The men are at the stations assigned them. They are divested of all unnecessary clothing, and their limbs are bandaged by folds of rawhide. They are
awaiting the attack. Each warrior holds a position made impregnable by the formation of the rocks, or the condition in which the great convulsions of nature which produced this indescribable country, left them.
The sun is driving away the darkness, and soon the battle must begin.
In the hospital a veteran of the Second Iowa Cavalry is sitting beside the wounded man, and preparing him for the shock that his nerves will feel.
“Don’t get scared, old man! It will begin very soon, and you will presently have company enough,” he says.
The hospital attendants are making ready to care for the wounded. Mattresses are placed in rows on either side. In a small tent, near by, a surgeon is laying out lint and bandages.
The Iowa veteran is standing at the door, saying to Meacham, “I will tell you when it opens. I can see the fire before you will hear the sound and feel the jar. Don’t get frightened, and think that the mountain is coming down on you, old man. There goes the signal rocket. Now look out!”
An instant more and the shells and howitzers join in a simultaneous demand for the Modoc chief to surrender. The earth trembles while the reports are reverberating around and through the chasms and caverns of the Lava Beds, and before they have finally died away, or the trembling has ceased, another sound comes in a continuous roar, proceeding from the left, and by the time the belt of fire has made the circuit, it repeats itself again and again. But no smoke of rifles is seen coming from the stronghold. “Charge!” rings out by human voice and bugle blast, and a returning
series of bayonets converge. On they go, nearing a common centre. No Modocs are yet in sight. The soldiers, now upright, are hurrying forward, when suddenly, from a covert chasm and cavern, a circle of smoke bursts forth. The Modocs have opened fire. The men fall on the right and left, around the circle. “Onward!” shout the officers. “Onward!” But the men are falling fast. The charge must be abandoned. The bugle sounds “Retreat!” The line widens again, the soldiers bearing back the dead and wounded. They now seek cover among the rocks. The wounded are sent to the hospital, by way of the lake, in boats or on the mule-stretchers. The battle goes on. The wounded continue to arrive. The shadows of the mountains from the west cover the Lava Beds, and still the fight goes on. A volley is heard near the hospital.
“What’s that?” asked the startled patient.