THE CRY OF A BABE.--CAPTURE OF A BEVY OF SQUAWS. TREACHERY OF GEN.
ROSS' MEN IN KILLING PRISONERS.--CAPTURE OF THE MODOC CHIEF.
When we were across the lava beds, or "Devil's Garden," as the
place was commonly called, I told the man who was leading the
bell-horse to stop and wait until the other animals had come up in
order to see whether we had lost any. This was within a mile of
headquarters. The man in charge, also Jones and the other scouts,
came up, but the young man who had been riding in the middle, also
four mules and their packs, as the saying is, "came up missing."
The train went on to headquarters, but Jones and I returned along
the trail to see if we could find the missing man. One of us,
however, had to leave the trail and scout along on foot.
After following the back-track two miles I found where the four
mules had left it. It was now late in the evening, and we were
within less than a mile and a half of Captain Jack's stronghold.
We tied our horses there and started out, caring but little about
the mules and their packs; it was the man that we were looking
after. We had not gone more than fifty yards from the trail when
we found the body.
The poor fellow had been stoned to death, his head being beaten
out of shape. This the Indians had done to prevent an alarm. They
had evidently been hidden in the lava rocks and had managed to
turn those four mules from the trail, and the fog being so thick
that a person could not see any distance, the man did not notice
that he was off of the trail until too late; and when once off the
trail a few paces it was impossible for him to get back again. The
mules and packs were never seen again. The Indians, no doubt, took
them to the cave, used the provisions, killed and ate the mules
and saddle-horse which the man was riding. We took the body to
headquarters, and the next day it was started to Yreka, Cal. I do
not remember the name of this young man, but he lived near Yreka.
Gen. Wheaton was now fighting, the Indians every day, and at night
kept a strong picket guard around the cave. About this time it was
reported that Gen. Wheaton had received orders to take Captain
Jack if he had to exterminate the entire tribe.
The feeling was getting to be very strong against Captain Jack in
regard to the assassination of Gen. Canby, Col. Thomas and George
Meeks, the interpreter. One evening in a conversation with Gen.
Wheaton he asked me how long I thought it would take to starve
them out. I said: "General, if they took all their horses in the
cave, which I believe they did, and we know for a fact that they
got some cattle from the Klamath river, I think it will be May or
June before you will be able to starve them out."
He said that every Indian that came out of the cave single-handed
or otherwise would not live to get through the picket line, saying
that he had a double picket line now around the entire cave, both
day and night.
The next morning after this conversation with the General, one of
my scouts came in from Rattlesnake Point and reported having seen
the tracks of twenty Indians, where they had crossed the road on
the east side of the lake, and they were all small tracks.
I reported this to the General, telling him that Jack was a pretty
smart Indian, for he was sending his women and children away so as
to make his provisions last as long as possible.
George Jones and I started out, accompanied by two platoons of
soldiers, to capture the Indians. We had no trouble in finding
their trail, and in running them down.
It so happened that our escort that day were all Gen. Ross' men
and were all friends to young Savage, who had recently been killed
by the Modocs. After following the trail about ten miles we came
in sight of the Indians on Lost river. We did not see them until
we were near them and had no trouble in capturing the whole
outfit. There were twenty-two, all squaws and little girls. I was
personally acquainted with all of those Indians, and knowing so
well the cause of all this trouble, and just what brought it
about, I could not help sympathizing with the women and children.
In fact, I had felt from the very start that this trouble was all
uncalled for. Among the crowd was one young squaw who spoke pretty
fair English for an Indian in those days. I was well acquainted
with her, and told her that we would have to take them all, but
that they would be treated as prisoners. She did not seem to
understand the meaning of "prisoners."
I explained to her, and she in her own tongue explained it to the
rest of the crowd. I told her that we would have to take them back
to headquarters.
She said: "We heap hungry, long time no eat much. Maby white man
no give us anything to eat. 'Spose no eat purty soon all die." I
assured her that they would have plenty to eat as long as they
behaved themselves and gave the soldiers no trouble.
They all seemed to be perfectly willing to surrender and go back
to headquarters, so we started back via Tule Lake. When we reached
the mouth of Lost river I turned the prisoners over to the two
sergeants who had charge of the two platoons of soldiers. George
and I wanted to make a circuit around in the direction of Clear
Lake, thinking, of course, that the prisoners would be perfectly
safe in charge of the soldiers, especially those little girls.
George and I did not get to headquarters that night until ten
o'clock, and the first thing I heard when I got into camp was that
the Indians had tried to run off into the tules while coming down
Tule Lake, and they had all been shot down by the soldiers, I went
at once to see Gen. Ross relative to the matter, for I could not
believe it. The General confirmed the report by saying every one
of them had been shot. I said: "General, that is the most cowardly
piece of work I ever heard white men accused of in my life. Will
you please tell the men who did that cowardly piece of work, that
they had better never be caught out with me when I have the best
of it, for I would much prefer shooting such men down, to shooting
helpless women and children."
This conversation caused a great deal of talk of a court-martial,
but it all blew over, I suppose, on account of Captain Jack
murdering Gen. Canby. The next conversation I had with Gen.
Wheaton, I asked why the picket guard let those Indians pass
through the picket line, and speaking as though I thought they had
passed boldly out through the line; he said:
"I cannot see into it myself."
I said: "General, that is the way the Indians will all get out of
there, and at the final surrender you will not have six warriors
in the cave. From this on you will find that they will gradually
desert Jack, for the squaws told me that they were getting very
hungry."
It was reported around that Captain Jack and three other Indians
would be hung if caught alive, this being the orders from
headquarters. The other three were Schonchin, Scarfaced Charlie
and Shacknasty Jim, these being Jack's council or under chiefs.
When this report came, Gen. Wheaton told me that if it was
necessary he would make another detail of scouts, for he would not
under any consideration have the Indians escape. I told the
General to give himself no uneasiness in regard to that part of
it, for we would run down all the Indians that crossed the picket
line, but I must know what I should promise a prisoner when I
captured him. I asked if I should promise them protection or not,
for if there was no protection, I would not bring them in. He
assured me that all prisoners caught after this would be protected
as prisoners of war until tried and proven guilty.
What the General meant by that was those who might be proven
guilty of being directly interested in the murder of Gen. Canby
and Col. Thomas.
I now put George Jones on the night shift. He had the entire
charge of night scouting, and he and his assistants rode all night
long. In the morning I started out with my assistants and rode all
day; so it was impossible for the Indians to get out and away
without our getting track of them, and if they left a track we
were sure to capture them.
We kept this up for about three weeks, when I made a change;
George and I doing the night scouting alone, and leaving the day
scouting for the other scouts.
One night we were out near Dry Lake, about five miles from
headquarters, and there came up a cold fog. We built a little fire
to warm by, and shortly after we had started it we heard what an
inexperienced man would have called two cayotes, but we knew they
were Indians and were in different directions and this was their
signal for meeting.
We mounted our horses and rode in the opposite direction, but
before we left we gave a yelp in a laughing sort of manner to make
the Indians believe that we thought it was cayotes. We rode
quietly away about three hundred yards from the fire, dismounted,
tied our horses and crawled back near the fire. All this time the
Indians had kept up their cayote barking and were drawing near the
fire. It was some little time before they dared approach, but
after they had looked carefully around, I suppose they thought it
had been campers who had stopped, built a fire and then pulled
out, for it was not the custom of scouts to build a fire, which
the Indians well knew, they finally ventured up to the fire and
were warming themselves. Seeing that they were both armed with
rifles, and the chances were they both had pistols, we made up our
minds not to take any chances, so I proposed to George that we
should shoot them down, just as they would have done us if we had
not understood their signal.
Of course if it had been daylight it would have been quite
different, but three jumps away from the fire and they would have
been safe from us. We were sitting side by side not more than
forty yards from them. I told George to take the one on the right
and I would take the one on the left, and when he gave the word I
would fire with him. We raised our guns, and when he gave the word
we both fired, and the two Indians fell to the ground. We waited
about five minutes to see whether they would rise or not, and
believing we had killed them both, we approached them. One of them
was dead and the other was just about dead, so we took their guns
and pistols and reported to Gen. Wheaton.
The next morning he said it was a mystery how the Indians would
get out and the men on picket would not see them. He said: "I
cannot see through it."
About a week or ten days later George and I were coming in just
before daylight, when we heard a baby cry on the hillside only a
short distance from us. We stopped and listed until we had located
it. George dismounted, and I held his horse while he crawled up to
see where it was, and found that there was quite a number of
squaws and children there. I told him that it would be a matter of
impossibility for them to get away from us and the grass so high,
for we could track them easily, so I left him there to keep watch
and see which way they moved so that we would know how to start
after them, and I would ride to headquarters, about two miles
away, for assistance to help capture them when it was daylight. I
rode slow until so far away that I knew they could not hear the
clatter of my horse's feet, and then I put spurs to my horse and
rode with all speed to headquarters. When I passed the camp guard
he challenged me and I gave my name. I could hear it carried down
the line from one to another, "There comes the Captain of the
Scouts, there is something up." Rather than wake up a commissioned
officer, I woke up my entire scout force, and was back to where
George Jones was just at daylight. He said that the squaws had
moved in the direction of Clear Lake. There was a heavy dew and we
had no trouble in finding their trail and following it; in fact,
at times we could ride almost at full speed and follow without
difficulty. We had only gone about four miles when we came in
sight of them, six squaws, a little boy, a little girl and a baby.
When they saw me coming they all stopped. I rode up and asked them
where they were going. They could all speak a little English.
There was one in the crowd named Mary, with whom I was well
acquainted, who said: "We heap hungry, too much hungry, we go
Clear Lake catch fish." I told her that we would have to take them
prisoners and take them all back to headquarters and keep them
there until we got all the Modoc Indians and then they would have
to go on to the reservation. "No, too much hungry, you all time
fight Captain Jack, Injun no catch fish. All time eatem hoss. No
more hoss now; Injun eatem all up, eatem some cow too. No more
hoss, no more cow. Injun all heap hungry."
It was some time before I could make them believe that they would
be fed when at headquarters, but they being acquainted with me and
knowing that I had been a friend to them in time of peace. I
finally succeeded in getting them to turn and go to headquarters.
These were the first prisoners that had been taken to the
General's quarters during the Modoc war.
Gen. Wheaton was away from his quarters, so I left the prisoners
in charge of George Jones and the other scouts, with instructions
to let no one interfere with them while I went to hunt the
General.
I soon found him and with him returned to where the Indians were.
The General asked me to question the one of them that talked the
best English and had done the most talking, concerning the number
of men that Captain Jack had in his stronghold. When I asked her
she said: "Some days twenty men, some days thirty men, no more,
some go away. No more come back, some shoot, by and by he die. Two
days now me not eat. Injun man, he no eat much."
From this we inferred that they only had a little provisions left,
and the men that did the fighting did the eating also. They were
given something to eat at once, and I don't think I ever saw more
hungry mortals. I told the General that it would not be long until
they would all come out, but that I did not think they would come
in a body, but would slip out two or three at a time. The General
thought it so strange that they were stealing out through the
picket lines and the guards not seeing any of them.
Some three weeks later than this, it being about the first of
June, 1873, George and I had been out all night and were coming
into quarters, being a little later this morning than common, and
when we were within about one and a half miles from quarters we
crossed the trail of three Indians. I got down and examined the
tracks closely; there was one track quite large and long, another
not quite so large and the third was quite small. I told George I
was not afraid to bet twenty dollars that they were the tracks of
Captain Jack, his wife and little girl. We pushed on to
headquarters with all possible speed and reported to Gen. Wheaton.
He asked my reason for thinking that it was Captain Jack. I told
him from the fact that it suited for his family. I was well
acquainted with both him and his squaw, and I told the General
that Jack himself had an unusually long foot. He asked how much of
an escort I wanted and if I would go at once. I told him I would,
and I wanted two platoons. He directed his orderlies to report as
soon as possible with two platoons of cavalry, and I gave my horse
to George, telling him to change our saddles to fresh horses at
once. As soon as it was noised around that we had got track of
Captain Jack, the scouts all wanted to accompany me, but I told
them that their services could not be dispensed with at camp for
one hour, for it was getting now where the thing must be watched
very closely. George rode up on a fresh horse and was leading
Black Bess with my saddle on her. I mounted and we were off again
in pursuit of Captain Jack, but as we rode away Gen. Wheaton
expressed himself as being doubtful as to its being Captain Jack.
When we struck the trail of the three Indians, I had one platoon
to ride on each side of the trail, keeping about fifty yards away
from it, and in case we should miss it or get off, we would have a
chance to go back and pick it up again before it would become
obliterated.
This was one of the prettiest mornings that we could have had for
the occasion. The fog disappeared with the rising of the sun, and
in many places we could look ahead and see the trail in the grass
for fifty yards. In those places we put our horses down to their
utmost. George and I were both very hungry, having had nothing to
eat since the evening before, and we had been in the saddle all
night, but an old scout forgets all this when he gets on a fresh
Indian trail and becomes somewhat excited. After we had gone about
six miles we came to a gravel country for a mile and a half, and
it was slow and tedious tracking across this, for many times we
had nothing to go by only as they might turn a little pebble over
with their feet or step on a little spear of grass and mash it
down, and this was very thin and scattering on the ridge. However,
as soon as we were across the gravelly ridge, we again struck
grass and we let our horses out almost at full speed, knowing very
well that as soon as the dew dried off it would be slow and
tedious tracking. After we had ridden about twelve miles, and just
as we raised the top of the hill, on looking across on the next
ridge we saw the three Indians, and sure enough, it was Captain
Jack, his squaw and little girl. About this time he turned and saw
us coming. He stood and looked at us for a moment or so and the
three all turned and started back to meet us. We both pulled our
pistols and dashed up to him at full speed.
When we were close enough, I could see that he had a smile on his
face, and I knew that he had recognized me. When we rode up to him
he said: "Good mornin. Long time no see you," and at the same time
presented the gun with the breech foremost.
As I took the gun, I said to him: "Jack, where are you going?"
He replied: "O, heap hungry, guess go Clear Lake catch fish."
I said: "No, Jack; you are my prisoner. I will have to take you
back to Gen. Wheaton."
He replied: "No, me no want to go back, no more fight, too much
all time hungry, little girl nearly starve, no catch fish soon he
die." But when he saw that he had to go, he said:
"All right, me go."
So I took the little girl up behind me, and George took the squaw
up behind him and Jack walked.
It was in the afternoon when we returned to headquarters with the
prisoners, and there was no little rejoicing among the soldiers
when they learned for a certainty that I had taken Captain Jack
prisoner.
That afternoon a runner was started to Yreka with a dispatch to
headquarters to the effect that Gen. Wheaton had taken the
notorious Captain Jack prisoner. As a matter of fact, an old scout
is never known in such cases. They, as a general rule, do the
work, but the officers always get the praise. Although Gen.
Wheaton had the praise of capturing Captain Jack, he had but
little more to do with it than the President of the United States.