AN INTERESTED BOY.--THE EXECUTION OF THE MODOC LEADERS.--NEWSPAPER
MESSENGERS.--A VERY SUDDEN DEPUTY SHERIFF.--A BAD MAN WOUND UP.
I went from there to Yreka to rest up a while. During my stay
there, one morning while I was waiting for my breakfast, I was
glancing over the morning paper, when a bright-eyed little boy
about nine years old, entered the restaurant, walked up in front
of me and said: "Is this Capt. Drannan, the scout?" I said: "Yes,
my little man. What can I do for you?" He said: "I am going to
school and I have to write a composition to read in school, and my
mother told me to see you and you might be able to assist me in
getting up a piece on the Modoc war." I asked the bright little
fellow his name. He said his name was Johnny Whitney. "Where is
your father and what does he follow for a living?" "My father is
dead, and my mother takes in washing to support herself and
children."
That afternoon I spent in assisting the little fellow to prepare
his composition. I remained there at Yreka about ten days, during
which time I received a letter from George Jones, who was then at
Jacksonville, requesting me to meet him at Fort Klamath about four
or five days before the hanging was to take place, and also
requesting me to bring all my saddle horses. I succeeded in
getting up quite a party of business men and citizens of Yreka and
we started out across the Siskiyou Mountains. After the first
day's travel we found game plentiful and we had a pleasant trip.
We had all the game and fish we wanted, which afforded plenty of
amusement for the pleasure-seekers of the crowd, which was the
main object of this trip with a majority of them. We arrived at
Fort Klamath five days before the hanging was to take place. The
next day after we arrived a crowd came in from Jacksonville, and
among them were Gen. Ross, George Jones, J. N. T. Miller and three
newspaper reporters, one of whom represented the San Francisco
Chronicle, one the San Francisco Examiner, and one the Chicago
INTER-OCEAN. Col. Miller came to me and asked if I would like a
job of carrying dispatches from there, either to Jacksonville or
to Ashland, saying: "The Chronicle man has not found a man yet
that he could trust the dispatches with."
The reporter had told Mr. Miller that he would pay one hundred
dollars for carrying the dispatch, and in case he was first to the
office, he would also pay one hundred dollars more in addition to
that. From there to Jacksonville it was one hundred miles and a
wagon road all the way, while to Ashland it was but eighty miles,
of which sixty miles was only a trail. This I had passed once in
company with J. N. T. Miller. I was introduced to the reporter by
Col. Miller, with whom I soon made arrangements to carry his
dispatches. He asked me how long it would take me to ride to
Ashland. I told him I thought it would take about eight hours with
my three horses. He said if I went to Ashland I would have no
competition on the trail as the other riders were both going to
Jacksonville.
The day before the hanging was to take place I hired a young man
to take two of my horses and go out on the trail, instructing him
to leave one of them picketed out at Cold Springs, and the other
one to take to Bald Mountain, which was thirty miles from Ashland.
At this place I wanted Black Bess, and he was to stay there with
her until I came and to return, get my other horse, and meet me at
Jacksonville.
When the time arrived for the hanging and the prisoners were led
to the scaffold, each dispatch carrier was mounted and standing on
the outer edge of the crowd, ready at the moment he received the
dispatch to be off at once. When the four Indians were led upon
the scaffold to meet their doom, each of them were asked, through
an interpreter, whether or not he wished to say anything before
being hung, but they all shook their heads with the exception of
Captain Jack, who informed them that he had something to say.
He said: "I would like for my brother to take my place and let me
live so I can take care of my wife and little girl."
The carrier for the Inter-Ocean was the first to get his dispatch,
the Examiner the second, I receiving mine just as the last Indian
was hung, and now for the race to see who gets there first. It was
eleven o'clock when we started. We all traveled together for the
first twenty miles, where I left the wagon road and took the trail
for Ashland. Now I had sixty miles to ride over a trail and they
had eighty miles over a wagon road. At this junction where the
trail left the wagon road I bade the other couriers good-day,
telling them that in case they beat me they must treat to the
oysters when we met at Jacksonville, and I sped away and lost no
time in getting from there to Cold Springs, where I found my other
horse picketed out as I had ordered. I dismounted, threw my saddle
on the other horse, which was apparently feeling fine, mounted him
and was off again, leaving the other horse picketed at the same
place, so my man could get him on his return. My horse took a long
sweeping gallop and kept it up for about twelve miles, by which
time he was beginning to sweat quite freely, and I commenced to
urge him and put him down to all I thought he would stand. When I
came in sight of Black Bess she raised her head and whinnied to
me. The young man was lying asleep and holding her rope, while she
was grazing near him. Again I changed my saddle from my other
horse to Black Bess, and gave the young man instructions to start
at once and lead my horse slowly so as to prevent him from cooling
off too fast. I mounted Black Bess and now I was on the
homestretch. I did not urge her any for the first few miles until
she commenced sweating freely, after which I commenced to increase
her speed, and fifteen minutes after six I rode up to the
telegraph office and handed my dispatch to the operator, who
started it on the wire at once. I led my mare up and down the
streets to prevent her from cooling off too quick, and when it was
known where I was from, everybody in town had about forty
questions to ask relative to the hanging of the four Modoc braves.
On leaving the telegraph office I asked the operator to let me
know when the first dispatch started from Jacksonville, and while
at supper he came in and told me that the Examiner had just
started their dispatch over the wire, which was just one and
three-quarter hours behind me in getting to the office. The next
day I rode to Jacksonville, and the day following the balance of
the crowd came in from the fort. Among them were the three
reporters, all well pleased with the time their bearers had made
in carrying their dispatches, and that night we all had what in
those days we used to term "a-way-up time."
The balance of the Indians who were taken prisoners in this Modoc
war were afterwards taken to Florida and placed on a small
reservation, which, I presume, was done on account of the bitter
feeling that existed among the people of that section of the
country toward this tribe on account of the assassination of Gen.
Canby, Col. Thomas and George Meeks, the interpreter, as well as
the many other people that were murdered on Lost river and Tule
Lake.
While at Jacksonville a man came to me named Martin, who was a
merchant and resided in Oakland, Cal., who wanted to hire me to go
out in the mountains some twenty miles from Jacksonville and look
after a man named McMahon, saying: "There must be something wrong
with McMahon, for he is the most punctual man I ever dealt with;
he promised to be here three weeks ago to pay a certain party
fifty dollars, but has not been seen nor heard from since."
McMahon owned a band of sheep and was ranging them out in the
mountains. Mr. Martin gave me directions, and the next morning I
started out for the sheep ranch. I had no trouble in finding the
place, but the cabin and surroundings showed that no one lived
there. I spent the balance of this day and the next in riding over
the sheep range, but could see no one, and only about twenty head
of sheep.
On my return to Jacksonville I went by way of Bybee's ferry, on
Rogue river, and learned that about three weeks previous to that
time a band of two thousand head of sheep had crossed over the
ferry, driven by two men. Now it was almost a foregone conclusion
that some one had murdered McMahon and driven his band of sheep
away, and when I returned to Jacksonville there was no little
excitement about the city in regard to McMahon. Some of the
business men and citizens with whom I was well acquainted,
prevailed upon me to accept an appointment as deputy sheriff, and
start out and track the band of sheep up if possible and capture
the thieves and murderers, the sheriff himself being very busy
just at that time, it being near time for court to sit in that
county. After receiving my appointment and taking the oath of
office, I struck directly for Bybee's ferry, and for the first
twenty miles beyond the ferry I experienced no trouble whatever in
keeping track of the sheep, finding a number of people who had
seen them, and all gave the same description of the two men who
were driving them.
Leaving the settlement, I went into the mountains, spent five days
tracking sheep here and there in every direction between Rogue
river and Umpqua. Finally they struck off on to the breaks of the
Umpqua and were soon in the settlement again, and I was able to
get the description of the two men, which coincided with the
description given by others.
I found the sheep within about twelve miles of Canyonville, and a
young man was herding them who I soon learned to be what might be
called a half idiot. He told me that his name was Buckley. I had
quite a pleasant chat with him and spent about two hours with him,
lounging around, talking about his sheep. I asked if he had raised
his sheep, and where his winter range was.
He said he had not owned the sheep but a short time. I asked him
if he had bought them here in this country. He said he had not,
but got them on the other side of the mountain in the Rogue river
country. I asked him if he owned them alone, whereupon he informed
me that he had a partner in the sheep business. I asked him what
his partner's name was, and he told me it was John Barton. I asked
where his partner lived, and he said that he lived down on the
Umpqua river and was running a ferry.
Now I was satisfied that I had found the sheep and one of the men
and as good as got the other one where I could put my hand on him
at any time. I rode down to Canyonville and telegraphed Mr.
Manning, the sheriff, that I had found the sheep and one of the
men and had the other one located. He answered me by saying that I
would have help the following day from Roseburg, that being the
county seat of Douglas county, which is sixteen miles from
Canyonville, where I then was and which was in the same county. I
waited patiently the next day for assistance, but it did not come.
Late that evening I went to the constable of that precinct and
asked him to go with me and assist in making the arrest, but he
refused, saying: "That man Barton is a hard case. I don't want to
have anything to do with him." I did not tell him the particulars
of the case, and I must admit that I did not know enough of civil
law to know that it was necessary for me to be armed with a
warrant to go and make the arrest. On the refusal of the constable
to accompany me, I at once walked down to the stable and ordered
my horse saddled, and inquired the way to John Barton's place. The
proprietor of the stable told me how to go.
So concluding to tackle him alone, I mounted my horse just after
dark and started for Barton's Ferry. I found the place without
difficulty, and although I rode very slowly, I got to the river
some time before daylight. I tied my horse in the brush and walked
the road until daylight. As soon as it was daylight I saw the
house on the other side of the river, and kept my eye on it until
just before sunrise, when I saw the smoke commence to curl up from
the chimney, and in about fifteen minutes I saw a man come out in
his shirt sleeves and bare-headed. I at once mounted my horse and
rode down to the river and halloed for him to bring the boat over
as I wished to cross the river. He answered by saying: "I'll be
there in a minute as soon as I get my hat and coat." He stepped
into the house, got his hat and coat and came across. When he
landed I walked on to the boat and asked if he was Mr. Barton. He
said that was his name, and in a second he was looking down the
muzzle of my pistol, and I informed him that he was my prisoner.
He asked me what for. I said for the murdering of McMahon.
"Have they found the body?" were the first words that fell from
his lips, which he doubtless would not have uttered had I not
caught him off his guard. I told him they had, which was false.
"You want to take me away with you and not let me see my wife and
bid her good-bye?"
I informed him that I would, telling him that she could come to
see him if she liked. He offered all manner of excuses to get back
to his house. After I had listened awhile I gave him two minutes
to get off the boat and take the road, which he did at once. I did
not try to put the handcuffs on him alone, not wishing to give him
any drop on me whatever.
I made him take the road ahead of me, and we started on our way
for Jacksonville. After we had gone some two miles in the
direction of Canyonville an old gentleman and his son overhauled
us with a wagon, and I had the old man put the handcuffs on him,
after which I allowed him to get into the wagon with the other two
men and ride to Canyonville. When I put him in the little lock-up
which they had there for such occasions and went and hunted up the
constable and asked him to look after Barton until I would return.
I could get no satisfaction from him, so I went to a merchant in
town and related the whole circumstance to him and asked him to
keep a watch or tell me of some one whom I could hire to look
after him that I could rely upon. He assured me that he would look
after a man, put him there to watch and then we would be sure that
he would be safe. I then mounted my horse and was off for Buckley,
who I found without difficulty, arrested him, and started on my
way back to Canyonville.
He came so near admitting the crime that I was sure I had the two
guilty men. I got back with my prisoner just in time to take the
stage for Jacksonville. Leaving my horse at the livery stable, I
instructed the liveryman to send him at once to Jacksonville and I
would pay all charges. I handcuffed both prisoners and had them
shackled together, put them in the stage and started to
Jacksonville with them. I wired the sheriff that I had both of the
guilty parties and would be at Jacksonville on the stage, which
was due about six o'clock the next morning.
The sheriff and his deputies met us that morning at the edge of
town. It had been noised around that I would be in and they were
somewhat afraid of a mob, but we succeeded in getting to the jail
all safe, and not until then had I the faintest idea that I had
stepped beyond my official duty in arresting those men without a
warrant and bringing them into another county.
These were the first white prisoners that I had ever had any
experience with. I had taken so many Indian prisoners that never
required any red tape, I naturally supposed that the same rule
would be applicable in this case, but I got away with it just the
same. That afternoon we took the young man off to himself, and
when he was questioned by the district attorney and a certain
doctor, whose name has slipped my memory, he admitted the whole
affair, and told us just where to go to find McMahon's body. When
he told us this the doctor drew a diagram of the ground. Buckley
said we would find a tree a certain distance from the cabin that
had been blown out by the roots, and in that hole we would find
the body covered up with brush and chips thrown on top of the
brush. After giving this valuable information we at once started
out to hunt for the body.
It was now late in August and a little snow had fallen on the
mountains in the fore part of the night. By the aid of the diagram
we went to the ground after night, built up a fire and waited till
morning. As soon as it was light enough to see, the doctor took
the diagram out of his pocket, looked at it and said: "It should
be near here." He then turned, and seeing a tree that had been
blown over, said: "There is a tree that answers to the
description." We walked to the tree and at once saw the toe of one
of the dead man's boots protruding through the brush. The doctor
when gathering wood the night before to build a fire, had walked
almost over the body and had picked up two or three chips of wood
from the brush which covered the body. We waited some time before
the crowd came with the wagon. After they arrived the body was
uncovered, loaded into the wagon and hauled to Jacksonville,
arriving in time for the coroner to hold the inquest that
afternoon, and the following day the body was buried.
The time having been set for the preliminary examination, Barton's
wife and her father arrived in Jacksonville the day before the
time set for the trial, and his father-in-law employed an attorney
to conduct the case in court in his behalf. When Barton was
brought into court he waived examination, but it was quite
different with Buckley. When he was brought in for trial the judge
asked him if he had counsel. He said he did not, nor did he want
any, but the judge appointed a lawyer to take his case.
The lawyer took the prisoner off into a room in company with the
deputy sheriff and they were gone about twenty minutes. When they
returned the lawyer stated that the prisoner wished to plead
guilty and receive his sentence so he could start in at once to
work it out. Barton never had a trial, for he starved himself to
death and died in jail. The jailor told me that for seventeen days
he did not eat or drink but one spoonful of soup.