bad men, who might compel him to do what was against his judgment. Gen. Canby, always acknowledged as having power to control the commission, nevertheless conceded to it the management of the councils. He never presided, and seldom gave an opinion, unless something was said in which he could not concur; but no action was had, or message sent, or other business ever done, without his advice and approval.
On the morning of April 10th I left head-quarters, to visit Boyle’s camp, at the southern end of the lake, leaving Dr. Thomas in charge of the affairs of the Peace Commission, little dreaming that action of so great importance would be had during my absence. After visiting Maj. Boyle’s, I returned by Col. Mason’s camp, and there learned, through the signal telegraph, that a delegation of Modocs was at the commission tent, proposing another meeting. I arrived at the head-quarters late in the evening, and then learned from Dr. Thomas that an agreement had been made to meet five unarmed Indians at the council tent on the following day at noon. I demurred to the arrangement, saying, “that it was unsafe.” The doctor was rejoicing that “God had done a wonderful work in the Modoc camp.” The Modoc messengers, to arrange for this unfortunate council, were not insensible to the fact of the doctor’s religious faith, and they represented to him that “they had changed their hearts; that God had put a new fire in them, and they were ashamed of their bad hearts. They now wanted to make peace. They were willing to surrender. They only wanted the commission to prove their faith in the Modocs by coming out to meet them unarmed.”
This hypocrisy caught the doctor. He believed
them; and, after a consultation with Gen. Canby, the compact was made. The doctor was shocked at my remark, that “God has not been in the Modoc camp this winter. If we go we will not return alive.” Such was my opinion, and I gave it unhesitatingly. The night, though a long one, wore away, and the morning of Good Friday, April 11th, 1873, found our party at an early breakfast.
While we were yet at the morning meal Boston Charley came in. As the doctor arose from his breakfast this imp of the d——, from the Modoc camp, sat down in the very seat from which the doctor had arisen, and ate his breakfast from the same plate, drank from the same cup, the doctor had used.
While Boston was eating he observed me changing boots, putting on old ones. I shall not soon forget the curious twinkle of this demon’s eyes, when he said, “What for you take ’em off new boots? Why for you no wear ’em new boots?” he examined them carefully, inquired the price of them, and again said, “Meacham, why for you no wear ’em new boots?” The villain was anxious for me to wear a pair of twenty-dollar boots instead of my old worn-out ones. I understood what that fellow meant, and I did not give him an opportunity to wear my new boots.
From Indian testimony it is evident that in the Modoc camp an excited council had been held on the morning of the 11th. Captain Jack, Scar-face Charley, and a few others had opposed the assassination, Jack declaring that it should not be done. Unfortunately, he was in the minority. The majority ruled, and to compel the chief to acquiesce, the murderous crew gathered around him, and, placing a woman’s hat upon
his head, and throwing a shawl over his shoulders, they pushed him down on the rocks, taunting him with cowardice, calling him “a woman, white-face squaw;” saying that his heart was changed; that he went back on his own words (referring to majority rule, which he had instituted); that he was no longer a Modoc, the white man had stolen his heart. Now, in view of the record this man had made as a military captain, his courage or ability can never be doubted, and yet he could not withstand this impeachment of his manhood. Dashing the hat and shawl aside, and springing to his feet, he shouted, “I am a Modoc. I am your chief. It shall be done if it costs every drop of blood in my heart. But hear me, all my people,—this day’s work will cost the life of every Modoc brave; we will not live to see it ended.”
When he had once assented he was bloodthirsty, and with coolness planned for the consummation of this terrible tragedy. He asserted his right to kill Gen. Canby, selecting Ellen’s man as his assistant.
Contention ensued among the braves as to who should be allowed to share in this intended massacre.