In the wake of the charge were fifty-three soldiers dead or wounded. K Troop lost over sixty per cent of their complement. Joseph’s camp was cut in twain, but the position could not be forced, and the cavalry passed through. The Nez Percé settled deeper into their entrenchments, and a state of siege ensued. However, the Colonel’s pony detail succeeded in rounding up the Indian ponies. The Nez Percé were now on foot. That night a six-inch mantle of snow fell. Continuous fire was sustained the next day. Then a parley was arranged. Joseph was promised a safe conduct. He accepted but was made a prisoner. However, the Nez Percé captured an officer named Jerome and held him as hostage for Joseph. Terms were proposed. Miles demanded unconditional surrender, but Chief Joseph exacted a promise to return his people to the Lapwai Reservation. This Miles granted.[213] On October 4, the fifth day of the siege, Joseph led his haggard people out of their camp. His head was bowed in awful solemnity. As he approached a cluster of officers, including General Howard, he straightened up and dismounted with dignity. Impulsively he presented his rifle to Howard, but the general motioned him to “Bear Coat” Miles. After disarmament the great chief stepped forward, raised his arm in a sweeping motion toward the reddening sun, and intoned the requiem of a dying race: Tell General Howard that I know his heart. What he told me before I have in my heart. I am tired of fighting. Our chiefs are killed. Looking Glass is dead, Tu-hul-hul-sote is dead. The old men are all dead. It is the young men who now say yes or no. He who led the young men is dead. It is cold and we have no blankets. The little children are freezing to death. My people—some of them have run away to the hills and have no blankets and no food. No one knows where they are—perhaps freezing to death. I want to have time to look for my children and see how many of them I can find. Maybe I shall find them among the dead. Hear me, my chiefs, my heart is sick and sad. From where the sun now stands I will fight no more forever.[214] The Montana sun was going down; Hin-mut-too-yah-lat-kekht had spoken as its rays flickered. The officers came forward and shook his hand. As he turned away, drawing his blanket over his head, the white soldiers discerned five bullet holes in his blanket and wounds on his forehead and wrist.