my business. Mr. Neil and Mr. Jackson were with me. Gen. Wheaton
took us up to the tent of Gen. Davis and introduced us. I presented to
Gen. Davis my papers and told him that the officers of the law were
there. The General replied, as nearly as I can remember, "Colonel, I
will deliver them to you at any time after 2 o'clock, at least, I will
deliver to you their bodies." I simply replied, "that is entirely
satisfactory, both to the officers present, the Governor of Oregon and
to your humble servant."

He then told me that he had the timbers all framed and ready to put
together and intended to hang all the murderers promptly at 2 o'clock.

While we were talking a courier arrived with dispatches from the
Secretary of War instructing him to hold the murderers until further
orders. All were astounded, but a soldier has no choice but to obey
orders. Gen. Davis was angry, and remarked to me that if he "had any way
of making a living for his family outside of the army he would resign
today."

Mrs. Body, Mrs. Schira, Mrs. Brotherton were all there. Their entire
families had been wiped out-butchered. The Indians took a large amount
of jewelry, pictures, and more than $4,000 in money. A tent had been
spread for the ladies and Gen. Davis had ordered a tent, with tables,
chairs, bed, writing material, etc., arranged for my convenience. The
correspondent of the New York Herald was living at the sutler's tent, in
fact, with good old Pat McManus.

Mrs. Body and Mrs. Schira had also been provided with a tent. They sent
to Gen. Davis and asked that they be permitted to talk with Black Jim,
Hooker Jim and one or two others. They said that possibly some of the
family relics could be reclaimed. The order was issued and the General
and I were talking of the awful results of the war and its blunders.

Suddenly Fox of the New York Herald called at the door of Gen. Davis'
tent and said, "the women are going to kill the Indians." Both of us
sprang from the tent door and rushed to the tent where the women were
domiciled. Davis was ahead of me. I saw Mrs. Schira with a double edged
knife poised. Hooker Jim was standing fronting the women, as stolid as a
bronze. Mrs. Schira's mother was attempting to cock a revolver. Gen.
Davis made a grab for the knife, catching the blade in his right hand
and in the struggle his hand was badly lacerated. A surgeon was called
who dressed the wounded hand, and then we all went to dinner at "Boyles'
mess." At