Listen to Curly-haired Doctor. He is saying, in his native tongue, “I promised you a medicine that would turn the white man’s bullets. Where is the
Modoc that has been struck with the white man’s bullets? I told you ‘Soch-a-la Tyee,’ the Great Spirit, was on our side. Your chief’s heart was weak; mine was strong. We can kill all the white men that come.”
Schonchin John says: “I felt strong when I saw the fog that our medicine-man had brought over the rocks yesterday morning. I knew we could kill the soldiers. We are Modocs.”
The chief (Captain Jack) arose, all eyes turn toward him, and in breathless silence the council awaits his speech.
He does not appear to share in the general rejoicing. He is thoughtful, and his face wears a saddened look. He feels the force of the doctor’s speech; Schonchin’s also. He knows they are planning for his removal from the chieftainship.
“It is true we have killed many white men. The Modoc heart is strong; the Modoc guns were sure; the bullets went straight. We are all here; but hear me, O muck-a-lux (my people). The white men are many; they will not give up; they will come again; more will come next time. No matter how many the Modocs kill, more will come each time, and we will all be killed after a while. I am your voice. My blood is Modoc. I will not make peace until the Modoc heart says ‘peace,’ We will not go on the warpath again. Maybe the war will stop.”
After the several braves have recounted the various exploits they have performed, the council adjourns.
See the squaws bringing great loads of sage brush. They are preparing for a grand scalp dance. This is to be a great demonstration. The women dress in best
attire and paint their faces, while the men, now wild with triumph, prepare for the ceremonies of rejoicing.
The drum calls for the dance to commence. They form around the fire on the bare rocks, each warrior painted in black and red, in figures rudely made on their arms and breast, indicating the deeds they may boast of. Each bears on the ramrod of his gun the scalps he has taken. The medicine-man begins a kind of prayer or thanksgiving to the Great Spirit above, and to the bad spirit below, for the success they have won. The dances begin,—a short, upright hop, singing of the great deeds of the Modocs, the warriors meanwhile waving the ramrods with the scalps.