Poetry

OLD GIB AT CASTLE ROCKS.

Joaquin Miller


  • His eyes are dim, he gropes his way,
  • His step is doubtful, slow,
  • And now men pass him by to-day:
  • But forty years ago
  • Why forty years ago I say
  • Old Gib was good to know.

  • For forty years ago to-day,
  • Where cars glide to and fro,
  • The Modoc held the world at bay,
  • And blood was on the snow.
  • Ay, forty years ago I say
  • Old Gib was good to know.

  • Full forty years ago to-day
  • This valley lay in flame;
  • Up yonder pass and far away,
  • Red ruin swept the same:
  • Two women, with their babes at play,
  • Were butchered in black shame.

  • 'Twas then with gun and flashing eye
  • Old Gib loomed like a pine;
  • "Now will you fight, or will you fly?
  • I'll take a fight in mine.
  • Come let us fight; come let us die!"
  • There came just twenty-nine.

  • Just twenty-nine who dared to die,
  • And, too, a motley crew
  • Of half-tamed red men; would they fly,
  • Or would they fight him too?
  • No time to question or reply,
  • This was a time to do.

  • "Up, up, straight up where thunders grow
  • And growl in Castle Rocks,
  • Straight up till Shasta gleamed in snow
  • And shot red battle shocks;
  • Till clouds lay shepherded below,
  • A thousand ghostly flocks.

  • Yet up and up Old Gibson led,
  • No looking backward then;
  • His bare feet bled; the rocks were red
  • From torn, bare-footed men.
  • Yet up, up, up, till well nigh dead
  • The Modoc in his den!

  • Then cried the red chief from his height,
  • "Now, white man, what would you?
  • Behold my hundreds for the fight,
  • But yours so faint and few;
  • We are as rain, as hail at night
  • But you, you are as dew.

  • "White man, go back; I beg go back,
  • I will not fight so few;
  • Yet if I hear one rifle crack,
  • Be that the doom of you!
  • Back! down, I say, back down your track,
  • Back, down! What else to do?"

  • "What else to do? Avenge or die!
  • Brave men have died before;
  • And you shall fight, or you shall fly.
  • Yon find no women more,
  • No babes to butcher now; for I
  • Shall storm your Castle's door!"

  • Then bang! whiz bang! whiz bang and ping!
  • Six thousand feet below,
  • Sweet Sacramento ceased to sing,
  • But wept and wept, for oh!
  • These arrows sting as adders sting,
  • And they kept stinging so.

  • Then one man cried:"Brave men have died,
  • And we can die as they;
  • But ah! my babe, my one year's bride!
  • And they so far away.
  • Brave Captain lead us back—aside,
  • Must all here die to-day?"

  • His face, his hands, his body bled:
  • Yea, no man there that day—
  • No white man there but turned to red,
  • In that fierce fatal fray;
  • But Gib with set teeth only said:
  • "No; we came here to stay!"

  • They stayed and stayed, and Modocs stayed,
  • But when the night came on,
  • No white man there was now afraid,
  • The last Modoc had gone;
  • His ghost in Castle Rocks was laid
  • Till everlasting dawn.