Out of Provisions--A hurried Move--Mills where Indians take Their
Grists, and Pots in which they Boil their Food--Advance Movement of
Captain Dill--A Hungry Squad--Enjoyment--Neglect of Duty--Escape
of Indians--Following their Trail--A Sorrowful Captain--A Mystery
made Clear--Duplicity of the Chow-chillas--Vow-chester’s Good-will
Offering--Return of the Fugitives--Major Savage as Agent and
Interpreter.
On our arrival at the rendezvous on the South Fork the officer in
charge reported; “We are about out of grub.” This was a satisfactory
cause for a hurried movement; for a short allowance had more terrors
for men with our appetites than severe duties; and most of us had
already learned that, even with prejudice laid aside, our stomachs
would refuse the hospitalities of the Indians, if it were possible
for them to share with us from their own scanty stores. The Major’s
experience prompted him at once to give the order to break camp and
move on for the camp on the Fresno.
Our mounted force chafed at the slowness of our march; for the Indians
could not be hurried. Although their cookery was of the most primitive
character, we were very much delayed by the time consumed in preparing
their food.
While traveling we were compelled to accommodate our movements to the
capacities or inclinations of the women and children. Captain Dill,
therefore, with his company was sent on ahead from the crossing of the
South Fork, they leaving with us what food they could spare. When Dill
reached the waters of the Fresno about one hundred “_captives_” joined
him. These Indians voluntarily surrendered to Captain Dill’s company,
which at once hurried them on, and they reached the commissioners at
the Fresno.
Captain Boling’s company and Major Savage remained with the “Grand
Caravan,” keeping out scouts and hunters to secure such game as might
be found to supply ourselves with food. We had no anxiety for the
safety or security of our “captives;” our own subsistence was the
important consideration; for the first night out from Bishop’s camp
left us but scanty stores for breakfast. Our halting places were
selected from the old Indian camping grounds, which were supplied
with hoyas (holes or mortars). These permanent mortars were in the
bed-rock, or in large detached rocks that had fallen from the cliffs or
mountains. These “hoyas” had been formed and used by past generations.
They were frequent on our route, many of them had long been abandoned;
as there was no indications of recent uses having been made of them.
From their numbers it was believed that the Indians had once been much
more numerous than at that date.
By means of the stone pestles with which they were provided, the squaws
used these primitive mills to reduce their acorns and grass seeds to
flour or meal. While the grists were being ground, others built the
fires on which stones were heated.
When red hot, these stones were plunged into baskets nearly filled
with water; this is continued until the water boils. The stones are
then removed and the acorn meal, or a cold mixture of it, is stirred
in until thin gruel is made; the hot stones are again plunged into
the liquid mass and again removed. When sufficiently cooked, this
“Atola” or porridge, was poured into plates or moulds of sand, prepared
for that purpose. During the process of cooling, the excess of
water leaches off through the sand, leaving the woody fibre tannin
and unappropriated coarse meal in distinctive strata; the edible
portion being so defined as to be easily separated from the refuse
and sand. This preparation was highly prized by them, and contrary to
preconceived ideas and information, all of the Indians I asked assured
me that the _bitter_ acorns were the best when cooked. This compound
of acorn meal resembles corn starch blanc mange in color, but is more
dense in consistency. Although it was free from grit, and comparatively
clean, none of us were able to eat it, and we were quite hungry. From
this, I was led to conclude that to relish this Indian staple, the
taste must be acquired while very young.
Old Ten-ie-ya’s four wives, and other squaws, were disposed to be
quite hospitable when they learned that our supply of provisions was
exhausted. None of the command, however, ventured to sample their
acorn-jellies, grass-seed mush, roasted grasshoppers, and their other
delicacies; nothing was accepted but the Piñon pine nuts, which were
generally devoured with a relish and a regret for the scarcity.
Certain species of worms, the larvæ of ants and some other insects,
common mushrooms and truffles, or wood-mushrooms, are prized by the
Indian epicure, as are eels, shrimps, oysters, frogs, turtles, snails,
etc., by his white civilized brother. Are we really but creatures of
education?
The _baskets_ used by the Indians for boiling their food and other
purposes, as has been before stated, are made of a tough mountain
bunch-grass, nearly as hard and as strong as wire, and almost as
durable. So closely woven are they, that but little if any water can
escape from them. They are made wholly impervious with a resinous
compound resembling the vulcanized rubber used by dentists. This
composition does not appear to be in the least affected by hot water.
The same substance, in appearance at least, is used by Mountain Indians
in attaching sinews to bows, and feathers and barbs to arrows.
I endeavored to ascertain what the composition was, but could only
learn that the resin was procured from small trees or shrubs, and
that some substance (probably mineral) was mixed with it, the latter
to resist the action of heat and moisture. I made a shrewd guess that
pulverized lava and sulphur (abundant east of the High Sierras) was
used, but for some cause I was left in ignorance. The Indians, like all
ignorant persons, ascribe remarkable virtues to very simple acts and to
inert remedies. Upon one occasion a doctor was extolling the virtues
of a certain root, ascribing to it almost miraculous powers; I tried
in vain to induce him to tell me the name of the root. He stated that
the secret was an heir-loom, and if told, the curative power of the
plant would disappear; but he kindly gave me some as a preventive of
some imaginary ill, when lo! I discovered the famous remedy to be the
cowslip.
After a delayed and hungry march of several days, we halted near
sundown within a few miles of the Commissioner’s headquarters, and
went into camp for the night. The Indians came straggling in at will
from their hunts on the way, their trophies of skill with their bows
being the big California squirrels, rabbits or hares and quail. Our
more expert white hunters had occasionally brought in venison for our
use. We had ceased to keep a very effective guard over our “captives;”
none seemed necessary, as all appeared contented and satisfied, almost
joyous, as we neared their destination on the Fresno.
The truth is, we regarded hostilities, so far as these Indians were
concerned, as ended. We had voted the peace policy a veritable success.
We had discussed the matter in camp, and contrasted the lack of spirit
exhibited by these people with what we knew of the warlike character
of the Indians of Texas and of the Northwestern plains. In these
comparisons, respect for our captives was lost in contempt. “The noble
red man” was not here represented. The only ones of the Pacific Slope,
excepting the Navahoes, Pimas and Maricopahs, that bear any comparison
with the Eastern tribes for intelligence and bravery, are the You-mahs
of the Colorado river, the Modocs, and some of the Rogue and Columbia
river tribes, but none of these really equal the Sioux and some other
Eastern tribes.
Hardly any attention had been paid to the captives during the preceding
night, except from the guard about our own camp; from a supposition
that our services could well be spared. Application was therefore
made by a few of us, for permission to accompany the Major, who had
determined to go on to the Fresno head-quarters. When consent was
given, the wish was so generally expressed, that Captain Boling with
nine men to act as camp guard, volunteered to remain, if Major Savage
would allow the hungry “boys” to ride with him. The Major finally
assented to the proposition, saying: “I do not suppose the Indians
can be driven off, or be induced to leave until they have had the
feast I promised them; besides, they will want to see some of the
commissioner’s finery. I have been delighting their imaginations with
descriptions of the presents in store for them.”
When the order was passed for the hungry squad to fall in, we mounted
with grateful feelings towards Captain Boling, and the “boys” declared
that the Major was a trump, for his consideration of our need. With the
prospect of a good “square” meal, and the hope of a genial “smile” from
our popular commissary, the time soon passed, and the distance seemed
shortened, for we entered the Fresno camp before our anticipations were
cloyed. Head-quarters was well supplied with all needful comforts,
and was not totally deficient in luxuries. Our Quarter-Master and
Commissary was active in his duties, and as some good women say of
their husbands, “He was a good provider.” We had no reason to complain
of our reception; our urgent requirements were cheerfully met. The
fullness of our entertainment did not prevent a good night’s rest,
nor interfere with the comfortable breakfast which we enjoyed. While
taking coffee, the self denial of Captain Boling and his volunteer
guard was not forgotten. Arrangements were made to furnish the best
edible and potable stores, that could be secured from our conscientious
and prudent commissary. We were determined to give them a glorious
reception; but--the Captain did not bring in his captives! Major Savage
sent out a small detachment to ascertain the cause of the delay.
This party filled their haversacks with comforts for the “Indian
guard.” After some hours of delay, the Major became anxious to hear
from Captain Boling, and began to be suspicious that something more
serious than the loss of his animals, was the cause of not sending in a
messenger, and he ordered out another detachment large enough to meet
any supposed emergency. Not far from camp, they met the Captain and his
nine men (the “_Indian guard_”) and _one_ Indian, with the relief party
first sent out. Our jovial Captain rode into “Head-quarters” looking
more crest fallen than he had ever been seen before. When asked by the
Major where he had left the Indians, he blushed like a coy maiden and
said: “They have all gone to the mountains, but the one I have with me.”
After Captain Boling had made his report to the Major, and made all
explanations to the commissioners, and when he had refreshed himself
with an extra ration or two of the potable liquid, that by special
stipulation had been reserved for the “Indian Guard,” something of
his old humor returned to him, and he gave us the details of his
annoyances by the breach of trust on the part of “our prisoners.”
The Captain said: “Soon after you left us last night, one of my men,
who was out hunting when we camped, came in with a deer he had killed
just at the dusk of the evening. From this we made a hearty supper,
and allowed the youth who had helped to bring in the deer to share
in the meat. The Indian cooked the part given to him at our fire,
and ate with the avidity of a famished wolf. This excited comment,
and anecdotes followed of the enormous appetites displayed by some
of them. The question was then raised, ‘how much can this Indian eat
at one meal?’ I suggested that a fair trial could not be had with
only one deer. Our hunter said he would give him a preliminary trial,
and when deer were plenty we could then test his full capacity, if
he should prove a safe one to bet on. He then cut such pieces as we
thought would suffice for our breakfast, and, with my approval, gave
the remainder to his boy, who was anxiously watching his movements. I
consented to this arrangement, not as a test of his capacity, for I
had often seen a hungry Indian eat, but as a reward for his services
in bringing in the deer on his shoulders. He readily re-commenced his
supper, and continued to feast until every bone was cracked and picked.
When the last morsel of the venison had disappeared he commenced a
doleful sing-song, ‘Way-ah-we-ha-ha, Wah-ah-we-ha-ha’ to some unknown
deity, or, if I was to judge from my ear of the music, it must have
been his prayer to the devil, for I have heard that it is a part of
their worship. His song was soon echoed from the camp where all seemed
contentment. After _consoling_ himself in this manner for some time he
fell asleep at our fire.
“The performance being over, I told my men to take their sleep and
I would watch, as I was not sleepy; if I wanted them I would call
them. I then thought, as Major Savage had declared, the Indians could
scarcely be driven off, until they had had their feast and the presents
they expected to have given them. I sat by the fire for a long time
cogitating on past events and future prospects, when thinking it
useless to require the men to stand guard, I told them to sleep. Moving
about and seeing nothing but the usual appearance, I decided it to be
unneccessary to exercise any further vigilance, and told one of the
men, who was partially aroused by my movements, and who offered to get
up and stand guard, that he had better lie still and sleep. Toward
morning I took another round, and finding the Indian camp wrapped in
apparently profound slumber, I concluded to take a little sleep myself,
until daylight. This now seems unaccountable to me, for I am extremely
cautious in my habits. Such a breach of military discipline would have
subjected one of my men to a court-martial. I confess myself guilty of
neglect of duty; I should have taken nothing for granted.
“No one can imagine my surprise and mortification when I was called and
told that the Indian camp was entirely deserted, and that none were
to be seen except the one asleep by our camp fire. My indifference to
placing a guard over the Indian camp will probably always be a mystery
to me, but it most likely saved our lives, for if we had attempted to
restrain them, and you know us well enough to believe we would not have
let them off without a fight; they would probably have pretty well used
us up. As it was, we did not give them up without an effort. We saddled
our horses and started in chase, thinking that as while with us, their
women and children would retard their progress, and that we would soon
overtake them. We took the young brave with us, who had slept by our
fire. He knew nothing of the departure of his people, and was very much
alarmed, as he expected we would at once kill him. I tried to make him
useful in following their trail; he by signs, gave me to understand
he did not know where they had gone, and seemed unwilling to take the
trail when I pointed it out to him. He evidently meant to escape the
first opportunity. I kept him near me and treated him kindly, but gave
him to understand I should shoot him if he tried to leave me.
“We pursued until the trail showed that they had scattered in every
direction in the brushy ravines and on the rocky side of a mountain
covered with undergrowth, where we could not follow them with our
animals. Chagrined and disgusted with myself for my negligence, and my
inability to recover any part of my charge, and considering farther
pursuit useless, we turned about and took the trail to head-quarters
with our one captive.”
Major Savage took the youngster under his charge, and flattered him by
his conversations and kindly treatment. The Commissioners lionized him
somewhat; he was gaily clothed and ornamented, loaded with presents
for his own family relations, and was given his liberty and permitted
to leave camp at his leisure, and thus departed the last of the “grand
caravan” of some three hundred and fifty “captives,” men, women and
children, which we had collected and escorted from the mountains.
The sight of the one hundred brought to them by Captain Dill, and his
report that we were coming with about three hundred and fifty more,
aroused sanguine hopes in the commission that the war was over, and
that their plans had been successful. “Now that the _prisoners_ have
fled,” we asked, “What will be done?”
To a military man, this lack of discipline and precaution--through
which the Indians escaped--will seem unpardonable; and an officer
who, like our Captain, should leave his camp unguarded, under any
circumstances, would be deemed disgracefully incompetent. In
palliation of these facts, it may not occur to the rigid disciplinarian
that Captain John Boling and the men under him--or the most of them,
had not had the advantages of army drill and discipline. The courage of
these mountain-men in times of danger was undoubted; their caution was
more apt to be displayed in times of danger to others, than when they
themselves were imperiled.
In this case Captain Boling was not apprehensive of danger to those
under his charge. His excessive good nature and good will toward his
men prompted him to allow, even to command them, to take the sleep and
rest that an irregular diet, and the labor of hunting while on the
march, had seemed to require. No one had a keener sense of his error
than himself. The whole command sympathized with him--notwithstanding
the ludicrous aspect of the affair--their finer feelings were aroused
by his extreme regrets. They determined that if opportunities offered,
he should have their united aid to wipe out this stigma. Major Savage
was deceived by the child-like simplicity with which the Indians had
been talking to him of the feast expected, and of the presents they
would soon receive from the commissioners. He did not suppose it
possible that they would make an attempt to escape, or such a number
would not have been left with so small a guard. We had men with us
who knew what discipline was, who had been trained to obey orders
without hesitation. Men who had fought under Col. Jack Hays, Majors Ben
McCullough and Mike Chevallia, both in Indian and Mexican warfare, and
they considered themselves well posted. Even these men were mistaken in
their opinions. The sudden disappearance of the Indians, was as much a
surprise to them as to our officers.
With a view to solving this mystery Vow-ches-ter was sent for from his
camp near by, where all the treaty tribes were congregated, and when
questioned the Chief said that during the night Chow-chilla runners
had been in the camp, and to him in person with their mouths filled
with lies; they had probably gone to the camp of those who were coming
in, and they were induced to leave. Evidently he felt assured of the
fact; but until questioned, his caution, Indian-like, kept him silent.
Vow-ches-ter’s sincerity and desire for peace was no longer doubted.
Those who were suspicious of his friendship before were silenced, if
not convinced, when he volunteered to go out and bring in such of the
fugitives as he could convince of the good will of the commissioners.
The young Indian had not yet left the camp, but was found relating his
adventures and good fortune, and was directed to accompany Vow-ches-ter
on his mission of good will. The Chief was instructed to give positive
assurances of protection against hostilities, if any were threatened
by the Chow-chillas. He was also instructed to dispatch runners to
aid his efforts, and was told to notify all that the commissioners
would not remain to be trifled with; if they wished peace they must
come in at once. That if the commissioners should go away, which they
soon would do on their way south, no further efforts for peace would
be made. That the mountain men and soldiers of the whites were angry,
and would no longer take their word for peace, but would punish them
and destroy their supplies. After a few days Vow-ches-ter came back
with about one hundred of the runaways; these were followed by others,
until ultimately, nearly all came back except Ten-ie-ya and his people.
All then in camp expressed a readiness to meet for a grand council and
treaty.
The reasons given by those who returned for their flight, were that
just before daylight on the morning of their departure Chow-chilla
runners (as had been surmised by Vow-ches-ter) came to their camp with
the report that they were being taken to the plains, where they would
all be killed in order to evade the promises to pay for their lands,
and for revenge.
In reply to the statements that they had been treated by the whites
as friends, the Chow-chillas answered sneeringly that the whites were
not fools to forgive them for killing their friends and relatives,
and taking their property, and said their scouts had seen a large
mounted force that was gathering in the foot-hills and on the plains,
who would ride over them if they ventured into the open ground of the
reservation, or encampment at the plains. This caused great alarm. They
expected destruction from the whites, and in the excitement caused by
the Chow-chillas, threatened to kill Captain Boling and his men, and
for that purpose reconnoitered the Captain’s camp. The Chow-chillas
dissuaded them from the attempt, saying: “The white men always sleep
on their guns, and they will alarm the white soldiers below by their
firing, and bring upon you a mounted force before you could reach a
place of safety.”
The young fellow that was asleep in Boling’s camp was not missed
until on the march; his appearance among them gaily clothed, after
being kindly treated, very much aided Vow-ches-ter in his statement
of the object of the council and treaty to be held. The runaways told
the commissioners that they felt very foolish, and were ashamed that
they had been so readily deceived; they also expressed a wish that we
would punish the Chow-chillas, for they had caused all the trouble.
The reception they received soon satisfied them that they had nothing
to fear. They were given food and clothing, and their good fortune
was made known to other bands, and soon all of the tribes in the
vicinity made treaties or sent messengers to express their willingness
to do so, excepting the Chow-chillas and Yosemites. Even Ten-ie-ya
was reported to have ventured into the Indian quarter, but taking a
look at the gaudy colored handkerchiefs and shirts offered him in
lieu of his ancient and well-worn guernsey that he habitually wore,
he scoffingly refused the offers. Turning towards his valley home,
he sorrowfully departed; his feelings apparently irritated by the
evidences of vanity he saw in the gaudy apparel and weak contentment
of those he was leaving behind him. Major Savage, who it was supposed
would be the Indian agent at the end of the war, was absent at the time
of Ten-ie-ya’s visit, but “the farmer” showed the old chief all proper
respect, and had endeavored to induce him to await the Major’s return,
but failed.
Major Savage, though still in command of the battalion, now devoted
most of his time to the commissioners; and the energy with which our
campaigns had opened, seemed to be somewhat abating. The business
connected with the treaties was transacted principally through his
interpretation, though at times other interpreters were employed. The
mission interpreters only translated the communications made in the
Indian dialects into Spanish; these were then rendered into English by
Spanish interpreters employed by the commission.
A pretty strong detail of men was now placed on duty at head-quarters
on the Fresno, principally drawn from Captain Dill’s Company. Adjutant
Lewis had really no duties in the field, nor had he any taste or
admiration for the snowy mountains--_on foot_. His reports were written
up at head-quarters, as occasion required, and often long after the
events had transpired to which they related. I was an amused observer
upon one occasion, of Major Savage’s method of making out an _official_
report, Adjutant Lewis virtually acting only as an amanuensis.