The Second Modoc Press Conference - (28 February - 1 March 1873) - History - http://maxpages.com/modocwar/Modoc_Press_Conference

The proceedings of the Modoc Peace Commission drag their weary length along, and but little so far has been accomplished. Judge Rosborough and Elijah Steele, the former of whom has been added to the Commission, at the request of those who saw that Meacham & Co. would never accomplish anything, are both here, using their best efforts to bring about a satisfactory settlement of the difficulty. They arrived here on Thursday night, and a meeting of the High Old Joints was at once called, when Judge Rosborough's credentials were presented. It was astonishing to note what a soothing effect the presence of the new member had upon Meacham & Co.

CHANGES FOR THE BETTER.

For ten days they had been wrangling about how best to get an audience with Captain Jack, and how to get him out to talk; where to have the talk, and other preliminaries that should have been arranged in forty-eight hours. As soon as Judge Rosborough took his seat and Steele was added to the Commission all this changed. For the first time the doors of the room in which their sessions are held were thrown open to the correspondents, and they were permitted to take note of the proceedings.

Meacham went into a long oration, in which he told what had already been done, and began anew the discussion of how best to gain Jack's ear. After some little talk, Rosborough suggested that it would be

A GOOD IDEA

To decide what terms to offer Jack when they did get his ear, and not waste so much time in preliminaries. As for seeing Jack, Mr. Steele could go and talk with him any time if the Commission were afraid to do so. All that was needed was to decide upon what to say to Jack. Steele would get it to him easy enough. This little episode rather startled Meacham and set him to thinking. Finally, after much talk, it was decided that the following terms of surrender would probably be acceptable to the Government and to the Indians; First, the Modocs to surrender to the United States forces. This was proposed by General Gillem, and warmly supported by Rosborough and Steele, on the ground that the indictments for murder found against several of the Indians had so embarrassed the Commission, and so complicated matters, that it would be impossible to leave them subject to the civil authority anywhere. The surrender to the military was considered the only means of protecting the Modocs from Oregon vengeance, and in this view Meacham & Co. joined, though the day before they had expressed opinions entirely at variance with it. This change was one of the effects of Rosborough's

SOFTENING INFLUENCE.

For the same reason it was then agreed that if Jack and his band were to be removed to any reservation it must be to a place outside of Oregon jurisdiction. General Gillem proposed that if taken anywhere it be a long way off, say Arizona, the Indian Territory, or if either of these places was impracticable, Southern California. A discussion arose here, but it was finally decided that this plan of settlement be offered, and therefore Mr. Steele was empowered to visit Captain Jack, state the views of the Commission and ask his consent to an ending of the trouble on those terms. He was also authorized to ask Captain Jack to come out and talk with the Peace Commission, or if he could not or would not come himself to send out eight or ten of his head men. They would of course be guaranteed safe conduct back to their camp and protection while away from it.

Mr. Steele made preparations to start on the journey the next (Friday) morning. He selected to accompany him Bogus Charley, the Indian who came out the other day; John A. Fairchild, Frank G. Riddle, and the Modoc squaw with whom the latter lives--these two to act as interpreters; the CHRONICLE War Correspondent and the Secretary of the Peace Commission. The night before the party packed their traps for the trip. As they would have to spend

A NIGHT IN THE LAVA BED,

They took their blankets, plenty of warm clothing, a good stock of provisions and provender for their horses. These were packed on a horse, the region where Jack has his lair being utterly inaccessible to anything on wheels. When the morning broke, a fierce snow-storm was raging, and the wind blew out from the north in furious blasts. Time was precious, though, and Mr. Steele would not defer the trip, so about 9 o'clock the whole party set out. The distance from Fairchild's to Jack's rocky camp is twenty-five miles over the roughest road, or rather trail, that I ever saw or dreamed of. The first ten miles is traveled by the regular Lost river wagon road, which is pretty fair, but after that the trail is taken, and then comes the hard part of the journey: over bluffs whose steepness makes it a miracle that anything animate can ever descend them; through rocky gorges, that to look at one thinks it impossible for even a mountain sheep to find a foothold; through sagebrush and across lava rock plains, and into narrow ravines and caverns, the narrow path leads and winds and turns till one is lost in the rugged labyrinth. Almost every hour we were obliged to dismount and lead the horses through some yawning rocky chasm, or down a steep declivity that no mounted man could descend. The horses, though, were sure-footed and got through such places safely, though very slowly. Twelve miles of such perilous travel brought us to the summit of the last bluff before descending to the edge of

THE GREAT BED OF SCORIA

Where the Modoc chieftain has so long held thirty-nine millions of American people at bay. We reached this point at 4 o'clock. The snowstorm had broken away, and the setting sun, directly behind us, shed a brilliant glare over the rocky valley below. The scene was one of the grandest I ever saw. The point where we stood on the bluff was directly at the southwestern corner of Tule lake. From our position the lake was immediately to the left, its waters washing the base of the hill beneath us. Beyond, slightly to the left and across the glassy sheet of water, rose a range of high mountains, imbedded in a fleecy snow covering, and reflecting back the golden sunlight into the mirror-like surface at their foot. Immediately in front and due east was the famed lava bed, of which so much has been said and written. As far as the eye could reach in one direction, and back to the rugged volcanic hills to the southward, this remarkable formation extended from our position at least one thousand feet above it. It had merely the appearance of a sagebrush plain as level as a marble floor. Not a single unevenness could be detected, except away off miles away on the lake shore the faintest suspicion of a ridge showed itself, but it was so slight that at first glance it failed to catch the eye. Fairchild pointed out this little break in the almost painful regularity of the surface, and said that this was

THE SCENE OF JACK'S TRIUMPH.

This is the place in which he defied the power of all the troops on the Pacific Coast. The party stood looking at the wonderful scene for fifteen minutes, and then, again dismounting, prepared to descend the steep slope. A narrow trail led down in a zigzag direction, and over this the horses had to be led slowly, step by step. Down, down we went, groping cautiously, expecting almost every instand that an unlucky slip or a careless step would send some horse and leader whirling down the sharp inclind. Fifteen minutes of this perilous work, in which no one dared scarcely cast his eyes off his own or his horse's feet, and we were at the edge of the lava.

But what a change! What from the summit seemed a level plain was no transformed to ridges, mounds and piles of hard, jagged, flinty rocks, reaching as far as the eye could see. To pass over them seemed impossible. To go through and around them appeared like a task that a man would hardly undertake, to say nothing of a horse; but a little trail led off for a hundred yards or so and then was lost behind a ridge of rocks, and into this the Indian, Bogus Charley, boldly led the way. Charley was mounted on a little pony not yet two years old, but the little thing skipped over the hard, flinty "pedrigal" with the agility of an antelope. The trail was narrow, crooked, and so filled with lava rocks that the horses had difficulty in finding places to put their feet; hence the progress was slow and tedious. Once in a while a clear place was found on the edge of the lake, but only for a few yards, and then the path led off again into the hard, jagged scoria, and through the thick, tangled sagebrush. Whenever a rise in the surface was reached we could see the ridge where Jack's camp lay, rising higher and bolder, and something of its terrible grandeur became apparent. We had gone a mile or more through this bed, when suddenly coming where the narrow trail turned around a ledge, we came full upon an Indian,

CAPTAIN JACK'S OUTPOST SENTINEL.

The Indian had seen us from behind a rock long before we had seen him, but discovering Charley at the head of the file of horsemen, he had made no sign until we were well up. Then he came out into the trail and advanced to meet us. When Charley rode up he spoke a few words and sent him across the rocks by a cut-off, to apprise Jack who it was; for, of course, every Indian in the camp had seen the party before they began to descend the bluff. The Indian bounded off like a deer when he learned that it was 'Squire Steele, and long before we reached the camp every Indian there knew that we were friends, so nothing further was seen of sentinels or lookouts, though I have no doubt we passed several.

As we passed along, Fairchild called our attention to many points of interest; the place where he and Dorris held their first interview with Jack in December last--the one attended with so much peril; also where the troops were formed for the last fight, and the positions occupied by the several companies; the bluffs they carried and those they didn't carry; where he and his men passed around the edge of the lake and formed their junction with Bernard, and many other things calculated to give one a complete understanding of that lamentable failure to drive Jack from his stronghold. Finally

THE BIG LEDGE

Was reached; and turning up from the lake into a steep rocky ravine, where the trail was so narrow that our stirrups scraped the flinty bowlders and the horses were obliged to creep along, Charley announced that we were within 300 yards of the Indian stronghold. Riding along slowly and with almost bated breath--for the party now began to realize their position--some of the horses gave a snort, and pricking up their ears stopped. The CHRONICLE correspondent's horse, which was immediately behind Charley's pony, seemed particularly averse to going ahead; and as his rider could see nothing to frighten him, he said, "Charley, what's the matter? What does this horse see?" "Oh! nothing. I guess he smell dead soldier there in rocks. We pile up rocks there over two or three, and that what scare him. Come along." After another hundred yards were passed, the trail widened a little, and we began to see signs of the proximity of Jack's camp. Rounding a turn in the ravine we saw on a high ledge ahead the Indian battle-flag pole planted. The flag that floated from it was the tail of a wolf, and as it dangled back and forth in the wind it seemed the most significant war banner I had ever seen. A few minutes more and the party made a sharp turn in the rocks, which brought them suddenly on

THE INDIAN CAMP.

The whole force was out waiting for us in front of their little houses, which were huddled together like bee hives. For the next five minutes the scene was lively. Men, women and naked children came running up to see us dismount, and then began such a hand-shaking as is only seen at a Presidential levee. The warriors were all there: Scar-faced Charley, Shack Nasty Jim, Hocker Jim, the Doctor, old Schonchin, Black Jim, Long Jim, and dozens of others more or less noted. Captain Jack was ill in his cave and could not come, but he had sent word to the "Boston men" that he wanted to see them as soon as they had had their supper, and his message was delivered by Scar-Face. As soon as Steele dismounted, all the Indians were delighted to see him, and huddled around him like children. They were all armed with revolvers, but their guns had been put away, Bogus Charley having sent them word by the scout that the whites were unarmed. They were probably too proud to make a display of their strength, when they knew we trusted them completely. After

MUCH HAND-SHAKING

and a great display of curiosity on all sides, the Indians gave way and some of them showed us where to put the horses for the night. Hocker Jim led the pack-horse and the rest followed. The place selected was a little further up the ravine, where a smooth, level place was found, and here they were fed and tethered for the night. The party were then showed to a tent occupied by a squaw known as "Wild Gal." A fire was built, the provisions got out--hard biscuit, coffee and bacon--and supper was cooked by Mrs. Riddle. Having no kitchen furniture she was obliged to use Wild Gal's. The coffee was green and had to be roasted and ground, but this didn't take long. While Wild Gal ground it between two flat stones Mrs. Riddle fried the bacon in an old frying-pan stolen from Louis Land's ranch at the time of the massacre. Having no other vessel to use for the broken hard bread, Wild Gal kindly lent us her hat, and it answered an excellent purpose, barring certain unpleasant reflections that would crowd themselves into even our hungry imaginations. While Mrs. Riddle was fixing the supper the CHRONICLE man went outside the tent, ostensibly to look after his horse, but really to get a look at the Indian stronghold before night set in. To the unmilitary eye of the correspondent the place seemed absolutely impregnable. The principal portion of the camp is situated in a huge opening or widening of the ravine, of perhaps an acre in area. On all sides of this opening, which seems more like

A HUGE WASHBOWL

Than anything else, the natural wall rises a hundred feet or more; but it is easily scaled, for the inner side is inclined and the rocks are sharp and jut out all over it. Once in this basin there is but one open way out, and that is by the trail we entered. There are other ways out, but they are by tunnels leading to the many caves or sink-holes in another part of the lava bed, and which will be more fully described further. On the outside of this basin there is a succession of ridges as high as that which incloses it, but these do not extend all the way around. To the west of the basin is a flat, table-like surface of lava, extending from the very summit of the rim clear back for more than a mile. In this level place are the sink-holes or caves formed thousands of years ago, perhaps in the cooling of this immense body of molten earth. The openings of the holes are very small; indeed, one does not see them until he has almost fallen in. But they widen as they go down, and their sides being sloping, one can pick his way to the bottom without difficulty. Most of these caves are connected with each other and with the large basin by subterranean passages, so that one can go for half a mile in the bed without coming to the surface at all. This is of incalculable benefit in defending the stronghold, for one man can keep a hundred at bay almost anywhere in it without fear of being smoked out or having his retreat cut off.

AFTER SUPPER,

Which, by the say, was shared with a keen relish by about a dozen naked Indian babies, Bogus Charley came and said he would conduct us to Captain Jack. So the whole party gathered up their blankets and followed. Charley led the way right up one side of the basin, through a little trail, not easy of ascent by unpracticed feet, and across the level place about fifty yards, when we came suddenly to the mouth of a pit-hole at least forty feet deep. The hole inclined as it led downward, and at the bottom widened and formed a perfect cave, extending under the rock at least fifty feet. At the mouth of the cave proper, but yet thirty or forty feet below the surface, a piece of canvas was stretched. This was Captain Jack's front door, and the cave behind it was his abiding place--the palace of the Modoc King. Behind the canvas we could see a bright fire burning and nearly the whole tribe encircled around it ready for the talk, which they knew was to come. The descent into the cave was somewhat perilous, but by a vigorous clinging to the rocks and careful stepping we managed to reach the canvas. Then, throwing that back, we stood

IN THE PRESENCE OF CAPTAIN JACK.

It was easily seen that he was sick. His eye was dull, cheeks emaciated, and he was so weak he could not stand, but remained reclining on a huge pile of bear skins, with his two wives by his side. Mr. Steele went up to him and shook hands warmly, as did the rest of the party. Then passing completely around the circle, all shook hands with the entire tribe. This ceremony lasted several minutes, and, when finished, we were furnished seats in the circle, near Captain Jack. The only wood in the lava-bed is sagebrush, but this was piled on the fire with an unsparing hand, and the flames shot upward and illuminated the cave brilliantly. Then each member of our party lighted his pipe, and, after taking a whiff or two, passed it around to the right, beginning with Captain Jack, who took a whiff and passed it on to the next, and so on. In such a large circle, of course, one pipe full would not go round, ans so when it got smoked out they did not hesitate to bring it back to be refilled, and then send it on to complete its journey. During this ceremony not a word was spoken, and so the correspondent had abundant time to take a good look at all the savages. Captain Jack was

THE CENTRAL FIGURE

And attracted most attention. He is a stern, dignified-looking man, not over thirty, though he looks older. He has a good head; though, like all Indians, the forehead is low. His complexion is dark, the pure copper color; and his eyes are black, full and piercing. His hair is long, hanging down to his shoulders, and he is, of course, destitute of all beard. His mouth is large, and its shape indicates firmness, determination and a gread deal of character. He was very glad to see Steele, but he did not show it by his manner. When he shook hands it was with an indifference that, to one unacquainted with Indian character would seem to be absolute rudeness. He was dressed in a hickory shirt and was covered with blankets. Scar-faced Charley, the next noted one in the tribe, has a Jewish cast of countenance, his nose being long and aquiline and his face thin and narrow. He has a terrible scar on his right cheek, which, but for his naturally pleasant expression, would make his countenance rather repulsive. He is about thirty-five years old, and is regarded as

THE BRAVEST INDIAN IN THE TRIBE.

But enough has been written of his exploits. He was very polite to his guests, and did all in his power to make them comfortable. He was well-dressed, and said all he wanted to do was to get out of the lava bed. Shack Nasty Jim is a youngster of not over 20 or 22. He sat in the circle with a soldier's coat on, and looked as wise as a Judge. Hocker Jim, the leader of the band who committed the murders on the east side of the lake, was rigged out in a cavalry jacket, army pants and black hat. He has a bad face, and though quite young looked as if he could be guilty of anything. He is just now anxious for peace, in the hope of getting amnesty for his share in the massacre, and is doing all he can to make a treaty. The Doctor is decidedly the worst looking man in the whole tribe. His face is absolutely devilish, narrow, contracted, with a little eye that twinkles in its wickedness and a mouth full and sensual. It is a countenance that would make anybody shudder. He had on a straw hat, with a long, black feather in it, and several

ARTICLES OF SOLDIERS' CLOTHING.

I need hardly say that all clothing of this description was stripped from the dead bodies of the soldiers killed in the late battle. Black Jim, another of the murderers, is a tall, fine-looking fellow, but one that I would rather not meet alone of a dark night. He wore the military cap that Captain Burton lost in the fight. It had a bugle and the figures 21 on it. He also carried a cavalry carbine, lost on the day of the battle. In fact, I saw quite a number of breech-loading muskets and whole piles of metallic cartridges, all of which goes to show that our troops in their retreat must have left a good deal of war material behind them.

After the ceremony of smoking, and when all was quiet, Mr. Steele said:

Captain Jack, I have come a long way to see you to-day, and I've come to talk to you; but I see that you are very sick, and I will therefore talk but little to-night.

Captain Jack (through the interpreter)--I am very glad to see you.

YOU ARE MY FRIEND,

And I have wanted to see you. My heart feels good towards you all, but I am too sick to-night to talk much.

Mr. Steele--I have brought these friends with me to see you and to hear our talk, that they may write it down and have the big chief at Washington read it. (Cries of "Ugh! Ugh!")

Mr. Steele then delivered his message from the Peace Commissioner. He told them how he regretted the war and how much he wanted to see it stopped, and gave them a good deal of excellent advice. His proposition to have them leave this part of the country was received with loud grunts of assent; though whether they fully understood it or not I do not know. However, as the talk was to be short that night, they paid but little attention, and pretty soon Jack said that he was too tired to listen further. The conference was then closed, and after a while the Indians began to straggle out. As the evening wore on they all went out except Captain Jack's family and two wounded men--Frank and another--both of whom, during the conference, lay on their blankets, with an arrow, turned point in the ground, on either side of them, to show that their hearts were good. Scar-faced Charley then arranged the party for

A NIGHT IN THE CAVE.

He gave his own bed, simply a little mat laid on the rocks, to Mr. Steele and the CHRONICLE correspondent, and disposed of the others as comfortably. Blankets were then spread and it was not long before the party were asleep, with the most perfect confidence that no harm would befall them. Once during the night, and once only, the correspondent woke up, and that was when the guard was being relieved in Jack's cave. Next morning, bright and early, we were up and got a hurried breakfast, and at 8 o'clock, Jack having made his toilet, said he felt better and now wanted a good talk. He sent out for the warriors and all came in. A big fire was built, the pipe ceremony gone through with again, and then Jack said he wanted to talk first. He said, through an interpreter:

"I have a good heart and am glad to see you again. My heart feels good to-day. I don't want to shut my eyes to talk, but want you all to see and hear. I consider you, Mr. Steele, my head man and like to talk to you. You are my eye. I want to talk good and try and settle this trouble. The Indians all like you and all want to talk. We were

NOT THE FIRST TO DRAW BLOOD,

And we want to wash our hands of it. I don't want anybody to talk to but you. I don't know what caused the trouble. My people were asleep when soldiers came and fired at us, but I don't know what they did it for. My heart is good toward you. I don't want to hurt anybody, and will not hurt you. I do not know that any of my men ever troubled the whites, and I don't know why they pitched into me. Ivan Applegate is the man who made the Indians what they are. He has lied to us a heap, and that is one cause of this trouble. But I want to quit, and don't want any more war; don't want to live here any longer. I thought after the first fight that that was the last, but they came and followed me here. My women are afraid to go and get their provisions. We don't want to fight. If we did we would go out and hunt people to fight. Klamath Lake John, who was with Captain Bernard, came into my camp and I sent him out to say that we didn't want to fight.

I NEVER DID WANT TO FIGHT.

None of my men want to fight. I have been talking now a good while. I don't know why the soldiers are so mad; I wanted to live good. It was like getting mad at a woman. I have never done anything wrong. I never killed anybody or stole anything. I always killed deer and lived on that. I always lived without stealing anything, and that's the way I want to live now. I don't want to bother anybody, but want to live in peace. I want to bury everything now. I don't want to live enemies to the whites. I never began the fight. Ivan Applegate and Charlie Monroe fired on my people and we fired back. Applegate and his Klamaths all the time lie to us and make trouble. It was not my people that began the fight. Charlie Monroe is a very mean man. He is not a white man. I do not want anything more to do with any of the Applegates. They lie too much. I do not want to talk to old Applegate, and will not talk to him on any account. You are the man I want to talk to. I would like to know what the big soldiers think about it; whether they do not think that

APPLEGATE AND THE KLAMATH INDIANS

Brought it on. I have a very small country here. All the good land of it has been given away to the whites. I wanted to stay on it. I wanted a little place there about the Natural Bridge for a wintering place. I wanted to live there, and be with the white people and see them. What we talked about last night is what I want to talk about. I do not turn back to talk, and what I talk is the truth. I want the country again at peace. I want this talk to be a good one, and don't want any of it take back. I don't want any lying in the treaty so that the soldiers will have to come again. I want to give my heart to whites forever. I don't want to have to live in here any longer. It is not a good place. If there is any lying done it will be by the Peace Commission. I will not lie. I want to make a lasting peace. I am now talking with one heart and not with two hearts. I don't want those men over there to talk with two hearts. I am now like a wild Indian. I have nothing. Before this I had things like white men. My men want to be like white men. I had money, and could go to town and buy things for my women and children, and then I felt like a white man. Those Oregon men begrudge that to me, and that is one reason for the trouble. I

WANT TO BE INDEPENDENT

Of everybody and live with my people. I have all the time wanted you to come. Now you have, I am glad. I never stole anything in my life. I have bought horses of Fairchild and others and always paid for them. I don't know why they are mad, except it is because I want to live on Lost river. I did not want to live on the reservation because they starved me there. When we were up there we were to work making rails, but the Klamath Lake Indians stole them and made other trouble. Then I thought I would go up to Yainox, but I had nothing and I knew that Ivan Applegate was there, and I thought he would lie to me the same as he did before. The Snake Indians up there told me that they did not get enough to eat, that they were starved--so I did not go. Now, I've got to see you and tell you all about it. I have heard that white men said if you came to see me you would be killed; that is not so. My heart has always told me that

CALIFORNIANS WERE MY FRIENDS,

But the Oregon folks' soldiers and Klamath Lakes are all alike--all mean. I have traveled all through here, gone into their houses, and my heart has always told me that they were the same as my people. Our hearts are all good, women and all, for everybody that lives on this side. I feel very glad to know that it is all going to be settled. I want it to be settled good, and want everybody to say yes. You are all the same as an officer, and you make things go right and clear the country of soldiers and blood. I am glad that the whites can now see about their work and not be afraid. I want to be like them and go about my business and not be molested. I don't want to live here like a coyote. I want to live our in some good country where I can go around. I don't want to live in this place long. I want all the soldiers to go away and let me come out. I am now like an old man. I have nothing left but my legs. My horses all gone--everything gone. I have talked good now, and my talk is true. I hope it will all be right."

Sergeant John Schonchin, the next in importance to Captain Jack himself, then got the floor and made his speech. He repeated the same ideas precisely that Captain Jack had, and agreed with the latter in all respects. Their remarks were attentively listened to, and then they said they wanted to hear what Mr. Steele had to say; whereupon Steele made them the following neat little speech:

SQUIRE STEELE'S SPEECH.

"Captain Jack and Schonchin, and all these young men: You are all my friends. I am your friend. I am not a chief among the white people, but the Big Chief sometimes listens to me when I talk. ("Ugh!") For twenty-two years I have known these people. Many of your men have grown old and gone into the earth, and young men have taken their places. They have often come to Yreka to talk to me, and I was always glad to see them. Always when I tell them how white people live they seem to want to do the same thing. Their hearts always seem to be good. Captain Jack and Schonchin were always like brothers to me. I can't promise much, for I am not a chief, but I can

TALK TO THE BIG CHIEF

And ask him to do what I want. What I do promise I can do. When I told our people I was coming out here with these gentlemen they told me Captain Jack's heart was wild and he would kill us. I told them no, I was not afraid. (Ugh!) I told the Big Chief one month ago that if he would let me come I would come and try to settle this, but he would not do it. I told him I wanted no guns, no soldiers, but if he would let me I would come. All would be good. They told me that your young men had got wild; that they had killed Miller and the Brothertons, and they would kill me. I told them no; old men all knew me, and they would talk to the young men and tame their hearts. I told them that some men at Linkville had come and killed your women and babies, and if I was one of your young men my heart would have got wild too. (Ugh! Ugh!) I told them that my heart was sorry when you killed men, but when women and children were not killed my heart was glad. Our men, when they got mad, killed your women and children, but you did not kill ours. I thought

I COULD MAKE PEACE.

The Big Chief then sent on A. B. Meacham, Jesse Applegate, Mr. Case and General Canby, to talk to you. They came out here to talk to Indians, but I had not seen them yet. Captain Fairchild came in and saw you for them. They said you want to see me. Big Chief then told Judge Rosborough to come out here. Rosborough say he no come unless I come with him. We came out to Fairchild's ranch and had a big talk. General Canby and Judge Rosborough both sick; can't come here. They want me to ask some of you boys out. I see Captain Jack is too sick to go. I would like to have Schonchin and ten or twelve others go out. They will get plenty to eat, and I will bring them back safe. Soldier Tyee never lie. They are not reservation men. They all understand that Rogue river people are very angry and they want to get the Modocs in their reach."

THE COMMISSIONERS' PROPOSITIONS.

Mr. Steele then explained to them at great length the Commissioners' proposition to remove them to a distant reservation; but he prudently withheld the true reason, which was, that they could not go to Oregon, lest they should conclude that the lava bed was the best place after all. He then went on:

"However, you will all be by yourselves. When you go away, the soldiers will go with you and keep bad white men from hunting you. Soldiers are your friends. They have good hearts. But when the big Chief tells them to fight, they have to do it. Now, if some of your people will go over with me, we will have a good talk, and if you like what is said to you, say 'Yes;' if not, I will bring you home safe. I have come here a long way to see you. I have brought no gun nor no pistol. I know you no hurt me. Now, I want some of you to go over with me. You can take your guns or not, as you choose. I wanted Captain Fairchild to come, because he is your friend, and Whittle, because he speaks your language. Now, this is all I can say, for I am not a Chief. The big Chief has not told me to say any more. But I wait to have you go out. If you will agree to go to that nice warm country, the big Tyee will see that all is right. Now, how many will go with me to see

THE BIG SOLDIER CHIEF

And the Commissioners?" After signifying a vigorous assent to all that Steele had said, the Indians discussed awhile, and agreed that eight warriors would go out and see the big General. Scar-Face and Schonchin could not go, as they had to look out for things, but they would send Hocker Jim, Shack-nasty Jim, Long Jim, Bogus Charley, Curly-headed Jack, Duffy and one other, who rejoices not in an English name. Captain Jack stipulated also that his sister Mary should accompany the party to look after his interests. As these mounted their ponies and rode out last evening, in company with us. To-day they have had the terms of settlement more fully explained to them, and to-morrow Mr. Steele will go into the lava-bed and try and get Captain Jack and Schonchin to come out, so that the matter can be closed. Peace is now almost certain, though it is likely the Commission will dally here for a week. Captain Jack's illness is a great drawback, as it is feared he cannot be got to talk for some time. The majority of the Commission are afraid to go in, and so it stands.

TERMS OF THE TREATY.

The following dispatch has been sent to the Secretary of the Interior:

To C. Delano, Washington: Have sent messenger with these terms: Modocs to surrender as prisoners of war; to be removed to a southern and warmer climate and provided for. They accept the terms, and have sent a delegation of eight to talk over details, but not to conclude them. Captain Jack is sick. Everything looks favorable for peace. They ask for small homes and to be located collectively. We thing [sic] well of their request. Amnesty to all. Captain Jack desires to visit Washington with one or two of his young men.

modocwar@hotmail.com

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