She remonstrates, saying, “I must—I will go to my husband.” She alights from the ambulance and starts on foot, but is intercepted and forced to go again to the ambulance, with the assurance that “her husband will be sent out to her within a day or two”.
No language can portray the feelings and emotions of this woman when, after travelling three hundred miles on stages and in ambulances over the Cascade mountains, through a hostile country, she is compelled to turn back when within three miles of her wounded
husband, with those ominous words saying, like a funeral dirge, “Your husband will be sent out to you in a few days”.
While she is yet pleading for the privilege of seeing him the mountain’s sides reverberate with the sounds of rifle shots coming up from a point half way to the camp, volley answering volley. While she is in a half-unconscious condition, the team drawing the ambulance is turned about, and the guard take their places on either side, and the team moves away towards the frontier.
When the woman returns to consciousness, she exclaims, “Take me to my husband! I must see him before he dies.”
The kind heart of Mr. Dyer is moved. He pleads with her to abandon the attempt, consoling her with Christian assurances that “God does all things well.” With the guard in skirmishing order the party hurries away.
The mutilated body of young Hovey is lying stark and cold, beside the road where he fell.
Sundown is announced by the repeated volleys of musketry at the cemetery, as the bodies of the soldiers are laid away in their last sleep.
The friends of the young lad obtain permission, and the necessary facilities, from the quartermaster, to bring in his body. A coffin is prepared, and in it is placed what was, a few hours since, a noble-hearted youth full of life.
A part of the army is resting, and a part is bombarding the Modocs. Captain Jack has kept the “flat” cleared, and now, while the shot and shell are being tumbled in around his camp, he draws his people