CHAPTER XXXIX.
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.