A parley ensued of half an hour, Captain Jack pleading for Jackson to withdraw his men, while the major was explaining his order, and assuring the Modocs that ample preparation had been made for them at Yai-nax. The whole affair seemed to be settled satisfactorily, and I. D. Applegate, who was with Maj. Jackson, went down to the banks of the river and told One-armed Brown, the regular messenger of the Indian Department, who was with the citizen party on the east side, that “everything was settled.” Brown mounted his horse, and started to make known the good news to Supt. Odeneal, who was awaiting the result at Linkville.
All the Modocs on the west side of the river had laid down their arms, except Scar-face Charley, who was swearing and making threats. Maj. Jackson commanded him, “Put down your gun.” Scar-face refused; the major ordered Lieut. Boutelle to disarm
him,—who, on advancing to execute the order, repeated it in emphatic words, not in harmony with savage notions of decorum and decency. “Scarface” was enraged at the vile epithets applied to him, and perhaps remembered just then that he had once seen, from a chapparel thicket, a sight that had haunted him from his childhood, namely, nothing less than armed white men chasing his father with a lasso and catching him. He saw them hang him without a trial, or even any proof that he was guilty of any crime. At all events, he drew his pistol, and, saying that he “would kill one white man,” discharged it at the advancing officer; but so nearly simultaneous with Boutelle’s pistol, that even the latter does not know who fired first. This was the opening gun of the Modoc war; the beginning of what ended on the gallows on the third of November, 1873.
Without stopping now to call up the intervening pictures, let us see how the battle went. Very soon the entire force of soldiers was firing into the Indian camps, and the fourteen Indian men were fighting back with muzzle-loading rifles.
The battle lasted three hours; the Indians, having taken cover of the sage brush, finally withdrew, carrying with them the watchman who was killed, and escaping with all their women and children.
Maj. Jackson lost ten killed and five wounded; and on the reappearance of the Indians, a few hours later, drew off his forces, leaving the Modocs in possession of the battle-field.
While all this was enacting on the west bank of Lost river, let us see how the boys who went down to “take a look” got along as spectators. Mr. Brown,
hearing the report of arms, returned just in time to take an active part in a performance that was not in the programme of fun as laid out in the early morning.
The citizens and Modocs on the east side could not stand the pressure,—looking on and seeing a fair fight, within a couple of hundred yards, without taking a part. The Modocs caught up their guns and rushed down to the river, intending to reinforce Captain Jack. The citizens sought to prevent them getting into their canoes; and, somehow, they became very much interested in matters nearer home than Maj. Jackson’s fight.
Who began the battle on the east side is a question of doubt,—both parties denying it; but a lively fight was the result, and the citizens drew off, leaving three or four dead friends on the ground and—and—one dead squaw, with an infant corpse in her arms.