scout bore fresh fruits. The Cottonwoods had been so hardly pressed in the chase that they were reduced to the verge of starvation. With the aid of a friendly squaw, living at the ranch, they got word to General Davis that they were willing to cease fighting if the Boston warriors were of the same mind. The peace negotiations with this faction were soon concluded. The basis was unconditional surrender. At six o'clock on the afternoon of May 20th, the Cottonwoods wound around a hill near the camp in motley procession, and came at funeral pace to a bench of greensward 'in front of headquarters. They were filthy, ragged, and generally repulsive. The female faces were coated with tar, which, with the northern tribes, is the emblem of deepest mourning. The prisoners numbered sixty-three—twelve bucks, twenty squaws, and thirty-one children. Each buck wore the uniform of a private soldier, and carried a Springfield rifle. The squaws wore tattered and torn calico gowns, or the remnants of army blankets. The children had to depend mainly upon their robust constitutions for protection from the extremes of heat and cold. The bucks were generally small of stature, but wiry and muscular. The young squaws inclined to embonpoint, and those past the meridian of life to bones. The children were comely and bright, but precociously combative. Even the toddling child would grab a handful of sand, stones, or sticks, and make a vicious fling at the pale-face who sought to force a close acquaintance. Indian ponies formed a sorry feature in the group. These luckless brutes, about the size of Shetlands, were principally mane, tail, foretop, and fetlock. Rough usage and rougher fare had reduced them to mere skeletons. I had hardly finished a hasty inspection of the Cottonwoods when General Davis appeared on the scene. Each buck advanced, laid his rifle on the ground, gave his name, shook hands with the General, and calmly awaited instructions. The squaws and children huddled together and remained perfectly passive. At a respectful distance stood officers, soldiers, and war correspondents, who viewed with curiosity the singular scene. General Davis terminated the ceremonies with these remarks: "I will give you a camp where you may remain to-night. If you try to run or escape, you will be shot." The order was explained and obedience promised. The list of prisoners included names of note in the tribe. First in the order of ferocious reputation were Huka Jim, Shacknasty Jim, Steamboat Frank, and Bogus Charley. Huka enjoyed special distinction as a murderer, trailer, and marksman. He had the characteristic popularly ascribed to the singed cat, in that he was smarter than his appearance indicated. Shacknasty was slight of build and barely five feet high. Steamboat was the heaviest of the four, and about the height of Bogus, who stood five feet ten inches in his moccasins. Huka and Shacknasty were stoical of countenance. Bogus had a hypocritical grin which comported with his reputation. Steamboat smiled with the whites of his eyes. It always made my flesh crawl to look at Steamboat. Bogus was of the willowy type, and agile asacat. A striking feature of the Modocs was an obliquity of the eye, which, to my mind, suggests a Tartar exodus to the northern coast in some. remote period of the past. The two Jims and Steamboat and Bogus were entitled to halters, by reason of murders and other deviltries committed among the white settlers. They were on the Government black list for active participation in the Peace Commission massacre, when General Canby and Rev. Dr. Thomas were foully slain, and Colonel A. B. Meacham was wounded and partially scalped.
The surrender of these outcasts put the camp in the best of humor. The men were merry as boys, and the officers enjoyed, in anticipation, the pleasure of reunions with near and dear ones. By ten o'clock the last Modoc had gorged himself to repletion; the Indian camp and our own tented village were wrapped in slumber, and the measured tread of the sentinels and the occasional howl of a cur were the only sounds heard. The night passed away without incident save one of a domestic character among the Indians. It was a boy.
At an early hour in the morning, General Davis, Fairchild—rancher, guide, and scout— Bogus and Steamboat, and the two Modoc Jims, held a private conference. The four savages stated, in substance, that they had experienced a change of heart, and were now friends of the Boston (Indian term for white) men. They yearned to show the General that the alteration in their feelings was a tangible reality —that their regard for him was of the most enduring nature. They would assist him to ferret out the bad men whom the soldiers had been unable to catch. They were willing, after the manner of the lamented A. Ward, to sacrifice any relative in his interest. The proposition first discussed was made by Shacknasty. It was to the effect that the quartette would act as spies, and aid in the destruction of Jack's band. It was explained to the traitors that the services they might render were to be considered in mitigation of punishment for past offenses. The General positively declined to make any other promises.
About noon the camp was startled by a gen-
