Meacham. “I will take the matter under consideration, and in the mean time I desire an interview with the prisoners.”
Col. Elliott. “Most certainly, you can apply to the ‘officer of the day,’ and he will make the necessary order.”
In the guard house, Captain Jack and Schonchin are brought out of the cell chained together. There is music in the clanking chain that sounds harsh, severe, and causes a shudder, which soon gives way before the logic of justice. These chieftains come with slow steps and eyes fixed intently on Meacham. They extend their hands in token of friendly greeting. Meacham refuses. “No, Captain Jack, your hands are red with Canby’s blood; I cannot, now.”
Schonchin still holds out the same hand that fired repeated shots at Meacham.
“No, Schonchin, your hands are red with my own blood; I cannot, I will not now.”
Schonchin places his hand on Meacham’s arm. He presses it slightly. An Indian grunt signals his satisfaction with his experiment. He now realizes
that Meacham is not dead. Up to this time he had been doubtful. He looks with intense interest at the wounds he had made in his effort to kill this man on the 11th April.
Captain Jack is anxious to talk about the trial. Meacham inquires, “Why did you not have a lawyer to talk for you?”
Captain Jack. “I don’t know any lawyer that understands this affair. They could not do me any good. Everybody is against me; even the Modocs are turned against me. I have but few friends. I am alone.”
Meacham. “You can talk yourself. The newspapers say, ‘Captain Jack has spoken for his race; now let extermination be the cry.’”