There is a reason for her presence there; and she will need all her self-command when the looked-for boat arrives. Why, that lone woman is there, on that 23d day of April, we will tell you in good time.
Turn your glass back now to Bloody Point, and follow down the shore of the lake. Ah! there stands
a white-looking object near a bluff that is black with a low growth of trees. The white object is Miller’s house, just as he left it the morning before his friend, Hooker Jim, murdered him. The black-looking bluff near it is where Ben Wright met the Modocs, in a peace talk, in 1852. Swing your glass round to the right, following the shore of the lake, and, at the extreme southern end, you will see the cabins of Lou-e Land, and near them Col. Barnard’s head-quarters.
The white tents of the soldiers look like tiny playthings, even under a field-glass. Col. Barnard is there with one hundred “regulars,” and one company of “volunteers.” Look closely, and you will see that half the volunteers are red-skinned men. Their captain is a tall, fine-looking white man, who addresses them in the ancient jargon of the Klamaths,—this is Oliver Applegate.
See the Indian soldiers, with each a white badge on his head; it is not an army regulation cap, but is simply to prevent accident; that is, it is a mark to distinguish the white man’s ally from his enemy.
In this camp are men about as anxious to march on the Modocs as those on the north side; some of these red soldiers are the boys who made Jack’s stay on Klamath Reservation, in 1870, so uncomfortable. They are loyal, though, to the Government, and are willing to help the white men exterminate their cousins (the Modocs). Then the pro rata of annuity goods will be so much the larger. They don’t mean any harm to the Modocs, although since 1864 they have been receiving regularly the price the Government has paid for the home of the Modocs;
except on one or two occasions, when the latter were present.
These red-skinned boys are anxious to capture the Modoc ponies; for, running with Jack’s band of horses, are several that once carried these Klamath boys flying over the plains; until, in an evil moment, they were weak enough to stake them, as many a poor, weak-minded, infatuated white man has done his home, all on the hazardous chance of certain cards turning up at the right time. Well, let these fellows take rest, for they will need all their nerve before another day passes.
Move your glass round to the right, what a sight do we see! A great flat-looking valley stretches out south and west from the ragged shore line of the lake. On the further boundary see the four low buttes standing in a line; while behind Mount Shasta raises his white head, overlooking the country around on all sides for hundreds of miles.
This valley, lying so cold and cheerless, seems to have been once a part of the lake. It is devoid of timber, save one lone tree, that stands out on what appears to be a plain, of almost smooth prairie; but we forget we are one thousand feet above this valley.