needle-gun is within six inches of his ear. A shot, and“Little John’s” brainsare scattered over the women and children. Another, and “Te-hee Jack” is floundering among them. Another, and “Poney’s” blood is spurting over his wife and children. Still another shot, and “Mooch” falls among shrieking squaws. One more, and“Little John’s” wifeis shot through the shoulder. The five are writhing in the death agony together, and the blood of the victims is streaming through the floor of the wagon and dropping in puddles on the ground beneath. A dust is seen rising from the road. The civilized white murderers decamp in haste, leaving Fairchild holding to his mules, while the uninjured Modoc women are extricating themselves from the dead bodies which had fallen on them. The blood of this civilized butchery still drops fromthe wagon. Sergeant Murphy and ten men, Battery A, of the Fourth Artillery, came upon the scene. The civilizedbutchersare fleeing.No effortis made to arrest them. Sergeant Murphy had not been ordered to arrest them, and, of course, he had no right to arrestwhite men without an order. Capt. Hizer’s company of Oregon volunteers is within a few miles also. The country is open; the murderers have but a few miles the start. But Capt. Hizer hasno ordersto arrest white men either. He is not there for that purpose; and no one can censure him because he did not catch the civilizedwhite murderers. Those men were seen by Fairchild before and behind the wagon. They were on the watch forJohn Fairchild. Had he and his party been with the team when the attack was made, the census return of that county would not have been quite so large as it is, especially on the Anglo-Saxon civilized list.Pity he was not there, forheis “a dead shot.” The commiseration is due, however, to the community that furnished homes for the fellows who covered themselves with glory by performing this heroic feat. True, they dare not boast of itnow, but they will by and by. The grand jury of Jackson Countydid notfind bills of indictment against them. No effort has ever been made to discover the names of the perpetrators of this deed. True, there were those that claimed to know who the persons were, but they never tell; neither would they tell, if placed on the witness stand. I would not have my reader suppose that thepeopleof Oregon approved of the crime—very far from it. They condemned it in unstinted terms, and with one voice shouted, “Shame! Shame!” So they would have done if thetables had been turned. No State in the Union has a more orderly, law-abiding, peace-loving people than Oregon; none that venerates justice more highly. True, they have sometimes been lenient to the white men of bad character. But no more so than other States where votes are necessary to elevate men to power. Like all other peoples they are tender-hearted towardsallmen who control votes. As a people they are brave, without a doubt; but among them occasionally may be found specimens ofcut-throats, who kill unarmed people; and once in a great while, just as in the States of Massachusetts or New York, an editor who does the same kind of work with his pen, when he thinks he can do it with impunity. But the respectable editors, there as elsewhere, have learned sense enough to let a man alone when he is down, until they are sure he can’t get up before they kick him. With great unanimity those of Oregon and the whole Pacific coast denounce the killing of helpless, unarmed Indians, as they did the killing of settlers after the battle of Lost river, Nov., 1873,—only not quite strong enough tojustifythe authorities in makinganyefforts to bring the offenders tojustice.

The scene changes to a military camp on the “peninsula,” at the south end of Tule lake. A hundred white tents declare this to be the head-quarters of the army that whipped the Modocs,—that is to say, the army to whom the Modoc traitors turned over their chief. One hundred and twenty poor, miserable specimens of humanity are under guard. There is great rejoicing over the victory. The Modoc women and, children are contented, in one sense at least,—they arewell fed, and have rest. The Government teams have just arrived from the mountains with timber. The quartermaster’s forces are engaged in rough carpenter work. Curious-looking building they are erecting,—looks something like a country butcher’s windlass; but it is not that, for there is more of it. The Modoc captains wonder what it is for. They are unsophisticated in civilized modes of appeasing outraged justice.

Scar-face Charley asks a soldier, “What for that thing they make?”

“To hang Modocs,” laconically replies Mr. Soldier.

A wail of savage woe breaks the air. The medicine-man says he “can beat that thing.”

“May be so, Curly-haired Doctor; but unless some other medicine interferes you can have a chance to try it, and, in the mean time, to reflect on the inhuman manner in which you and Hooker Jim killed Brotherton, Boddy, and others.”

Not far from the gallows we see an artist with his camera, and going toward it two men under guard. One of them shouted “Kau-tux-ie” at the council tent the 11th of April. The other one was his right-hand man then. They are inseparable now, as they have been for years past; but this time a few links of log chain, as well as bloody crimes, unite them. They cast anxious eyes towards the gibbet. They meet John Fairchild, and ask him where they are going. “Go on; it’s all right,” he replies. They take places before the camera. The artist lifts his velvet cloth, and Captain Jack looks squarely at what appears to him to be “a big gun.” To his surprise the big gun is again covered up, and he is then assured that itwill not shoot. It was under such circumstances that the likeness of Captain Jack, which accompanies this book, was taken. Old Schonchin is next made a target. They smile when led away, for they hadexpected to die.

Some satisfaction to know that the old fellow endured suspense, even if it was temporary. They are taken back to the guard-house, and, as they march under escort, they see Hooker Jim, Bogus Charley, Shacknasty Jim, and Steamboat Frank, walking around unfettered, unguarded, well clothed, well fed, and well armed. The chief restrains himself until he arrives at the tent used for guard-house, then he gives way to a tempest of passion, and, in true Indian style, declaims against the injustice of what he sees and feels. True, Captain Jack, you are wearing chains thatproperly belong to those villains. True, you pleaded with all your eloquence for peace, and against the assassination of the commissioners. True, they voted against you. True, that Bogus first proposed to kill Gen. Canby, and that he was also first to betray you to your enemies. It is also true, that for this double treachery he is now being rewarded with liberty. True enough, that that cut-throat, Hooker Jim, is the very man that put the woman’s hat on your head, and taunted you to madness, until at last you yielded against your judgment, and consented to commit the first great crime of your life. True, that he was the man who followed your trail, day and night, like a hound, until he pointed the steps of the soldier to your last hiding-place. It is for thisdamnable act of treachery to you that he is now being rewarded. True, also, that Steamboat Frank and ShacknastyJim fired as many shots at the commissioners as you did; and that they, too, voted against you while you were trying to make peace, and that they boast yet of the number of soldiers they have scalped. They joined Bogus and Hooker Jim in hunting you, carrying each a breech-loading rifle, and wearing the uniform of the United States soldiers, and were with your captors when your star fell. It is for these last-named heroic acts that they are now enjoying the boon for which you have pleaded all your life, from the same Government that pets them, and almost fawns upon them as heroes. Certainly your cup is full of grief, while theirs runs over with joy. If you were awhite manwe would commiserate you, and half the people of America would join in an effort to save you; but you are an Indian. No Indian can be an “honorable man;” the idea is an insult to everyIrishman, andGerman, and the whole Caucasian race besides. You are simply unfortunate in being born in the land of the free, and the home of the brave, with ared skin. Better you had been born across the sea, and with any brogue in the world on your tongue. If you had only been blessed with awhite skin, and had that kind of manhood that would have permitted you to wear some rich man’s collar, fawn upon and toady to the whims and caprices of your masters, at the sacrifice of your own self-respect, and that of the rest of mankind, then your crimes might have been condoned. But you arenowacitizen, and you may enjoy a citizen’s privilege of being punished for other men’s crimes as well as your own.

Gen. Davis has invited the settlers of the Lost-river country, to “come in and identify the murderers,and stolen property captured from the Modocs.” Among others who availed themselves of the opportunity are two women. We have seen them before,—the first time on the afternoon of November 29th, 1872, when the red-handed villain who walks around camp, thelionof the day,—Hooker Jim,—came to them with his hands red with the heart’s blood of their husbands; and again, when a funeral procession was slowly wending its way to the Linkville cemetery. We recognize them as Mrs. Boddy and her widowed daughter, Mrs. Schiere. Gen. Davis, with the heart of a true man and soldier, receives them kindly, and assigns them to a tent; patiently listens to the sad story of their great bereavement.

He calls on them again, taking with him Hooker Jim and Steamboat Frank. Mrs. Boddy identifies Hooker as one of the Indians concerned in the massacre. When questioned as to the robbery of Mrs. Boddy’s house, Hooker Jim replies, “I took the short purse, andLong Jimtook the other purse.”

The women are much excited and are crying. They lose self-control. Mrs. Boddy, drawing from her pocket a knife, dashes at Hooker Jim’s breast. Mrs. Schiere, with a pistol, attempts to shoot Steamboat Frank. The man who would not brook insult from Gen. Nelson could not see these women commit a crime; with almost superhuman strength and agility he disarms both women before they have sipped from the cup of revenge, accidentally receiving a slight wound in one hand from the knife held by Mrs. Boddy. The savages stand unmoved and make no effort to escape. Let the reader be charitable in judgment on the actions of these widows. Theywere alone in the world. Their protectors had fallen by the hands that have since been washed by ajust Government, when in its dire necessity it accepted their services as traitors. Ah! double traitors to a reluctant, but brave leader. If the men who killed the unarmed captives in Fairchild’s wagon yesterday can go unpunished after killing Indians that had not harmed them, let charity extend to these broken-hearted women, nor censure them for a thirst for vengeance, especially when they realized that justice has hid her face to these inhuman monsters who are reeking with blood, and guilty of the most damnable treachery. True, these are women; but the accident of sex does not change nature, and never should be urged against those whose wrongs drive them to desperation.

The quarter-master’s carpenters are putting on the finishing strokes to the extempore instrument of apartialjustice to be administered without even the farce of anex-partetrial. Thetrapis being arranged. Eight or ten ropes are hanging from the beam. Gen. Davis is preparing a statement of the crimes committedby thecaptives, and, also, his verdict, which he proposes to read to these unfortunate subjugated warriors before he tests the strength of the dangling ropes with live-weight. A courier arrives from Y-re-ka. A message is received by Gen. Davis, ordering him to hold the prisoners subject to further instructions from Washington.

The work on the hanging-machine is suspended. The Modoc medicine-man assures his friends that he has won another victory. Gen. Davis is thoroughly chagrined.The disappointment is great.Modocsenjoy it; white man does not. The brittle thread of life has been strengthened for the temporary benefit of a few vagabonds whose existence is no blessing to mankind outside of the Modoc blood; whose death would cause a shout of joy over the civilized world. Not because it would bring back the dead, and cause them to stand in the flesh again, but because justice has been done to a man with a red skin who dared claim the privileges of manhood; and, being denied, had resisted a good Government in which he had no part.

The scaffold stands untried. Nobody knows whether it is a good hanging-machine or not. The camp is broken up; the war is over, and the Modocs arenowwhere they can becontrolled. They areen routeto Fort Klamath, under guard.

The chieftain who, a few weeks since, was over-matching the best military talent of the army, holding in abeyance twenty times the number of his own forces, and defying a great, strong Government, is now a captive and in chains, compelled to travel under anescortover the route he had passed so often in the freedom of days gone by. Familiar objects greet his eyes as he raises them from the last look he will ever take of the scene of his glory as a chief; and his shame as an outlaw.

The first place of historical interest on this last ride of the Modoc chief, as he leaves “the peninsula,” is where Ben Wright killed nearly as many warriors as Captain Jack has had in his command. If the angel of justice accompanies this conquering army with its dejected captives, she will cover her face while it passes the spot where Modoc blood watered thegroundunderaflagoftruce, when she remembers that the perpetrators of that deed werehonoredfor the act. A few miles only, and the vacant cabin of Miller stands, accusing Hooker Jim, the murderer of its builder and owner, forhistreachery, and upbraiding a Government that excuseshiscrimes, because he can be made useful in hunting to the death the chief who led where such a villain forced him to go.

Justice uncovers her face when this army reaches Bloody Point, for now she remembers that it was here that a train of emigrants were waylaid and cruelly butchered, and she shows no favors to the descendants of those who committed the crime. Again the eye of the conquered chief glances over the scene of his childhood, and, too, over the field where he fought his first battle. Since it would be pronounced sickly “sentimentalism” to ponder over the scenes of such a man’s boyhood, and lest we should offend somewhite man’sfine sense of pride that he is a white-skinned man, though he may have little else of which to boast, we pass along up Lost river, with simply recalling the fact, that this man’s—Captain Jack’s—early home abounds withtraditional literatureconnecting his name with the savage scenes of the past, and linking it with the tragic events of 1872-3.

The conquering army marches over the spot where the white murderers “wiped out” some of the wrongs committed againstour race. The tramping of soldiers’ feet and the iron-shod hoofs of mule teams erases the dark spots in the road, where the tokens of requited vengeance were painted by the droppingblood from Fairchild’s wagon on the eighth of June.

This blood does not cry outloud enough to catch the ear of the sober, honest-faced angel who has been perching on the victorious emblem of the free white American! No danger that those dark spots will ever trouble that great angel. The blood that made them was drawn from the wrong kind of veins for that.

While the army marches over the trail, effacing footprints of the fleeing avenger, a shot is heard. Quick almost as lightning flash every soldier’s hand grasps his arms. The thought that the Modocs are attempting escape passes through every mind. “Halt!”—rings out the cavalry bugle. Above one of the Government wagons a small puff of smoke is rising in the clear morning air, while behind and beneath it the spattered drops of blood announce that another tragedy is now being enacted. The wagon halts, and now through the floor the current runs in streams, while its splashing on the ground makes melody for ears of white men and soothes the dying senses ofCurly-haired Jack.

A few words of explanation, and the fact is established thattreasonis still among the Modocs, treason to the Government of the United States, committedby Curly-haired Jack, in blowing out his own brains, thus cheating the aforesaid government out of the great privilege of hanging him for the murder of Lieut. Sherwood, under a flag of truce, on the eleventh of April, 1873.

Poor, conscience-stricken self-murderer! his body is mixed up again with his native land, and his friends are denied the privilege of mourning for him.

The army, with its costly coterie of famous guests, encamps at Modoc camp on Klamath Reservation. This is the spot where Captain Jack and his people settled in the beginning of 1870. How changed the fortunes of this man!Thenhis limbs were free, though his manhood was half disputed;nowevery motion of his limbs rings clanking music in his ear, constantly reminding him that his manhood has obtained recognition at the cost of life and liberty.Thenhe was restless under the restraints of civilization, because it denied to him a clear pathway to its privileges and blessings;nowhe is passive under the persuasive influence of a power that compels his crushed spirit to submission.Thenhe was the hero chief of Hooker Jim and Bogus Charley, and the daring band that surrounded him;nowhe is the humbled, crest-fallen victim oftheir treachery.

Hesits behind a guard whose glittering bayonets warn him of the folly of resistance.His betrayers, unfettered, ramble over the ground where the Modocs had begun their new home in 1870.

Hesteals glances at the great witness tree where Modocs and Klamaths buried the hatchet.Theydance with joy over the results of its resurrection.

The army moves out of camp. The captive chief catches sight of four rough-hewn timbers on the left of the road. These were once designed for use in making that chief a house, wherein he was to have passed through probation, looking toward his ultimate attainment of citizenship under the “Humane Policy of the Government.”

The Klamaths, who badgered him into the abandonment of his new home in 1870, have not disturbedthe house-logs referred to. They never will; and the probabilities are that these logs will remain as monuments, marking the sepulchure of broken hopes.

A few miles before reaching Fort Klamath the cavalcade passes throughCouncil Grove,—the place where Klamaths and Modocs made the treaty of 1864 with the United States.

At last the shattered companies of soldiers reach the fort, having left behind them many of their comrades; but having in charge a distinguished prisoner and his companions. When they pass inside the irregular circle of forest trees that shut Fort Klamath up into a grand amphitheatre, the outside is shut out from four, at least, of the prisoners forever.

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