He has been suffering from
an attack of typhoid fever since the commencement of our march, and
unable most of the time to sit upon his horse. He was buried this
morning in a small circular opening in the timber near our camp. The
battalion was formed in a hollow square surrounding the grave which had
been excavated for the final resting-place of our deceased friend and
comrade. There was neither bier, nor coffin, nor pall--
"Not a drum was heard, nor a funeral note."
The cold earth was heaped upon his mortal remains in silent solemnity,
and the ashes of a braver or a better man will never repose in the
lonely hills of California.
After the funeral the battalion was marched a short distance to witness
another scene, not more mournful, but more harrowing than the last. The
Indian captured at the rancho yesterday was condemned to die. He was
brought from his place of confinement and tied to a tree. Here he stood
some fifteen or twenty minutes, until the Indians from a neighbouring
_rancheria_ could be brought to witness the execution. A file of
soldiers were then ordered to fire upon him.
Pages:
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169