The childless widow of Gen. Canby sits with broken heart, in her parlor in Portland, Oregon.
The family of Dr. Thomas, in Petaluma, Cal., are kneeling around the family altar, and a bereaved widow is praying for resignation to this dispensation of Providence,—is praying for strength to say “Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.”
Monday morning, April 14th, opens amid the noises of camp life; the drum and bugle calls, and human voices join in songs of praise. They are strange sounds for a military camp on the eve of battle. There is an uncommon accent to them, but they sound familiar. What! The sounds come from the lips of men who were born in wild camps among the mountains of Eastern Oregon. Can it be that these red men have so far advanced in Christian civilization that they are now doing what not one of the five hundred white men have the courage to do? Yes, my reader, it is true that the Warm Spring Indians, who have learned from Agent John Smith these songs of praise and the honor that is due to God, are faithful to their pretensions, and are worshipping Him, and seeking strength to sustain them in the coming strife.
Blush, now, will you not, you who prate so loudly of the superiority of the white men! of his sense of right controlling his actions! Here are red men, who are but a few years removed from savage life, living the “new religion”—Christians in real earnest, and shaming the hypocritical pretenders whose cant and whine make liberal-minded people turn away in disgust. You Christian Indian-hater, look at these red-skinned people, and learn a lesson in Christian honesty and moral courage!
The shadows of Van Bremers mountain come slowly over the Lava Beds. In the Modoc camp the “medicine-man” is conducting the war-dance and working the blood of Modoc hearts up to fighting heat. He promises his people that he will make a medicine that will turn the soldiers’ bullets away. He points to the great battle of January, and its results, to inspire confidence in him. The chief is saddened, and fully realizes the situation. He is desperate, and is resolved to fight to the bitter end. He has already appointed the places for each of the warriors. He tells his people that the hated Warm Spring Indians are now in the soldiers’ camp. He reminds them that these people are their enemies; that it was the Warm Spring and Tenino Indians who killed his father. He counsels them to remember his father’s death. He knows that a thousand white soldiers are there and that the “big guns” will reach his stronghold.
Some of his followers have superstitious faith enough in the medicine-man to believe that they will outlive the war, and to believe the white men are conquered already. The chief knows better.
In the soldiers’ camp preparations are making for
the assault. The Coehorn shell-guns are made ready for putting on the backs of mules. Food for the soldiers has been prepared. The guard is stationed. The soldiers in either camp well understand that the morrow’s sun will witness another bloody struggle. Those of them who were in former battles shrink from this one, knowing how nearly impregnable the “stronghold” will be.
“I say, old man, there is a little bit of fun going on. I wish you could be up to see it.” Thus spoke Capt. Ferree to Meacham, and continued, “You know Long Jim—a Modoc prisoner—is under guard. Well, the boys are going to give him a chance to run for his life without the knowledge of Gen. Gilliam. They have everything all fixed, and I’ll bet fifty dollars he ‘makes it!’ They have him in the stone corral, and the plan is to station the boys outside next to the Lava Beds and leave one or two men to guard him. They will pretend to sleep, and Jim will jump the wall, and then the boys will let him have it. Two to one he gets away! I thought I would just tell you, so you wouldn’t get scared to death, thinking the Modocs were attacking the camp.”
This man, Long Jim, had pretended to desert the Modoc camp during the peace negotiations. He had a bullet extracted from his back while in the commissioners’ camp, several weeks before. He was afterwards caught while acting as an emissary to other Indians, and, by order of Gen. Canby, was being detained under guard as a prisoner. Hence his presence. He stoutly denied having any desire to return to Captain Jack’s camp.