It was there I first heard those terrible words, a part of which have since become famous, uttered but a moment before the attack on the Peace Commission, on April 11, 1873—“Ot-we-kau-tux-e,”—meaning, in this instance, “I am done talking;” or, when used in other connections, “All ready!” or, “The time
has come!” or, “Quit talking.” The vocabularies of all Indian languages are very small; hence, a word depends, to a great extent, on its connection, for its meaning and power. It was just at this point that the woman, Tobey Riddle, who has since proved her sagacity and her loyalty, arose to her feet, and said in Modoc tongue to her people: “Mo-lok-a ditch-e ham-konk lok-e sti-nas mo-na gam-bla ot-we,”—(“The white chief talks right. His heart is good or strong. Go with him now!”) Frank Riddle joined the woman Tobey in exhorting the Modocs to be quiet, to be careful, using such words as tend to avert, what we all saw was liable to happen any instant, a terrible scene of blood.
Dr. McKay, whose long experience had given him much sagacity, arose quickly to his feet, saying in English, “Be on your guard! Don’t let them get the drop on us.” Captain Jack started to retire when I intercepted him, saying, “Don’t leave me now; I am your friend, but I am not afraid of you. Be careful what you do! We mean peace, but are ready for war. We will not begin; but if you do, it shall be the end of your people. You agreed to go with us, and you shall do it. We are ready. Our wagons are here to carry your old people and children. We came for you, and we are not going back without you. You must go!”
He asked “what I would do, if he did not.” I told him plainly that we would whip him until he was willing. He then wanted to know where my men were that was to whip him. I pointed to my small squad of men. I shall never forget his reply. “I would be ashamed to fight so few men with all my boys.” I replied, that it was force enough to kill
some Modocs, before we were all dead; that when we were killed more white men would come.
Not having very strong faith in his pride about fighting so few men, I informed him that I had soldiers coming to help us, but that we came on to try talking first, and then when that failed we would send for them to come; finally stating to him that he could make up his mind to go with us on the morrow, or fight, and that in the meanwhile we would be ready at any time for him to begin, if he wished to. He said then what he repeated many times to Peace Commissioners on last spring,—that “he would not fire the first shot,” but if we did, “he was not afraid to die.” It was finally agreed that he should have until the next morning to make answer what he would do, and that at that time he should report his conclusion.
This ended my first official council with the Modocs. Captain Jack withdrew to his lodge to have a grand “pow-wow,” leaving our party to determine what was the next thing for us to do. We realized that we were “in great danger.” No one dissented from the opinion that peril was menacing our party. Our only hope was to put on a brave front. Retreat at that hour was impossible, with even chances for escape. We despatched a messenger, under pretence of hunting our horses,—we dared not send him boldly on the mission without excuses,—with orders for our military squad at Linkville, twenty-five miles from Modoc camp, to rendezvous at a point within hearing of our guns, and that, in the event of alarm, to “charge the camp,” but in no other event to come until the next morning.
Having despatched the courier, we carefully inspected
our arms, consisting of Henry rifles and navy revolvers. Captain Knapp’s experience as an officer of the rebellion and McKay’s longer experience as an Indian fighter, together with the frontier life of the remainder, made our little party somewhat formidable, though inadequate to what might at any moment become a fearful trial of strength.
In this connection it should be understood that at that time the Modocs were very poorly armed with old muskets, and a few rifles and old-fashioned pistols.