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 could hear the poor things miles away. My brother went to them and told them not to cry.

“Oh, dear chieftain, they did not kill the white men,—indeed they did not. They have not been away from our camp for over a month. None of our men were away, and our chief has given these three young men because they have no fathers.” One of the young girls said,—

“You who are the mighty chieftain, save my poor brother, for he is all mother and I have to hunt for us. Oh, believe us. He is as innocent as you are. Oh, tell your white brothers that what we tell you is true as the sun rises and sets;” and one woman ran to my cousin, the war-chief, and threw herself down at his feet and cried out, “Oh, you are going to have my poor husband killed. We were married this winter, and I have been with him constantly since we were married. Oh, Good Spirit, come! Oh, come into the hearts of this people. Oh, whisper in their hearts that they may not kill my poor husband! Oh, good chief, talk for him. Our cruel chief has given my husband to you because he is afraid that all of us will be killed by you,” and she raised up her head and said to the Washoe chief, “You have given my innocent blood to save your people.” Then my brother said to the Washoes, “These white men have come to take the three Washoe men who killed John McMullen and MacWilliams to California to put them in jail.”

Just then one of the women cried out, “Look there, they have taken them out. See, they are taking them away.” We were all looking after them, and before brother got near them the three prisoners broke and ran. Of course they were shot. Two were wounded, and the third ran back with his hands up. But all of them died.

Oh, such a scene I never thought I should see! At daybreak all the Washoes ran to where they were killed. The