“Necessity knows no law.” In the beginning of the battle, the citizen teamsters were ordered to this place for duty. Among them was a fair-haired boy of nineteen years of age, who had trained his team horses, on the first and second days of the battle, to walk between the poles that made the mule-stretchers. The poles were about twenty feet long, and at either end a stout strap was attached to each. These straps were thrown across the saddles on the horses, one being immediately in front of the other, and between them canvas was secured to the poles, thus constituting a “horse-stretcher.” This boy had proved himself very efficient, and had won the commendation of the officers, and the gratitude of the wounded men. Dr. McEldry had requested the quartermaster to continue young Hovey in the service,
because in managing the stretchers he was careful and trustworthy.
A presentiment had this morning filled the mind of this noble young fellow with dread. He made application to Quartermaster Grier to be excused from further duty with the stretchers, stating his reasons. Mr. Grier expressed his sympathy with him and endeavored to allay his fears, remarking that Dr. McEldry had paid him a high compliment for his efficiency and requested him—Mr. Grier—to send him out again this morning.
The boy—too brave to refuse, although no law could have compelled him to go, though his horses might have been pressed into service—assented, remarking that, notwithstanding he had made several trips safely, he should not get back from this one.
After preparing his horses for this unpleasant labor he goes to a citizen friend, and gives him his watch and other valuables, saying that he did not expect to return, as he had had a presentiment that he would not; and he gave to this friend a message to his father, another for his mother, and mentioning the names of his brothers and sisters, left a few words of love for each. The grandeur of character and heroism exhibited by this boy stand out among the few instances that are given to mankind in proof of the divinity that controls human action. Nothing but godlike attributes could have sustained young Hovey when calmly performing those manly actions which entitle his name to be enrolled among the heroes of the age. So let it be recorded, and let it stand with the nineteen summers he had lived, accusing and condemning those who so wildly howled for blood when
the Peace Commissioners were laboring to prevent what might have been only a terrible phantasmagoria, but which has become an awful reality.
Young Hovey, accompanied by one assistant only, started on his way to the battle-field with four horses and two stretchers. No guard was deemed necessary, because it was understood that the Modocs were surrounded and “could not escape,” and it was so reported, by the general commanding, to his superiors. Hovey and his companion had passed by the scene of the tragedy of the Peace Commissioners but a few rods, and but a few hundred yards behind Gen. Gilliam, when, from the cover of the rocks, a Modoc bullet, shot by Hooker Jim, went with a death-dealing power through his head. The monsters, not content with his death and the capture of his horses, rush upon him, and while he is yet alive, scalp him, strip him of his clothing, and then, with inhuman ferocity, the red fiends crush his head to a shapeless mass with huge stones. His companion escapes unhurt.
This outrage was committed almost within sight of the army, which was investing the stronghold, and the camp at the bluff.
Having despatched young Hovey, the Modocs then turned towards the latter camp. Lieut. Grier, who was in command, immediately telegraphed to Col. Greene, in command at the Lava Beds, that “The Modocs were out of the stronghold and had attacked the camp.” He, also, called together the citizens and his own forces, as Assistant Acting Quartermaster, and, arming them, prepared to resist. But a few shots were fired by the Indians; however, one
or two balls landed among the tents near the hospital. The Modocs presently withdrew.