USA > California > Siskiyou County > History of Siskiyou County, California > Part 35
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The party that created such sad havoc among the Modocs was composed of Ben. Wright, J. G. Hallick, William T. Kershaw, David Helm (Old Tex), Isaac Sandbanch (Buckskin), George Rodgers, Morris Rodgers, Jacob Rhodes, E. P. Jenner, - --- Coffin, J. C. Burgess, William Chance, William White, a man called "Rabbit," William Brown, -- Poland, Nigger Bill, and two Oregon Indians named Benice and Bob.
The casualties among Wright's men were three wounded, Sandbaneh severely in the back, Poland in the stomach, and Brown in the forehead and left wrist. Two men were sent in haste to Yreka for a surgeon, while the balance proceeded slowly with the wounded, expecting to meet the surgeon at Willow springs. It was soon discovered, however, that Poland and Sanbanch could not ride, and two days were lost in going to the mountains for wood to make litters for them. The consequence was they failed to meet the surgeon, R. B. Ironside, at the appointed time and place, and his small party, fear- ing the Indians had made a rally and cut them off, returned to Yreka. A large volunteer company was immediately organized to go out to the rescue, but they met the slowly-returning veterans near Sheep Rock, bearing their wounded on litters between two mules. The next day they arrived in
Yreka.
Notice of their coming had been received in the town several hours before they appeared, and a great crowd was collected to greet them home. It was a grand triumphal march. The little band of sixteen, escorted by the other company, rode into town, dirty, shaggy and brown from their long campaign, Indian scalps dangling from their rifles, hats, an l the heads of their horses. Scores of scalps were
thus Haunted to show to the admiring crowd the work they had accomplished in the field. Cheers and shouts rent the air as they slowly rode through the dense throng, and stopped before the stable of Burgess Bros., where Third street now opens into Miner. The enthusiastic crowd lifted them from their horses and bore them in triumph to the only place then considered a place of celebration, the saloons, and a grand scene of revelry commenced. Whisky was free, and all made free with it, and a big dinner was given them at the Yreka House. For a week one grand carousal was maintained by a majority of the members of Wright's company and a host of their particular admirers, chiefly the riff-raff and scum of the town. To the credit of Hallick, Burgess, and a few others, be it said, they severed connection with their late companions when they became too violent. The revelers took the town by storm; everything had to give way to them. They exhibited their hirsute trophies, flourished their weapons. and told what deeds of valor they had done, and what they would do to any one who doubted the story. No one durst oppose them, but when they became too violent and demonstrative, their weapons were coaxed from their hands, the bars of the saloon being decorated with them. One instance of the high-handed way they managed affairs is the following :-
The kitchen of the American Hotel at that time was presided over by a colored individual, who had the temerity to speak slightingly of the prowess of these valiant heroes. One evening there was a great outery at the door of Joe Goodwin's saloon, and upon the crowd rushing out to ascertain the cause, they found one of the exterminators, who accused the negro of having knocked him down. This offense, whether it had been committed or not, was more than they could bear. The next morning they made a raid upon the culinary department of the hotel, captured the offending man and bore him away in triumph. He was taken to a vacant lot, near where Mr. Haseman lives, stretched over a pine log, and severely whipped on his bare back with a rawhide. Having thus vindicated their honor, and demonstrated the innate heroism of their natures, they gave the negro, all bloody and weak from the terrible scourging he had received, notice to leave town under pain of death. Gradually the better citizens began to exert their influence, and as soon as the rampant fighters perceived that they would no longer be indulged in their eccentricities, they subsided into nothingness, and the campaign was over.
It would have been a more pleasant task to have related a different ending to this campaign, but this book deals in facts, and facts are sometimes stubborn things.
FIGHT IN SQUAW VALLEY.
In the spring of 1853 a small band of Squaw Valley Indians, members of the Pit River tribe, made a raid into the head of Shasta valley and stole five horses from a rancher who had settled there.
The owner of the captured animals appealad for help, and a company of fifteen men volunteered to go after the marauders. It consisted of Dave Helm (Old Tex), the acknowledged leader, Zack. Gibbs,
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HISTORY OF SISKIYOU COUNTY, CALIFORNIA.
J. G. Hallick, William White, Samuel Frame, and ten others, well armed and mounted.
The first night they camped in Shasta valley, near Mr. Caldwell's present ranch; the second night at Soda Springs. The next day they crossed Squaw Valley mountain, from the top of which they were enabled, by the smoke of its fire, to locate an Indian rancheria between where Hudson Wells' milk ranch and John Hibbs' place now are. Waiting on the mountain until the darkness of night should cover their movements, they proceeded cautiously towards the miserable wickiups in which the thieves were sleeping, unconscious of the near approach of an enemy. Arriving at the rancheria, they found it to be occupied by some half dozen bucks and the usual complement of squaws and children, a small detached band. The presence of three of the stolen horses attested the fact that the thieves had been found, and the men dismounted, left their horses in charge of one of the company, and advanced stealthily upon the camp. Completely surrounding it, they lay con- cealed until daylight, the better to see their victims when they made the attack.
What a scene was that the gray light of early morn disclosed to the watchful eye of nature; with- out, a circle of determined men, rifles in hand, awaiting with impatience the time to commence the work of death ; within, a few rude huts in which lay the intended victims, eyes closed in slumber that soon would be closed forever in death. Who among them would be the first to fall? It was left to chance to decide. As the advancing day grew bright in the east, and the surrounding objects lost gradually their fantastic appearance, and under the deepening light resumed the rigidity of their outlines, one of the slumberers slowly opened his eyes and crawled from his lodge. Rising to his feet, with a deep grunt of satisfaction, he drew in a long breath of the invigorating morning air, and stretched his sleepy limbs. That breath was his last. The watchful eve of an ambushed foe was upon him, the ready rifle was raised, the eager finger, grown impatient by waiting, pressed the trigger, and the first victim lay dead upon the ground.
The whole camp was aroused and rushed from their wickiups only to fall before the sure rifles of the encircling foe. It is a brief story. Five minutes saw every occupant of that little camp pass from a quiet sleep to the endless slumber of death. Utterly destroying the rancheria, the avengers returned home with the recaptured stock, satisfied that the Squaw Valley Indians would long remember their visit, and realize that they could not commit depredations upon the whites with impunity.
BIG BEND FIGHT.
Near George Fiock's place on Shasta river, about two miles east of Yreka, there is a spring to which it was the annual custom of the Shastas of this vicinity to resort for the purpose of making "big medicine," to aid them in fishing for salmon in the adjacent stream. In the early fall of 1853, when the Rogue River war was in progress, and the whites of this region were suspicious of all Indians, and possessed for them a no friendly regard, Tyee Bill of the Shastas, with some of his tribe, came to make the annual fish. Coming towards the town
from the south, they found J. G. Hallick and another man herding stock where the fair grounds are, and asked them if there was likely to be any trouble if they went to the river to fish. They were told that there onght not to be, but that the people were sus- picious and easily excited at just that time, and if they went there they must be very prudent and careful in their actions.
The Indians passed on, going out the gap near Judge Steele's place instead of through the town. When they arrived at the river they at once repaired to the spring to make "medicine," and here their dancing and incantations were witnessed by George Heard, who rode hurriedly into town with the start- ling intelligence that the Indians were having a big war-dance at the spring. This created great excite- ment, and shot-guns, rifles and revolvers were brought to light, grasped by the eager hands of bold defenders, and a steady stream of men began to pour out of town towards the big bend of the Shasta, where the Indians were supposed to be preparing for an attack upon the town.
No sooner did Tyee Bill see the stream of armed men coming, than he beat a retreat with his band, but not until some of the whites had come close enough to open fire on them. A skirmish fight was maintained in the brush for a little while, during which H. T. Mil ett was accidentally shot by one of the whites, and then the Indians affected their escape. Such was the Shasta river fight, and it is but justice to remark that the Indians made no attempt to retaliate upon the whites for this per- fectly unjustifiable attack.
THE CAVE FIGHT.
Along the Klamath and about Cottonwood there lived in the winter of 1853-4 a number of squaw- men, among whom were Tom Ward, a gambler, and Bill Chance, a member of the Ben. Wright party. They had squaws belonging to Bill's band of Shastas, who made for their headquarters a large cave near Fall creek, on the north bank of the Klamath, some twenty miles above Cottonwood. The squaws having left them on account of ili-treat- ment they had received. and gone to the cave these worthy citizens went after them, but were told by the savages to take their departure immediately. They were not yet at the end of their resources. Returning to Cottonwood they reported that the Indians at the cave had in their possession a lot of stolen stock, and a company of volunteers was organized to go and recapture it. They went, and in the fight which ensued four of them were killed and several wounded, while the Indians drove them back to town.
The excitement and indignation in Cotton wood was great. The dead men, Hiram Hulen, John Clark, Wesley Mayden, and Jack Oldfield were all good citizens, as well as Joseph Rambaugh and others of the wounded, and they were unaware how they had been lied to and made a catspaw of by the squaw-men. As they looked at it, the Indians had not only stolen stock but had killed their friends. Word of the difficulty was sent to Captain Judah at Fort Jones, and he came up with a detachment of troops. A company of volunteers was organized, commanded by Capt. R. C. Geiger and Lieut. James
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HISTORY OF SISKIYOU COUNTY, CALIFORNIA.
Lemmon. Of these, E. C. Flye, Alex. Swift, Snodgrass, and Charles A. Brown went to the seene of conflict and procured the bodies which had lain in the snow several days and were frozen. They were carried to Cottonwood and all buried in one grave, the first to be interred in the town cemetery.
The troops and volunteers then proceeded to the cave, the regulars going up the south bank of the river while the volunteers went up on the north bank and took up a position to comnand the entrance to the cave. The Indians were below and kept a close watch upon the besiegers, shooting at them whenever they exposed themselves in any way. Captain Geiger went to the two men who were sta- tioned just over the cave and cautioned them about peeping over the edge. His advice was good, but he failed to act upon it himself, and a few moments after, while peeping over the rocks to make observa- tions, he fell back with a bullet in his brain. This was on the twenty-sixth of January, 1854. While this was going on Captain Smith arrived from Fort Lane with a detachment of regulars and a mount- ain howitzer, and being the senior officer, took com- mand of the forces. He advanced up the south bank of the river the next morning, took position opposite the cave, and the first intimation the volun- teers guarding the stronghold had of his intentions was a shell from the howitzer that came crashing through the trees over their heads. They thought it more pleasant to be an Indian in the cave, than a volunteer on the outside under such circumstances, and they hastily retired to a respectful distance. Only one shell of a number that were fired fell near the mouth of the cave.
There was living at that time along the river an old trapper, known as Old Man Robinson, who had seen the first difficulty of the squaw men with the Indians, and now told Captain Smith the origin of the trouble. It was with difficulty he could make the officer listen to his story, but finally he pur- suaded him to have a talk with Tyee Bill, and the next morning Captain Smith went to the cave with one soldier and a man named Eddy, and the Indians confirmed Robinson's statement. Then the officer was angry. He ordered the troops to return to Fort Jones and Fort Lane, and took his departure, vowing that the United States army could not be used to capture squaws with. The indignation of the people of Cottonwood at the action of Captain Smith knew no bounds. They called him a coward and wrote letters to the papers denouncing him, but to no avail.
Bill's band continued at the cave, but made no hostile demonstrations whatever. Tipsu Tyee's band on Siskiyou mountain always maintained a state of hostility towards the whites and rendered the trail from Yreka to Jacksonville a dangerous one to travel. On the twelfth of May a Shasta Indian named Joe assaulted a white woman, but was driven away by the approach of some men. He fled to the cave. Lieut. J. C. Bonnycastle, then in charge of Fort Jones, started to go to the cave to compel the surrender of Joe, and was overtaken on Willow creek by Old Tolo, who agreed to bring Joe there if the troops would halt till the next day. That night word was brought to Bonnycastle that Tipsu's band had attacked Gage & Clymer's pack-train on Siski-
you mountain, killed Daniel Gage and run off the mules. The next noon, Tolo not appearing, Bonny- castle started with his command to the scene of this last outrage. Upon arriving at the place where Gage had been killed, they discovered that six Indians had participated in the assault. The trail of four of these led towards the cave, and thither the troops followed. When they reached that place they found the four Indians were Tipsu, his son, son-in-law, and one other, who had gone to induce Bill to help them fight the whites, and that Bill's band had fallen upon them, and killed the first three, while the fourth had escaped. They also found that Indian Joe had been brought by Tolo to the Willow creek camp soon after Bonnycastle had left. They then returned to Fort Jones. It was there found that Joe had gone back to the cave, and Bonny- castle, A. M. Rosborough, special Indian agent, and Elijah Steele started to the cave to have a talk and induce the whole band to go to Fort Jones.
With them went the old chief, Tolo, always a firm and devoted friend to the whites, and two other Indians, one of them named Blue Bag, who after- wards was handed down to fame by being hung near Yreka for stealing horses. A number of soldiers who were taken along were left at Cottonwood.
Sending Blue Bag, by a circuitous route, in advance, to visit the cave and arrange for a con ference early the next day, Bonnycastle, Rosborough, Steele, Tolo and the other Indian set out for Fall creek. Blue Bag proceeded with so much caution, knowing that he would be shot on general princi- ples by any white man that might chance to see him, that he did not execute his mission, but arrived at the creek the next night, after the interesting part of the affair was over. The five men, on their mis- sion of peace, arrived at Fall creek early the next morning, expecting to find the Indians awaiting them, but found only solitude and silence. The creek was a deep, rapid and rocky torrent, which it was impossible for them to cross, and they sat down to await the coming of the savages, satisfied that Blue Bag had, as yet, failed to execute his mission, if, indeed, he had not deserted them entirely. A change soon came o'er the scene. Mounted Indians came whooping and yelling down to the opposite bank of the stream, riding furiously up and down, making hostile demonstrations and giving vent to their feelings by demoniacal yells. A parley ensued, the whites explaining the cause of their visit, and requesting a conference. To this the Indians acceded, inviting their guests to cross the stream, an invita- tion that was promptly and persistently declined, so satisfied were they that if they crossed they would surely be killed. The invitation to cross was returned by the whites, with the remark that it was a difficult feat, and that the Indians were the better swimmers. Matters did not progress much, and, finally, the Indian that accompanied Tolo jumped into the stream to see if he could swim to the other side. He disappeared like a stone under the water, and just as all thought of seeing him again was van- ishing from the minds of the spectators, his head appeared above the water on the opposite side, a long distance down the stream. Grasping an overhang- bush, he drew himself up, shook the water from his dripping locks, and advanced to greet his relatives.
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HISTORY OF SISKIYOU COUNTY, CALIFORNIA.
The experiment was satisfactory, and no one else cared to attempt the passage.
A new idea then penetrated the heads of the Indians. They sent up to their cave and procured two axes. One of these was tied to a rope, and drawn across by the whites, while the other was kept by the owners, owners by right of possession, as they had been stolen. Two trees were found growing on opposite banks of the creek, in such a manner that when cut down they would fall together and bridge the stream. Each party cut down one of these, and the Hellespont was bridged. The amendment having been carried the question then recurred on the original motion, who should cross? The whites again pleaded that they were not athletic and agile enough to cross on such a frail and slippery foothold, and, finally the natives swarmed across, squatted npon the ground, and the council commenced.
The usual amount of bluster and big talk was indulged in on both sides, the whites telling how they could exterminate them if they only half tried, but that they loved their red brothers and wanted to live in peace and harmony together. The Indians were overbearing and insolent; complained bitterly of the way they had always been treated; they had been whipped, shot and hung, because, forsooth, they had stolen a few horses occasionally; their squaws had been taken from them without compensation, and disease had been spread among them, until they could bear it no longer and had determined upon revenge. To this the whites replied, that bad men were the cause of the trouble, and that if they would make a treaty of peace the Great Father would give them beads and blankets, and see that they were protected and cared for; but the Indians were not in a pacific mood. They began to threaten and cast malignant glances at the few bold men who had thrust themselves into this hornet's nest. Guns were leveled, and the whites thought that all hope was gone. There was but one way to avert the threatened danger; it was to "bluff," a word every western man is familiar with, and " bluff" they did. Hastily unstrapping their revolver belts, they threw them as far to the rear as they could, and stood up unarmed and defenseless. The chief sent an Indian to gather them up and return them to the owners, who immediately threw them away again. Then baring their breasts they said, "Shoot! Why don't you shoot ? You know we are nnarmed and defenseless; you can kill us without any dan- ger to yourselves. We came among you, trusting to your honor, to hold a council; but why don't you kill us and thus prove yourselves to be squaws and not warriors ? you can kill us easy enough, but our blood will be avenged by the death of the last warrior in your tribe." By such taunts as these, they shamed the Indians and saved their lives, at least for the time being. Old Tolo then got up for a crowning effort, and addressed his cousins. He spoke of the power, bravery, and numbers of the whites, of the futility of seeking to war with them, of the inevitable result, of the beauties of peace, of the good things the Great Chief would give them. He danced and capered and howled, beat upon his breast, yelled and flung his arms about like a Dutch windmill. He grew eloquent as he progressed,
watching closely the visages of his hearers, to see what effect his words had upon them. Grim and silent sat that circle of warriors, while the old chief was talking for his life and the lives of his friends. Suddenly an old brave gave a long, deep grunt. Old Tolo pricked up his ears and redoubled his antics, pouring forth a stream of eloquence that drew grunts of assent from one after another, until all had signified in that way that their opinions were the same as those of the speaker. He then sat down victorious. The inevitable pipe was produced and sent around the circle, each one taking a few whiffs and passing it on to the next. It was then arranged that the Indians should go to Fort Jones, where they would make a treaty and receive pres- e its. It was arranged that on the third day a detachment of troops would be sent to escort them to the fort. The visitors then left, feeling that a burden had been lifted from their hearts instead of from the top of their heads.
There lived at this time a certain squaw man well known in this county, one Captain Goodall, the joy of whose heart had been carried off by her dis- affected countrymen and taken to the cave. He busthought him of a way to secure her again. He went to the cave and represented that he had been sent to escort them to the fort, and although he had no soldiers with him and the stipulated three days lind not yet elapsed, the Indians were deceived by his plausible words and submitted themselves to his guidance. He very foolishly led them down by Cotton wood, where the people were still excited and vengeful. They were met that day, the twenty- fourth of May, about two hundred yards above De Witt's, now Bell's, ferry by a company of Cot- tonwood volunteers under E. M. Geiger, brother of the one that had been killed at the cave, and at- tacked. The Indians took to the chaparral and . were driven back as far as Cape Horn. Chief Bill was killed and several were wounded. Thomas C. McKamey was killed in the fight. That night the Indians came down the river and fired across at the ferry house, but were driven away again by the Cottonwood men. It was with great difficulty this new trouble was bridged over, and peace was fully restored.
MODOC CAMPAIGN IN 1854.
In the summer and fall of 1853, the governor of Oregon maintained a military company under Cap- tiin John Miller in the Modoc country, for the pro- tection of emigrants, but no conflict of importance followed. In the summer of 1854, the same thing was done by the Oregon authorities. As there were quite a number of Siskiyou men expected with their families that summer, among whom were D. D. Colton, Willard Stone, and others, it was decided to raise a volunteer company to protect them in the Indian country. Fifteen men were equipped for the service, among them being, J. G. Hallick, Lloyd Stone, Marvin Stone, Newton Ball, Hughes, Samuel France, William Sharp, John T. Moxley, and William White.
They started about the first of Angust, and on the fourth day out, at the junction of the Oregon trail with the overland route, near the head of Lower Klamath lake, they fell in with a small body of men,.
W. H. SHARP.
WILLIAM H. SHARP,
Now of Scott valley, was born in the Mohawk valley, New York, September 14, 1825, and at the age of two and one-half years his parents moved to St. Lawrence county, New York, and settled in Ogdensburg. William H., was the eighth of a family of nine children, seven of whom are still liv- ing. He was the son of Jacob and Sarah (Ranney) Sharp, his mother being a sister of General Ranney. William grew up in Ogdensburg, working at various trades, being ready, as he says, to do anything honor- able for a livelihood. In 1846 he left the parental roof and went to Bellevue, Huron county, Ohio, and engaged in agricultural pursuits. In one year he married Miss Augusta Bassett, daughter of Doris Bassett, a native of New York. In 1849, hearing of the rich gold discoveries in California, he was there- by induced to dispose of his property, leave his family with friends and start via the emigrant trail of that day, for the coast, in company with nine- teen others. They left Ohio in March and arrived at Hangtown (Placerville) in November. Here Mr. Sharp mined four weeks with his friends, then went to Sacramento and from there to Mariposa county. While returning some time after from a mining excursion to the Four Creek country, one of the party was killed by a bear. After settling in Mari- posa again, Mr. Sharp engaged in teaming from Stockton. He ran six teams of from six to eight animals each, and followed this business till the fall of 1851, when he opened a corral. In the fall of '51 he sold the corral and returned to the States for his wife and child, by the water route. Remaining one year in Ohio an I not being content, he returned to California in 1853, across the plains with ox-teams.
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