Still cherishing the plan of my little Republic or
independent Reservation, I saw that the Shasta In
dians and their friends must show no sympathy with
the Indians charged with the massacre, and deter
mined to remain a little longer. Besides, I then liked
the excitement of war, and the real men of the com
pany were coming to be my friends.
The captain of the company was Gideon S. Whitey, a brave, resolute, and honourable man. He afterwards married a Modoc, or Pit River squaw, and now lives with her and his large family of chil dren at Canon City, Oregon.
At last we entered the valley. I had travelled nearly five hundred miles in the snow since leaving it ; forming a triangle in my route, with Mount Shasta in the centre.
We soon were at work. Tragic and sanguinary scenes occurred. I cannot enter into detail, it would fill a volume.
It would also fill many pages to explain how -by degrees I came to enter into the spirit of the war against my allies. Nor is there any real excuse for my conduct. It was wrong, but not wholly wrong. The surroundings and all the circumstances of the time contributed to lead me to take a most active part. I could not then as now rise above the situa tion and survey the whole scene. From a prisoner I became a leader.
Two decisive battles, or rather massacres, took place, and perhaps five hundred Indians perished.
