This aggravating incident greatly annoyed Capt. Boling, who was peculiarly sensitive on the subject of escaped prisoners. The verdant guard was reprimanded in terms more expressive than polite; and relieved from duty. The remaining Indians were then transferred to the special care of Lt. Chandler, who was told by Capt. Boling to “keep them secure if it took the whole command to do-it.” The Indians were secured by being tied back to back, with a “riata” or picket rope, and then fastened to an oak tree in the middle of the camp, and the guard—a new one—stationed where they could constantly watch. The morning passed, and the hour of ten arrived, without Ten-ie-ya. Capt. Boling then sent out Sandino and the scouts to hunt for him, and if found, to notify him that he was expected. Sandino soon came back, and reported that he had seen Ten-ie-ya and talked with him; but that he was unable to reach him from below, on account of the steepness of the ledge. Sandino reported that Ten-ie-ya was unwilling to come in. That he expressed a determination not to go to the Fresno. He would make peace with the white chief if he would be allowed to remain in his own territory. Neither he nor his people would go to the valley while the white men were there. They would stay on the mountains or go to the Monos.
When this was communicated to Capt. Boling, he gave orders for a select number of scouts to make an effort to bring in the old malcontent, alive if possible. Lt. Chandler, therefore, with a few Noot-chü and Po-ho-no-chee scouts, to climb above the projecting ledge, and a few of our men to cut off retreat, started up the Ten-ie-ya branch, led by Sandino as guide. After passing the “Royal Arches,” Sandino let Chandler understand that he and his scouts had best go up by the Wai-ack or Mirror Lake trail, in order to cut off Ten-ie-ya’s retreat; while he went back to the rock he pointed out as the place where he had seen and talked with Ten-ie-ya; and which commanded a view of our camp. This was distasteful to Chandler; but after a moment’s reflection said: “Let the converted knave go back to camp; I’ll act without him, and catch the old chief if he is on the mountain, and that without resorting to Indian treachery.”
While in camp Sandino had seemed to convey some message to the hostages, and when asked the purport of it had answered evasively. This had prejudiced Chandler, but it had not surprised me, nor did it appear inconsistent with Sandino’s loyalty to Captain Boling; but the Indian was unpopular. As to his code of honor and his morality, it was about what should have been expected of one in his position, and as a frequent interpreter of his interpretations and sayings, I finally told the Captain and Chandler that it would be best to take Sandino for what he might be worth; as continued doubt of him could not be disguised, and would tend to make a knave or fool of him. On one occasion, he was so alarmed by some cross looks and words given him, that he fell upon his knees and begged for his life, thinking, as he said afterward, that he was to be killed.
During the night, and most of the time during the day, I was engaged in attendance on Spencer. Doctor Black understood it to be Spencer’s wish that I should treat him. I gave but little attention to other matters, although I could see from our tent everything that was going on in camp. Not long after the departure of Chandler and his scouts, as I was about leaving camp in search of balsam of fir and other medicinals, I observed one of the guard watching the prisoners with a pleased and self-satisfied expression. As I glanced toward the Indians I saw that they were endeavoring to untie each other, and said to two of the detail as I passed them, “That ought to be reported to the officer of the guard. They should be separated, and not allowed to tempt their fate.” I was told that it was “already known to the officers.” I was then asked if I was on guard duty. The significance of this I was fully able to interpret, and passed on to the vicinity of “The High Falls.”
On my return an hour afterwards, I noticed when nearing camp, that the Indians were gone from the tree to which they were tied when I left. Supposing that they had probably been removed for greater security, I gave it no further thought until, without any intimation of what had occurred during my short absence, I saw before me the dead body of old Ten-ie-ya’s youngest son. The warm blood still oozing from a wound in his back. He was lying just outside of our camp, within pistol range of the tree to which he had been tied.
I now comprehended the action of the guard. I learned that the other Indian had been fired at, but had succeeded in making his escape over the same ground and into the cañon where the other brave had disappeared. I found on expressing my unqualified condemnation of this cowardly act, that I was not the only one to denounce it. It was a cause of regret to nearly the whole command. Instead of the praise expected by the guard for the dastardly manner in which the young Indian was killed, they were told by Captain Boling that they had committed murder. Sergeant Cameron was no lover of Indians, but for this act his boiling wrath could hardly find vent, even when aided by some red hot expressions. I learned, to my extreme mortification, that no report had been made to any of the officers. The Indians had been permitted to untie themselves, and an opportunity had been given them to attempt to escape in order to fire upon them, expecting to kill them both; and only that a bullet-pouch had been hung upon the muzzle of one of the guard’s rifles while leaning against a tree (for neither were on duty at the moment), no doubt both of the captives would have been killed.
YOSEMITE FALLS.
(2,634 feet in height.)
Upon investigation, it was found that the fatal shot had been fired by a young man who had been led by an old Texan sinner to think that killing Indians or Mexicans was a duty; and surprised at Captain Boling’s view of his conduct, declared with an injured air, that he “would not kill another Indian if the woods were full of them.” Although no punishment was ever inflicted upon the perpetrators of the act, they were both soon sent to coventry, and feeling their disgrace, were allowed to do duty with the pack-train. Captain Boling had, before the occurrence of this incident, decided to establish his permanent camp on the south side of the Merced. The location selected was near the bank of the river, in full view of, and nearly opposite, “The Fall.” This camp was head-quarters during our stay in the valley, which was extended to a much longer time than we had anticipated. Owing to several mountain storms, our stay was prolonged over a month. The bottoms, or meadow land, afforded good grazing for our animals, and we were there more conveniently reached by our couriers and supply-trains from the Fresno.