Page:The Californian volume 1,issue 2.djvu/61



The Modoc war was practically ended in May, 1873, soon after General Jefferson C. Davis, then commanding the Department of the Columbia, assumed personal direction of the troops in the field. From the seventh to the twentieth of May, gallant Major Harry Hasbrouck, of the Fourth Artillery, was engaged in a scouting expedition through the Lave Beds. His force consisted of Battery B (the light battery), Fourth Artillery, Companies B and G of the First Cavalry, and the Warm Spring Indian allies—two hundred and ten men in all. Officers and soldiers suffered terrible hardships—lack of food and water, loss of sleep, and other physical discomforts. But the reward for these troubles was wholly adequate. At Dry Lake, a waterless basin in the centre of the beds, the men were hurried from their blankets in the gray of morning by a rattling volley from Modoc rifles and deafening yells of exultation. The redoubtable Captain Jack led the Indians. With a zeal born of blind confidence the warriors leaped nimbly from crag to crag at his behest. He may have relied upon a sense of justice for some of his strength. He certainly was strong in the prestige of a victor who had yet to learn the weakening influences of defeat. Hasbrouck had taken every possible precaution against a surprise. The temporary camp had been selected as affording the best facilities for repelling assailants, and the picket posts met every prudential requirement. Had the sentinels been gifted with the sensitive scent of the deer, or the eyesight of the owl, the onslaught of the enemy might have been anticipated by a few moments. The first intimation of the close proximity of the Indians were the shots and shouts. Hasbrouck swiftly placed his men in skirmish line and began aggressive work. In previous fights the Modocs had picked off the soldiers and demoralized the ranks by the devices peculiar to Savage warfare. The Indians only exposed themselves to view when they felt sure of a victory. Hasbrouck gave them little time to select their living targets. He made an irregular charge which was fatal to several of the shrieking fiends, and sent the entire outfit— bucks, squaws, and pappooses—flying for their lives. This was the decisive contest of the war. Our casualties were seven killed and nine wounded. The damage was done by the first volley from the hostiles. The Modoc tribe embraced three factions: the Lost Rivers, among whom Captain Jack belonged; the Combatwoshes, or Rock Indians, who dwelt in the Lava Beds, and the Cottonwoods, whose wigwams were by the creek of that name on Fairchild's Ranch, a locality twenty-three miles southwest of the beds. The Cottonwoods suffered most severely in the Dry Lake fight. Their leading warrior, bearing the prosaic title of Ellen's Man, succumbed to the unerring accuracy of a Warm Spring scout. The loss was doubly disastrous to the hostiles, from the fact that Jack had assured his followers, previous to the fight, that no Modoc could be injured by a white man's bullet. He had consulted the tribal oracle, with this Delphian result. The Indians, as it afterward transpired, held a hasty council of war upon the occasion of the first halt. The Cottonwoods denounced Jack as a false prophet, and advocated a measure approximating to the want of confidence vote in English legislation. Jack refused to resign, and could not be deposed. The wrangle resulted in a division of the tribe. The chieftain and his Lost Rivers and Cumbatwoshes started off in the direction of Oregon. The Cottonwoods fled to the south. Hasbrouck struck the trail of the Cottonwoods in a few hours, and dropped several stragglers, Before the fight the command. had scouted afoot. Horses were now brought to the edge of the beds, under escort, and placed at the disposal of the wearied men. The facility with which the artillerymen fought as infantry and cavalry was highly complimentary to the artillery branch of the service. The Cottonwoods passed out of the beds and into a chain of ragged mountains many miles to the south. They were followed until the horses refused to travel further. Hasbrouck reported at Fairchild's on the twentieth of May, with an exhausted command. Both men and horses had been worked out. The jaded steeds were bloody about the feet, nearly shoeless, and suffered sorely from strains and sprains. Such was the first scout under the orders of General Davis. He was proud of its success, and the words of commendation he bestowed upon Major Hasbrouck brought blushes to the cheeks of that dashing officer.

A couple of days elapsed, and the Hasbrouck