Wigwam and War-path Or the Royal Chief in Chains Part 26

This is substantially the first Modoc speech I ever heard. The result, however, was to break the ice, to open the way for conversation. I stated then that I was a new chief, sent by the President, to care for all the Indians, Modocs included, and that I was _their_ ty-ee. I had some new things to talk about. Whether they were my friends or not, I was their friend. I had come to see my boys, and I wanted a hearing. I was not afraid to talk, not afraid to hear Captain Jack talk; I was a big chief, and did not ask my own boys when to talk. When I had ended my first speech to the Modocs, Captain Jack replied:--

"I have nothing to say that you would like to hear. All your people are _liars_ and _swindlers_. I do not believe half that is told me. I am not afraid to hear you talk." I then proposed to have my friends, who were waiting outside, come in. This was agreed to, and Captain Jack produced a parcel of papers, that had been given to him by various persons, including letters from "Steele," also from Esq. Potter, and John Fairchild. These were submitted to me, and treated with consideration, thereby securing a certain kind of respectful hearing, on the part of Captain Jack, to the proposition for him to provide a camp for our company.

Having thus started negotiations, Jack proffered the use of his lodge, saying that he had no muck-a-muck (meaning provision) that we could eat; that his stores afforded only roots and dried fish, that he had no flour, no coffee, no sugar, no _whiskey_, and did not think a white chief could get along without these things, etc. He, however, ordered a camp prepared for us, which was done by making small holes in the ground, two or three feet apart, with "camas sticks,"--a sharp-pointed instrument, of either iron, bone, or hard wood, and about three feet long, with a handle at the upper end, generally in the shape of a cross, and is used very much as a gardener does a spade, by Indian women in digging roots. Into these holes were inserted willows, eight feet in length, forming a circle twenty feet in diameter, lapping past at one point,--thus making an entrance, very much like the opening of a circus pavilion,--the whole surrounded with mattings, the upper part drawn in, thus contracting the yielding tops of the willow poles until the camp was made to resemble a huge bowl, with bottom out, in an inverted position. This kind of work is usually done by Indian women; but, to the credit of the young men of the Modoc tribe be it said, that they, in this instance at least, a.s.sisted them, and did not allow their women to be mere help-meets, but princ.i.p.als in mechanical enterprises of the kind named, including also "getting wood." Sage brush is the princ.i.p.al fuel in this region of country; and since so much of the Great Basin lying between the Rocky mountains on the east, and Sierra Nevada, and Cascade mountains on the west, is covered with this kind of growth, and since comparatively few of my readers may have ever seen it for themselves, I may remark here, by way of explanation, that this "sage brush" is a soft, flexible shrub, the woody part being porous, and filled with a gummy substance; the bark is of a grayish color, soft and ragged, and easily stripped off; the leaf is small, of such a color, shape and taste as very much resembles the domestic plant, from which it takes its name; the body is short, crooked and forked, seldom exceeds four inches in diameter or four feet in height; burns readily, either green or dry, making a very hot fire, though of short life, yielding abundant ashes and beds of coals.

A plentiful supply of this fuel was piled up around our camp. A fresh fish was taken from the river by the Indians, which, when roasted in the sage-brush embers, made a not unpalatable meal. We spread our saddle-blankets down for bedding, placed one of the party "on guard,"

while the remainder slept, or went through the motion of sleeping; for we would not have cared for the Indians to know that we could not and dare not sleep. The morrow came, and the wagons having brought our supplies, we were prepared to offer a feast of coffee and sugar, hard-bread, beef, and bacon.

_No Modoc would eat_ until our party had partaken. Some folks may think their good-breeding had taught them to defer to their superiors; but such was not the case. The reason was expressed in these few words: "Remember Ben Wright;" which was said in the Modoc language, thus explaining why they did not partake. When, however, they had witnessed that the provisions prepared for the feast were eaten by our party, they were rea.s.sured, and another point was gained.

Nothing so quickly dissolves the ice in an Indian breast as a feast. The council was opened with Frank Riddle and his Modoc woman, Tobey, as interpreter. I mention this fact, because they have become prominent characters in the history of the late Modoc war. They had been sent for by Captain Jack; in fact, he was not willing to proceed without them.

Frank Riddle is a white man, about thirty years of age, a native of Kentucky. He antic.i.p.ated Greeley, going West when a very young man, and engaged in mining at Y-re-ka, Cal. Twelve years ago, on a bright morning in March, an old Indian rode up to Frank's cabin, and stopped before the door. On a small pony behind the old man sat a young Indian girl, of Modoc blood, twelve years of age.

The man was of royal lineage, being a descendant of Mo-a-doc-us, founder of the tribe, and was uncle of the now famous Captain Jack. After sitting in silence, Indian fas.h.i.+on, staring in the cabin door for a few minutes, he made a motion by a toss of his head, and pouted out his lips toward the young squaw behind him. This pantomime said to Frank, "Do you want to buy a squaw?"

Frank was a fine-looking, dark-eyed young fellow, and withal a clever man, of genial disposition, with native pride of ancestry, still holding to the memory of his home, and the image of a fair-haired girl who had "swung school-baskets" with him in the beach woods of Shelby county, Kentucky.

He shook his head. The old man's face indicated his disappointment. The girl on the pony slowly turned away, followed by her father.

Four days pa.s.sed, and this Indian girl and her father again appeared at Frank's cabin. In sign language she made known her wish to be his slave, and that he would buy her from her father. The young Kentuckian, chivalrous as his people always are, treated her kindly; but, remembering his fair-haired girl, refused to instal this Indian maiden as mistress of his home. Ten days pa.s.sed; the dark-eyed girl came again, _alone_, bringing with her a wardrobe, consisting of such articles as Indian women manufacture,--sashes and baskets, sh.e.l.ls, beads, and little trinkets.

She was attired with woman's taste, conforming to the fas.h.i.+ons of her people. Her dark eyes, with long lashes, smooth, round, soft face, of more than usual pretensions to beauty, lithe figure, and dainty feet in moccasins, all combined to give a romantic air to the jaunty young maiden; and, when animated with the promptings of love for the young Kentuckian, made her an eloquent advocate in her own behalf. The chivalrous fellow _hesitated_. He _pitied_. He _trembled_ on the brink. The dark eyes before him pleaded. The blue eyes, far away, dissolved reproachingly from view.

The hopes of youth, and the air-castles that two loving hearts had built in years agone, began to vanish. They disappeared, and--and in their stead a rude cabin in romantic wilds, with a warm-hearted, loving, dusky-faced companion, became a living, actual _reality_.

The day following, the father of this Indian woman was richer by two horses. The cabin of Frank Riddle put on a brighter air. The mistress a.s.sumed charge of the camp-kettle and the frying-pan. The tin plates were cast aside, and dishes of finer mould mounted the tables at the command of a pair of brown hands.

Riddle, having broken his vows, and forsaken his boyhood idol, set to work now to make the untamed girl worthy to fill the place in his heart from which she had driven another. She was apt at learning, and soon only the semblance of a squaw remained in the dusky cheeks and brown hands. Seven years pa.s.s, and Frank Riddle and his woman Tobey appear in the Modoc council on Lost river, December, 1869.

[Ill.u.s.tration: TOBEY AND RIDDLE.]

We made the opening speech in that council, setting forth the reasons for our visit and producing the treaty of 1864. Here Captain Jack began to manifest the same kind of disposition that has been so prominent in his subsequent intercourse with government officials,--a careful, cautious kind of diplomacy, that does not come to a point, but continually seeks to s.h.i.+rk responsibility.

He denied that he was a party to the treaty of October, 1864, or that he signed the paper. Doctor McKay, old Chief Schonchin, and sub-Chief Blo of Klamath were brought forward, and his allegations disproved completely; we fully and clearly establis.h.i.+ng the fact that he was present at that treaty council, and that he put his hand to the pen, when his mark was made; that he accepted and shared with the other Indians the goods issued by Superintendent Huntington in confirmation of the treaty. The amount of goods issued I cannot state; but I find that Huntington had an appropriation of $20,000, to meet the expenses of said treaty council, and, I doubt not, issued $5,000 or $10,000 worth of goods. All agree that it was a liberal supply of goods, and I believe it to be true.

Captain Jack, seeing that "he was cornered," began to quibble about what part of the Reservation he was to go on to. This was met with the proposition that he could _have any_ unoccupied land. Finding his objections all fairly met, he finally said, that, if he could live near his friend, Link-river Jack, he _would go_. We began to "breathe easy,"

feeling that the victory was ours, when the Modoc medicine-man arose, and simply said, "Me-ki-gam-bla-ke-tu," (We won't go there); when, presto!

from exultation every countenance was changed to an expression of anxiety, and every hand grasped a revolver.

The moment was fraught with peril. The least wavering then, on our part, would have precipitated a fight, the result of which would have been doubtful as to how many, and who, of our party would have come out alive.

It is quite certain that, had a fight ensued, what has since startled our people would have been antic.i.p.ated, and that the name of Captain Jack would have pa.s.sed away with but little notice from among the savage heroes.

It was there I first heard those terrible words, a part of which have since become famous, uttered but a moment before the attack on the Peace Commission, on April 11, 1873--"Ot-we-kau-tux-e,"--meaning, in this instance, "I am done talking;" or, when used in other connections, "All ready!" or, "The time has come!" or, "Quit talking." The vocabularies of all Indian languages are very small; hence, a word depends, to a great extent, on its connection, for its meaning and power. It was just at this point that the woman, Tobey Riddle, who has since proved her sagacity and her loyalty, arose to her feet, and said in Modoc tongue to her people: "Mo-lok-a ditch-e ham-konk lok-e sti-nas mo-na gam-bla ot-we,"--("The white chief talks right. His heart is good or strong. Go with him now!") Frank Riddle joined the woman Tobey in exhorting the Modocs to be quiet, to be careful, using such words as tend to avert, what we all saw was liable to happen any instant, a terrible scene of blood.

Dr. McKay, whose long experience had given him much sagacity, arose quickly to his feet, saying in English, "Be on your guard! Don't let them get the drop on us." Captain Jack started to retire when I intercepted him, saying, "Don't leave me now; I am your friend, but I am not afraid of you. Be careful what you do! We mean peace, but are ready for war. We will not begin; but if you do, it shall be the end of your people. You agreed to go with us, and you shall do it. We are ready. Our wagons are here to carry your old people and children. We came for you, and we are not going back without you. You must go!"

He asked "what I would do, if he did not." I told him plainly that we would _whip him_ until he was willing. He then wanted to know _where_ my men were that was to whip him. I pointed to my small squad of men. I shall never forget his reply. "I would be ashamed to fight so few men with all my boys." I replied, that it was force enough to kill _some Modocs_, before we were all dead; that when we were killed more white men would come.

Not having very strong faith in his _pride_ about fighting so few men, I informed him that I had soldiers coming to help us, but that we came on to try _talking first_, and then when that failed we would send for them to come; finally stating to him that he could make up his mind to _go_ with us on the morrow, or _fight_, and that in the meanwhile we would be ready at any time for him to begin, if he wished to. He said then what he repeated many times to Peace Commissioners on last spring,--that "he would not fire the first shot," but if we did, "he was not afraid to die." It was finally agreed that he should have until the next morning to make answer what he would do, and that at that time he should report his conclusion.

This ended my first official council with the Modocs. Captain Jack withdrew to his lodge to have a grand "pow-wow," leaving our party to determine what was the next thing for us to do. We realized that we were "in great danger." No one dissented from the opinion that peril was menacing our party. Our only hope was to put on a brave front. Retreat at that hour was impossible, with even chances for escape. We despatched a messenger, under pretence of hunting our horses,--we dared not send him boldly on the mission without excuses,--with orders for our military squad at Linkville, twenty-five miles from Modoc camp, to rendezvous at a point within hearing of our guns, and that, in the event of alarm, to "charge the camp," but in _no other_ event to come until the next morning.

Having despatched the courier, we carefully inspected our arms, consisting of Henry rifles and navy revolvers. Captain Knapp's experience as an officer of the rebellion and McKay's longer experience as an Indian fighter, together with the frontier life of the remainder, made our little party somewhat formidable, though inadequate to what might at any moment become a fearful trial of strength.

In this connection it should be understood that at that time the Modocs were very poorly armed with old muskets, and a few rifles and old-fas.h.i.+oned pistols.

The Indians have great reverence and unlimited faith in their "medicine-men." This is peculiar to all Indians, but to none more so than the Modocs. While our party were invoking Almighty aid and preparing for the worst that might come, the Modoc medicine-man was invoking the spirits of departed warriors for aid. While the medicine-man was making medicine, Captain Jack was holding a council with his braves, discussing the situation, depending somewhat on the impression to be made from the medicine camp, and fully trusting therein. I have since learned that the same man, who subsequently proposed the a.s.sa.s.sination of the Peace Commission in the "Lava Bed," in 1873, made the proposition to kill our party in 1869, which, to the credit of Captain Jack, he promptly opposed at that time as he did the other.

Now, if there had been a trial of strength between the good and the bad, we should not have been worthy to represent Elijah; but the Modocs filled the position of Ahab, and they made medicine and called loudly on their G.o.ds, but failed therein, as Baal did Ahab. As men will do, our soldier squad disregarded or overlooked the instruction to await the signal to "charge camp," for the charge _was made_ in a style that would have done great credit at any subsequent period in the late Modoc war. There was _spirit_ at the bottom of this unexpected movement of the soldiers; not such spirits as the Modoc medicine-man invoked, but regular "forty-rod whiskey."

On leaving Link river, they had secured the "company of a bottle," and, the night being cold, they had resorted to its warming influences. The consequence was that, when they arrived at the appointed place to await orders, they forgot to stop, and came into the camp on full gallop. The horses' feet on the frozen ground, the breaking of sage brush, rattling of sabres, all combined, made a noise well calculated to produce sudden fear in the minds of all parties. Our men were all under arms and discussing the situation.

The medicine-man was going through his incantations, accompanied by the songs of the old women, whose sounds still linger on my ear, as they came to our camp, wafted by the breeze from the lake. It was past midnight, and still the great council was in session, debating the treachery proposed; it had not been voted on at that time. Subsequent reports declare that Schonchin's John had spoken in favor of the measure. Captain Jack was making a speech against it at the time the soldiers appeared.

For a few moments the scene was one of indescribable confusion; the medicine-man cut short his prayers; the war council was broken up; and Indian braves came out of the lodge without waiting for the ceremonies of even savage courtesy, but "pell-mell" they went into the sage brush, each one taking with him his arms. A guard was immediately placed, surrounding the whole camp; Capt. Knapp giving orders to allow no one to pa.s.s the picket lines.

Few eyes closed in sleep that night; daylight disclosed a complete circle of bayonets, and inside about two hundred men, women, and children; but the brave Captain Jack was not there; nor was "Schonchin's John," or "Ellen's Man," or "Curly Head Doctor;" they had retired to the "Lava Bed."

We issued an order for all Indians to form in a line; they were rea.s.sured that no one should be harmed; that they should be protected, clothed, and cared for, but that all the arms must be delivered up. This request brought out professions and promises of friends.h.i.+p; but the order had been made and must be obeyed.

The Indians refused compliance, and a file of soldiers was ordered to seize the arms; for a few moments the excitement was intense; every man of our party stood ready for "business," while the arms of the Modocs were seized, and a guard placed over them. The aspect presented by the Modoc camp was one that will not soon be forgotten by our party; the old, the young, the middle-aged, the crippled, and ragged, nearly all making professions of loyalty, and rejoicing at the turn events had taken.

Provisions were issued for them, and order made for them to gather up the ponies and prepare for removal. This morning was the first time I heard "Queen Mary's" voice; she is a sister of Ki-en-te-poos,--Captain Jack,--and this fact gave her great power over him. She has been p.r.o.nounced "Queen of the Modocs," on account of her beauty and power; she was, probably, the most sagacious individual belonging to the band. This Indian queen has had many opportunities for _improvement_, having been sold to five or six white men in the last ten years.

While she has induced so many different men to buy her of her brother, she has made each one, in turn, anxious to return her to her people; but not until she had squandered all the money she could command. It has been denied that Captain Jack was ever a party to these several matrimonial speculations; but more strongly a.s.serted, by those who ought to know, that "Queen Mary" has been a great source of wealth to him. I am of that opinion myself, after weighing all the facts in the case.

On the morning in question Mary appeared to plead for her absent brother, that he might be forgiven, saying that he was no coward, but that he was scared; that he was not to blame for running, and that she could induce him to return. It was finally arranged that she should go to the "Lava Bed" in company with our guide, Gus Horn, and a.s.sure her brother that no harm had befallen the camp, and none would fall on them.

One day was spent in collecting the Indian ponies, taking Indian provisions from the "caches," and negotiating with the runaways for their return, which was not accomplished. The following morning the camp was broken up, and all the Indians, big and little, old and young,--as we supposed at the time,--were started to the Reservation. Some were on ponies, many of them on our wagons, and perhaps a few on foot.

We reached Link river, where fires had been made, beef and flour prepared, and by nine, P.M., everybody seemed contented, except the personal friends of the runaways.

Messengers were kept on the road between our camp and the "Lava Beds"

almost constantly for the three days we remained at Link river. Finally the great chief surrendered, and "came in," on a.s.surances that "the Klamaths should not be permitted to make sport of him, and call him a coward for running from our small force." This, then, was the ultimatum, and was accepted, and, as far as possible, kept faithfully on our part.

The sight presented by Captain Jack and his men, when they arrived at Link river, if it could have been witnessed by those who have taken so great an interest in him, would have dispelled all ideas of a "Fennimore Cooper hero."

I cannot forbear mentioning an incident characteristic of the Modocs.

While waiting for Jack and his remaining braves, I accidentally learned that an old woman had been left in camp on Lost river, and, asking for the reason, was told that she was too old to dig roots, or to work, and they had left her some wood and water, and a "little grub," enough for her to die easy on. A pair of new blankets, bread, sugar and meat, were prepared to send her; also a horse to ride, and volunteers asked for, to bring the old woman in. Not a volunteer came forward, save a "young buck," who was willing, _provided_ he could have the blankets and pony, should he find her dead, or if she should die on the road. It needed no reflection to understand that _that_ meant _murder_.

After much difficulty, the family to whom the old squaw belonged was found, and a man and woman sent after her, with the warning, that if they failed to bring her they must suffer the consequences. They insisted on being _paid_ in advance for their labor. They _were not paid_, but they brought her in alive, but so weak that she had to be held on the horse, the squaw sitting behind her. It is said the Indian has no grat.i.tude, but this old woman refuted that a.s.sertion.

On the arrival of Captain Jack's party, arrangements were made to proceed at once to Klamath Reservation. On the morning of Dec. 27th we started on our way. At the request of Captain Jack and his representative men, the squad of soldiers were sent forward to the fort; the Indians claiming that their presence made the women and children afraid; and that, having surrendered their arms, they were powerless to do harm, and had no desire to turn back. It may be thought a strange concession to make; but with their arms in our possession, we _made it_; thus proving our confidence in Indian integrity, by relieving them of the presence of the soldiers. We were safe, and had no fear of the result.

The morning was intensely cold, and the road led over a high mountain covered with snow to the depth of twenty inches. On the 28th we arrived at Modoc Point, Klamath Reservation. We were met by a large delegation of agency Indians. The meeting and peace-making of these people, who had been enemies so long, was one of peculiar interest and full of incident, worthy of being recorded. I pa.s.s over the first day, by saying that the Klamaths were much chagrined when we issued an order, at the request of Jack, against gambling.

Had we not done so, much confusion of property and domestic relation would have ensued. These people are inveterate gamblers, and in fits of madness have been known to stake their wives and daughters on the throw of a stick, sometimes a card. The second day we set apart for a meeting of reconciliation. A line was established between the Modoc and Klamath camp, and a place designated for the forthcoming meeting, at the foot of a mountain and beneath a wide-spreading pine tree.

The Klamaths formed on one side of the line, and awaited the arrival of the Modocs, who came reluctantly, apparently half afraid; Captain Jack taking a position fronting Allen David,--the Klamath chief,--and only a few feet distant. There stood these warrior chieftains, unarmed, gazing with Indian stoicism into each other's faces. No words were spoken for a few moments. The thoughts that pa.s.sed through each mind may never be known, but, perhaps, were of b.l.o.o.d.y battles past, or of the possible future.