Treaty With the Modocs is Made.
On the 14th day of October, 1864, the Modocs entered into a treaty with
the Federal government by which they ceded all rights to the Lost river
and Tule lake country for a consideration of $320,000. In addition to
this they were to receive a body of land on the Klamath reservation of
768,000 acres, or a little more than 420 acres for each man, woman and
child. Immediately after the ratification of the treaty all the Modoc
Indians moved to the lands allotted to them, where the tribe remained,
and yet remains. This may be news to most of my readers, but it is a
fact that the Modoc Indians as a tribe continued to keep faith with the
government. The band under Captain Jack were merely renegades who,
dissatisfied with their new home, left the reservation and went back to
Lost river and Tule Lake. Jack himself was wanted for murder, and sought
an asylum in the lava beds, or the country adjacent thereto, where he
gathered around him renegades from other tribes--renegades outlawed by
Indians and whites alike. Some of the Indians in Jack's band were from
the Columbia river region, others from coast tribes, and all were
outlaws. One of the leaders, Bogus Charley, was an Umpqua Indian and was
raised by a white man named Bill Phips. He spoke good English and asked
me about many of the old timers.
In securing his ascendancy over this band of outlaws Jack was assisted
by his sister, "Queen Mary," so-called, who lived many years with a
white man near Yreka. In the opinion of Captain I. D. Applegate. Mary
was the brains of the murderous crew who gathered in the "hole in the
wall," under her brother. She was the go-between for the Indians with
the whites about Yreka, where they did their trading and where they
supplied themselves with arms and ammunition, and it was through her
that Judge Steele, a lawyer of Yreka, was interested in getting a
reservation for them. Steele made a trip to Washington to plead their
cause, and received a fee of $1000. He failed, but held out hope to his
clients and urged them under no circumstances to go back to their lands
at Klamath, advising them as counsel to take up lands in severalty under
the pre-emption laws of the United States. It is charitable to suppose
that Judge Steele did not foresee the disastrous consequences of his
counsel, yet he knew that Jack was wanted at the Klamath agency for
murder. In furtherance of his advice he wrote the following
self-explanatory letter to Henry Miller, afterwards murdered in a most
barbarous manner by the very men whom he had befriended:
Yreka, Sept. 19, 1872.
Mr. Henry F. Miller--Dear Sir: You will have to give me a description
of the lands the Indians want. If it has been surveyed, give me the
township, range, section and quarter-section. If not, give me a rude
plat of it by representing the line of the lake and the line of the
river, so that I can describe it . . . Mr. Warmmer, the County Surveyor,
will not go out there, so I will have to send to Sacramento to get one
appointed. Send an answer by an Indian, so that I can make out their
papers soon. I did not have them pay taxes yet, as I did not know
whether the land is surveyed and open for pre-emption.
Respectfully yours,
E. Steele.
Other letters were written by Judge Steele to the Indians. One which was
taken to Mrs. Body to read for them advised them not to go to Klamath,
but to "remain on their Yreka farm," as he termed the Tule Lake and Lost
river country, and told them they had as good a right to the lands as
any one. He further told them to go to the settlers and compel them to
give them written certificates of good character to show to the agents
of the government, which they did, the settlers fearing to refuse.
Shortly after this, Mr. T. B. Odeneal, Superintendent of Indian Affairs,
attempted to have a conference with Jack, who flatly refused, saying he
was tired of talking; he wanted no white man to tell him what to do;
that his friends and counselors at Yreka had told them to stay where
they were.
Under these circumstances the settlers became alarmed and made the
Superintendent promise that they should be notified before any attempt
to use force was made. How that promise was carried out will appear
later on. Early in November, after repeated attempts to induce the
Indians under Jack to go peaceably back to the reservation,
Superintendent Odeneal determined to turn the matter over to the
military. The Commissioner of Indian Affairs directed him to put the
Indians back, peaceably if he could, by force if he must. He then
referred the whole matter to Major Jackson, then in command at Fort
Klamath, who had at his disposal thirty-six men of Company B, First
cavalry, and proceeded with his command to Linkville, where he was met
by Captain I. D. Applegate, at that time connected with the Indian
department and stationed at the Yainax reservation. Captain Jackson was
warned by Applegate of the desperate character of the Indians, but
informed him the force was sufficient in his opinion if proper
precautions were taken. In the meantime Mr. Odeneal had sent his
messenger, O. A. Brown, to notify the settlers. Instead he proceeded to
the Bybee ranch, carefully concealing from all the proposed movements of
the troops under Jackson. Afterwards when reproached by Mrs. Schira,
whose husband, father and brothers had been murdered, he gave the
heartless answer that he "was not paid to run after the settlers." After
realizing the full extent of his conduct--conduct that could not be
defended any other way--Brown attempted to cast the odium upon his
superior, Mr. Odeneal. However, the latter had a copy of his letter of
instructions, hence Brown lapsed into sullen silence.
Major Jackson started for the Indian encampment on Lost river on the
28th of November, leaving Linkville, now Klamath Falls, after dark. He
was accompanied by Captain Applegate, and he had supplied his men with
twenty rounds of ammunition. Before reaching the encampment he halted
his men, saddle girths were tightened, overcoats tied behind saddles and
carbines loaded. It was then nearly daylight and proceeding with caution
he reached the encampment just at daylight. It was understood that the
command was to be divided so as to strike the camp on two sides, thus
commanding the river bank and the brush back of the camp at one and the
same time. Instead of this, Captain Jackson galloped his troop in
between the river and the camp and dismounted, his men forming a line
with horses in the rear.
While all this was going on another force, consisting of a dozen
settlers, had come down from the Bybee ranch to capture the Hot Creek
band on the opposite side of the river from Jack's camp. O. A. Brown had
arrived there in the evening but said nothing to any one until 2 o'clock
in the morning, when he roused them up and told them that the soldiers
would attack the Indians at daylight. They arrived just as Jackson lined
his men up on the opposite side. Jud Small, a stock man, was riding a
young horse and at the crack of the first gun his horse began bucking.
Everything was confusion, the men retreating to a small cabin a hundred
yards away, except Small, who was holding on to his horse for dear life
all this time. Over wickiups, squaws, bucks and children the frightened
beast leaped. Just how he got out safe among his companions Small never
knew, but he escaped, only to be desperately wounded in the first fight
in the lava beds, and later finding a watery grave in Klamath river
while sailing a pleasure boat.
After dismounting his men, Major Jackson requested Captain Applegate to
go forward among the Indians and tell them they must surrender and go
back to the reservation. But scarcely had Captain Applegate reached the
center of the village, when he saw the women running and throwing
themselves face downward in a low place between the two lines. He at
once called to Lieutenant Boutelle to "look out, they are going to
fire." Scarcely had the words escaped his lips when the Indians,
concealed under their wickiups, opened a galling fire on the line of
troops. Applegate made his way back to the line as best he could and as
he reached the line he picked up a carbine that had fallen from the hand
of a wounded soldier. The poor fellow had just strength enough to
unbuckle his belt and hand it to Captain Applegate, who now called to
Lieutenant Boutelle that "if we don't drive them out of their camp they
will kill us all." Boutelle then ordered a charge, and drove the Indians
out of their camp, through the brush and out into the open hills beyond.
But this was accomplished by the loss of several men killed and wounded.
One Indian had been killed, a Columbia, one of the most desperate of the
renegade band. When Applegate got back to where Jackson was standing he
had all the women and children gathered around him and while several men
had been killed or wounded, he deemed the trouble at an end.
While the above events were transpiring, Dave Hill, a Klamath Indian,
swam the river and drove in all the Modocs' horses. With the women,
children and horses in their possession all that remained for Captain
Jackson to do to insure the surrender of the men, was to take them to
the reservation and hold them. What was the surprise of Captain
Applegate, therefore, when Jackson announced his intention of turning
them all loose. In vain he and Dave Hill protested, but to no purpose.
Jackson declared he was short of ammunition; besides, must care for his
wounded men. He then told the squaws to pack up their horses and go to
the men and tell them to come to the reservation. No more mad, idiotic
piece of folly was ever perpetrated by a man than this move of Captain
Jackson.
While they were talking two travelers were seen riding along the road
some hundreds of yards away. In vain the men on both sides of the river
attempted to warn them of danger. The Indians were seen to ride up to
them and deliberately shoot them down. This of itself should have warned
Jackson of the desperate character of the outlaws. But no, he was either
too cowardly to act intelligently or too indifferent of the consequences
to act as he was advised. In fact, there is a certain class of army
officers who deem it a disgrace to accept advice from a civilian. At any
rate he crossed his wounded men over the river in canoes to the cabin
held by the party of stock men, and mounting his men went six miles up
the river to the ford and put the river between himself and command and
danger.
As soon as the squaws and children reached the men, a party headed by
"Black Jim" mounted and started down the shores of the lake butchering
the settlers. They came first to the Body ranch, where the men were
getting wood from the hills and heartlessly butchered them in cold
blood. The manner is best told in Mrs. Body's own words in a letter to
me in which she says:
"I reside three miles from the Indian camp on Lost river. The Indians
had told us time and again that if the soldiers came to put them on the
reservation they would kill every white settler. Through hearing of
these threats, we requested the messengers never to come with soldiers
without first giving the settlers warning. This they failed to do. . . .
The male portion of my family, not being aware of any disturbance, were
out procuring firewood, and were suddenly attacked within a mile and a
half of the house and butchered in cold blood. About a quarter to twelve
my daughter saw her husband's team approaching the house at a rapid
gait, and as the team reached the house she noticed that the wagon was
covered with blood. Thinking the team had run away she ran up the road
to find him. About a quarter of a mile from the house she discovered
him. I hastened after her with water, and as I arrived at the spot my
daughter was stooping over the body of her husband. Six Indians then
dashed out of the brush on horseback. Two of them rode up to me and
asked if there were any white men at the house. Not dreaming that there
was anything wrong with the Indians, I told them that the team had run
away and killed white man. They then gave a warwhoop and rode off
towards the house. On examining my son-in-law, we found that he had been
shot through the head. We then knew that the redskins were on the
warpath, and determined to find the other men. Going a short distance we
found my eldest son killed and stripped naked. The four horses were
gone. About a quarter of a mile further on we saw more Indians in the
timber where my husband was chopping wood, so we concluded we had better
not go any further in that direction, and made our way to the hills. My
youngest son, a boy of thirteen years of age, was herding sheep about a
mile from the house when he was killed. They shot him and then cut his
throat. We continued to travel until it became too dark to discern our
way, and then sat down at the foot of a tree and stayed until daylight.
We then started again, not knowing where we were going, but hoping to
strike some house. There was two feet of snow on the ground and our
progress was slow and tedious. Finally we arrived at Lost river bridge
about 2 o'clock Saturday afternoon. Here we learned for the first time
that there had been a fight between the soldiers and Indians. If the
settlers had been warned in time not one white person would have been
killed, as we all had arms and ammunition sufficient to defend
themselves successfully."
The Brotherton Family was not killed until the next day. They lived
eight miles south of the Bodys, and like the latter were attending to
their duties about the ranch. A twelve-year-old boy, Charley Brotherton,
while the Indians were killing the hired man, cut one of the horses
loose from the wagon and escaped to the house, where he built a pen of
sacks of flour in the center of the floor to protect his mother and the
little children and with a rifle held the savages at bay for three days,
or until relieved by volunteers. The house, a two-story box affair, was
literally riddled with bullets and how the boy escaped being shot is a
mystery. The other settlers, seventeen in all, were similarly murdered.
Henry Miller, who had befriended the Indians, was murdered under
conditions of peculiar atrocity, for the reason, it was supposed, that
he had failed to notify the Indians of the movements of the soldiers as
he had promised.
During all these three days of murder and horror, Captain Jackson made
no attempt to protect the settlers, but remained forted up at the cabin
on Lost river. As soon as the news reached Linkville, now Klamath Falls,
Captain O. C. Applegate organized a company of settlers and friendly
Indians to protect what was left of the settlement. Captain Ivan D.
Applegate also exerted himself in saving the settlers, and did brave
work, but there were women and children to protect and days elapsed
before an effective force could be gathered to meet the Indians.
Meantime news had reached Jackson county and Captain Kelley hastily
organized a force of a hundred men and by riding night and day reached
the scene of the massacre. It was his company that relieved the besieged
Brothertons, defended by the brave boy.
In the meantime the Indians had retreated to the lava beds and bade
defiance to the soldiers. General Wheaton, commanding the district of
the Lakes, ordered the concentration of troops from Camps Warner and
Bidwell, while General Canby sent the forces under Colonel John Green
and Major Mason from Ft. Vancouver to join the command under General
Wheaton. As soon as the settlers could fort up for mutual protection,
the entire forces of regulars and volunteers were concentrated at Van
Bremer's ranch west of the lava beds under General Wheaton and at Land's
ranch on the east side of Tule Lake and directly north of the
stronghold. Such was the disposition of the forces when I arrived at
headquarters at Van Bremer's ranch. By orders of Governor Grover of
Oregon the volunteers under Captains O. C. Applegate and Kelley were
placed under the command of General Wheaton. The two companies numbered
about 225 men, and were commanded by General John E. Ross, a veteran
Indian fighter, but too old to withstand the hardships of a winter
campaign against Indians. The men were all poorly provided with clothing
and bedding, most all having taken only what they could strap behind
their saddles, but in spite of this and a temperature often below zero,
no murmur was heard, and all anxiously, eagerly looked forward to a
meeting with the brutal savage murderers of their fellow citizens. Such
were the conditions when I arrived at headquarters.