the life and adventures of joaquin murieta

Originally publishedin 1854

by W. R. Cooke and Company

John Rollin Ridge

John Rollin Ridge was born in the Cherokeenation in 1827 and was given the name Chees-quat-a-law-ny, which translates, Yellow Bird.Yellow Bird was well educated in a NewEngland private school. He fled to Californiain 1850, after killing a man who had stolenand gelded his stallion. He worked for severalnewspapers in California, including theSacramento Bee and the San FranciscoHerald. He died in October 1867. AlthoughYellow Bird is an obscure, nearly forgottenauthor, he is among California's mostsignificant author because he is our nationsfirst Native American novelist and in 1854 hewrote California's first novel. His novel, TheLife and Adventures of Joaquín Murieta, theCelebrated California Bandit, created one ofour nations most sustaining legends.

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Contents

Publishers’ PrefacePAGE 1

Editor’s PrefacePAGE 4

Life of Joaquín MurietaPAGE 7


ii The Life and Adventures of

1


Publishers’ Preface

HE FOLLOWING PRODUCTION, aside fromits intrinsic merit, will no doubt be readwith increased interest when it is known

that the author is a Cherokee Indian, born inthe woods, reared in the midst of the wildestscenery, and familiar with all that is thrilling,fearful, and tragic in a forest life. His ownexperiences would seem to have well fittedhim to portray in living colors the fearfulscenes that are described in this book,connected as he was, from the age ofseventeen up to twenty-three, with the tragicevents that occurred so frequently in his owncountry – the rising of factions, the stormycontroversies with the whites, the fall ofdistinguished chiefs, family feuds, individualretaliation and revenge, and all theconsequences of that terrible civil commotionwhich followed the removal of the Cherokee

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2 The Life and Adventures of

Nation from the east to the west of theMississippi, under the administration of Gen.Jackson.

When a small boy, he saw his father (thecelebrated chief and orator known among theIndians by the name of “Sca-lee-los-kee”)stabbed to death by a band of assassinsemployed by a political faction in the presenceof his wife and children at his own home.While the bleeding corpse of his father wasyet lying in the house surrounded by hisweeping family, the news came that hisgrandfather, a distinguished old war chief,was also killed; and fast upon this report, thatothers of his near relatives were slain. Hismother, a white woman and a native ofConnecticut, fled from the bloody precincts ofthe nation with her children and soughtrefuge in the United States.

Her oldest son, “Yellow Bird,” afterremaining several years among the whites,returned to his own country and asserted therights of his family, which had beenprostrated since the death of his father. Hewas intimately concerned for several years inthe dangerous contentions that made theCherokee Nation a place of blood. And finally,

Joaquín Murieta 3


not succeeding in overthrowing the murderersof his father and the oppressors of his countrywho were then in power, and havingfurnished them with a pretext for putting himout of the way by killing a prominent memberof their party, he left his country once moreand in 1850 came to the State of California. Sofar, we know his history. Whether he will evermeet with success in his purposes with regardto his own people, we cannot say, but we hopethat he will.

The perusal of this work will give those whoare disposed to be curious an opportunity toestimate the character of Indian talent. Theaboriginal race has produced great warriors,and powerful orators, but literary men – onlya few.



Editor's Preface

HE AUTHOR, in presenting this book tothe public, is aware that its chief meritconsists in the reliability of the

groundwork upon which it stands and not inthe beauty of its composition. He has aimed todo a service – in his humble way – to thosewho shall hereafter inquire into the earlyhistory of California, by preserving – inhowever rude a shape – a record of at least aportion of those events that have made theearly settlement of this state a living romancethrough all time.

Besides, it is but doing justice to a peoplewho have so far degenerated as to have beencalled by many, “A Nation of Cowards” to holdup a manifest contradiction – or at least anexception – to so sweeping an opinion with thecharacter of a man who – bad though he was –possessed a soul as full of unconquerablecourage as ever belonged to a human being.Although the Mexicans may be whipped by

T

Joaquín Murieta 5


every other nation, in a battle of two or five toone; yet no man who speaks the truth canever deny that there lived one Mexican whosenerves were as iron in the face of danger anddeath.

The author has not thrown this work outinto the world recklessly, or without authorityfor his assertions. In the main, it will be foundto be strictly true. Where he has mentionedlocalities as being the harboring places ofJoaquín, he has meant invariably to say thatpersons then connected (at the date of theevents narrated) with those localities stood inthe doubtful position in which he has placedthem.



JOAQUÍN MURIETACalifornia’s Famous Bandit

7


The Life of Joaquín Murieta

SIT down to write somewhat concerningthe life and character of Joaquín Murieta,a man as remarkable in the annals of

crime as any of the renowned robbers of theOld or New World who have preceded him.And I do this, not for the purpose ofministering to any depraved taste for the darkand horrible in human action, but rather tocontribute my mite to those materials out ofwhich the early history of California shall oneday be composed. The character of this trulywonderful man was nothing more than anatural production of the social and moralcondition of the country in which he lived,acting upon certain peculiar circumstancesfavorable to such a result, and consequently,his individual history is a part of the mostvaluable history of the state.

I



There were two Joaquíns, bearing thevarious surnames of Murieta, Ocomardía,Valenzuela, Boteller, and Carrillo – so that itwas supposed there were no less than fivesanguinary devils ranging the country at oneand the same time. It is now fully ascertainedthat there were only two, whose proper nameswere Joaquín Murieta and JoaquínValenzuela, the latter being nothing morethan a distinguished subordinate to the first,who is the Rinaldo Rinaldini of California.

Joaquín Murieta was a Mexican, born in theprovince of Sonora of respectable parents andeducated in the schools of Mexico. Whilegrowing up, he was remarkable for a verymild and peaceable disposition, and gave nosign of that indomitable and daring spirit thatafterwards characterized him. Those whoknew him in his schoolboy days speakaffectionately of his generous and noblenature at that period of his life and canscarcely credit the fact that the renowned andbloody bandit of California was one and thesame being.

At an early age of his manhood – indeed,while he was yet scarcely more than a boy –he became tired of the uncertain state of

Joaquín Murieta 9


affairs in his own country, the usurpationsand revolutions, which were of such commonoccurrence, and resolved to try his fortunesamong the American people, of whom he hadformed the most favorable opinion from anacquaintance with the few of whom he hadmet in his own native land. The war withMexico had been fought, and Californiabelonged to the United States. Disgusted withthe conduct of his degenerate countrymen andfired with enthusiastic admiration of theAmerican character, the youthful Joaquín lefthis home with a buoyant heart and full of theexhilarating spirit of adventure.

The first that we hear of him in the GoldenState is that, in the spring of 1850, he isengaged in the honest occupation of a minerin the Stanislaus placers, then reckonedamong the richest portions of the mines. Hewas then eighteen years of age, a little overthe medium height, slenderly but gracefullybuilt, and active as a young tiger. Hiscomplexion was neither very dark nor verylight, but clear and brilliant, and hiscountenance was pronounced to have been –at that time –exceedingly handsome andattractive. His large black eyes, kindling with



the enthusiasm of his earnest nature, his firmand well-formed mouth, his well-shaped headfrom which the long, glossy, black hair hungdown over his shoulders. His silvery voice fullof generous utterance, and the frank andcordial bearing, which distinguished him,made him beloved by all with whom he camein contact. He had the confidence and respectof the whole community around him, and wasfast amassing a fortune from his rich miningclaim. He had built him a comfortable miningresidence in which he had domiciled hisheart’s treasure, a beautiful Sonoran girl, whohad followed the young adventurer in all hiswanderings with that devotedness of passionthat belongs to the dark-eyed damsels ofMexico.

It was at this moment of peace and felicitythat a blight came over the young man’sprospects. The country was then full oflawless and desperate men, who bore thename of Americans but failed to support thehonor and dignity of that title. A feeling wasprevalent among this class of contempt forany and all Mexicans, whom they looked uponas no better than conquered subjects of theUnited States and having no rights that could

Joaquín Murieta 11


stand before a haughtier and superior race.They made no exceptions. If the proud blood ofthe Castilians mounted to the cheek of apartial descendant of the Mexiques, showingthat he had inherited the old chivalrous spiritof his Spanish ancestry, they looked upon it asa saucy presumption in one so inferior tothem. The prejudice of color, the antipathy ofraces, which are always stronger and bittererwith the ignorant and unlettered, they couldnot overcome; or if they could, would not,because it afforded them a convenient excusefor their unmanly cruelty and oppression.

A band of these lawless men, having thebrute power to do as they pleased, visitedJoaquín’s house and peremptorily bade himleave his claim, as they would allow noMexicans to work in that region. Upon hisremonstrating against such outrageousconduct, they struck him violently over theface, and being physically superior, compelledhim to swallow his wrath. Not content withthis, they tied him hand and foot and ravishedhis mistress before his eyes. They left him,but the soul of the young man was from thatmoment darkened. It was the first injury hehad ever received at the hands of the



Americans, whom he had always hithertorespected, and it wrung him to the soul as adeeper and deadlier wrong from that verycircumstance.

He departed with his weeping and almostheartbroken mistress for a more northernportion of the mines. And the next we hear ofhim, he is cultivating a little farm on thebanks of a beautiful stream that watered afertile valley, far out in the seclusion of themountains. Here he might hope for peace,here he might forget the past and again behappy. But his dream was not destined tolast. A company of unprincipled Americans –shame that there should be such bearing thename! – saw his retreat, coveted his littlehome surrounded by its fertile tract of land,and drove him from it with no other excusethan that he was “an infernal Mexicanintruder!”

Joaquín’s blood boiled in his veins, but hisspirit was still unbroken, nor had the iron sofar entered his soul so as to sear out theinnate sensitiveness to honor and right thatreigned in his bosom. Twice broken from hishonest pursuit of fortune, he resolved still tolabor on with unflinching brow and with that

Joaquín Murieta 13


true moral bravery, which throws itsredeeming light forward upon hissubsequently dark and criminal career. Howdeep must have been the anguish of thatyoung heart and how strongly rooted thenative honesty of his soul, none can know orimagine but they who have been tried in a likemanner. He bundled up his little movableproperty, still accompanied by his faithfulbosom friend, and again started forth to strikeonce more, like a brave and honest man, forfortune and for happiness.

He arrived at Murphy’s Diggings inCalaveras County, in the month of April, andwent again to mining. But meeting withnothing like his former success, he soonabandoned that business and devoted his timeto dealing monte, a game common in Mexicoand almost universally adopted by gamblersin California. It is considered by the Mexicanin no manner a disreputable employment, andmany well-raised young men from theAtlantic states have resorted to it as aprofession in this land of luck and chances. Itwas then in much better odor than it is now,although it is at present a game that may beplayed on very fair and honest principles –



provided anything can be strictly honest orfair that allows the taking of money without avaluable consideration.

It was therefore looked upon as nodeparture from rectitude on the part ofJoaquín when he commenced the business ofdealing monte. Having a very pleasingexterior and being, despite of all his sorrows,very gay and lively in disposition, he attractedmany persons to his table, and won theirmoney with such skill and grace, or lost hisown with such perfect good humor that hewas considered by all the very ideal of agambler and the prince of clever fellows. Hissky seemed clear and his prospects bright, butFate was weaving her mysterious web aroundhim, and fitting him to be by the force ofcircumstances what nature never intended tomake him.

He had gone a short distance fromMurphy’s Diggings to see a half brother, whohad been located in that vicinity for severalmonths, and returned to Murphy’s Diggingsupon a horse that his brother had lent him.The animal proved to have been stolen, andbeing recognized by a number of individualsin town, an excitement was raised on the

Joaquín Murieta 15


subject. Joaquín suddenly found himselfsurrounded by a furious mob and chargedwith the crime of theft. He told them how ithappened that he was riding the horse and inwhat manner his half brother had come inpossession of it. They listened to noexplanation, but bound him to a tree, andpublicly disgraced him with the lash. Theythen proceeded to the house of his half brotherand hung him without judge or jury.

It was then that the character of Joaquínchanged, suddenly and irrevocably. Wantoncruelty and the tyranny of prejudice hadreached their climax. His soul swelled beyondits former boundaries, and the barriers ofhonor – rocked into atoms by the strongpassion that shook his heart like anearthquake – crumbled around him. Then itwas that he declared to a friend that he wouldlive henceforth for revenge and that his pathshould be marked with blood. Fearfully did hekeep his promise, as the following pages willshow.

It was not long after this unfortunate affairthat an American was found dead in thevicinity of Murphy’s Diggings, having beencut to pieces with a knife. Though horribly



mangled, he was recognized as one of the mobengaged in whipping Joaquín. A doctor,passing in the neighborhood of this murder,was met shortly afterward by two men onhorseback, who fired their revolvers at him.But owing to his speed on foot and theunevenness of the ground, he succeeded inescaping with no further injury than having abullet shot through his hat within an inch ofthe top of his head.

A panic spread among the rash individualswho had composed that mob, and they wereafraid to stir out on their ordinary business.Whenever any one of them strayed out ofsight of his camp or ventured to travel on thehighway, he was shot down suddenly andmysteriously. Report after report came intothe villages that Americans had been founddead on the highways, having been eithershot or stabbed; and it was invariablydiscovered, for many weeks, that themurdered men belonged to the mob whopublicly whipped Joaquín. It was fearful andit was strange to see how swiftly andmysteriously those men disappeared.

“Murieta’s revenge was very nearlycomplete,” said an eyewitness of these events,

Joaquín Murieta 17


in reply to an inquiry that I addressed to him.“I am inclined to think he wiped outmost ofthose prominently engaged in whipping him.”

Thus far, who can blame him? But the ironhad entered too deeply in his soul for him tostop here. He had contracted a hatred of thewhole American race, and he was determinedto shed their blood whenever and wherever anopportunity occurred. It was no time now forhim to retrace his steps. He had committeddeeds that made him no longer amenable tothe law, and his only safety lay in apersistence in the unlawful course that he hadbegun. It was necessary that he should havehorses and that he should have money. Thesehe could not obtain except by robbery andmurder, and thus he became an outlaw and abandit on the verge of his nineteenth year.

The year 1850 rolled away, marked with theeventful history of this young man’s wrongsand trials, his bitter revenge on those whohad perpetrated the crowning act of his deepinjury and disgrace; and, as it closed, it shuthim away forever from his peace of mind andpurity of heart. He walked forth into thefuture a dark, determined criminal, and hisproud nobility of soul existed only in memory.



It became generally known in 1851 that anorganized banditti was ranging the country,but it was not yet ascertained who was theleader. Travelers, laden with the produce ofthe mines, were met upon the roads by well-dressed men who politely invited them to“stand and deliver.” Persons riding alone inthe many wild and lonesome regions thatform a large portion of this country, wereskillfully noosed with the lasso (which theMexicans throw with great accuracy, beingable thus to capture wild cattle, elk, andsometimes even grizzly bears upon theplains), dragged from their saddles, andmurdered in the adjacent thickets. Horses ofthe finest mettle were stolen from theranches, and being tracked up, were found inthe possession of a determined band of menready to retain them at all hazards and fullyable to stand their ground.

The scenes of murder and robbery shiftedwith the rapidity of lightning. At one time, thenorthern countries would be sufferingslaughters and depredations, at another thesouthern, and before one would haveimagined it possible, the east and the west,and every point of the compass would be in

Joaquín Murieta 19


trouble. There had never been before this –either in ‘49 or ’50 – such an organizedbanditti, and it had been a matter of surpriseto everyone.

But the country was well adapted to abusiness of this kind – the houses scattered atsuch distances along the roads, the plains solevel and open on which to ride with speed,and the mountains so rugged with their tenthousand fastnesses in which to hide. Grasswas abundant in the far-off valleys, which layhidden in the rocky gorges; cool, deliciousstreams made music at the feet of thetowering peaks, or came leaping down ingladness from their sides. Game abounded onevery hand, and nine unclouded months of theyear made a climate so salubrious thatnothing could be sweeter than a day’s restunder the tall pines or a night’s repose underthe open canopy of heaven.

Joaquín knew his advantages. His superiorintelligence and education gave him therespect of his comrades. And appealing to theprejudice against the “Yankees,” which thedisastrous results of the Mexican war had notlessen in their minds, he soon assembledaround him a powerful band of his



countrymen, who daily increased as he ran hiscareer with almost magical success.

Among the number was Manuel García,more frequently known as “Three FingeredJack,” from the fact of his having had one ofhis fingers shot off in a skirmish with anAmerican party during the Mexican war. Hewas a man of unflinching bravery, but alsocruelty and sanguinary. His form was largeand rugged and his countenance so fierce thatfew liked to look upon it. He was differentfrom his more youthful leader in possessingnothing of Joaquín’s generous, frank, andcordial disposition, and in being utterlydestitute of the merciful trait of humanity.His delight was in murder for its owndiabolical sake, and he gloated over theagonies of his unoffending victims. He wouldsacrifice policy, the safety, and interests of theband for the mere gratification of hismurderous propensity; and it required allJoaquín’s firmness and determination to holdhim in check.

The history of this monster was well knownbefore he joined Joaquín. He was known to bethe same man, who, in 1846, surrounded withhis party two Americans, young men by the

Joaquín Murieta 21


name of Cowie and Fowler, as they weretraveling on the road between Sonoma andBodega. He stripped them entirely naked, andbinding them each to a tree, he slowlytortured them to death. He began by throwingknives at their bodies, as if he were practicingat a target. He then cut out their tongues,punched out their eyes with his knife, gashedtheir bodies in numerous places, and finally,flaying them alive, left them to die.

A thousand cruelties like these had he beenguilty of, and long before Joaquín knew him,he was a hardened, experienced, anddetestable monster. When it was necessaryfor the young chief to commit some peculiarlyhorrible and cold-blooded murder, some deedof hellish ghastliness to which his soulrevolted, he deputed this man to do it. Andwell was it executed, with certainty, and tothe letter.

Another member of this band was ReyesFeliz, a youth of sixteen years of age, who hadread the wild romantic lives of the chivalrousrobbers of Spain and Mexico until hisenthusiastic spirit had become imbued withthe same sentiments that actuated them, andhe could conceive of nothing grander than to



throw himself back upon the strictly naturalrights of man and hurl defiance at society andits laws. He also was a Sonoran, and thebeautiful mistress of Joaquín was his sister.He was a devoted follower of his chief, andlike him, brave, impulsive, and generous.

A third member was Claudio, a man aboutthirty-five years of age, of lean but vigorousconstitution, a dark complexion, andpossessing a somewhat savage, but lively andexpressive countenance. He was indisputablybrave, but exceedingly cautious and cunning,springing upon his prey at an unexpectedmoment and executing his purposes with thegreatest possible secrecy as well as precision.He was a deep calculator, a wily schemer, andcould wear the appearance of an honest manwith the same grace and ease that he wouldshow in throwing around his commandingfigure the magnificent cloak in which heprided. In disposition, he was revengeful,tenacious in his memory of a wrong, sly andsecret in his windings as a serpent, and withless nobility than the rattlesnake, he gave nowarning before he struck. Yet, as I have saidbefore, he was brave when occasion called itforth, and although ever ready to take an

Joaquín Murieta 23


advantage, he never flinched in the presenceof danger. This extreme caution, united with astrong will and the courage, made him anexceedingly formidable man.

A fourth member was Joaquín Valenzuela,who has been frequently confounded withJoaquín Murieta, drawn from the fact that thelatter threw upon him much responsibility inthe government of the band and entrustedhim with important expeditions, requiring intheir execution a great amount of skill andexperience. Valenzuela was a much older manthan his leader, and had acted for many yearsin Mexico as a bandit under the famousguerilla chief, Padre Jurado.

Another distinguished member was PedroGonzález, less brave than many others, but askillful spy and expert horse thief, and assuch, an invaluable adjunct to a company ofmounted men who required a continualsupply of fresh horses as well as a thoroughknowledge of the state of affairs around them.

There were many others belonging to thisorganization whom it is not necessary todescribe. It is sufficient to say that theycomposed as formidable a force of outlaws as



ever gladdened the eye of an acknowledgedleader. Their number – at this early period –is not accurately known, but a fair estimatewould not place it at a lower figure than fifty,with the advantage of a continual and steadyincrease.

Such was the unsettled condition of things,so distant and isolated were the differentmining regions, so lonely and uninhabited thesections through which the roads and trailswere cut, and so numerous the friends andacquaintances of the bandits themselves thatthese lawless men carried on their operationswith almost absolute impunity. It was a rulewith them to injure no man who everextended them a favor, and whilst theyplundered everyone else and spreaddevastation in every other quarter, theyinvariably left those ranches and housesunharmed whose owners and inmates hadafforded them shelter or assistance. Manypersons, who were otherwise honestlyinclined, bought the safety of their lives andproperty by remaining scrupulously silent inregard to Joaquín and neutral in everyattempt to do him an injury. Further thanthis, there were many large rancheros who

Joaquín Murieta 25


were secretly connected with the banditti, andstood ready to harbor them in times of dangerand to furnish them with the best animalsthat fed on their extensive pastures. Thenames of several of these wealthy and highlyrespectable individuals are well known, andwill transpire in the course of this history.

At the head of this most powerfulcombination of men, Joaquín ravaged thestate in various quarters during the year1851, without at that time being generallyknown as the leader – his subordinates,Claudio, Valenzuela, and Pedro Gonzálezbeing alternately mistaken for the actualchief. Except to few persons, even his namewas unknown, and many were personallyacquainted with him and frequently saw himin the different towns and villages, withouthaving the remotest idea that he stoodconnected with the bloody events that werethen filling the country with terror anddismay. He resided for weeks at a time indifferent localities, ostensibly engaged ingambling, or employed as a vaquero, a packer,or in some other apparently honest avocation,spending much of his time in the society of



that sweetest of all companions, the womanthat he loved.

While living in a secluded part of the townof San José, sometime in the summer of ‘51,he one night became violently engaged in arow at a fandango, was arrested for a breachof the peace, brought up before a magistrate,and fined twelve dollars.

He was in the charge of Mr. Clark, thedeputy sheriff of Santa Clara County, whohad made himself particularly obnoxious tothe banditti by his rigorous scrutiny into theirconduct and his determined attempts toarrest some of their number. Joaquín had thecomplete advantage of him, inasmuch as thedeputy was totally ignorant of the truecharacter of the man with whom he had todeal. With the utmost frankness in hismanner, Joaquín requested him to walk downto his residence in the skirts of the town, andhe would pay him the money. They proceededtogether, engaged in a pleasant conversation,until they reached the edge of a thicket whenthe young bandit suddenly drew a knife andinformed Clark that he had brought him thereto kill him, at the same instant stabbing himto the heart before he could draw his revolver.

Joaquín Murieta 27


Though many persons knew the author of thismost cool and bloody deed by sight, yet it wasa long time before it was ascertained that theescaped murderer was no less a personagethan the leader of the daring cutthroats whowere then infesting the country.

In the fall of the same year, Joaquín movedup in the more northern part of the state andsettled himself down with his mistress at theSonoran Camp, a cluster of tents and clothhouses situated about three miles from thecity of Marysville, in Yuba County. It was notlong before the entire country rung with theaccounts of frequent, startling, and diabolicalmurders. The Marysville Herald of November13, 1851, speaking of the horrible state ofaffairs, has the following remarkableparagraph:

Shortly after the murders thus mentioned,two men who were traveling on the road thatleads up the Feather River, near to theHoncut Creek, which puts into that river,discovered just ahead of them four Mexicans,one of whom was dragging at his saddlebow

“Seven men have been murdered within three or four days in a region of country not more than twelve miles in extent.”



by a lariat an American whom they had justlassoed around the neck. The two travelersdid not think it prudent to interfere, and sohurried on to a place of safety, and reportedwhat they had seen. Legal search being madeupon this information, six other men werefound murdered near the same place, bearingupon their throats the fatal mark of the lariat.

Close upon these outrages, reports camethat several individuals had been killed androbbed at Bidwell’s Bar, some ten or fifteenmiles up the river. Consternation spread likefire, fear thrilled through the hearts ofhundreds, and all dreaded to travel the publicroads.

Suspicion was directed to Sonoran Camp, itbeing occupied exclusively by Mexicans, manyof who had no ostensible employment, and yetrode fine horses and spent money freely. Thissuspicion was confirmed by a partialconfession obtained from a Mexican thief whohad fallen into the hands of the “VigilanceCommittee” of Marysville, and who had beenrun up with a rope several times to the limb ofa tree by order of that formidable body.

Joaquín Murieta 29


The sheriff of Yuba County, R. B.Buchanan, went out on a moonlight nightwith his posse (which, to say the truth,consisted of one man only, widely andfamiliarly known as Ike Bowen) to examinethe premises and to arrest three suspiciouscharacters who were known to be lurking inthat neighborhood.

While getting through the bars of a fence,they were attacked from behind by threeMexicans who had been hidden. The sheriffwas severely wounded with a pistol ball,which struck him near the spine, passingthrough his body and coming out in the frontnear the navel. The Mexicans escaped, andBuchanan was finally taken back toMarysville, where he lay a long time in a verydangerous situation; but he eventuallyrecovered much to the gratification of thecommunity, who admired the devotion andcourage with which he had well-nighsacrificed his life in the discharge of hisduties. He, in common with everyone else,was for a long time afterward in ignorancethat he had received his wound in a personalencounter with the redoubtable Joaquínhimself.



The bandits did not remain long in thevicinity of Marysville after this occurrence butrode off into the coast range of mountains tothe west of Mount Shasta. It is a conspicuouslandmark in the northern portion of the state,which rears its white shaft at all seasons ofthe year high above every other peak, andserves at a distance of two hundred miles todirect the course of the mountain traveler,being to him as the polar star is to themariner. Gazing at it from the SacramentoValley at a distance of one hundred and fiftymiles, it rises in its garments of snow likesome mighty archangel, filling the heavenwith its solemn presence.

31


Chapter Two

N THE RUGGED FASTNESSES of the wildrange lying to the west of this huge mount,a range inhabited only by human savages

and savage beasts, did the outlaws hidethemselves for several long months,descending into the valleys at intervals withno further purpose than to steal horses, ofwhich they seemed determined to keep a goodsupply. They induced the Indians to aid themin this purpose, and so efficiently did thesesimple people render their assistance that therancheros of that region loaded the very airwith their curses of the “naked devils,” whotormented them to such an intolerable degree!

On one occasion during these depredationsupon locomotive property, an exasperatedparty of Americans who had been on track oftheir stolen animals, came up with the Indian

I



thieves and managed to hem them between aperpendicular wall of bluffs and a deep river.There was no escape for them but to swim thestream, which swept by in a mad and foamingtorrent. They fired upon the Indians, wholeaped into the water, many of them dyeing itwith their blood and only a few successfullyswimming across. In the midst of the firing, atall Mexican mounted upon a fine horse,dashed down the banks, firing his revolver ashe went and plunged into the stream. Hishorse struck boldly with him for the oppositeshore, and he had gained the middle of thecurrent a distance of a hundred yards from hispursuers before any effectual shot at him wasmade.

He was about to escape and nothing wouldnow avail but a dead aim and a steady nerve.The best marksman in the crowd, a lankMissourian, dismounted from his horse, drewhis rifle to his shoulder while the otherslooked anxiously on, and taking a long “bead,”fired. The Mexican leaned forward a moment,and the next instant floated from the saddleand sunk, while his fine charger breasted thewaves and ascended the bank with a snortingnostril and dripping mane.

Joaquín Murieta 33


No one was willing to risk the dangerouspassage even to possess so noble an animal,and they returned with their recoveredproperty to their homes. This tall Mexicanwas, without doubt, a member of Joaquín’sband who had led the Indians in that veryunsuccessful thieving expedition.

In that desolate region, through which – atlong intervals – only a few straggling minerspassed on their lonesome prospecting tours.Human skeletons were found bleaching in thesun, some leaving no trace of the manner inwhich they perished, while others plainlyshowed by the perforated skull that theleaden ball had suddenly and secretly done itswork. The ignorant Indians suffered for manya deed that had been perpetrated by civilizedhands. It will be recollected by many personswho resided at Yreka and on Scott’s River inthe fall and winter of 1851 that many“prospectors” were lost in the mountains andnever heard from again. Many were founddead, supposed to have been killed by theIndians, and yet bearing upon their bodies themarks of knives and bullets quite asfrequently as arrows.



As soon as the spring opened in 1852,Joaquín and his party descended from themountains, and by forced marches in thenight, drove some two or three hundredhorses that they had collected at their winterrendezvous down through the southernportion of the state into the province ofSonora.

Returning in a few weeks, they took uptheir headquarters at Arroyo Cantoova, a finetract of rich pasturage, containing seven oreight thousand acres, beautifully watered,and fenced in by a circular wall of mountainsthrough which an entrance was afforded by anarrow gate or pass, at which a veryformidable force could be stayed in theirprogress by a small body of men.

This rich and fertile basin lies half-waybetween the Tejon and the Pacheco Pass, tothe east of the Coast Range and to the west ofthe great Tulare Lake, thoroughly embosomedin its rugged boundaries and the morevaluable as a retreat as it was distant at leastone hundred and fifty miles from any humanhabitation. From the surrounding eminences,an approaching enemy could be seen for a longway off. This region was, in one respect in

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particular, adapted to the purpose for which itwas chosen, and that is, it abounded in gameof every kind – elk, antelope, deer, grizzlybears, quails, grouse, and every species ofsmaller animals most desirable for food.

Here Joaquín selected a clump of evergreenoaks for his residence, and many a pleasantday found him and his still bloomingcompanion roofed by the rich foliage of thetrees and reclining upon a more luxuriouscarpet than ever blossomed, with its imitativeflowers, beneath the satin-slippered feet ofthe fairest daughters of San Francisco. Thebrow of his sweet and faithful friend wouldsometimes grow sad as she recurred to thehappy and peaceful lives that they had oncelived.

But with a woman’s true nature, she lovedhim in spite of all his crimes, and her soul wasagain lighted up as she gazed into those darkand glorious eyes that had never quailedbefore mortal man, and lost their fiercenessonly when they looked on her. Besides, in hertender heart she made for him manyallowances; she saw many strong palliationsof his conduct in the treatment that he hadreceived. She knew the secret history of his



soul, his sufferings, and his struggles with anevil fate, and the long agony that rent up bythe roots the original honesty of his high-bornnature. More than this, he had told her thathe would soon finish his dangerous career,when having completed his revenge andhaving accumulated an equivalent for thefortune of which he had been robbed by theAmericans, he would retire into a peacefulportion of Sonora, build him a pleasant home,and live alone for love and her. She believedhim, for he spoke truly of his intentions – andwonder not, ye denizens of cities! – she washappy even in the wilderness. It matter nothow the world regarded him, to her he was allthat is noble, generous, and beautiful.

After spending a few weeks at therendezvous, Joaquín divided his party, thenconsisting of about seventy men, into differentbands headed by Claudio, Three FingeredJack, and Valenzuela. He dispatched them tovarious quarters with orders to devotethemselves chiefly to stealing horses andmules, as he had a purpose to effect thatrequired at least fifteen hundred or twothousand animals. He himself started on aseparate course, accompanied by Reyes Feliz,

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Pedro González, and Juan. Three females,who were dressed in male attire and wellarmed, were also in company; that is to sayJoaquín’s mistress, and the wives of ReyesFeliz and Pedro González.

All the party were well mounted, and rodeno one knew whither except Joaquín himself.Arriving at Mokelumne Hill in CalaverasCounty, they took up quarters with some oftheir Mexican acquaintances in that place.And passing through the streets or visitingthe saloons, they were looked upon as nothingmore than peaceable Mexicans residing in thetown.

This was in the month of April. While here,the women appeared in their proper attire,and were admired for their exceedinglymodest and quiet deportment. The men issuedforth at night upon no praiseworthy missions,and mounted upon their magnificentchargers, they scoured an extent of manymiles ere they returned stealthily back totheir hiding place and the arms of theirlanguishing loves. Joaquín bore theappearance and character of an elegant andsuccessful gambler, being amply providedwith means from his night excursions.



In the meantime his men were, in differentdirections, prosecuting with ardor thebusiness upon which they had been sent.There was a universal cry throughout thelower country that horse thieves were verynearly impoverishing the ranchos. Joaquíngathered a pretty good knowledge of what hisfollowers were about from the newspapers,which made a very free use of his own name inthe accounts of these transactions andhandled his character in no measured terms.

In the various outbreaks in which he hadbeen personally engaged, he had worndifferent disguises and was actually disguisedthe most when he showed his real features.No man who had met him on the highwaywould be apt to recognize him in the cities. Hefrequently stood very unconcernedly in acrowd, listened to long and earnestconversations in relation to himself, andlaughed in his sleeve at the many conjecturesthat were made as to his whereabouts andintentions.

After remaining as long as he desired atMokelumne Hill, about the first of May heprepared to take his departure, which heresolved to do at the hour of midnight. His

Joaquín Murieta 39


horses were saddled, the women dressed intheir male clothes, and everything ready,when Joaquín sauntered out into the streets,according to his custom, and visited thevarious drinking and gambling saloons withwhich every California town and villageabound.

While sitting at a monte table, at which hecarelessly put down a dollar or two to whileaway the time, his attention was suddenlyarrested by the distinct pronunciation of hisname just opposite to where he sat. Lookingup, he observed three or four Americansengaged in loud and earnest conversation inrelation to his identical self, in which one ofthem – a tall fellow armed with a revolver –remarked that he “would just like once in hislife to come across Joaquín, and that he wouldkill him as quick as he would a snake.”

The daring bandit, upon hearing thisspeech, jumped on the monte table in view ofthe whole house, and drawing his six-shooter,shouted out, “I am Joaquín! If there is anyshooting to do, I am in.”

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So sudden and startling was this movementthat everyone quailed before him, and in themidst of the consternation and confusion thatreigned, he gathered his cloak about him andwalked out unharmed.

After this bold avowal of himself, it wasnecessary for him to make his stay quite shortin that vicinity. Mounting his horse thereforewith expedition, he dashed off with his partyat his heels, sending back a whoop of defiancethat rung out thrillingly upon the night air.The extreme chagrin of the citizens can beimagined when they found – for the first time–that they had unwittingly tolerated in theirvery midst the man whom, above all others,they would have wished to get hold of.

Returning to his rendezvous at ArroyoCantoova, he found that his marauding bandshad collected some two or three hundred headof horses and were patiently waiting hisfurther orders. He detached a portion of themto take the animals into Sonora for safekeeping and made remittances of money atthe same time to a secret partner of his in thatstate.



Towards the last of May, becoming againrestless and tired of an inactive life, hestarted forth upon the high roads, attended asbefore simply by Reyes Feliz, Pedro González,Juan, and the three bright-eyed girls, who,mounted on very elegant chargers, appearedas charming a trio of handsome cavaliers asever delighted the visions of romanticdamsels. Meeting with no one for a week ortwo but impoverished Frenchmen anddilapidated Germans in search of “diggings,”and having sent very nearly all his money toSonora, Joaquín’s purse was getting prettylow. He resolved to attack the first man ormen he might meet, who appeared to besupplied.

He was at this time on the road to San LuisGonzaga, to which place a young Americannamed Allen Ruddle was at the same timedriving a wagon, loaded with groceries.Overtaking this young man on an open plain,Joaquín – leaving his party behind – rode upto where Ruddle sat on one of his wheelhorses, and politely bidding him “goodmorning,” requested of him the loan of whatsmall change he might have about him. Heremarking at the same moment:

Joaquín Murieta 43


“It is true, I am a robber, but, as sure as Ilive, I merely wish to borrow this money, andI will as certainly pay it back to you as myname is Joaquín. It is not often that I amwithout funds, but such is my situation atpresent.”

Ruddle, without replying, made a suddenmotion to draw his pistol, upon which Joaquínexclaimed:

“Come, don’t be foolish – I have no wish tokill you, and let us have no fight.”

Ruddle made another effort to get his pistol,which from excitement or perhaps from itshanging in the holster, he could not instantlydraw. The bandit – with a muttered oath –slashed him across the neck with his bowieknife and dashed him from the saddle.Searching his pockets, he found about threehundred dollars.

His party coming up, he rode on, leaving themurdered man where he lay and his wagonand team standing by the road. Joaquín’sconscience smote him for this deed, and heregretted the necessity of killing so honestand hardworking a man as Ruddle seemed tobe.



It happened that just at this period, Capt.Harry Love, whose own history is one of equalromance with that of Joaquín but markedonly with events that redound to his honor,was at the head of a small party gotten up onhis own responsibility in search of thisoutrageous bandit. Love had served as anexpress rider in the Mexican war and hadborne dispatches from one military post toanother over the most dangerous tracts ofMexico. He had traveled alone for hundreds ofmiles over mountains and deserts, beset withno less danger than the dreaded “guerillas”who hung upon the skirts of the Americanarmy, laid-in-wait at mountain passes andwatering places, and made it their business tomurder every unfortunate straggler that fellinto their hands. Riding fleet horses andexpert in the use of the lasso, it required awell-mounted horseman to escape them onthe open plains, and many a hard race withthem has the Captain had to made to save hisneck and the valuable papers in his charge.He had been, moreover from his early youth, ahardy pioneer, experienced in all the dangersand hardships of a border life.

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Having these antecedents in his favor andpossessing the utmost coolness in thepresence of danger, he was a man well-fittedto contend with a person like Joaquín, ofwhom the lightning was not quicker and surerin the execution of a deadly errand. Love wason the direct trail of Joaquín when Ruddlewas murdered. With the utmost speedconsistent with the caution necessary to asurprise of the bandit, he pursued Joaquín byhis murders and robberies, which left a bloodytrail behind him to the rancho of San LuisGonzaga, which is now well known to havebeen a place that regularly harbored thebanditti. Arriving at that place at night, hewas informed by certain spies whom he hademployed that the party of whom he was insearch were staying in a canvas house on theedge of the rancho.

Proceeding cautiously to this house with hismen, the Captain had just reached the doorwhen the alarm was given by a woman in aneighboring tent, and in an instant, Joaquín,González, Reyes Feliz, and Juan had cut theirway through the back part and escaped intothe darkness. Upon entering, no one was to beseen but women, three of whom, then dressed



in their proper garments, were the bandits’mistresses, of which fact, however, Love wasignorant. Leaving the women to shift forthemselves, the fugitives went to their horses,which were hitched in an adjacent thicket,mounted them, and rode directly over to OrisTimbers, a distance of eight miles. There theyimmediately stole twenty head of horses anddrove them off into the neighboringmountains.

They remained concealed all the next daybut at night came back (a movement whollyunanticipated by Love) to the cloth housewhere they had left their women. Theyquickly doffed their female attire and rode offwith their companions into the hills fromwhich they had just come.

Driving the stolen horses before them, theparty started in high glee across the Tulareplains for Los Angeles. Love followed them nofurther, having business that recalled him.The owner of the Oris Timbers Rancho,however, attended by a few Americans, fellupon their trail indicated by the Captain, andpursued them without much difficulty into thecountry of the Tejon Indians.

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CAPTIAN HARRY LOVE



Not coming up with them, and perhaps notvery anxious to do so, the owner of the horsesproceeded with his attendants to the seat ofgovernment of the Tejon Nation in order tosee the old chief, Sapatarra, and, if possible,to make an arrangement with him by which torecover his property. They soon reached thecapital, which consisted of twenty or thirtyvery picturesque-looking bark huts scatteredalong the side of a hill. In front of the largesthut, they found old Sapatarra, seated uponhis haunches in all the grandeur of “nakedmajesty,” enjoying a very luxurious repast ofroasted acorns and dried angle-worms.

His swarthy subjects were scattered invarious directions around him, engaged forthe most part in the very arduous task ofdoing nothing. The little smoky-lookingchildren were sporting, like a black species ofwaterfowl, in the creek that ran a shortdistance below, while the women werepounding with stone pestles in stone mortars,industriously preparing their acorn bread.

The delicacies of the chief’s table were soonspread before his guests, which thoughtempting, they respectfully declined andentered immediately upon their business.

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Sapatarra was informed that a party ofMexican horse thieves had sought shelter inhis boundaries, that they were only a few innumber, and that they had in their possessiontwenty splendid horses, one-half of whichshould belong to the chief if he recovered thewhole number. This arrangement wasspeedily effected, and the high contractingparties separated with great satisfaction andmutual assurances of their distinguishedregard.

Sapatarra held a council of state, whichresulted in sending spies over his dominionsto discover traces of the marauding band.Information was returned in a day or two thatseven Mexicans, superbly dressed, andcovered with splendid jewelry, and having alarge number of fine horses, were camped on alittle stream about fifteen miles from thecapital.

The cupidity of the old chief and hisright-hand men was raised to the highestpitch. They resolved to manage the matter inhand with great skill and caution – which, bythe way, is a quality that particularlydistinguishes the California Indians,



amounting to so extreme a degree that itmight safely be called cowardice.

Joaquín and party, having ascertained thatthey were no longer pursued by the OrisTimbers Ranchero, and feeling perfectlysecure amongst so harmless a people as theTejons, disencumbered themselves of theirweapons and resolved to spend a few days incareless repose and genuine rural enjoyment.Juan was lying in the grass one evening,watching the horses as they fed around him,while González, Feliz, and Murieta were eachseparately seated under a live-oak tree,enjoying a private tête-à-tête with theirbeloved and loving partners.

The evening shades were softly stealingaround them, and all nature seemed to lulltheir unquiet spirits to security and repose.Just at this moment, a few dark figures mighthave been seen, but – unfortunately – werenot, creeping cat-like in the direction of theunsuspecting Juan and the equallyunconscious Murieta, González, and the rest.

It was well managed. By a sudden andconcerted movement, the whole party wereseized, overpowered, and securely bound

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before they were aware of what was going on.The Indians were in ecstasies at this almostunhoped-for success, for had the leastresistance been made, a single pistol cocked,or a knife drawn, they would have left theground on the wings of the wind – so largelydeveloped is the bump of caution on the headof a California Indian!

But cunning is equally developed, andserves their purposes quite as well sometimesas downright courage. As soon as this feat wasaccomplished, the woods became alive withforms, faces, and voices. A triumphal marchwas made with the captives to the capital.They were stripped entirely naked, and theirrich clothing covered the weather-beatenbacks and scaly legs of the Tejons. But greatwas the astonishment of the natives whenthey discovered the sex of the three youthfulcavaliers, who were kindly permitted – in pityfor their modesty – to wear some of the oldcast-off shirts that lay around in the dirt. Thewomen were robbed of their jewelry to theamount of three thousand dollars and themen of seven thousand dollars in gold dust,besides their riding animals and the stolen



horses. They were left also without a solitaryweapon.

Never were men so completely humiliated.The poor, miserable, cowardly Tejons hadachieved a greater triumph over them than allthe Americans put together! Joaquín lookedgrim for a while, but finally burst out into aloud laugh at his ridiculous position, and everafterwards endured his captivity with a quietsmile.

The most potent, grave, and reverend SeñorSapatarra immediately dispatched one half ofthe stolen horses to the Oris Timbers, whilehe retained the others according to theagreement. He kept his prisoners of war incustody for a week or two, debating in hismind whether to make targets of them for hisyoung men to practice archery upon, or tohang, burn, or drown them.

He finally sent word to “The GreatCapitan,” the county judge of Los Angeles,that he had a party of Mexicans in custodyand wanted his advice on what to do withthem. The judge, supposing that the capturewas the result of a little feud between some“greasers” and the Tejons, advised him to

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release them. Accordingly, one fine morning,the prisoners – under the supervision ofSapatarra surrounded by his guard, who werearmed with the revolvers and knives they hadtaken from the bandits – were led forth fromthe village with such solemnity that theyimagined they were going to no other than aplace of execution.

Arrived at a group of live-oaks, they werestripped entirely naked and bound each to atree. Sapatarra made a long speech upon themerits of the important transaction that wasabout to occur, enlarging upon the enormity ofthe crime that had been committed (althoughit looked very much like self-condemnation forhim to denounce stealing), and went off intoextreme glorification over the magnanimitythat would allow such great rascals to escapewith their lives. He then gave orders to havethem whipped. Seven large, stout fellowsstepped out with a bunch of willow rods, eachto his place, and gave the unfortunate party avery decent and thorough flogging. Sapatarrathen declared the ends of justice satisfied anddismissed the prisoners from custody.

Poor fellows! They went forth into thewilderness as naked as on the day that they



were born and stricken with a blanker povertythan the sorriest beggar upon the streets ofLondon, or New York, or any other proud citythat raises its audacious head above its sea ofcrime and wretchedness into the pure light ofHeaven. The biters were bit. The robbers wererobbed, and loud and deep were the cursesthat Feliz, Juan, and González pronouncedupon Sapatarra and the whole Tejon Nation;but Joaquín rubbed his smarting back andlaughed prodigiously – declaring upon hishonor as a man that not a hair of oldSapatarra’s head should be harmed.

That night they slept without a stitch ofcovering; but fortunately, it was near thesummer, and the air possessed a merelypleasant coolness. The next day, in passingthrough an arroyo, Reyes Feliz, who wasbehind, was attacked by a grizzly bear, andbeing utterly defenseless, was horriblymangled. He begged his companions to leavehim, as he must certainly die and they coulddo him no good. After removing him to ashady place among some rocks and near to astream of water, they left him to die – all buthis sorrowing mistress, who resolved toremain with him whatever might befall.

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They turned to look as they departed, andthe last they saw was the faithful girl withher lover’s head upon her lap, pouring hertears upon him like a healing balm from herheart. Give me not a sneer, thou rigidrighteous! For the love of woman is beautifulat all times, whether she smiles under gildedcanopies in her satin garments or weeps overa world-hated criminal alone and naked in adesert.

57


Chapter Three

FTER A DAY or two’s travel, Joaquín andparty arrived, nearly worn out, in thevicinity of the San Francisco Rancho at

the head of the Tejon Pass where they metwith Mountain Jim, one of their confederates.He had been out upon his “own hook,” robbingand stealing for a few weeks then passed.Mountain Jim was astounded at the spectaclethey presented and begged Joaquín to allowhim the privilege of laughing one heartylaugh before he listened to any explanation ofthe mystery. The privilege was readilygranted, and the jolly bandit went throughthe performance with great zest and unction,making the woods echo and re-echo with hismost refreshing peals of merriment. Thewomen hid themselves in the brush and werelike mother Eve when she sinned – consciousof their nakedness without being told of it.

A



The mystery being cleared up andexplanation given in detail, Mountain Jimrode off to the rancho, or rather to his hidingplace in its vicinity, and soon returned withclothing for the party – shirts and pantaloons– but no dresses for the females. However,they did not grumble, preferring thesegarments perhaps to any other – at any rate,they were well satisfied to adopt any sort ofdress that would relieve them of the veryprimitive style in which they then appeared.

Mountain Jim also brought a couple ofhorses, one of which – a fine black animalsaddled and bridled in a most superb manner– he designed for his chief. He handedJoaquín, at the same time as presenting thehorse, a Colt’s six-shooter and asilver-mounted bowie knife. Thus, in a fewmoments was the naked and defenselessfugitive booted, spurred, and fully equipped –in an instant transformed into a powerful anddreaded outlaw.

Having some mysterious power overpersons then connected with the two wealthyranches, Camula and Santa Buenaventura,whether through a sentiment of fear withwhich he inspired them, or from a distinct

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understanding that they should harbor andassist him in consideration of a share of hisplunders, I am not prepared to say. He sentGonzález and Juan with the women to visitthose ranchos and obtain an outfit suitable fortheir business, with instructions for them toremain there until he should call or send forthem. He and Mountain Jim rode back intothe woods to the place at which he had leftReyes Feliz and his weeping companion.

Contrary to all expectation, they found himnot only alive but also able to sit up. Hisfaithful mistress had supplied him with theonly food she could obtain, but which servedmuch better than none – namely, a sweet-smelling root that grows in great abundanceall over that region, resembling both in tasteand appearance the common celery of ourgardens, and also some red berries that grewon the bushes around her. She was nursinghim tenderly and dressing his wounds withleaves, anxiously hoping that he would soonbe well enough to proceed on their journey.

Mountain Jim drew from his saddlebagssome shirts and pantaloons, which hepresented to the naked unfortunates – a mostgrateful sight and an opportunity to look



decent of which they immediately availedthemselves. With difficulty Reyes Feliz wasmounted behind his brother-in-law, andCarmelita took her seat behind MountainJim, and off they rode in a gallop in thedirection of the Mission of San Gabriel.

Arriving in San Gabriel after nightfall, theywent immediately to their usual meetingplace in an out-of-the-way house. There hevery unexpectedly found Claudio and hisband, who had returned from the Sonorasooner than expected, and not finding hisleader at Arroyo Cantoova, preferred goingout on a marauding expedition to remainingidle. He had placed the horses with which hehad been sent to Sonora upon a rancho wellknown to Joaquín, and where they would beperfectly safe till called for. In the vicinity ofSan Gabriel, he had committed manyrobberies since his return and had a purseamply filled with money, which heimmediately tendered to his leader. But hehad been greatly harassed by Gen. Bean ofthat neighborhood, who had used everyexertion to apprehend him and had compelledhim several times, with his whole party, toseek safety in flight. The greater part of this

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news was highly gratifying to Joaquín, and heshook his faithful subordinate most cordiallyby the hand.

“But,” said he, “we must never leave here,Claudio, till that man is killed. He isdangerous and we must put him out of theway.”

Claudio assented with a grim nod of hishead.

“I would like much now to see ThreeFingered Jack,” said Joaquín, after a pauseand a few moment’s reflection. “Have you anyidea where he is?”

“I don’t know for a certainty,” repliedClaudio, “but there was a house burnt aboutten miles from here the other night, and everysoul murdered as they came out – men,women, and children – and I think that mustpositively be Three Fingered Jack’s work, andno other’s.”

Well provided with blankets, provisions,and a plenty of brandy, the bandits contentedthemselves to a stay of some two weeks at theMission of San Gabriel. Reyes Feliz remainedinactive, still attended by his faithfulCarmelita. Horses were sent over to Camula



and Santa Buenaventura after Joaquín’sgentle love mate and the wife of González,who arrived in due time at the Mission,restored to their usually elegant appearanceand glittering with jewelry.

González and Juan were at this time verycarefully hiding from the lynx eyes of a manwhom they dreaded – namely, Capt. HarryLove, then deputy sheriff of Los AngelesCounty. He knew González personally andhad caught a glimpse of that noted thief andhis worthy colleague, Juan, on the skirts ofthe Buenaventura Rancho, which was knownby a very few to be a harboring place forJoaquín and so was closely watched on thataccount.

In a day or two, news reached Joaquín thatGonzález had been arrested by Love while ona careless spree at a little “one-horse” groceryon a by-road that led up into the mountains,and that Juan had made his escape after avery dose clipping along the top of his head bya bullet from the Captain’s revolver. Helearned, in addition, that Love was hurryingoff at the moment with his unfortunateconfederate in the direction of the county seatof Los Angeles, where he would certainly be

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hung. Determined to rescue him at allhazards, Joaquín commanded Claudio to gethis band in readiness, and attended byMountain Jim, he started at full speed toovertake Love and to save the life of hisvaluable subordinate.

Having ridden all night and with theutmost urgency – as their bloody spurs andthe foam of their horses attested – they camein sight of the object of their pursuit just atdaybreak in the morning. González,anticipating a rescue, looked back and seeingthem, waved his handkerchief. He was ridingby the side of Love unfettered, but totally inthe power of his captor, being unarmed. Thismovement cost him his life. Love, knowing theimminent risk that he ran in proceeding alonewith a member of so formidable a fraternity,no sooner saw the act than he drew his pistoland drove a ball through the villain’s heart.

Casting a glance behind him, he discovereda pursuing party enveloped in a cloud of dust,coming like a whirlwind, and putting spurs tohis horse, he rode off at the top of his speed.The bandits dashed up in a few moments tothe place where González lay and found him aghastly corpse. They shed no tears but



gnashed their teeth with rage anddisappointment. It was of no use to followLove, for his horse was fresher than theirs,and he had already left them far in thedistance. Leaving the now worthless carcassof their comrade, they rode over to the nearestrancho and very coolly informing the ownersthat there was a dead man lying on the side ofthe road. Then they proceeded on their returnto San Gabriel.

Arrived at that place, Joaquín immediatelylearned two important facts – one of whichwas that Three Fingered Jack, with his party,was at the town of Los Angeles, and the otherthat Capt. Wilson, deputy sheriff of SantaBarbara County, had been at San Gabrielmaking inquiries in relation to Joaquín’swhereabouts and most diligently intent oncapturing him, if possible. Wishing to avoidCapt. Wilson and anxious to see ThreeFingered Jack, Joaquín selected three of hisbest men out of Claudio’s band and starteddown to Los Angeles. He there met with bothThree Fingered Jack and Valenzuela, whoeach gave a good account of their operationsand were excessively glad to see him. Joaquín,for curiosity, asked García if he had burnt a

Joaquín Murieta 65


house down lately near San Gabriel, to whichhe replied in the affirmative.

Remaining for a day or two at a regularhiding place that he had in that town, Joaquínsallying out occasionally at night to take hislatitude. He ascertained that Capt. Wilsonwas at one of the principal hotels, making noconcealment of his purpose to take him, deador alive. The next night after this discovery, agreat excitement was raised in the street, anda crowd rushed up to see an apparently veryhard fistfight between two Indians in front ofthe hotel at which Wilson was stopping. He, incommon with others, stepped out to witnessit, and was looking on with much interestwhen a dashing young fellow rode up by hisside on a fine horse, and stooping over hissaddlebow, hissed in his ear, “I am Joaquín.”

The astounded hearer started at thesentence, and had scarcely looked aroundbefore a pistol ball penetrated his skull, andhe fell dead to the earth. With his accustomedwhoop, the daring murderer put spurs to hisanimal and galloped off. The fight betweenthe Indians was a sham affair gotten up byThree Fingered Jack to affect the verypurpose that was consummated.



As the immediate consequence of this act,Los Angeles became too hot a place for therobbers to stay in; for the whole communitywas aroused and thirsting for vengeance.Accordingly Joaquín held a hasty conferencewith his followers, which resulted in sendingValenzuela and band, accompanied byMountain Jim, into San Diego County withdirections to steal horses and convey them toArroyo Cantoova, while Three Fingered Jackwith his band should accompany his chiefwherever he might choose to go.

Choosing to return once more to SanGabriel, they started in that direction andmet with no incident or individual on the roaduntil they came to a dark hollow, walled oneach side with precipitous rocks throughwhich a noisy stream was leaping andglancing in the moonlight. At this place twohelpless Chinamen were encamped by the footof a sycamore tree, and it being near eleveno’clock in the night, were sleeping off theirfatigue and the effects of their luxurious pipesof opium. Their picks and prospecting pansshowed them to be miners, who were mostprobably supplied with a due amount of cash,as Chinamen generally are.

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Joaquín was for riding on, but ThreeFingered Jack could not resist the temptationof at least giving their pockets anexamination. Therefore he dismounted andwalked up to the unconscious Celestials, whowere snoring very soundly in their blankets,and shook them. They awoke, and seeing ahorrible looking devil standing over andglaring upon them, raised a hideous shriek;and rising, they fell upon their knees beforehim with the most lugubrious supplications ina by-no-means euphonious tongue.

Jack told them to “dry up,” butt hecontinued pleading for mercy when heknocked one of them down with his revolverand, cocking it, presented it at the head of theother – who closed his eyes in an agony ofdespair. In a voice of thunder, he told theterrified Chinamen to “shell out,” or he wouldblow a hole through him in a minute. Readilyconvinced of the truth of this remark, the poorfellow nervously jerked out his purse andhanded it to the robber, and searching thepocket of his companion, who lay stunned byhis side, took out his also and presented itwith a shudder. The amount was small, notmore than twenty or thirty dollars. This so



enraged the sanguinary monster that he drewhis knife and cut both of their throats beforeJoaquín could possibly interfere to prevent it.

The young chief, who always regrettedunnecessary cruelty, but knew full well thathe could not dispense with so brave a man asGarcía, said nothing to him but only groanedand rode on. The party reached San Gabrielwithout further incident.

Gen. Bean, a man of influence and wealth,had – during Joaquín’s absence – been givingserious trouble to Claudio and band. They hadbeen compelled to lie out in the woods to avoidhim. Joaquín himself thought it prudent tokeep out of his way and lay concealed withClaudio for the space of six weeks, havingwith him Three Fingered Jack and band.Portions of the banditti had regularly watchedevery opportunity to kill Gen. Bean up to thistime but had signally failed in every attempt.

One evening, however, a spy saw Gen. Beanstart from his store at San Gabriel onhorseback in the direction of his home a fewmiles off. Three Fingered Jack and Joaquínstarted by themselves to head around himand way-lay the road. They had scarcely

Joaquín Murieta 69


taken their positions behind some rocksbefore Bean rode up. Joaquín sprung out infront of him, and seizing the bridle, which hada Spanish bit, and jerked his horse back onhis haunches. Just at that moment, ThreeFingered Jack dragged him from the saddleand threw him upon the ground. At themoment that Jack laid hold of him, he was inthe act of firing at Joaquín, but, being pulledback so suddenly, his pistol flew up many feetabove the proper level and was dischargedinto the empty air.

Bean, being a powerful man, rose to his feetwith Three Fingered Jack upon him, anddrawing his knife, endeavored to use it. Buthis equally powerful antagonist seized hiswrist with his left hand, and drawing in histurn a glittering bowie knife, sheathed itthree times in Bean’s breast. Then,withdrawing the bloody blade, he rudelyshoved the American back, and the brave butunfortunate man fell dead at his feet.

The ignoble wretch, not satisfied with thesuccessful termination of the combat,displayed his brutal disposition by kicking thedead body in the face and discharging twoloads from his revolver into the lifeless head.



Thus perished Gen. Bean, a generous, noblehearted, and brave man. Had he been lessbrave, he might have exercised more cautionand preserved his life; but he was a man whonever knew fear.

After this outrage, which – though darkenough – was yet only an act of self-preservation on the part of Joaquín, hecollected his whole party in the neighborhoodof the Mission and started again on his ever-restless course. He bent his way northwardinto Calaveras County, robbing a few peddlingJews, two or three Frenchmen, and aChinaman as he went along. He also gave anAmerican express agent a fearful race for hislife on an open plain for five or six miles, inwhich the agent distinctly heard no less thantwenty bullets whiz by his head.

Joaquín and his party arrived in thevicinity of the town of Jackson in the latterpart of the month of August. Riding along oneevening in advance of his men, as wasfrequently his custom, he met an oldacquaintance, who had been an esteemedfriend in his more honest and happy days, ayoung man whose name was Joe Lake.Joaquín was delighted to see him, and rode up

Joaquín Murieta 71


to his side, and as they both sat on theirhorses, embraced him with that generouswarmth of feeling that made an otherwiseunmeaning custom of the Mexicans beautiful.

“Joe,” said Joaquín, as he brushed a tearfrom his eyes, “I am not the man that I was. Iam a deep-dyed scoundrel, but so help meGod! I was driven to it by oppression andwrong. I hate my enemies, who are almost allof the Americans, but I love you for the sake ofold times. I don’t ask you, Joe, to love orrespect me, for an honest man like youcannot, but I do ask you not to betray me. Iam unknown in this vicinity, and no one willsuspect my presence if you do not tell that youhave seen me. My former good friend, I wouldrather do anything in the world than kill you,but if you betray me, I will certainly do it.”

Lake assured him there was no danger, andthe two parted, for the wide gulf of dishonoryawned between them, and they could neveragain be united. Lake rode over to the littletown of Hornitos, and feeling it to be his dutyto warn the citizens that so dangerous a manwas in their midst, told a few Americans quiteprivately that he had seen the bloodycutthroat Murieta. A Mexican was standing



by, wrapped in his serape, bent his head onhis bosom and smiled. About sundown of thenext day, a solitary horseman whose head wascovered with a profusion of red hair, rode upvery leisurely to the front of a trading post, atwhich Lake and some other gentlemen werestanding. He politely raised his hat andaddressed an enquiry to Lake, which causedhim to step forward from the crowd the betterto converse.

“Is your name Lake?” said the red hairedstranger.

“The same,” was the reply.

“Well, sir, I am Joaquín! You have lied tome.”

Lake being unarmed, exclaimed,“Gentlemen, protect me,” and sprung backtowards the crowd.

Several persons drew their revolvers, butnot before the quick hand of Joaquín hadpresented his and pulled the trigger. The aimwas fatal, and Lake fell in the agonies ofdeath. The murderer wheeled his horse in aninstant, and by a sudden bound, passed theaim of the revolvers that were discharged athim. In another instant he was seen on the

Joaquín Murieta 73


summit of a hill, surrounded by no less thanfifty well-mounted men, with whom he slowlyrode off.

Such was the magical luck that pursuedthis man, following him like an invisibleguardian fiend in every hour of his peril, andenabling him to successfully perform deedsthat would turn any other man’s blood cold.So perfect was the organization that he hadestablished that that apparently harmlessMexican, who was standing near while Lakebetrayed Joaquín, and who lived unsuspectedin that very town, was none other than a paidmember of his band who acted as a spy.

75


Chapter Four

ROM THIS TIME until the middle ofNovember, nothing definite is known ofthe movements of Joaquín, but rumors

were rife of murders, robberies, and thefts,which are without much doubt attributable tohim. And it is also highly probable that themany horses that were stolen in this intervalfound their way to the Arroyo Cantoova, andfrom thence to Sonora. Indeed, as will berecollected, Valenzuela was expresslyengaged in this business at that time, and inno other.

About the middle of November, Joaquín,with Claudio, Three Fingered Jack, Reis – amember not mentioned before – and Juan,who had managed after many narrow escapesto rejoin the band after the death of González,as well as some fifty other followers were

F



resting themselves and their horses at theMission of San Luis Obispo in San LuisObispo County. A portion of the band was alsorecruiting at Santa Margarita, not more thanfifteen or twenty miles distant. There werepersons connected at that time with both ofthese extensive ranchos who knew more aboutJoaquín’s concerns than they cared toacknowledge. Their names are unknown tothe writer at this time, but they can easily beascertained should they insist upon appearingbefore the public.

While stopping at the first-named rancho,Joaquín one day took up The Los AngelesStar, a paper published at Los Angeles, andwas reading the news when his sight seemedsuddenly blasted, and he let the paper fallfrom his hands. His affrighted mistresssprang to his side and clasping his hands,begged him to tell what was the matter. Heshook his head for a moment, and the tearsgushed from his eyes – aye, robber as he was –as he exclaimed, with quivering lips:

“Rosita, you will never see your brotheragain. Reyes Feliz is dead. He was hung twodays ago by the people of Los Angeles.”

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Pierced with anguish, the fair girl sunkupon his bosom, and from her dark eyes,overshadowed by the rich, luxuriant hair,which fell around her like a midnight cloud –the storm of her grief poured itself forth infast and burning drops, which fell like moltenlead upon her lover’s heart. Why should Idescribe it? It is well that a woman should,like a weeping angel, sanctify our dark andsuffering world with her tears. Let them flow.The blood that stains the fair face of ourmother Earth may not be washed out with anocean of tears.

To return to a simple narration of facts:

It is indeed true that Reyes Feliz, in hisseventeenth year, had met with what isalmost always the outlaw’s fate – anignominious death upon the gallows. Havingrecovered from his wounds, he left SanGabriel and went down to Los Angeles,attended by his devoted Carmelita, where hehad been only a few days before he wasrecognized by an American as one of a partywho had once robbed him in the vicinity ofMokelumne Hill.



Standing without the least suspicion ofdanger in a “fandango house” at Los Angeles,he was suddenly arrested and covered withirons. He was charged with being a party tothe assassination of General Bean, andalthough no evidence appeared to implicatehim in this transaction, yet enough waselicited to show that he was undoubtedly athief and a murderer.

He was accordingly taken to the gallows,where he kissed the crucifix and made oaththat he was innocent of the murder of GeneralBean but guilty in many other instances.Though doomed to die at so early an ageyoung, healthy and full of the fine spirits thatgive a charm to early manhood, beloved asmen are seldom loved by the faithful girl whohad left her pleasant home for him. A wild,untameable boy, he quailed not in thepresence of death but faced it with a calmbrow and tranquil smile. There came over himno shudder or paleness as the rope wasadjusted around his neck, and he himselfleaped from the platform just as it was aboutto fall from under him.

Alas, for the unfortunate Carmelita! Shewandered alone in the woods, weeping and

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tearing her hair, and many a startled earcaught the wail of her voice at midnight in theforest. She fled at the approach of a humanfootstep, but at last they found her cold andghastly form stretched on a barren rock, inthe still beauty of death.

The Mexicans buried her by the side of herwell-beloved Feliz, and the winds shallwhisper as mournfully over their graves as ifthe purest and best of mortal dust reposedbelow. All loving Nature is no respecter ofpersons, and takes to her bosom all herchildren when they have ceased theirwanderings, and eases their heartaches in herembracing arms. We may go down to ourgraves with the scorn of an indignant worldupon us, which hurls us from its presence. Butthe eternal God allows no fragment of oursouls, no atom of our dust, to be lost from hisuniverse. Poised on our own immortality, wemay defy the human race and all that existsbeneath the throne of God!

A few days after the distressing news theyhad heard, Joaquín and his sweet Rosita weresitting in front of an old building at theMission, enjoying as well as they could, thecool of the evening, for the month of



November was still pleasant in the southerncounties when a Mexican rode up in a gallopand hastily dismounted. He advanced towardsJoaquín, who rose at his approach, and seeingthat he was a stranger, gave him the secretsign by which any member of the organizationmight recognize another though they hadnever met.

It was satisfactorily returned, and thestranger immediately inquired for Joaquínand expressed a wish to see him. He was, ofcourse, informed that he was addressing thatindividual himself, whereupon he proceededto unfold the object of his mission.

“I am,” said he, “most worthy Señor,deputed by a person whom you know residingnear the rancho of Gen. Pio Pico, to say to youthat there is danger where you now are. Aparty of Americans, well-armed and mounted,has passed the rancho Los Coyotes in thisdirection, and it is no doubt their intention tosurprise you at your present retreat. I myselfpassed them this morning, without beingperceived, encamped about fifteen miles fromthis place, and I seriously believe that youhad better look out!”

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“Very well,” replied the chief, withoutchanging countenance, “this is as good as Iwant. Hold yourself in readiness to serve meas a guide to their encampment, for I intendto surprise them.”

Summoning Three Fingered Jack andClaudio, he informed them of the facts that hehad heard and of his intentions, directingthem to prepare the band immediately foraction. In an hour afterwards, the differentmembers came galloping up from variousparts of the rancho, booted, spurred, andequipped in brilliant style, to the number offorty-five men. They were fine looking fellows,and scarcely any of them over thirty-fiveyears of age.

Under the guidance of the Los Coyotesmessenger, who was furnished with a freshhorse, they started upon their dangerousexpedition just as night set in. After a ride oftwo hours and a half, they arrived at theirdestination. The fires were still burning, butthe camp was abandoned. It was too dark tofollow a trail, and they stopped for the night.

At daybreak they arose, mounted theirhorses, and pursued a very fresh trail, which



led through the woods, as if carefully to avoidthe main roads. By the number of tracks, itwas evident that they were in pursuit of astrong force. The trail led precisely in thecourse of San Luis Obispo, and it wasapparent that the Americans had started forthat place about the same time that Joaquínhad left it; but he, having traveled the mainroad, thus missed them on the way.

Arriving at ten o’clock within two miles ofthe Mission, he halted and sent a spy forwardto examine and report. The spy returned in ashort time with the information that theparty, consisting of fifty men, had left theMission at daylight that morning with theevident purpose of taking the beaten roadstraight back to their encampment of the daybefore, the tracks of the banditti being stillfresh on the ground. It was plain, therefore,that finding unmistakable indications thatthe bandits had staid at their encampmentand had followed their trail towards theMission, they would hurry on to overtakethem and would be able to make the entirecircuit before sundown of that day.

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The young chief clapped his hands togetherin perfect glee. “We have them, boys! We havegot them dead!”

He wheeled his horse directly around andled his company about three miles back on thetrail they had just come, and halted at thejunction of two deep gulches, rugged andshaggy with overhanging rocks.

Directing his men to hide their horses at adistance of three or four hundred yards fromthe trail, he ordered them next to concealthemselves in the nooks and crevices of thesurrounding bluffs. They lay there as still asdeath for about two hours, when the clatter ofhorses’ feet was heard distinctly in thedistance. Nearer and nearer they came, andin a few minutes, a fine looking young manwith blue eyes and light hair rode up withintwenty yards of Joaquín, followed by aboutfifty other Americans, armed with rifles andrevolvers.

“I don’t like the looks of this place at all,”said the young man, and hardly had thewords escaped his lips before the rocks blazedaround him, and the sharp reports of twentyor thirty pistols rang in his ears. His hat was



shot from his head, and his horse fell underhim. A dozen of his followers bit the dust.

“Dismount, boys, and scale the rocks! Givethem no advantage! Face them in their veryteeth! It is our only chance.”

They sprang to the rocks at the word, eachman to the quarter he chose, and hand-to-hand, they confronted their hidden foes intheir very dens. It could scarcely be called abattle between two distinct forces – it wasrather a number of separate single combats,in which nothing could avail a man but hisown right arm and dauntless heart.

Joaquín sprung from his hiding place tohave a freer sweep of his arm, when he met atthe very threshold the young Anglo Saxon. Aflash of recognition passed between them, andJoaquín turned as if to leap upon a rock at hisright, but at that moment, his antagonistjumped in that direction to intercept themovement. Joaquín wheeled to the left, andthrowing out his foot with a sudden andvigorous stroke, knocked the young man’sheels from under him, and he fell withviolence upon his face. Before young mancould rise, the wily bandit leaped upon him

Joaquín Murieta 85


like a panther and sheathed his knife in hisheart.

It was too sad, but as I have said before, aninvisible guardian fiend pursued everywherethis extraordinary man. Having no time torepeat the blow, especially as it seemedunnecessary, he drew forth the dripping bladeand rushed to another scene of the conflict. Hewas met at almost every step, and fought hisway like a tiger, gashed and bleeding, but stillstrong and unflinching.

Dead men lay upon every side, bothAmericans and Mexicans, and in front ofThree Fingered Jack were stretched five menwith their skulls broken by the butt of hisrevolver, which he had used as a club afteremptying its contents. At the moment thatJoaquín’s eye met him, he was stooping withglaring eyes and a hideous smile over aprostrate American, in whose long hair he hadwound his left hand and across whose throathe was drawing the coarse-grained steel of hishuge homemade bowie knife. With a shout ofdelight he severed the neck joint and threwthe gaping head over the rocks. He was crazywith the sight of blood and searched eagerlyfor another victim. He scarcely knew his



leader, and the latter had called to him threetimes before he recovered his senses.

“Ah, Murieta,” said he, smacking his lipstogether, “this has been a great day. Damn‘em! How my knife lapped up their blood.”

The fight having now lasted for half anhour, and there being no prospect that eitherparty would conquer, so equally were theymatched, it gradually subsided, and each sidefinally drew off from the other with a tacitunderstanding that they were mutuallysatisfied to cry quits.

Joaquín looked around and saw that he hadlost twenty men, among whom was theinvaluable Claudio, and ascertained the losson his enemies’ side to be very nearly thesame, perhaps a little over. Mounting theirhorses, the bandits rode off in silence towardSan Luis Obispo, while the survivingAmericans found as many of their horses ashad not left them during the conflict andretired to their home in Santa BarbaraCounty, having made arrangements on theway for the burial of their deceased comrades.

During the following night, a company fromthe Mission went over to the bloody scene

Joaquín Murieta 87


with picks and shovels and buried the deadbodies of the bandits near the spot where theyfell. On the next morning, Joaquín summonedthe Los Coyotes messenger and said to him:

“Go back and tell my friend, who sent you,that the danger is passed, and hand him thispurse. For yourself, take this one,” handinghim another well-filled buckskin bag.

Attention having been attracted to the SanLuis Obispo Rancho, the bandit thought itprudent to go elsewhere. Accordingly, wordwas sent over to their friends who wererusticating at Santa Margarita to join them,and they forthwith started to a well-knownharboring place not more than a thousandmiles from José Ramón Carrejo’s Rancho.Here they remained until such as werewounded recovered their usual health andstrength – and here, again, Joaquín heardnews similar to that which shocked him atSan Luis Obispo, viz., that Mountain Jim hadbeen hung in San Diego.

This misfortune happened to the jollyrobber from his own carelessness. He andValenzuela had stopped at a drinking shop onthe San Diego River, some fifteen or twenty



miles from the bay of that name, and hadtaken a glass of execrable brandy when aparty of four or five Americans rode up andalighted. They looked so very suspiciously atValenzuela and his partner, that the formertook his friend out and told him that it washis opinion they both had better leave asquickly as possible. Mountain Jim was underthe influence of liquor, and laughing at whathe chose to term the silly fears of Valenzuela,he went back into the house swearing andswaggering. Pretty soon after, a dozen moreAmericans approached on horseback. Uponseeing them, Valenzuela mounted into hissaddle and called to Jim to come along. ButJim only laughed and took another glass ofliquor.

“Curse the fool!” muttered Valenzuela, “hewill be the death of both of us. For my part, Iwill keep my own distance from those scurvy-looking fellows, at any rate.”

The new party no sooner arrived than theyrushed up to the door of the drinking houseand drew their revolvers. A scuffle ensuedinside, and Valenzuela, well aware of whatwas going on and that it was useless tocontend against such great odds, merely fired

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one shot into the crowd at the door. It tookeffect in the abdomen of one of the party, andwheeling his horse, he broke off like athunderbolt.

Several of the Americans pursued him, buthis fine, swift animal distanced them so farthat they might as well have attempted tocatch the red-winged spirit of a storm. PoorMountain Jim! He was never destined totread the mountains again. He was taken tothe town of San Diego, and hung with as littleceremony as if he had been a dog. Well fittedwas he to grace a gallows, for his meritscertainly entitled him to a distinguishedelevation.

91


Chapter Five

ROM HIS PRESENT STOPPING PLACE,Joaquín sent a messenger about the firstof December to the Arroyo Cantoova to

see if Valenzuela was there. If Valenzuela wasabsent, the messenger was to await his returnin order to inform him that it was made hisduty to continue the business in which he wasengaged through the entire winter, or untilsuch time as Joaquín should arrive at therendezvous. The messenger returned after afew days and stated that he had foundValenzuela and band at the arroyo with tentspitched and a herd of fine horses, amountingto between five and six hundred, feeding onthe pasture; and that the bold leader hadsignified a willing obedience to his chief’smandate.

F



“He is a glorious fellow,” exclaimed Joaquín.“He didn’t practice under that hardened oldpriest, Jurado, without learning something.”

Spies were now ranging the country everyday, picking up valuable information, andamong other things, it was ascertained thatan opinion prevailed that Joaquín had gone toSonora. Thinking it a favorable time, heissued forth with his entire force, unitingThree Fingered Jack’s party with Claudio’s,which was now under the leadership of Reis,and started up into Mariposa County for thepurpose of plunder.

On the road that leads from Dead Man’sCreek to the Merced River, he met fourFrenchmen, six Germans, and threeAmericans, walking and driving mules beforethem, packed with provisions, blankets, andmining utensils. Having so large a party withhim, numbering about thirty men, he had nodifficulty in stopping the travelers as long ashe wished to detain them. His men stoodaround with pistols cocked while Joaquíndismounted and walking up to a terrifiedFrenchman who was armed with a revolverthat he was afraid to use. He took theFrenchman by the top of the head, and jerking

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him around once or twice, slapped him acrossthe face with his open hand, and told him to“shell out.”

The Frenchman hauled out a well-filledpurse, and was handing it over when others ofhis companions made a show to draw theirpistols and defend their gold dust. Therobbers were too quick for them, and morethan half of the unfortunate miners were shotdown in their tracks. Joaquín brandished hisglittering blade in the faces of the survivorsand threatened to cut every one of theirwindpipes if they didn’t hand out “what littleloose change” they had about them, in half aminute! His polite request was complied with,and the little loose change amounted to about$15,000. He then bestowed a kick or two onsome of the number as a parting tribute ofregard and told them to “roll on.” ThreeFingered Jack insisted on killing the wholecompany, but the chief overruled him.

Riding forward after this transaction, theyhad not gone more than two miles when theymet a Chinaman with a long tail, carrying alarge bundle suspended at each end of a sticklaid across his shoulders, walking leisurelyalong with his head bent to the ground.



Looking up and seeing so large a number ofarmed men before him, his eyes rolled insudden fear, and he ducked his half-shavedhead in unmistakable homage and respect tothe revolvers and bowie knives that met hisvision.

No one harmed him, and he shuffled onvastly gratified and relieved. He had passedonly a few minutes when he was heardhowling and screaming in the most harrowingmanner. Looking back, they discovered thehorrified Celestial with his tail flying in thewind, running towards them at the top of hisspeed, with arms wildly sawing the air andbundle-less, while the ground clattered underhis wooden shoes. Just behind him, withblazing eyes, and his huge homemade knife inhis right hand, appeared Three FingeredJack, who had stopped at a spring and wastying his horse to a bush at the moment thatthe Chinaman came up.

It was too good an opportunity to be lost,and he darted like a wild hyena at theastounded Oriental, who applied himself tohis heels with the utmost vigor that he couldcommand. Joaquín bowed himself upon thesaddle in a convulsion of laughter at the

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ridiculous appearance of the Chinaman butspeedily confronted Jack and told him to stop.Woh Le fell upon his knees in deepestadoration of his preserver. Joaquín bade himgo on his way and, laughingly, reprimandedJack for wanting to kill so pitiful a lookingcreature.

“Well,” said Jack, “I can’t help it. But,somehow or other, I love to smell the blood ofa Chinaman. Besides, it’s such easy work tokill them. It’s a kind of luxury to cut theirthroats.”

Proceeding across the woods andmountains, the banditti in a few days struckthe main road leading from the town ofMariposa to Stockton, in San Joaquín County.Robbing once in a while as they went along,they arrived late one night at a ferry on theTuolumne River in Tuolumne County, andfinding the boat locked to the shore so thatthey could not exercise the privilege ofcrossing themselves, which was their usualcustom, they rode up to the ferryman’s houseand very nearly beat the door down beforethey could arouse him. He came out at lastwith a terrified look and asked what theywanted.



“We want to cross the river,” repliedJoaquín, “and before doing so we wish toobtain from you the loan of what spare cashyou may have about you. We have the bestevidence of the urgency of our request.” Hecocked his pistol and presented it close to thefellow’s head.

“Never mind the evidence, Señor, I believeyou without it. I will certainly loan you all Ihave got.”

So saying, he lit a candle and got out apurse from under his pillow, containing ahundred dollars.

“Come,” said Jack, bursting a cap at hishead, “you have got more!”

He was cocking his pistol for another trialwhen Joaquín very fiercely told him to knowhis place. Turning to the trembling ferryman,he said,

“Is this all you have got?”

“Precisely all, Señor, but you are welcome toit.”

“I won’t take it,” said the young chief with aflush of pride, “you are a poor man, and you

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never injured me. Put us over the river, and Iwill pay you for your trouble.”

I mention this incident merely to show thatMurieta in his worst days had yet a remnantof the noble spirit, which had been his originalnature, and to correct those who have saidthat he was lost to every generous sentiment.

The party arrived in the neighborhood ofStockton without further incident after twoday’s travel, and camped on the plain underan oak grove about three miles from thatplace. They were seen at their encampmentbut not suspected. Indeed, it was then, as it isnow, so common a thing to see companies ofmen engaged in the various occupations ofpackers, cattle drovers, horse traders,hunters, etc., stationed by the banks of somecool stream, or resting under the shade oftrees at a distance from any house, or withtheir tents pitched in some lonely place forweeks at a time – that it was scarcely just tosuspect a party to be criminal merely fromcircumstances like these.

The knowledge of everybody that it was thehabit among all classes to go armed and tocamp out in every sort of a place materially



aided the banditti in their movements, for itgave them the opportunity to remain perfectlysafe until they chose to avow their realcharacters by some open outrage and villainy.

One fine Sunday morning, while the bellswere ringing for church in the goodly city ofStockton, and well-dressed gentlemen werestanding at the corners of the streets,marking with critical eyes the glancing feetand the flaunting dresses of the ladies whoswept by them in the halo of beauty andperfumery, when a fine-looking man whomthey had never seen before – having long,black hair hanging over his shoulders and apiercing black eye – rode through the streets,carelessly looking at the different objects thathappened to attract his attention. So finelywas he dressed, and so superbly was his horsecaparisoned that, without seeming to know it,he was observed of all observers.

“What a splendid looking fellow!” said theladies.

“He must be a young Mexican Grandee atthe least, on a journey of pleasure,” said one.

“I think,” said another, “it must be GeneralVallejo’s son.”

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“I don’t believe he has any,” said a third.

And they became so much interested intheir conjectures about the young man that itis very doubtful if they paid much attention tothe very prosy minister who was then actingas the “bright and shining light” amidst thesurrounding darkness.

The youthful cavalier, after attractinguncommon attention by riding over the city,finally stopped at the side of a house, uponwhich were posted several notices – onereading as follows:

To which fine specimen of polite literaturewas appended the name of a worthy citizen,who was then fishing for his living, but hassince been fishing for various offices in thecounty.

Another one was a “notis” that some personeither wanted to hire some one else or behired himself as a cook – it was impossible totell which.

A third was an auctioneer’s notice:

“FOR SAIL. the surscribur ophfers for sail a yaul-bote hicht at the hed of the Slew terms cash or kabbige turnips and sich like will bea tayken.”



“Honor before the 25 da of Dec I will offur tothe hiest bider a brown mule ate yeer old, agilding 16 hans hi, and a span of jacksconsistin of long years and a good voyce.”

I have a notion to publish the name signedto this rare advertisement, especially as theauctioneer seems to have been something of awag as well as ignoramus. But, perhaps, itwill be better not. A fourth was headed, ingood English and a fair running hand:

“Five Thousand Dollars Reward forJoaquín, dead or alive,” and stated that thecitizens of San Joaquín County offered thatamount for the apprehension or the killing ofthat noted robber.

Seeing this, the young Mexican dismounted,and taking out his pencil, wrote somethingunderneath, and then leisurely rode out oftown. No less than a dozen persons,stimulated by curiosity, went to the paper tosee what was written, when they read thefollowing in pencil:

“I will give $10,000. JOAQUÍN.”

Numerous were the exclamations ofastonishment at this discovery, and nothingelse was talked of for a week, among the

Joaquín Murieta 101


ladies at least, who got hold of the fact almostbefore it was discovered and insisted to eachother that they had remarked that the youngman had a peculiarly wild and terrible look,and they had suspected very strongly –though they had never mentioned it to anyone – that it was none other than the notedpersonage whom it proved to be.

Joaquín appeared on this occasion in hisreal features. He frequently went afterwards,however, into that city completely disguisedand learned many things important for him tohear. He ascertained one evening that aschooner would go down the slough in a fewhours, bound for San Francisco, on board ofwhich were two miners from San Andreas inCalaveras County with heavy bags of golddust who designed to take their departure forthe Atlantic states. He took three of his menwho were lounging around town with himand, jumped into a skiff, shot down the sloughand tied up his boat in a bend of the water.There they hid in the bulrushes and patientlywaited for the schooner to come along.

The mosquitoes bit him unmercifully, andhe was almost tempted to abandon theenterprise on their account, but the prospect



of so good a haul was, on reflection, not to beresisted. He cursed himself for not bringingsome matches with which he might havekindled a fire and sought the protection of itssmoke. But perseverance is always rewardedif the object desired lies in the bounds ofpossibility, and waiting like a martyr for threemortal hours in those bulrushes, which are aperfect “mosquito kingdom” where hugegallinippers reign as the aristocracy, he atlast saw the white-sheeted schooner stealingalong in the crooks and turns of thecrookedest stream in the whole world. Sonarrow and so completely hid in its windingsby the tall cattails that overspread the plainsfor many miles to the right and left, that thewhite sail looked like a ghost gliding alongover the waving grass.

As the vessel came opposite, Joaquín andcompanions shoved their boat out into thestream, and tying it to the schooner’s side,leaped on board of her and commenced firingwithout saying a word. They shot down thetwo young men who managed the vesselbefore they had time to use their double-barreled shotguns, which they always carriedfor the purpose of shooting waterfowl in the



slough and up the San Joaquín River.Rushing aft, they attacked the two miners,who had risen at the report of the pistols andwere standing with their revolvers drawn andcocked, ready for action. They and the robbersfired simultaneously. Two of Joaquín’s menfell dead on the deck, and the miners fell atthe same time.

Their wallets were soon stripped from themby Joaquín and his surviving companion, andfinding some matches, they set fire to thevessel and left her to burn down. They rowedtheir skiff to the head of the slough inStockton and wended their way back to theirencampment. Ere daylight, there was no traceof murder on the slough but a dark hulk,which was barely visible on the water’s edge.

By this operation Joaquín realized $20,000.Having now between forty and fifty thousanddollars in gold dust, he ordered his bands topack up and started for the rendezvous ofArroyo Cantoova, passing by José RamónCarrejo’s Rancho and taking the lovely Rositaalong with him, who had been staying thereduring his trip to Stockton.



He reached the Arroyo about the middle ofthe day, and it was a beautiful sight that methis eye as he gazed over the extensive valley.He saw a thousand fine horses feeding on therich grass or galloping with flowing manesand expanded nostrils in graceful circles overthe plain.

“Valenzuela has done his work well,” saidthe elated chief, “ten times better than I hadexpected he would.”

Seeing one of his herdsmen looking at him ashort distance off as if endeavoring torecognize him, he rode up to him and askedhim in reference to Valenzuela.

“He has been gone,” said the vaquero,“about a week – we look for him every day.”

The newly arrived party then rode up to thetents under the trees and dismounted. Thebusy cooks hurried up the fires, and the freshvenison and bear meat was soon smoking onthe irons and emitting a most delicious savor,such as tempts the appetite of a hardypioneer. Broiled quails and grouse, sweet andoily, the latter of which had been broughtfrom the tall spruce trees at a height of threehundred feet by the long, maple stocked, and



silver mounted rifles that stood at the cornerof one of the tents, were hanging in front ofthe blaze, suspended by their necks tobranching sticks driven into the ground. Thehot coffee steamed up from the large pot witha most stimulating effect; everything wasspread forth in superabundance, scatteredover a large white cloth that covered a fewyards square of green grass. At a signal fromthe cooks, who were also the waiters, fortyfierce and hungry brigands sat down and withthe utmost expedition consistent with respectfor their leader, made havoc among thevictuals.

Just at this moment, a mounted companydashed up at full speed, giving the well-known whoop by which they could berecognized as friends, and dismounted. It wasValenzuela and a portion of his band, theremainder of whom soon after came in,driving two hundred and fifty thoroughbredAmerican horses before them. The circle wasenlarged, the cooks went to work afresh, andsoon the whole banditti, who were all unitedfor the first time after many months, wereseated at the ample banquet. Generous winesstood sparkling in their midst with which



scarcely any refused to refresh themselves.Conversation flowed freely, and each one hada tale to tell of hairbreadth escapes anddaring deeds. After hearing a brisk series ofbloody narrations, Joaquín turned toValenzuela and said:

“My brave brother, you have never beenvery communicative in regard to your formerlife; let us hear an incident or two thathappened to you when you served under thedaring Padre Jurado. By the Holy Virgin! Youmust have had some awful experiences inthose days.”

Valenzuela related the following story:

“One night when the robber priest andmyself, who was his Lieutenant, and a dozenothers were encamped by a small lake up inthe mountains near to Cerro Gordo, whichhad recently been the battleground of theAmerican and Mexican forces, some Americanhorses that had escaped rider-less from thescene of slaughter had wandered into the hillsand fallen into our hands. We expected that aparty of Yankees would certainly get on theirtrack and follow them up. We wanted Juradoto put out the fires, but he said no, he wanted



the Americans to come on, and if the lightwere extinguished they would not be able tofind him. He ordered more fuel to be put on,and the highly combustible pine knots sent upa blaze that lit the woods for miles around.

“We had sat up about two hours aftersupper when he heard the approach ofhorsemen, the steel shod hoofs ringing clearlyagainst the rocky trail that led to ourencampment. A moment after, perfect silencereigned, and we looked and listened in vainfor the approaching party. Jurado suddenlysprung up after a few moments andexclaimed:

“‘They are so still they must be slylycreeping on to us, the damned cougars! Let usget behind the trees.’

“We were just in the act of obeying thissuggestion when a dozen shots rung from theadjacent shadows, which bordered our fire,and no less than thirty gigantic Yankeesrushed into our circle. Six of our men hadfallen at the crack of their guns, and therewere only eight of our number left to contendagainst the terrible odds opposed to us.Jurado cried out:



“‘Let us lead them out of the light of thefires!’

“We sought shelter instantaneously in therocks and stood at bay. On they came withtheir revolvers cocked and shivered the rocksaround us with their bullets. We returned thefire with our own six-shooters, which thanksto the American smugglers along the coast,we were amply supplied with, and heardmany an ominous groan at each report. Butthey were so much superior to us in numberthat they shot at least four times to our once,and I saw that we must inevitably beoverpowered. Five of my companions, whosurvived the shots at the fire, lay around memortally wounded, and there were onlyJurado, and myself, and one other left. Werushed from our temporary shelter, in whichwe would soon have been completely hemmedand at the mercy of our enemies, andswinging down a precipice thirty-feet high bysome oak branches that overhung it, and hidourselves noiselessly at the base. To and froabove our heads we distinctly heard thehurrying footsteps of our pursuers. Finally,one of them exclaimed:



“‘These branches here are twisted andbroken as if they had let themselves down thisbluff.’

“Whereupon a dozen long legged, brawnyfellows came dangling over us. They hadscarcely struck the ground before three ofthem bit the dust, and another instant hadnot elapsed before another discharge of ourrevolvers brought down two more. At whichcrisis others of the attacking party had comearound below the bluffs, and before we hadtime to take breath, commenced firing. Thesplinters of the rocks and the bark of the treesflew around us as if we had been made themark of congregated lightnings, and we werefain to get away from there. We set our teethtogether and passed within ten feet of theirguns, bounding like wild bucks. We made ourescape, severely wounded, however, anddragged our aching limbs over the mountainsto our rendezvous, where we found protectionand medicine for our wounds in the midst ofour brother guerrillas who had remained athome. I know of no fight in my wholeexperience so severe and soul harrowing asthat one.”



“A good deal like one that we had,” repliedJoaquín, “a few miles from San Luis Obispo,when you, Valenzuela, were absent below, inwhich we lost the twenty brave men whomyou miss from this circle. Three Fingered Jackdid the hardest fighting then that I ever saw.He was perfectly delirious and so blind withexcitement that he was about to attack me foran enemy.”

The afternoon and evening were consumedin reminiscences like these.

On the following morning, Joaquín collectedhis bands around him, numbering from a lateaccession of new “fighting members” as hecalled them, one hundred men, and explainedto them fully his views and purposes.

“I am at the head of an organization,” saidhe, “of two thousand men whose ramificationsare in Sonora, Lower California, and in thisstate. I have money in abundance deposited ina safe place. I intend to arm and equip fifteenhundred or two thousand men and make aclean sweep of the southern counties. I intendto kill the Americans ‘wholesale,’ burn theirranchos, and run off their property in onesingle swoop so rapidly that they will not have



time to collect an opposing force before I willhave finished the work and found safety inthe mountains of Sonora. When I do this, Ishall wind up my career. My brothers, we willthen be revenged for our wrongs, and somelittle, too, for the wrongs done to our poor,bleeding country. Then we will divide oursubstance and spend the rest of our days inpeace. I am now preparing for this grandclimax, and this is the reason, Valenzuela,that I have kept you so busy collectinghorses.”

The banditti shouted in loud applause oftheir gallant leader. Their eyes kindled withenthusiasm at the magnificent prospect thathe presented to them, and they could scarcelycontain themselves in view of the astoundingrevelations that he had made. They hadentertained no adequate idea of the splendidgenius that belonged to their chief, althoughthey had loved and admired him throughouthis dangerous career. They were fired withnew energy, and more than ever willing andanxious to obey him at all hazards and underthe most disadvantageous circumstances.

On this same day he dispatched aremittance of $50,000 to his secret partner in



Sonora under a strong force commanded byValenzuela. He directed Three Fingered Jack,with fifty men, to drive off to the same state athousand head of the horses that had beencollected.

Joaquín was accordingly left at therendezvous with twenty-five men, who hadnothing to do but kill game, attend to theirhorses, and clean their arms. The wife ofGonzález was there, who had consoled herwidowhood by accepting a huge fellow as herhusband by the name of Guerra, who lookedmore like a grizzly bear than a human being.He was not so kind to her as González hadbeen, and one night while he was asleep, shewas about to cut his throat when Joaquín,who was lying in the same tent, fiercely toldher to behave herself and assured her with anemphasis that he would hold her responsibleif Guerra was ever found dead about camp.She threw her knife spitefully towardsJoaquín and lay down again by her adorablespouse, who snored in blissful ignorance of hiswife’s affectionate purpose.

Lounging in his tent one misty day – for therainy season had set in – Joaquín was arousedfrom the luxurious lap of his mistress by one



of his sentinels, who galloped up and informedhim that he had just discovered a fresh trailthrough the grass, about a mile and a halfbelow on the Cantoova Creek, and fromappearances, he should judge there were eightor ten men. It was important to keep a sharplookout and to allow no Americans to leavethat valley with the knowledge that it wasoccupied by any body of men whatever, assuch a circumstance would materiallyinterfere with the gigantic plans projected.Accordingly, it was not long before Joaquínwas mounted upon one of his swiftest horsesand accompanied by fifteen picked men. Theyproceeded to the trail indicated by thesentinel and rode rapidly for two hours, whichbrought them in sight of ten Americans, whohalted in curious surprise and waited forthem to come up.

“Who are you?” said Joaquín, “and what isyour business in these parts?”

They replied that they were hunters insearch of bears and deer.

“We are hunters, also,” rejoined the bandit,“and are camped just across the plain here.Come over with us, and let us have a chat.



Besides, we have some first-rate liquor at ourcamp.”

Suspecting nothing wrong, the huntersaccompanied them, and having dismounted atthe tents and turned out their horses to graze,found themselves suddenly in a very doubtfulposition. They were surrounded by a companymore than double their own who madedemonstrations not at all grateful to theirsight, and in a few moments they realized thebitter fact that they were driven to theextremity of a hopeless struggle for theirlives. They remonstrated with Joaquínagainst so shameless an act as the cold-blooded murder of men who had never injuredhim.

“You have found me here,” he replied, “and Ihave no guarantee that you will not betrayme. If I do not tell you who I am, you willthink it no harm to say that you have seen aman of my description; and if I do tell you,then you will be certain to mention it at thefirst opportunity.”

At this moment a young man, originallyfrom the wilds of Arkansas, not more thaneighteen years of age, advanced in front of his



trembling comrades and, standing face-to-facewith the robber chief, addressed him in a firmvoice to the following effect:

“I suspect strongly who you are, sir. I amsatisfied that you are Joaquín Murieta. I amalso satisfied that you are a brave man whowould not unnecessarily commit murder. Youwould not wish to take our lives unless yourown safety demanded it. I do not blame you,following the business you do, for desiring toput an effectual seal of silence on our tongues.But listen to me just a moment. You see that Iam no coward. I do not look at you with theaspect of a man who would tell a falsehood tosave his life. I promise you faithfully formyself, and in behalf of my companions, thatif you spare our lives, which are completely inyour power, not a word shall be breathed ofyour whereabouts. I will myself kill the firstman who says a word in regard to it. Underdifferent circumstances I should take adifferent course, but now, I am conscious thatto spare our lives will be an act ofmagnanimity on your part, and I stake myhonor – not as an American citizen, but as aman who is simply bound by justice tohimself, under circumstances in which no



other considerations can prevail – that youshall not be betrayed. If you say you will spareus, we thank you. If you say no, we can onlyfight till we die, and you must lose some ofyour lives in the conflict.”

Joaquín drew his hand across his brow, andlooked thoughtful and undecided. A beautifulfemale approached him from the tent near byand touched him on the shoulder.

“Spare them, Joaquín,” she tremulouslywhispered, and looking at him with pleadingeyes, retired softly to her seat again.

Raising his fine head with a lofty look, hebent his large clear eyes upon the youngAmerican, as if he would read him like anoutspread page. The young Americananswered his glance with a look so royallysincere that Joaquín exclaimed with suddenenergy:

“I will spare you. Your countrymen haveinjured me, they have made me what I am,but I scorn to take the advantage of so brave aman. I will risk a look and a voice like yours, ifit should lead to perdition. Saddle their horsesfor them,” he said to his followers, “and letthem depart in peace.”



The party was very soon mounted again,and showering blessings on Joaquín, who hadbecome suddenly transformed into an angel intheir estimation, they took their leave. I havenever learned that the young man – or any ofhis party – broke their singular compact, andindeed, it seems to me that it would have beenvery questionable morality in them to havedone so; for certainly, however much theyowed to society, it would have been a suicidalact to refuse to enter into such an agreement;and as nothing but a firm conviction that theyintended to keep their word could haveinduced Joaquín to run so great a risk, theywere bound to preserve their faith inviolate. Ifthey had a right to purchase their lives at theprice of silence, they had an equal right – andnot only that, but were morally bound – tostand up to their bargain. It would be well ifmen were never forced into such a position,but society has no right – after it hashappened – to wring from them a secret thatbelongs to them and not to the world. In suchmatters God is the only judge.

119


Chapter Six

HE MONTH OF DECEMBER was drawing toa close, and the busy brain of theaccomplished chief had mapped out the

full plan of his operations for the new yearjust at hand. It was the year that would closehis short and tragic career with a crowningglory - a deed of daring and of power thatwould redeem with its refulgent light thedarkness of his previous history and show himto aftertimes not as a mere outlaw committingpetty depredations and robberies, but as ahero who has revenged his country's wrongsand washed out her disgrace with the blood ofher enemies.

It was time for Three Fingered Jack andValenzuela to return from Sonora, andJoaquín waited patiently for their arrival inorder to replenish his purse during the first

T



months of the new year so that he mightexecute his magnificent purpose withoutembarrassment or obstruction. In a few days,García and Valenzuela returned,accompanied by an old guerrilla comrade ofthe latter named Luis Viñuela. The two hadlost five men from their bands, killed inseveral skirmishes on their way back with thecitizens of Los Angeles County. Further thanthis, they had received no injury and were infine health and spirits, although their horseswere somewhat jaded. Each leader handed toJoaquín a well-filled purse of gold coin.

Having rested two days, the major portionof the banditti mounted fresh horses, andleaving the remainder, numbering twenty-fivemen, at the rendezvous under the command ofGuerra - with whom they also left the females,not thinking it prudent to take them along inview of the bloody scenes that would beenacted - they set out for Calaveras County.

They had not been gone more than threedays before a quarrel arose between Guerraand his affectionate wife, which ended in hisgiving her a wholesome thrashing. Shesubmitted to the infliction with greatapparent humility, but the next morning at



breakfast time when Guerra was called anddid not come, several of his companions wentinto his tent to arouse him and found himstone dead. There was no sign of violence onhis body, and it remained a complete mysteryhow he died. He had been a hard drinker, andfinally his death was attributed to an overindulgence the night before. But the fact ofthe case was that unconscious sleeper hadreceived at midnight just one drop of hot leadinto his ear, tipped from a ladle by a smalland skillful hand.

Byron has said in one of his misanthropicverses:

"Woman's tears, produced at will, Deceive inlife, unman in death."

The truth of this bitter asseveration waspartially illustrated when the inconsolablewidow wept so long and well over the husbandwhom she, like a second, nay, the thousandthjezebel, had made a corpse. It is barelypossible, however, that her tears were those ofremorse. She accepted for her third husband ayoung fellow in the band at the rendezvousnamed Isidoro Conejo, who loved her much



more tenderly than did the brutal Guerra,whom she so skillfully put out of the way.

This young man was a few years her junior,but she looked as youthful as himself. Twicewidowed, her sorrows had not dimmed theluster of her eyes, or taken the gloss from herrich dark hair, or the rose from her cheeks.Her step was as buoyant as ever, the play ofher limbs as graceful, the heave of herimpulsive bosom as entrancing, and her voiceas full of music as if she had never lostGonzález or murdered Guerra. There aresome women who seem never to grow old. Aseach successive spring renews the plumage ofthe birds, so with them the passing years addfresh beauty to their forms, and decay longlingers ere he has the heart to touch theirtranscendent loveliness with his cold andwithering fingers. The fascinating Margaritawas one of these.

Joaquín with his party, fully bent on themost extensive mischief, entered CalaverasCounty about the middle of December. Thiscounty was then, as it is now, one of therichest in the State of California. Itsmountains were veined with gold - the beds ofits clear and far rushing streams concealed



the yellow grains in abundance - and the largequartz leads, like the golden tree of theHesperides, spread their fruitful branchesabroad through the hills. Its fertile valleysbloomed with voluptuous flowers over whichyou might walk as on a carpet woven ofrainbows, or waved with the green andmellow harvests, whose ready music charmedthe ear. The busy wheels of the sawmills withtheir glittering teeth rived the mighty pines,which stood like green and spiral towers, oneabove another, from base to summit of themajestic peaks. Long tunnels, dimly lightedwith swinging lamps or flickering candles,searched far into the bowels of the earth forher hidden secrets. Those that wereabandoned served as dens for the cougar andwolf, or more frequently, the dens of thieves.

Over this attractive field for his enterprises,Joaquín scattered his party in differentdirections. He entrusted Reis with thecommand of twenty men, Luis Viñuela withthat of twenty-five, retaining about fifteen forhis own use among whom was the terribleThree Fingered Jack and the no less valuableValenzuela, and employed the remainder asspies and bearers of news from one point of



action to another. Reis went up to theheadwaters of the Stanislaus River betweenwhose forks the rich valleys, covered withhorses, afforded a fine theater for hisoperations.

On all the mountain-fed branches andsprings of these forks, the picks and shovels ofa thousand miners were busy, and theindustrious Chinese had pitched their little,cloth villages in a hundred spots, and eachday hurried to and fro like innumerable ants,picking up the small but precious grains. LuisViñuela - as daring a man as Claudio and ascunning - proceeded to the headwaters of theMokelumne River and detached portions ofthese two bands, at intervals, ranged theintermediate space.

Joaquín himself had no particular spherebut chose his ground according tocircumstances. Keeping Three Fingered Jackwith him most of the time, he yet once in awhile gave him the charge of a small partywith liberty to do as he pleased - a favor thatthe bloody monster made good use of so muchso that scarcely a man whom he ever met, richor poor, escaped with his life.



The horse that this hideous fellow rodemight have rivaled Bucephalus in breadth ofchest, high spirit, and strength of limb, unitedwith swiftness. No one but a powerful mancould have rode him, but Three FingeredJack, with a fine Mexican saddle (the bestsaddles in the world) fastened securely with abroad girth made of horse hair as strong as aband of iron, and curbing him with a hugeSpanish bit - with which he might have renthis jaw - managed the royal animal with ease.To see this man, with his large and ruggedframe in which the strength of a dozencommon men slumbered - his face andforehead scarred with bullets and groovedwith the wrinkles of grim thoughts, and hisintensely lighted eyes glaring maliciously likecaged demons under his shaggy brows - to seesuch a man mounted upon a raven black horsewhose nostrils drew the air like a gust of windinto his broad chest, whose wrathful hoofpawed the ground as if the spirit of his riderinspired him, and whose wild orbs rolled fromside to side in untameable fire - would aptlyremind one of old Satan himself mountedupon a hell-born beast, after he had been "letloose for a thousand years."



Among the many thrilling instances of thedaring and recklessness of spirit thatbelonged to Joaquín, there is one that I do notfeel at liberty to omit - especially as it comesnaturally and properly in this connection.Shortly after he parted from Reis and LuisViñuela, he went up into the extreme north ofthe county. There, at the head of a branch ofthe South Fork of the Mokelumne River, in awild and desolate region near the boundaryline of Calaveras and El Dorado Counties,were located a company of miners, consistingof twenty five men. They were at a longdistance from any neighbors, having gonethere well armed on a prospecting tour thatresulted in their finding diggings so rich theywere persuaded to pitch their tents andremain. One morning while they were eatingtheir breakfast on a flat rock - a natural tablethat stood in front of their tents, armed asusual with their revolvers, a young fellowwith very dark hair and eyes rode up andsaluted them. He spoke very good English andthey could scarcely make out whether he wasa Mexican or an American. They requestedhim to get down and eat with them, but hepolitely declined. He sat with one leg crossed



over his horse's neck very much at his ease,conversing very freely on various subjects,until Jim Boyce, one of the partners who hadbeen to the spring after water, appeared insight. At the first glance on him, the younghorseman flung his reclining leg back over thesaddle and spurred his horse.

Boyce roared out:

"Boys, that fellow is Joaquín! Damn it,shoot him!" At the same instant, he himselffired but without effect.

Joaquín dashed down to the creek belowwith headlong speed and crossed with theintention, no doubt, to escape over the hillsthat ran parallel with the stream. But his waywas blocked by perpendicular rocks, and hisonly practicable path was a narrow diggertrail that led along the side of a hugemountain, and directly over a ledge of rocks ahundred yards in length, which hung over therushing stream beneath in a direct line of thehill upon which the miners had pitched theirtents, and not more than forty yards distant.It was a fearful gauntlet for any man to run.Not only was there danger of falling ahundred feet from the rocks, but also he must



run in a parallel line with his enemies, and inpistol range, for a hundred yards. In fair viewof him stood the whole company with theirrevolvers drawn.

He dashed along that fearful trail as if hehad been mounted upon a spirit steed,shouting as he passed:

"I am Joaquín! Kill me if you can!"



Shot after shot came clanging around hishead, and bullet after bullet flattened on thewall of slate at his right. In the midst of thefirst firing, his hat was knocked from hishead, and left his long black hair streamingbehind him. He had no time to use his ownpistol, but knowing that his only chance lay inthe swiftness of his sure footed animal, hedrew his keenly polished bowie knife in prouddefiance of the danger and waved it in scornas he rode on. It was perfectly sublime to seesuch super human daring and recklessness.At each report, which came fast and thick, hekissed the flashing blade and waved it at hisfoes. He passed the ordeal, as awful andharrowing to a man's nerves as can beconceived, untouched by a ball and otherwiseunharmed. In a few moments, a loud whooprang out in the woods a quarter of a miledistant, and the bold rider was safe!

Joaquín, knowing well the determinedcharacter of Jim Boyce, and deeming it morethan probable that he had heard of thedifferent large rewards offered for his captureor death, which amounted in the aggregate to$15,000 or $20,000, he made up his mindspeedily that an attack would be made upon



him by the whole party of miners if heremained at his encampment, which wassome five miles distant from their tents.Concluding that they could not collect theirhorses together and prepare their arms andammunition in a proper manner for an attackor pursuit before night, he conceived a plan,the most brilliant and ingenious that everentered an outlaw's brain, by which to defeattheir purposes and carry out his own originalintention of robbing them.

Knowing that a trail could very well bemade in the night but that it could only befollowed in the daytime, he ordered his men,numbering fifteen, to saddle up and makeready for a ride. They obeyed with alacrityand without question, and in a few momentswere on their horses and ready to moveforward. The chief led the way in silence,proceeding over the pine ridges in an easterlydirection. He rode on vigorously until nightover very rough ground, having traversed adistance of twenty miles. But wishing to placea still greater distance between him and theencampment that he had left, he did not cometo final halt until a late hour.



Building a huge fire and hitching theiranimals near by, the wearied bandits hastilythrew their blankets down and stretched theirlimbs upon them for repose. Sentinelsalternately sat up until daylight, so that atthe first touch of dawn the whole band aroseand again started, having lost only four hoursin sleep. They journeyed on in the samecourse as briskly as possible until noon, whenthey reached a nice little valley, distant abouttwenty miles from their last encampment. Itwas covered with grass and wild clover andwatered by a beautiful spring, which bubbledup from the roots of a clump of evergreenoaks. There they stopped for two hours to lettheir horses graze and to refresh their ownrather empty stomachs with the sardines andcrackers they generally carried with them.

Here they left strong indications that theyhad spent the night but established thecontrary fact by riding on for the remainder ofthe day, whose close found them at anotherdistance of twenty miles. Building fires asbefore and eating a hasty supper, they againmounted, and having made a circle of fivemiles in their course, suddenly turned to thewestward and encamped about three o'clock



A.M. at a spot distant another day's journeyfrom their last starting point. Thus travelingand resting, after the lapse of a few days theyfound themselves on the original trail uponwhich they had started.

Jim Boyce and company had struck thepath of the robbers on the next morning aftertheir departure and had camped each night atthe fires that the banditti had left, expectingas was natural, that they would come to afinal stopping place when they had proceededas far as they liked. Joaquín smiled withexquisite satisfaction when he perceived thatBoyce was certainly ahead of him and, fromevery indication, unsuspecting in theremotest degree that his archenemy was atthat moment in his rear.

At night, after a long day's ride over ruggedmountains and deep gulches, Jim Boyce andhis company, numbering twenty five menincluding himself, were seated around one ofJoaquín's late fires, which they had rekindled.They quietly enjoyed smoking their pipes andlaughing over the numerous stereotypedjokes, which had descended, likeShakespeare, from one gentleman to anotherand are too good ever to be worn out. The



Heavens were cloudy, and a boundary of soliddarkness lay around the lighted ring in whichthey sat. In the ragged clouds a few starsdimly struggled, and the lonesome scream ofthe cougar, like the wail of a lost spiritbenighted in the infinity of darkness, gave awild terror to the surrounding woods.

Suddenly and startlingly, the simultaneousreports of fifteen pistols rent the air, the darkouter wall of the fire circle blazed, as if a cloudhad unleashed its lightnings. The astonishedsurvivors of the company bounded up to seefifteen of their number stretched upon theearth and to meet with the deadly repetitionof the fifteen revolvers. Panic stricken andbewildered, the survivors of the seconddischarge, numbering three men amongwhom was Jim Boyce, fled head long into thedarkness, and taking no time to choose theirground, hurried madly and distractedly awayfrom the horrible scene.

Joaquín stepped quietly into the circle tosee if Jim Boyce was killed, but ThreeFingered Jack leaped in like a demon with hishuge knife in his mutilated hand, which hadlost none of its strength, and did its ThreeFingered work far better than many other



whole hands could do it, and soon quenchedthe last spark of beating life in the pale formsaround him. Everyone must know that deathfrom a bullet flings a sudden and extremepaleness over the countenance, and thus thelight from the fire, falling upon the ghastlyfaces around, displayed a sight so hideous andharrowing that Joaquín exclaimed with ashudder:

"Let's leave here, we will camp tonightsomewhere else."

Searching the bundles upon which thecompany had been seated, he found indifferent buckskin purses a sum amounting tonot less than thirty thousand dollars. He alsoadded fifteen excellent horses and tenpowerful mules to his livestock.

Jim Boyce and his surviving companionswandered to the distant settlements, whichafter many hardships, they reached in safety.It is pleasant to add that in a short time theyraised another company with whom they wentback to their rich diggings, and in spite oftheir immense loss by Joaquín's robbery, theymade for themselves ample fortunes withwhich they returned to the Eastern states.



Should Jim Boyce chance to read this humblenarrative of mine, I beg him to receive mywarmest congratulations.

137


Chapter Seven

N ONE OF THE HEAD BRANCHES of theMokelumne River, on the last day ofDecember, a large crowd was gathered

in and around a cloth building in a littlemining town, which looked like a half venturetowards civilization in the midst of that wildand savage region. A tall, dark skinned mansat in the middle of the room, with a huge log-chain around one of his legs. His brow was talland massive, and his large gray eyes lookedforth with that calm, cold light thatunmistakably expresses a deep, calculatingintellect, divested of all feeling andindependent of all motives that might arisefrom mere impulse or passion - an intellectthat is sole in itself, looking at the resultmerely in all its actions, not considering thequestion of right or wrong, and working out ascheme of unmitigated villainy as it would a

O



mathematical problem. To the right of thisman sat a huge, old fellow with blue eyes,sandy hair, and a severe look, whose scatteredlaw books and papers on the table nearbyproclaimed him the justice of the peace in thatdistrict - an office, by the way, as important atthat time in California and possessing ajurisdiction as extensive as many of thecounty courts in other and older states of theunion.

The prisoner was none other than LuisViñuela, who had been arrested upon a chargeof murder and robbery in that town on the daybefore, under the following circumstances:

A German, living by himself in an isolatedtent, was heard to scream "murder!" threetimes. Hearing that horrible cry, five or sixmen some two hundred yards off ran up to theplace and at a glance comprehended the wholescene. The German lay with his throat cutfrom ear to ear and his pockets turned insideout. Looking hastily around on the outside,they discovered two men, apparentlyMexicans, who dodged on the further side of adeserted cabin and disappeared behind somerocks. Going to the rocks and finding nofurther trace of the fugitives, they went back



and alarmed the whole town with a statementof the circumstances. Every eye was vigilantin every quarter, and just as Luis Viñuela,who had observed the fast increasingexcitement and guessed pretty nearly thecharacter of its cause, was mounting his horsein front of a liquor shop. He was suddenlyknocked down with a bludgeon, disarmed, andsecurely bound. The people en masse securelyguarded him during the night - which wasjust at hand - intending to hang him without atrial on the morrow. But they were dissuadedby Justice Brown, the tall severe looking manabove spoken of, who being a man of influenceand a good speaker withal, convinced themthat it was better to proceed with him legally,as there was but little doubt of his being foundguilty as one of the murderers, in which casehe would deliver him over to their justvengeance. Thus the case stood up to themoment in which the subject is introduced.

The witnesses, who ran at the cry of murderto the tent and saw the two Mexicans dodgingaround the house, could swear no furtherthan that one of them was of about the samesize and shape as the prisoner. The barkeeperof the liquor shop testified, in addition to this,



that the prisoner rode up to his door anddismounted just a few moments before hisarrest. It was well known, also, that a dozenor more robberies had lately been committedin that neighborhood and that various personshad met upon the roads a gang of suspiciouslooking Mexicans armed to the teeth. Thisconstituted all the testimony against Viñuela,whose person was unknown to thecommunity, but whose name was familiar toall by reputation. Had he been recognized asthat noted character, no further inquiry wouldhave been made, but he would have beenhurried to the first convenient tree and hunginstantly.

He stood on a dangerous brink. Being askedby the justice if he had any proof to offer in hisown behalf, he replied that he depended uponsome of his acquaintances coming in duringthe day, who would establish his character asan honest man to the satisfaction of the court.He affirmed his innocence in a calm tone andan unflinching manner, looking at theimmense crowd who stood scowling upon himfrom every side; although, could his hearthave been read, he relied little upon thepossibility of a rescue by his comrades, which



was indeed a feeble hope. A silence of one halfhour rested in the court while the justice wasengaged in drawing up a transcript of the caseas far as it had proceeded, when a young mansuperbly dressed and adorned with splendidgold chain and watch, entered the room withgentlemanly dignity and politely addressedthe Justice, to the following effect:

"My name, your Honor, is SamuelHarrington. I am a merchant and packer inthe town of San José, and I am just now on myreturn from the more northern mines, towhich I have been packing flour and otherprovisions. I am encamped within five miles ofthis place, and having heard from a citizen ofyour town this morning that a dark skinnedman with gray eyes was in custody on acharge of murder and that, although therewas no positive proof against him, yet therewas so strong a prejudice against Mexicansthat there was great danger of his being hungby the infuriated populace. It just struck methat the prisoner might be one of my hiredmen, a Mexican, whom I sent into town lastnight, and who - much to my astonishment -did not return. I find that it is indeed the case.Your prisoner is none other than my packer



and consequently cannot be connected withany robbing or thieving band around here. Hehas been with me four years and no man eversustained a better character. I shall wish,your Honor, to testify in his behalf, but beforeI take my oath, I would like to prove myidentity as Mr. Harrington of San José. Pleaseexamine these letters."

He here presented to the justice, who wasalready favorably impressed, five or six lettersaddressed in different hands to "Mr. SamuelHarrington, San José," and bearing the marksof various post offices in the state. The justiceshowed these letters to several of the crowd,whose countenances immediately relaxedtowards the prisoner.

"Mr. Harrington," said Squire Brown, "yourevidence will be taken without a moment'sscruple."

Harrington accordingly testified to the factsthat he had already related and the prisonerwas discharged. Many apologies were made toMr. Harrington for detaining his hired man solong, and after many compliments, he andViñuela departed. As soon as they were



clearly out of town, the both indulged in ahearty laugh.

"How came it," said Viñuela to Joaquín,"that you arrived in such good time? I had noexpectation but to be hung."

"I happened to reach your camp out here inthe mountains last night, having met some ofour spies who guided me to it. I had not beenthere more than two hours before two of yourmen came in and reported that they hadkilled a man in that little cloth town, andinquired for you. Your being absentimmediately created apprehension, andhaving waited for you anxiously till morning,we were at once convinced that you had beencaptured. Having most fortunately in mypossession a package of letters addressed toSamuel Harrington, San José - which I hadthe good sense, thank God, to preserve at thetime I got them into my hands - itimmediately flashed on me that in case Ifound you arrested, that I could pass myselfoff for a respectable merchant and so saveyour life. It worked to a charm as you see. Imake it a practice to preserve documents ofthis kind, and I find that they come in prettygood play."



"But how did you come by them!" inquiredViñuela.

"Oh, easy enough. I killed a fellow on myway down here the other day and found themin his pockets - and damned little besides,too!"

"You remind me," said Viñuela, "very muchof Padre Jurado, God rest his soul! He savedmany of his followers by being present at theirtrials, or introducing witnesses to prove analibi, or presenting forged pardons on the dayof execution, signed in the exact hands of theprovincial governors. His knowledge wasextensive, and during his monkish life, theconfessional had given him so manyimportant and vital secrets connected withgreat personages that he could frequentlycommand the services of the wealthiest menand the best born dames of Mexico. Besidesthis, he sometimes officiated as one of theFathers in the remote towns and villages."

Thus conversing, they rode on to Viñuela'scamp, some ten miles in the mountains, andwere met by a welcome shout from theirsubordinates.



While at this camp, resting his horses,Joaquín received a messenger from Reis onthe Stanislaus with the news that he hadkilled one hundred and fifty Chinamen andhad sent to the Arroyo Cantoova two hundredhorses since he had last seen his chief.

"Tell him," said Joaquín, "it is all right andto go ahead. I will send him word before long.Tell him hereafter to send his horses for safekeeping to the Quién Sabe Rancho, RanchoMuños, or Joaquín Guerra's Rancho, any ofthe three."

Reis had managed most cunningly. Hid inan old abandoned tunnel, out of which he hadwhipped a pack of wolves, neither he nor anyof his party had been seen by daylight at all.All his thefts and robberies had been done inthe night. The miserable Chinamen weremostly the sufferers, and they lay along thehighways like so many sheep with theirthroats cut by the wolves. It was a politicstroke in Reis to kill Chinamen in preferenceto Americans, for no one cared for so alien aclass, and they were left to shift forthemselves.



One moonlight night at the hour of twelvewhen silence had fallen upon the world ofmountains, woods, and valleys, and all quietspirits were asleep, Reis issued from histunnel, three hundred feet under ground, withthree men, and getting out their horses fromthe corral of a friendly ranchero near by - whowas kind enough to take care of them, nodoubt from very disinterested motives - theystarted on a pleasure trip up a ratherlonesome road that led along a branch of theSouth Fork of the Stanislaus River.

Coming in sight of a neat looking framehouse. Reis, bent upon an adventure,dismounted, as did also his followers, andhitching their horses on the roadside, walkedstealthily up to the house. At the first, thereappeared to be a dead silence about thepremises but going around on the east side,Reis discovered a light burning at a window,and drawing nearer, heard the murmuring ofvoices. Not caring particularly what he did,curiosity led him to look in.

The sight that met him was something noless ravishing than a love scene. Upon asettee on the further side of the room, halfreclining, sat a blushing girl of seventeen



years, her golden ringlets showered downupon her neck and shoulders, and her bosomheaving as if it would burst its gauzy coveringand strike the gazer blind with itsunspeakable loveliness.

At her feet, upon the carpeted floor knelt ahandsome young man, not more than twentyyears of age, holding her small white hand inhis, which ever and anon, he hurried to hislips and seemed to devour it with kisses. Shecould not restrain his wild transports, for hecaught her with a lover's fierceness aroundher beautiful neck and breathed his soul uponher lips. He sprang to her side and pressedher to his bosom as if he would blend his verybody with her own.

She looked bewildered, the beautifulcreature! One moment gently striving towrest herself from his arms, at anotherleaning her head upon his bosom with a sighof unutterable love. It was a sight that mightwell disturb the equanimity of any man, andit is not to be wondered at that Reis looked onlike one bewitched. Fate at last had somemercy on the bandit, for after he hadswallowed his uprising heart a hundred timeswith looking on the enchanting beauty of the



passionate girl in her lover's arms, the latterfinally tore himself away and started forthfrom the house. One of the bandits followedhim, as a matter of course, while Reis hastilyconcerted with the others how to act, for hewas determined to abduct the beauty at allhazards.

The young man was walking very leisurelyalong in a bend of the road when he heard asharp click just behind him. With suddensurprise he looked around, and there, face-to-face with him, stood a man, or devil, orwhatever it might be, with a cocked pistolpointed within six inches of his head.

"Down on your knees or I will blow yourbrains out."

The young man knelt now from a differentmotive to that which made him kneel a shorttime before.

"Shell out, you dastardly scoundrel!" saidthe accomplished highwayman.

"There, take it," said the young man andthrew his purse a few feet from him on theground.

The robber stooped to pick it up, and whilehe was bent, the young man drew a small



dagger from his bootleg and plunged it intohis back. It struck him directly in the spine,and the huge bodied villain sunk without agroan.

The young man, vaguely suspecting thatthere might be danger lurking near hisRosalie, went back to the house. To his horror,his ears were saluted with a loud and piercingscream. Like a madman he rushed to thehouse, and had just entered the door ofRosalie's room and taken one glance, whichshowed him the terrified girl struggling in thehands of a savage looking monster, when hewas knocked senseless to the floor. The grayold mother, a lonely widow whose onlypleasure was her daughter, dung to therobber's arm and in the trembling accents ofextreme old age, beseeched him while thetears flooded the wrinkled channels of herface, to spare her child, her only child.

"Cease your gabbling," said one of Reis'men, who knocked the old woman speechlessat his feet.

"Who told you to do that?" said Reis andinstantly shot the officious scoundrel throughthe heart.



"Now, my pretty duck, you can come alongwith me," he said, turning to his captive.

But at the sight of the ruffian's blow, whichfelled her mother, Rosalie's blue eyes haddosed in a swoon, and paleness, as of death,had overspread her features.

"It makes no difference," said Reis to hissurviving companion, "she will soon get overit. Anyhow, let us go along."

"I don't know that I care about going justnow," the cutthroat replied, looking as blackas a thundercloud, "after what you have doneto poor Francisco there," laying his hand onhis pistol at the same time.

"You don't, eh!" said Reis, drawing hisrevolver, "then you are as trifling a scoundrelas he is."

The two fired at once. The subordinate felldead, and Reis was grazed on his right cheekby a piece of hot lead, which made him blush,if his own villainy did not.

"Blast the two miserable scoundrels," saidhe, "it actually seems as if some men had nohumanity at all."



Tying the rounded wrists of his lovely,drooping captive with his handkerchief, heproceeded to the spot where the horses werehitched, cut them loose, all but his own, andmounted into his saddle with his preciousbooty before him. The loosened horses dashedback to the corral from which they had beentaken, and Reis rode on by himself till withina quarter of a mile of his tunnel, when he gotdown with his now weeping burden, turnedhis horse loose, which followed the others, andproceeded on foot at his leisure.

Rosalie begged him to release her with somuch sorrowful sweetness in her voice, withso beautiful an agony expressive in her wholeenchanting form that the rocky-hearted Reisalmost repented of what he had done.

"It won't do," he thought, "to let her go now,for I will have nothing to show for my night'swork, and how should I account to the bandfor the missing members?"

"You shan't be hurt," said he, turningmildly towards the trembling maiden, "I amgoing to keep you only a few days until I canget a ransom for you, which some of your



friends will no doubt pay when you send themword by one of our number."

They soon reached the entrance of thetunnel into which he dragged the shudderinggirl and led her, half-dead with terror, intothe extreme end, where sat his fierce lookingcompanions in a well lighted apartment.

The bandits, much interested, gatheredaround their captain, who informed them:

"That he had attacked a certain house onthe road and succeeded in entering, but foundno money, which disappointed him so muchthat he took this very beautiful girl in theplace of it;" and further stated, "that in thestruggle at the house, two of his men werekilled before his face, and one was missing, hebeing probably killed, as well as the others. Asfor this handsome girl," he concluded, "wemay as well keep her for a ransom, or one ofus may marry her, just as we see fit."

Poor, poor Rosalie! May Heaven protect you,for man cannot!

Rosalie, on the second night after hercapture, resolved to help herself. Rising froma warm couch of blankets already dressed,and unperceived by the bandits, who lay



slumbering around, she started into thethroat of the tunnel in order to find her wayout. Pressing her hand to her heart to still itsloud beatings, she stepped noiselessly alonguntil she had left the sleeping apartment.When looking forward, she saw that everylight in front of her had been extinguished.Pausing with indefinable dread at the thoughtof walking that fearful passage alone, sheheard a loud yawn from one of the sleepers asif he were waking, and with a suddenmovement that was scarcely voluntary, sheshot like an arrow into the blackness that laybefore her. On and on and on she moved withtrembling footsteps, feeling her way on thesides of the tunnel and placing her feet eachtime with the indescribable terrible feelingthat she might be stepping off into some deepabyss below. It seemed ages to her before shecould reach the entrance. Oh, that she mightbut catch one friendly glimpse of light! Itappears - a faint, flickering gleam in thedistance.

With hurrying feet she approaches it.Larger and larger it grows until she sees thelamp, like a full blown rose of light, swingingfrom the arch, joy! her escape is certain. She



stands now in the full blaze, she sees no one,and with a more confident heart, pursues herway. She was now near the entrance. She sawthe moonlight flooding the world without andrushed eagerly forward. A huge figure startedsuddenly before her, and the beautiful girlfainted. It was a bad time to swoon, but howcould so delicate an organization, fit only to beplayed upon by the subtlest flashes ofthought, sporting in rainbow fancies, sustainso rude a shock? She fell gasping for breath,and the sentinel - for it was he - carried her tothe apartment that she had left, tenderly laidher upon her couch without disturbing anyonein the room, and hurried back to his post.

So tenderly delicate was this innocentcreature, so divine the appealing spirit of hereyes as she looked into his face, that Reiscould not find it in his heart to treat her withanything but the profoundest respect. He hadseized her in a moment of passion, stung withher voluptuous beauty, and would at thatmoment have fought for her as for a conquestof so much of Heaven itself. Such is themaddening effect of beauty upon the hearts ofmen!



But on sober reflection, he banished thevain idea, which he had been foolish enoughto vaguely entertain that she could ever love aman like him, rude and uncouth as he was.And he seriously contemplated restoring herto her aged and widowed mother, and onewhom he knew that she loved. Confused andtormented with doubt, she was a continualtrouble on his hands. He was not scoundrelenough to force her into a vile position, and hewas afraid to leave her for a moment in thehands of his less scrupulous comrades.Already had they began to murmur at him forhis weakness, and he had been forced tothreaten some of their lives if they did notkeep their distance from the girl. There wasdanger of a mutiny, and so critical was hissituation that notwithstanding he dreadedJoaquín's opinion of his conduct in thisspecific matter, he longed to see him.

Reis was sitting one night, moping in histunnel like a grim wolf and scowlingdiscontentedly around him, for he had donenothing for a week, when the sentinel camein, attended by two persons whom he leftstanding before Reis and returned to his post.The melancholy bandit raised his head and



beheld his now dreaded chief before him.Joaquín glanced hastily around the room andbeholding the captive girl recliningmournfully upon her couch, he started. Andwith a sudden fierceness that made everyman in his presence quail, he turned to Reisand said with a look that rived his soul:

"How is this? Did I ever instruct you toengage in a business of this kind? Explainyourself, or by God, it will not be well for you."

Reis begged him to listen patiently andrelated every circumstance connected withthe girl's capture, his killing his two comradesat the time, and everything that followedsubsequently.

Joaquín was in a tempest of anger.

"So you have done nothing but mope for thepast week - essential service you haverendered to our organization. Reis," hecontinued, convulsively clutching his pistolhandle, "if it was any other man but you, Iwould kill him on the spot. I would shoot himlike a dog. But damn you," he exclaimed withsudden vehemence, while his eyes blazed asnone but his could, "have you done her any



injury? Have you taken any advantage of thatgirl, sir?"

"No, no. You know I would scorn to do that,"replied Reis.

"I believe you, and it is well that it is so.Reis," he continued, in a calmer tone, "I amsurprised at you. I have never done a thing ofthis kind. I have higher purposes in view thanto torture innocent females. I would have nowoman's person without her consent. I haveread of robbers who deliberately ravishedtender and delicate females and, afterwards,cut their throats, but I despise them. I am nosuch robber, and I never will be. Reis - I oughtto kill you, but since you have had some honorand manhood about you in this rascallymatter, I will let you off this time. Get you inreadiness, and we will - you and I alone -return this girl to her mother, if the poor oldwoman be alive, and forthwith set this matterright. I wouldn't at such a time as this bebothered by a frivolous matter of this kind forall the women in the world, spread out in aperfect sea of bosoms and lips!"

Rosalie, who had been listening withintense interest to every word, at this moment



sprang towards the young chief, whoseappearance was far from forbidding even tothe most refined female, and in a fit ofuncontrollable gratitude and rapture at theprospect of her deliverance, threw her armsaround his neck before she thought.Recovering herself instantly, she thanked himin a dignified manner for his noble conductand told him that she respected him from thebottom of her heart, robber as he was.

Joaquín looked at her proudly, as he laid hishand upon his breast, and said:

"Yes, Señorita, I am a man. I was once asnoble a man as ever breathed, and if I am notso now, it is because men would not allow meto be as I wished. You shall return to yourmother and to your lover, if I die in bringing itabout."

On this same night at eleven o'clock, stoodthe frame house on the road that leads up on abranch of the South Fork of the StanislausRiver, the same as it was on that happy,sorrowful night when Rosalie was embracedby her lover and torn from his presence. Inone of the rooms sat her old, disconsolatemother, whose withering life was alone



sustained by the hope of seeing her daughteragain, and near her the young man, Edward.

He was comforting the old lady withassurances, which did not quiet his own heart,for he had ridden day and night over one halfof the county, making inquiries in everyquarter, but not a trace could he find of themissing girl or her abductor. His face was paleand thin with anxiety, and his voice hadsomething hollow in it, as though the vampireof despair was sucking his heart's blood. Hebegan to believe that his adored Rosalie waslost to him forever and was doomed to a fatehe could not contemplate without ashuddering chill.

After soothing the feeble brain of the oldwoman with what he knew to be the merestillusions, he had subsided into silence, andwas eating his heart in bitter regret when asudden tap was heard on the door and, in amoment, leaped into the room the very objectof his thoughts.

The meeting was such as might be expected.But I will not fill this sheet with an attempt ata description of it:



Edward's rapture, astonishment, andbewilderment of joy - the old decrepit mother'sscarce audible syllables and her far moreexpressive tears. Rapidly was her storyrecounted by Rosalie, and with suchenthusiasm did she dwell on the heroicconduct of Joaquín that her lover almostbecame jealous of the young robber. She madehim swear that he would never injure thatman, whatever he might do to others.

"I won't touch Joaquín," he replied, "if helets me alone, but as for that other bloodybeast, I will kill him the first time I lay myeyes on him."

Joaquín at this moment walked in andstood before the young man. Reis veryprudently remained on the outside, afterhearing the observation that had just beenmade respecting him.

"I have done you a favor, sir," said Joaquín,"and now I want you to keep this matter aprofound secret. Never breathe my name outof this house. I will be in this county forsometime, but you and yours shall not betroubled. But if you betray me, I will scatter to



the winds all that you have and all that youlove."

"It is hard," said the young man "to beunder obligations to a man like you, but I willbe silent."

"And who are you, pray, that talk as if itwere stooping to be under obligations to aman like me?" and the fiery spirit of Joaquínleaped into his eyes. He touched the hilt of hisbowie knife, when a supplicating look fromRosalie checked him.

Edward drew his revolver half out, butRosalie touched his arm, and with areproachful look, said to him:

"Fie, fie, Edward, you forget yourself. Youwouldn't harm the man who has restored meto your arms? Why, Edward, would you makeme despise you? I care not if he were a robbera thousand times, he is a noble man - shakehands with him."

And taking his with her left and therobber's with her right, she joined themtogether with a gentle force.

Sternly, the young men looked at each otherfor a second, and then with a half friendly,half defiant smile, they parted.



Joaquín and Reis rode off, the onesomewhat more reconciled to his subordinate,since the issue had been good, and the otherdelighted beyond all bounds at the happy turnthat things had taken.

"I would have given her up long ago,"exclaimed Reis, "but my men would havekilled me for it, I am certain. It was fortunatethat you came when you did, or the poor girlwould have been far worse off than she is now,the beautiful creature that she is!" said hewith enthusiasm.

Rosalie and Edward were shortly aftermarried. They kept their secret while Joaquínlived, and for my part, I do not blame them.

163


Chapter Eight

HE NEW YEAR OPENED, the evermemorable year of 1853, and by themiddle of January, the bold and

accomplished bandit was ready to enter upona series of the bloodiest scenes that ever wereenacted in the same space of time in any ageor country. Calaveras County - as I have saidbefore is the richest, or among the richest atleast, in the Golden State - he chose as thetheater of his operations, and never was aregion so scourged and desolated. Detachedparties numbering four, five, or a dozen menwere scattered over the face of the wholecountry.

So diverse were their operations, sonumerous and swift, that I shall not attemptto give a minute account of them but shallconfine myself particularly to the individual

T



movements of Joaquín and strictly to thosefacts that are absolutely known and traceableto their original source. It may be distinctlyset down, however, in the outset that thoughmany villainous deeds that transpired in theshort period, which I am about to make asketch of, were mysterious andunaccountable, with many murderscommitted in parts remote from each other -robberies here, thefts there, and destruction,lightening footed, treading everywhere,invisible in its approach and revealed only inthe death trail that it left behind. Yet all thismighty and seemingly chaotic scene had itsbirth in the dramatic brain of Joaquín - anauthor who acted out his own tragedies!Divergent as were the innumerable lines ofaction, yet they were all concentrated uponone point and directed to one purpose - thatwhich existed in the breast of Joaquín.

There was not a town of any importance inthat whole region in which he had not a spy -one or more - located. Not one in which he hadnot his agents and secret friends. He lackednot for harboring places in which to concealhis wounded men and stolen animals. I mighthere mention numerous ranchos, owned by



wealthy and respectable men (as the worldgoes), who afforded him refuge and assistancewhen needed; but for fear that they may havesince changed hands, I will for the present,spare them.

Around San Andreas, Calaveritas, andYaqui Camp, numerous thefts and robberieshad been committed for several weeks past.Property was missed, but no one knewwhither it was gone. Men were murdered, andthe bloody hand remained unseen. Yeteveryone knew that thieves and murdererswalked unknown in the midst of thecommunity. A strange dread hung over everyface and gave vigilance to every eye. Thefearful shrunk back from a danger that theycould feel but not see. The bold stood forwardwith their lives in their hands to search into,find, and face the perils that existed aroundthem.

Among the boldest, most firm, andenergetic whom the crisis brought forth wasCapt. Charles H. Ellas of San Andreas, who inhis capacity of deputy sheriff of CalaverasCounty, took the lead in ferreting out theperpetrators of these foul deeds. He was ayoung man of fine appearance, slenderly



formed, but making up for the want ofsuperior strength in great activity andastonishing powers of endurance. His eyeswere keen, quick, and flashing, touched with afierceness that at times seemed to scorchwhere it fell. A chivalrous son of the South, hehad grown up under a discipline that taughthim that honor was a thing to be maintainedat the sacrifice of blood or of life itself, thatfear was a feeling too base to harbor in amanly breast, and that he was a coward whowould not give the question of his rights to thearbitration of steel or of the deadly ball.Already did his bosom bear the marks ofsevere and dangerous hard to hand conflicts,a trial of muscle, nerve, and skill in a gamewhose stake is human life and whose hazardis eternity.

At a juncture so important as the period ofwhich I speak, a man like Ellas was mostnaturally looked to as a leader and entrustedwith a large amount of discretionary power, sonecessary to be used in perilous times whenthe slow forms of law, with their snail-likeprocesses, are altogether useless andinefficient.



The first opportunity that presented itselffor anything like determinate action occurredabout the middle of January. Some horseswere stolen at the town of San Andreas, and adescription of the Mexicans who took themhad been given to Capt. Ellas, who in thecourse of a day's ride on the various roads,accidentally discovered the party on the roadleading from Yaqui Camp to Chaparral Hill.They had added two to their number, whowere not perceived, however, by the Captainat the first glance. Seeing two mounted menon a small hill to the left of the road, he hailedthem and requested them to come down, as hehad something to say. One of them replied:

"If you want to see us more than we do you,come to us."

Whereupon Ellas advanced, but theintermediate space being marshy - much rainhaving lately fallen - his mare mired so badlythat he dismounted. Proceeding on foot, heheard a rustling in the brush to the right,which sounded very much like an ambushready to burst forth, but he kept on his way.When within eighty yards of the two to whomhe had spoken, he saw that they had drawntheir revolvers. This hostile movement and



the rustling in the brush to the rightconvinced him that he was acting a veryimprudent part and that he was even then invery imminent danger.

With much presence of mind, he lookedbehind him and gave a signal whistle as if hehad a company in waiting. The stratagemsucceeded so well that the two in open sightrode slowly over the hill, and those who hadbeen concealed precipitately left the thicket.Going to where his mare was feeding, hemounted her and went over to Yaqui Camp - alittle mining town a few miles distant - inorder to get men to go out with him in furtherpursuit. He found no one at all prepared toaccompany him but a Mexican merchant inthe place named Atanacio Moreno, a man whowas worth money, and stood well in thecommunity.

Unsuspected by Ellas, this man secretlybelonged to the band of Joaquín Murieta, or Ishould rather say, to the tremendousorganization that that bold chieftain hadestablished throughout the country. TheCaptain had unlimited confidence in thisindividual, for he had previously assisted himin the capture of a horse thief, and besides



giving him much valuable information, andhad furnished men and horses in variousexpeditions started by the honest portion ofthe community.

He was treacherous, and though assistingto capture individuals who sometimesbelonged to his own fraternity, they werealways those whom he hated personally. Adangerous companion on a lonely ride!Moreno, claiming to have watched through hisspies the movements of the depredators, ledthe way over the mountains, valleys, andgulches until sunset, but no trace of theobjects sought was found, and the pursuit washere relinquished.

It became known before a great while, for acertainty, that this man was a scoundrel, andleaving the country in a few weeks after hisconnection with Joaquín was discovered, hejoined Sena, a petty robber of some note in thesouth. He had not been with that leader longbefore he secretly assassinated him, cut off hishead, and delivered it to the civil authoritiesof the town of Los Angeles for a reward of fivehundred dollars, which had been offered for it.This act of treachery did not avail him much,for he was afterwards arrested on a grave



charge and thrown into prison where he nowlies, and it is only owing to the delay of thelaw that he is not already hung.

It was soon ascertained that an organizedband of robbers was in the community of SanAndreas. Yaqui Camp was discovered to betheir rendezvous, situated about two milesand a half from San Andreas. Upon thisdiscovery, Capt. Ellas employed a number ofspies to gather all the information that theycould in relation to the thieves and robbers,whose leader was not then known.

While these spies were out, Capt. Ellas oneday rode into Yaqui Camp and was seated onhis horse near a little drinking house,observing matters and things in that verysuspicious vicinity, when he perceived ayoung, black eyed, fine looking fellowstanding with his cloak wrapped around him,very intently fixing his gaze upon himself. Assoon as their eyes met, the young fellow drewthe rim of his hat over his face, and flinginghis cloak a little back from his shoulder,dropped his arm down carelessly toward thebutt of his pistol. In a moment more, heturned and walked off.



Capt. Ellas will no doubt recollect thecircumstance and must not be surprised tolearn that this was none other than Joaquínhimself, who thus took his daguerreotypeupon memory and found it afterwards ofmuch avail in aiding him to escape danger,and to keep out of the way when he saw theoriginal at the head of an armed party orotherwise to direct his movements to the bestadvantage. The Captain did not, this time,even know Joaquín was in the county,although the renowned robber's name wasfamiliar to his ears by the report of hisdepredations in other counties for a long timeback.

The spies, after the lapse of several days,returned with the information that they haddiscovered several lurking places of therobbers, among which was Chaparral Hill. Adescription of this place may be well to give,inasmuch as it was the scene of quite aninteresting event.

It lies to the southwest of San Andreasabout four miles and is nothing more than anelevated pass between two steep ridges, whichare crowned with precipitous rocks whoseinterstices would effectually conceal a man



from observation. Thickets of chaparral covervarious spots on the tops of the ridges, withopen spaces between, and in many places thelive oak trees, with low branches and crooked,knotty trunks, form a kind of naturalfortification almost as perfect as if they hadbeen arranged expressly for the purpose. Thepass itself is but a lowering of a long curvingwall, (a natural wall) which connects the tworidges together, and between these ridges, along hollow leads up and terminates at thepass.

By the foot of the hollow runs a clear littlestream margined with green grass, calledWillow Creek because it is fringed sobeautifully with the lithe and graceful trees ofthat name. Behind the curving wall described,a steep descent goes down to the valley belowand is covered with immense greasewoodthickets, taller than a man's head andthrough which a party pursued could make amost safe retreat - and through which itwould be dangerous to follow them. A few tallpines stand isolated here and there on thedifferent eminences, which shoot up in ruggedmajesty from the general outline. One ridgeterminates at the connecting wall, but the



other stretches on a mile or two beyond it,marked by a bridle trail that suddenlyplunges into a succession of deep ravines andgulches lined with greasewood and low timber- all lonely, and somber looking places! Fromthis pass, or any place adjacent, a view of thecountry is commanded many miles in extent.

A few days after the return of the spies, agentleman by the name of Hall, who kept arancho on the road leading from MokelumneHill to San Andreas, called on Ellas andinformed him that three Mexicans had passedhis house that morning who looked suspicious- they having but two horses and one of themen in consequence mounted behind another.He had detained one of these men briefly athis house, having stopped but a few momentswhile the others rode on. But he remained nolonger than he saw fit, for upon the firstmovement towards preventing his freeagency, he drew a revolver and walked on.Hall and a man named Davis followed theparty about a mile and saw where they hadleft the main road and gone up Murray'sCreek.

Ellas mounted his horse, accompanied byhis friend, a young lawyer of fine parts by the



name of Wm. J. Latewood, who had practicedon squirrels and turkeys in the woods asmuch as he had practiced at the bar, and sowas as skillful in drawing a "bead" as indrawing a brief. And attended also by Hall,Davis, and another man whose name is notremembered, Ellas rode out.

Hall was provided with a pistol, Davis witha rifle, and the other man with a jaeger. Theparty numbered five, hastily gotten up andpoorly prepared for a combat. But supposingthat he was on the track of only threeMexicans, the captain proceeded on theirtrail. Immediately after starting, he met agentleman named Peter Woodbeck, whom herequested to ride back a short distance withthe company.

Arriving at Murray's Creek, he struck afresh trail of two horses, as expected about amile from San Andreas, leading behind aridge of mountains that skirted that littletown - showing that the riders had keptthemselves concealed from view of the mainroad until immediately opposite San Andreas.At which point they had evidently ridden tothe top of the ridge, and who, no doubt, saw



their pursuers start out and at the same timecounted their number.

The trail from this point led over themountains towards Yaqui Camp, which gaveEllas to suppose they were a part of the bandsaid to be lurking about Chaparral Hill. Heimmediately sent Peter Woodbeck to SanAndreas with a request to Alcalde Taliaferroto send two parties of men, each numberingfive, and have them stationed on the differenttrails leading from the Chaparral Hill. TheAlcalde, being sick, was unable to attendpersonally to the request but used everyexertion in his power by his agents to raisethe two parties needed - unfortunately,without success.

Under the impression that the men wouldbe stationed as desired, the Captain rode on.The trail wound along in a very circuitousmanner over the roughest possible places sothat it was in the afternoon before he reachedthe foot of the hollow before spoken of, atWillow Creek, only four miles from SanAndreas. Ascending the hollow, the pursuingparty immediately saw several Mexicansmounted upon fine horses on the curve of thepass of Chaparral Hill. They rode up towards



them until within rifle shot, when theyhalted. Two or three of the Mexicans rodedown behind some bushes and rocks on theslant and commenced firing at them withColt's heavy pistols, but without effect. Ellasand party immediately shifted their positionto a place within fair pistol shot, during whichmovement Davis leveled his rifle at a fellowpartially hid in the rocks and evidently hithim.

The man with the jaeger tried to fire it invain, but it would not "go off." So the weaponremained useless through the whole fight, aswell as the bearer of it who had nothing elsewith which to do battle. Though sadly needed,he stood neutral as far as any service he coulddo was concerned but served admirably wellas a target for the bandits to practice at,nevertheless.

To aggravate the state of things, Davis,after discharging his rifle, could find no morebullets in his pouch and was thus alsorendered unable to do anything. Only threemen therefore were left to do the fighting! TheMexicans, noticing this dilemma, dashedalong on the curve of the hill, nine in number,splendidly mounted, and well armed. Some



were observed to have two revolvers apiece.While passing, they fired about twenty shots,but were riding so rapidly that they could notshoot with precision. As it was, Gatewood'smule was severely wounded in the neck andbled profusely. A ball passed across Ellas'breast, burning a hole in the side of his vest,and another went through his hair.

After this swoop of theirs, the Mexicansretired to their first position. A portion ofthem, then dismounting, crept down behindthe bushes so as to get near enough to Ellas'party to make a dead shot. They commencedfiring but not with the desired certainty, forEllas and Gatewood had dismounted andwere somewhat protected by their animals.The Captain, finding an opportunity for thefirst time to fire with any chance of hitting,shot at a large Mexican who stood on the edgeof a bush, who suddenly retired to the top ofthe hill. Upon the report of his pistol, his mare- a fine, well trained animal - went down thehollow about four hundred yards towardsWillow Creek, upon which one of the mountedMexicans dashed around as if to secure her.She ran back towards Ellas, and the Mexicanfollowed to within seventy yards and



immediately below him. Ellas fired, and thefellow sunk on the neck of his horse,apparently badly wounded.

Four or five of the Mexicans, noticing this,galloped along the ridge towards the side ofthe hill to which the wounded Mexican hadretired and effectually covered his position, sothat it was impossible to approach himwithout receiving their fire. He was thenwrapping his red scarf around his breast, as ifendeavoring to stop the blood. Ellas' horsesoon dashed to the left of the Mexicans andcame to him, when Ellas mounted and led hisparty around towards the right-hand ridge inorder to gain the summit, if possible, whichobject he hoped to effect while the opposingforce was somewhat separated.

In passing under a steep rocky place,Gatewood exclaimed, "There is a Mexicanabove us!"

And had he scarcely finished the sentencebefore the fellow commenced firing with hisrevolver. He fired three distinct shots at adistance of not more than forty yards.

Ellas suddenly wheeled his horse,discovered the Mexican almost



perpendicularly over his head, not more thanthirty yards distant, mounted upon a whitehorse. And, taking a steady aim with his sixshooter, he pulled the trigger. The Mexicanfell back upon his saddle, wounded in thebreast, but soon recovering himself, put spursto his horse and darted out of sight.

Up to this time, the Captain had concludedto risk this very disadvantageous battle in thehope that the two parties sent by PeterWoodbeck would arrive on the two trails inthe rear of the robbers. But finding that theywere not likely to come and knowing that hewas exposing himself and comrades to be shotdown from behind the rocks and bushes, hedecided to retire to the foot of the hollowwhere his opponents could not assail himwithout exposure to themselves. They did notfollow him, and after a short consultationwith his comrades, he started back for SanAndreas, which he reached without difficultyand immediately preceded to organize a party.

While doing this, word came from YaquiCamp that six men (evidently of the sameband) had come down into that place from thedirection of Chaparral Hill, and without amoment's parley, had commenced killing the



few Americans with whom they happened tomeet. Joaquín (for it was with him that Ellashad been fighting, without knowing it) rodeamong the houses during the shooting andremarked:

"This is not my fight - this is Bill's fight,"alluding to a fray between one of his friendsnamed Bill, who was a Mexican gambler inthe place, and some Americans that hadoccurred a short time before.

When this remark was made, ThreeFingered Jack discharged his pistol at anAmerican, who was standing near, and killedhim on the spot. Another American, whomJoaquín recognized, started to run. He was onfoot, but ran with as much speed over therough ground, which had been dug up andditched in various places by the miners, as didthe robber chief, who pursued him onhorseback. Leaping and plunging through theholes and ditches, Joaquín shot at him sixtimes without effect, and having thus emptiedhis six shooter, finally threw at him his twoedged sword, which barely missed the poorfellow's neck just as he escaped in a ledge ofrocks. It was a trying scene for any man to



pass through and of a character such as hewould not soon forget.

Joaquín reloaded his revolver, recovered hissword, and rode back into town, swearing thathe would get even on that day's work if it tookhim twenty years, for he had lost three of hisbest men on Chaparral Hill.

"God damn that little Sheriff of SanAndreas," said he, "I knew him all the time!"

Soon after, having cleared out theAmericans in Yaqui Camp, he galloped offwith his men, numbering six, over the hillstowards the mountains, leaving one woundedhorse, which had been shot in the lateskirmish at the pass.

Upon receiving this information, Ellasstarted for Yaqui Camp with his party,consisting of six mounted men, followed bysome thirty citizens of San Andreas on foot.Arriving at the tragic scene, they immediatelyseized the Mexican gambler Bill, who hadbeen foolish enough to remain after Joaquín'sremark about him, and having subjected himto a California trial, they sentenced him to behung "forthwith" as a member of Joaquín'sband. He begged them earnestly to spare his



life, but finding it was in vain, his browdarkened, and with an air of proud defiance,he told them to do their work.

"By going to my trunk," said he, "you willfind a knife, from whose blade nohandkerchief has yet wiped the damnedAmerican blood."

This speech did not serve to mollify thestate of feeling toward him, and he was jerkedup into a tree, and strangled with very littleceremony.

It was now a late hour in the night, butthere remained a finishing stroke to be putupon the proceedings before retiring to rest.The harboring places and dens of the robberswere found out, and the enraged citizens wentto work tearing down and burning up thehouses of this character. The conflagration litup the vault of heaven, and its sound roaredamong the mountains for miles around.Joaquín saw and heard it with a laugh.

"If they could only throw us into it now,"said he, "it would be fine."

Around the smoldering ruins, guards andpickets were stationed till morning, and thewearied citizens slept. At daylight, three



companies were organized, two mounted andone on foot, whose object was to break up thewhole confederacy of robbers and theirharborers and never to rest until theneighborhood was free from them.

A man named Henry Scroble took charge ofone mounted company, and Ellas of the other.The former proceeded over the mountains,and Ellas over the lower hills in a differentdirection. At the Phoenix Quartz Mill, a fewmiles from Yaqui Camp, he and his partywere shocked to see two dead bodies, lyingmutilated with knives and bullets. Thebuilding was perforated in various places withballs; a dead horse with a bullet hole in hisside lay near by, and everything bore evidenceof a hard fight. One of the murdered men wasPeter Woodbeck, who had been marked by therobbers when Ellas sent him back with wordto Alcalde Taliaferro. The brave fellow hadfought like a true American, long and well,but who can prevail against a league of menand devils in an evil hour? The shot thatkilled the horse might have saved Woodbeck'slife had it been aimed a little higher; so trivialare the circumstances that often determinethe fortunes of men!



The trail of the murderers from Quartz Millwas plain, leading over the San DomingoCreek range of mountains, following whichEllas and company met with the footcompany, which had been detailed to gothrough the rougher part of the mountainoussection near the Cherokee Flat. They gavehim some interesting information, which wasthat they had found clothing that hadevidently been thrown from a wounded manand, upon the discovery, had proceededimmediately to a camp not far off where theyfound two Mexicans, one of them badlywounded.

The sound one rose to his feet and started atfull speed, but was shot and so he died a shorttime afterwards in an adjacent thicket towhich he ran before he fell. This individualwas not a "fighting member," but rather a slyand secret friend who had volunteered to takecare of one of Joaquín's wounded men hit inthe skirmish at Chaparral Hill the day before.They also saw, in a neighboring thicket ofchaparral, three other mounted men of therobber band, whom they did not find anopportunity to attack. The wounded man was



still lying at the camp, unable to get out of theway without help.

It was dark when Ellas received thisinformation, but determined to lose noopportunity of meeting with the scoundrels,he stationed men around the chaparralthickets to watch during the night, sentothers to arrest the wounded robber at thecamp and to convey him to Cherokee Flat, andhurried off two others to two different ferrieson the Stanislaus River, with orders to theferrymen to allow no one to cross. Thewounded man being a trouble upon theirhands, and no doubt being entertained as tohis character, the Cherokee half breeds andothers at the Cherokee House concluded tohang him, which very necessary ceremonywas soon performed.

Ellas lay watching the camp from which thewounded robber had been taken all night, inthe hope that some of his companions mightcome, but none arrived. Early in the morning,he gathered his party and started on a bushtrail over the Bear Mountain, scaling itshighest point. In several places along thistrail, he found spots where men had



manifestly stopped and thrown up clottedblood from their stomachs.

Tracking on, he reached a Chinese camp,which the Chinamen informed them had justbeen robbed by three Mexicans who took theirlast cent and barely allowed them to escapewith their lives. Hurrying forward from here,he found that they had crossed the river atForman's Rancho, despite all efforts toprevent them. Upon the other side, theystruck the main road that led along its banks,and their distant trail was lost among thenumber of tracks common to a publichighway.

On the next day, still indefatigablysearching through the woods, he again foundtheir trail, which conducted him within a mileof San Andreas, and was again lost in themain road. All trace of them was then lost forthree or four days at the expiration of which,as the Captain was riding along with threefollowers, a friendly Mexican named JesúsAhedo came up to him and informed him thathe had noticed some Mexicans, who lookedexceedingly suspicious, leading horses over amountain near Greaserville on the CalaverasRiver.



Following Jesús Ahedo as a guide, Ellas andhis three comrades rode to the mountainindicated and very readily fell upon the trail.Proceeding a few miles, they found threehorses that had been left tied in a sequesteredspot between two steep ridges. Further on,they met two or three Americans, who hadseen Joaquín and two others pass them not agreat while before, riding at full speed downthe river, Joaquín being mounted on athoroughbred American mare.

Ellas, with his usual energy, diligentlypursued their trail until the dusk of theevening when he arrived at an isolateddrinking house, whose inmates refused to giveany information whatever concerning thepursued party. The trail was, however, yetvisible and led down to the bank of theCalaveras River, which he crossed, finding thetrail again without much difficulty. It ran upthe river a short distance and re crossed it.The Captain did the same and found it againupon the first bank. It led out a short distancetowards Angel's Camp, a little mining town afew miles off, but doubled upon itself again,and again crossed the river. It was now darkand impossible to find the lost trail, even if it



had been practicable to follow it when found.The pursuit was, accordingly, given up forthat night.

The next morning, the Captain rode up toan isolated house in a wild section of themountains, where lived a rough lookingMexican, solitary and alone, and discovered athis door the tracks of several horses, which heknew were the same horses that had madethe trail of the day before, from the peculiarityin one of the hoofs that was very distinctlyimpressed at every step.

The ill looking fellow denied all knowledgeof any mounted men having been to his house.A lariat was speedily attached to his neck,and he was sent up into a tree to see if hecould not obtain the desired information.Having been sent up twice, he ascertained theimportant fact that Joaquín had passed hishouse the night before with two other menand had told him that he was going to CampoSeco, on his way to the city of Marysville inthe northern country - that the neighborhoodwas getting too warm for him, and he wanteda little fresh air - that he intended to return,for he would never rest satisfied until he had



the heart's blood of Ellas and the Mexicanwho had put the Captain on his trail, etc.

The next day after this the Captainascertained that Joaquín had crossed theStanislaus River at Lancha Plana with hisparty, forcing the ferrymen to act contrary toorders and put him over. He had scarcelylanded on the other side before he wasattacked by a party of Americans, (for it mustbe borne in mind that the whole country wasaroused) who, being superior in number,poured hot lead into his midst with suchbewildering rapidity that he was compelled tofly with the utmost precipitation, leaving, inhis hurry, several very fine horses. It wassupposed that he soon after swam the river atanother place and was still in theneighborhood.

Accompanied by a gentleman from Angel'sCamp, Ellas went to the fastnesses of theBear Mountain Range in the hope to discoverfresh trails and found one of which ledtowards a camp called Los Muertos. Thetracks indicated that there were five mountedmen. Being in no condition to follow them, herode over to Cherokee Flat and requested anumber of Cherokees located there to go out



and waylay the different trails between BearMountain and San Domingo Range, to whichthey readily assented.

In the meantime, a meeting was held atCarson's Creek of the citizens to takemeasures in the pressing exigency, which wasupon that district in common with others. AMexican was noticed in the meetingattentively observing its proceedings, who assoon as it broke up, was seen to go to abakery, purchase a quantity of bread, andstart off on foot in the direction of BearMountain.

He was followed and seized on the side ofthe mountain, and at the same time, hiscaptors discovered three Mexicans riding onthe ridge a few hundred yards above them.One of these was Joaquín, and the otherswere Reis and Valenzuela. The captiveMexican was hurried away to Cherokee Flat,where he was questioned closely in regard tohis conduct. He played the part of an idiot,and would have succeeded in convincing theattendant crowd that he was really a poorimbecile, had he not been very well known bysome of "the boys." To bring him to his senses,hemp was suggested as a very efficacious



thing in such cases, and he was, accordingly,elevated into the top of a tree to take a view ofthe surrounding country.

The remedy operated upon his ailment likea charm, and he confessed without hesitationthat he knew Joaquín, Reis, Valenzuela, andnumerous others of the banditti; and thatJoaquín was at this time not far off, and towhom he was taking provisions when he wasapprehended.

A doubt arising in the minds of somepersons not noted for decision of character, asto whether it was right to put the fellow todeath, Ellas left him in charge of the twoCherokee half breeds with the request thatthey would give a good account of him,whereupon the crowd dispersed. At abouttwelve o'clock in the night, the Cherokeeswent to Ellas' house in San Andreas andinformed him that they were ready to give "agood account" of the Mexican. Nothing morewas said on the subject, and the next day hewas found hanging on a tree by the side of theroad.

193


Chapter Nine

EVERAL WEEKS HAD NOW TRANSPIREDsince the fight on chaparral hill, andnotwithstanding the most diligent

pursuit having been made after the robbers,yet during the whole time they had beenbusily engaged in murder, theft, and plunder.they left a broad and bloody trail whereverthey went and committed their outrages, attimes, in the very sight of their pursuers.frequently were the harrowing cries of"murder" heard just ahead, and hastening tothe spot, citizens were found weltering intheir blood while the audacious bandits wereseen riding off with no great evidence of fearat being overtaken.

The banditti were divided, the greaterportion of the time, into small companies offour or five, and Joaquín was seldom seen

S



with more than three followers. ThreeFingered Jack was his constant attendant.Viñuela was in the field; Reis was active; andValenzuela was far from idle.

On the fifth of February, a Mexican wasarrested by the citizens at Angel's Camp. Assoon as it was done, a young Sonoran gamblerran to a horse hitched at a rack and waspreparing to mount, no doubt to carryinformation to Joaquín of what hadtranspired, when a pistol was cocked in hisface and he was stopped. In a few moments, itwas ascertained that the man arrested wasone of Joaquín's band, and he soon made hisexit into eternity from the branch of an oaktree, which yet stands at Angel's Camp as oneof its memorials.

Three or four Germans, sleeping in a tenton a rather lonesome ravine near to Angel'sCreek a few nights before the event lastmentioned, were surprised to find themselvessuddenly tied, hand and foot, in their bedsand still more horrified when a scowling bandof ruffians stood over them with drawnsabers, which they drew across their throatsso carelessly that it started the blood. TheGermans eagerly delivered up what money



they had, which amounted to the pitiful sumof two hundred dollars. At this, ThreeFingered Jack, for he was there with hisleader, jumped up with an oath that made thepoor fellows quiver where they lay anddeclared that he would dig their hearts out ofthem for not having any more. He suited hisact to his word by brandishing his knife overtheir heads and waving it to and fro within aninch of their windpipes. Joaquín, however,interfered and prevented him from executinghis threat, remarking that it was better to letthem live as he might wish to collect taxes offof them for "Foreign Miners' Licenses," atsome other time.

One Alexander Bidenger and his friend, G.J. Mansfield, residing at a little place calledCapulope, having learned from two friendlyMexicans that Joaquín had slept there on thenight of the second of February, concluded tosend word to justice Beatty, the presidingmagistrate at Campo Seco, not a great wayoff, and, having written a letter, dispatcher itby "Digger Express."

(To those unacquainted with Californiacustoms, it may be necessary to explain that itis common in the mountains and mining



districts to employ Digger Indians as bearersof letters, or runners upon errands from onepoint to another, they being very expeditiouson foot and willing to travel a considerabledistance for a small piece of bread, fresh meat,or a ragged shirt. I have known them to swimrivers when the waters were high anddangerous in order to carry a letter to itsdestination. They are exceedingly faithful inthis business, having a superstitious dread ofthat mysterious power that makes a papertalk without a mouth.)

The naked express man, having beenhunted up, was charged by Bidenger toproceed to Campo Seco without delay and toallow no one on the way to read the paper.The digger, as is usual with these nativeexpresses, got him a small stick about two feetlong, and splitting the end to the depth of aninch or two, stuck the letter into it, andholding it out in front of him, started off in afast trot. One of Joaquín's party discoveredhim on the road about three miles fromCampo Seco and wished to speak to him. Butthe Indian, remembering his charge, broke offat full speed bearing the letter triumphantlybefore him. The robber fired two shots at the



terrified native, which only accelerated hisflight. Arriving at Campo Seco, he enteredBeatty's office and handed him the followingunique epistle:

The justice, having deciphered thehieroglyphic characters of this letter assatisfactorily as he could, sent a messenger tothe keepers of the ferry at Winter's Bar to letno one cross during the night, believing thatfrom its proximity, that point would beselected by the robber for the passage of theriver in case he was closely pursued. Then hehurried off the constable with a posse torescue the six unfortunate men whomJoaquín had "tide" out in the hills.

FEBRUARY the 3 1853I hereby gave notice that there is a thief and robber In this Capulope by the name of wakeen he slep here last night and he Is xpected to sleap heare tonight thar is not men enough here that will Assist in taking him he has horses tide back hear in the hills and six more meni think it my duty to make it known.

Alexander Bidengerand F. J. Mansfield.

Rio Carrillo. Bernardo Carasco.



Arriving at Capulope in great heat, theconstable ascertained that there were no sixmen tied out at all, but that the letter haddesigned to inform the justice that Joaquín'sparty numbered six men.

"lt's a pity," said Bidenger, "that a man ofthe Squire's larnin' can't read no better thanthat."

Nothing was seen of Joaquín in theneighborhood, though diligent search wasmade for him by the constable from the timehe left Campo Seco until dark. At midnight,Joaquín rode up to the ferry at Winter's Barand requested to be set over. The keepersinformed him that they had orders from thecivil authorities to let no one pass, not eventhe governor of the state, whereupon theimpatient outlaw made such unequivocalhostile demonstrations that the ferrymenwere glad to set aside the civil authorities and- for the time being - to obey martial law.

A few days after this, riding along withThree Fingered Jack and another membernamed Pedro, Joaquín met two Americansand a German coming on foot from thedirection of Murphy's Diggings and bound for



Australia as their final destination. Theywere laden with gold dust, which theyintended to convert into bills of exchange atSan Francisco. They committed the greatimprudence to run at the approach of thebandits, who - having been hotly pursued afew hours before by a party of citizens - mighthave passed on without harming them. Seeingthem take to flight, Joaquín said:

"Those fellows have money. We must killthem."

The poor, terrified fugitives each took aseparate course, and it was not long beforethey miserably perished under the murderouspistols and knives of the bandits. Draggingthem by the heels, the robbers - who hadsecured their heavy purses - threw them intoa hole that had been sunk by someprospectors and covered them partially withleaves and bushes.

Riding on a little farther upon a narrowpack trail that wound along on the bank of afoaming stream that was almost hid in thedeep gorge through which it ran, theysuddenly come upon a Chinese campcontaining six Chinamen. Though each had a



double barreled shotgun, they made no effortto defend themselves but begged for theirlives. Joaquín was disposed to spare them, butnot wishing to leave his portrait impressedupon too many memories, which might provesome day quite too tenacious for his good, heconcluded to kill as well as rob them.

Three Fingered Jack, by a nod fromJoaquín, stepped up to each one and led himout by his long tail of hair, repeating theceremony until they all stood in a row beforehim. He then tied their tails securelytogether, searched their pockets while Pedroransacked their tents. Then drawing hishighly prized home made knife, hecommenced amid the howling and shrieks ofthe unfortunate Asiatics, splitting their skullsand severing their neck veins. He was in hiselement, his eyes blazed, he shouted like amadman and leaped from one to the other,hewing and cutting as if it afforded him themost exquisite satisfaction to revel in humanagony.

"Come," said Joaquín, "that's enough.Mount up, and let's be off."



Reaching the main road again in a fewhours, they met the mail rider betweenJackson and Volcano, who on perceivingthem, laid whip to his very fleet animal andnarrowly escaped. Three Fingered Jack, onhis fine black horse could not in the wholerace get nearer to him than fifty yards, andfinally halted at that distance and dischargedthree loads of his revolver at mail rider'sslight figure, who leaned forward with anapparent anxiety to go faster than his horsewas carrying him.

"By God," said García as he rode back toJoaquín, "I would like to have caught thatfellow, if nothing more than to get his horse.He flung dirt into my face faster than I eversaw it fly from a horse's heels before."

While laughing over the very exhilaratingrace that they had just had, a man came insight and was within one hundred yards ofthe brigands before he perceived them. ThreeFingered Jack's appearance was enough forhim without any further examination, andwheeling his animal - a splendid mare - heproceeded to place as much ground as possiblebetween himself and the dreaded party, whichthey - on the other hand -undertook to



diminish. Neck and heel they had it for fivemiles, up the hills and down. Joaquín andPedro a short distance behind and the "Knightof the Three Fingers" close on to the fugitive.Three Finger Jack spared neither whip orspur, and one time grasping at the fugitive'sbridle rein, at another falling behind hishorse's tail, and at another shooting at himwith an unsuccessful aim.

Straggling travelers on the road, Jewpeddlers, almond eyed Chinamen, anddeplorably ragged looking Frenchmen, all andeverybody who happened to be on the roadgave way to the frantic rider and his headlongpursuers, gazing at them with unmitigatedastonishment and thanking their stars thatthey happened to be poor obscure footmen.The fugitive rode on, and on, and on, withunabated ardor on his own part, and noperceptible failure of vigor on the part of hishorse until within sight of a thickly populatedmining district. Then giving him a farewellshot, which rang in unpleasant proximity tohis ear, Three Fingered Jack roared out tohim:

"You deserve to escape, old fellow, success toyou!" and galloped back to his comrades, who



had halted a few minutes before. "There'sanother fine horse," said he to his leader,"that we've missed getting."

Numerous murders having been committed,and many parties having failed to capture theleading desperadoes, an excitement almosttoo intense to be borne prevailed in the wholecounty of Calaveras.

About the 19th of February, a large meetingwas held at the town of Jackson, at which itwas resolved that everybody should turn outin search of the villain Joaquín. A committeeof six men was secretly sent at midnight toMokelumne Hill to secure a concert of actionthere, upon whose arrival the citizensimmediately assembled.

And before morning, two companies wereorganized, horse and foot, and placed underthe command of Charles A. Clark, Esq., thenunder sheriff of the county. Thus was thewhole country alive with armed parties,whose separate movements it would beimpossible without much unnecessary labor totrace. Arrests were continually being made,popular tribunals established in the woods,judge Lynch installed upon the bench.



Criminals were arraigned, tried, and executedupon the limb of a tree. Pursuits, flights,skirmishes, and a topsy turvy, hurly burlymass of events occurred that set narration atdefiance. It remains only to give a few toucheshere and there that an idea may be gatheredof the exciting picture, which the state ofthings then presented.

The Jackson company went down on thewest side of the Mokelumne River, whileClark directed his companies to scour thewoods and mountains in the direction ofCampo Seco. From Campo Seco he went toWinter's Bar, crossed the river, and rode up toStone and Baker's Rancho, where he met theJackson company. Learning that Joaquín hadlately been seen at Camp Opera, the unitedparties surrounded that place about daylightand huddled all the inhabitants, who weremostly Mexicans, together in a large tent,depriving them of their arms. Uponquestioning them, they ascertained that aMexican horseman had come into town theday before and inquired of some women, whowere washing at the branch near by, if theyhad seen Joaquín - and that he paid one of



them fifty cents for washing a handkerchief,deeply stained with blood.

Upon closer questioning, it appeared thatthe Mexican spoken of was himself present inthe tent, and he was, accordingly, led forth forthe especial consideration of his case. Findingthat the trial to which they subjected him wasno farce, and that they were actually going tohang him, he confessed that he was one of thebrigands and submitted with great composureto be choked to death.

While their comrade was undergoing thepenalty of death, Valenzuela and a few others,ignorant of the circumstance, were robbing aDutchman only a few miles off. They took sixhundred dollars in beautiful golf specimens,for which the poor fellow had honestly laboredsix months in the mines. He was fortunate,however, in meeting with Valenzuela insteadof Three Fingered Jack, for he escaped withhis life after a long debate between therobbers as to the propriety of letting him live.The Dutchman afterwards acknowledged hewas more interested that than in any otherquestion he had ever heard discussed.



Capt. Ellas about this time heard of asuspicious fellow lurking around the littlecamp of Los Muertos. He mounting his horse,rode over to the tent in which the fellow washarbored, and with a pistol cocked in thevillain's face, arrested him and took him toSan Andreas. The people of that placeappointed a committee to investigate the caseand report their judgment as to what shouldbe done. The committee ascertained that hewas wounded, a pistol ball having pierced himin such a manner as to make four differentholes, from a twisted posture, no doubt, whichhe had assumed. And, being able to elicit nosatisfactory account as to how he had receivedthe wound, they reported to the crowd that itwas their opinion that it would not be amiss tohang him and to risk it anyhow, whether hewas guilty or not.

Finding that he had to go, he confessed thathe was the man whom Ellas had shot onChaparral Hill while he was endeavoring tocatch his mare and that he was with Joaquínwhen the two Americans, Peter Woodbeck andanother, were killed at the Phoenix QuartzMill. The time honored custom of choking aman to death was soon put into practice, and



the robber stood on nothing, kicking at emptyspace.

Bah! It is a sight that I never like to see,although I have been civilized for a good manyyears.

On the 22nd day of the month, one of thepursuing parties mentioned before came uponfive Mexicans who were halted a few momentsat a place called Forman's Camp andimmediately fired upon them, wounding oneof them in the hand. Outnumbered, therobbers - among whom was the chief himself -rode off at full speed. The Americans followedand had not proceeded far when pistol shotswere heard in rapid succession at a Chinesecamp at the foot of a hill, upon which theywere riding. Hastening down to the spot, theyfound three Chinamen dead and five otherswrithing in their last agonies. The murdererswere not more than ten minutes ahead. Adying Chinaman gasped out that they hadbeen robbed of three thousand dollars.

Exasperated beyond measure at suchaudacity, the party rode furiously on inpursuit, but their horses had not the mettle to



compete with those of the brigands, and sothey were forced to give it up for that day.

On the twenty third they resumed thepursuit, passing no less than a dozen Chinesecamps that had been recently plundered.Towards evening, they caught sight of therascals on the summit of a hill, engaged at themoment in knocking down some Chinamenand robbing them. With a whoop of defiance,the daring chief led off his men before theirfaces with such speed that they could not hopeon their own common scrub horses to overtakehim.

The Chinese, beginning to believe that theywere singled out for destruction, were seizedwith a general panic. By the fifth of March,they were seen flocking from the miningdistricts in hundreds and thousands to thetowns and cities. Mention the name ofJoaquín to one of these Chinamen now, andhis knees will quake like Belshazzar's.

209


Chapter Ten

AVING RAVAGED THE COUNTRY forseveral long and - to the people -distressing weeks, and having lost some

of the bravest and most useful members of hisband, and having aroused his enemies so thatthey met him on every trail and surprised himat almost every encampment, and having -besides this - collected by his plunders a largeamount of money, Joaquín concluded toabandon Calaveras and try his hand awhileupon the citizens of Mariposa. Of course thatcounty suffered. But it will not be necessary torecount anything like the entire series of hisfearful deeds in that devoted region, as itwould only be a repetition of the bloody andharrowing scenes that have alreadysufficiently marked these pages.

H



His guardian fiend seemed never to deserthim, and he came forth from every emergencyin triumph. The following incident is but oneamong many that shows the extraordinarysuccess that attended him, and would almostlead us to adopt the old Cherokee superstitionthat there were some men who bear charmedlives and whom nothing can kill but a silverbullet.

About the first of April, in the little town ofHornitos, or Little Ovens, an American namedPrescott - a very bold and resolute man - wasone night informed by a friendly Mexican,who was a miner in that district, that Joaquínand four or five of his men were at thatmoment sleeping in a house kept by aMexican woman on the edge of the town.

"If I point him out to you," said he, "be sureand kill him, for if you don't, my life is notworth three cents."

Prescott raised some fifteen men withsecrecy and dispatch, and guided by theMexican, gained the house without raising analarm. Stationing his men around the housein every necessary direction, he and a fewothers cautiously entered. Candles were still



burning, and everything was visible in theroom.

"There they are," whispered the tremblingMexican, pointing to several separate heaps,rolled up in blankets, and slipping out as soonas he had spoken.

One of the party, holding a candle overJoaquín's face in his anxiety to see if theremight not possibly be a mistake, startled theformidable chief from his slumber. He, withthe rapid return of consciousness that belongsto men accustomed to danger, rose likelightening to his feet, cocking his pistol as itwere in the very act of waking, and fired. Theastounded candleholder staggered back,severely wounded in the side. Prescott at thismoment discharged both barrels of hisshotgun into Joaquín's breast and wasamazed to see him stand firm after amomentary stagger and return the fire.Prescott very near fell to the floor, a ballhaving passed clean through his chest. Theother bandits in the meantime having sprungup, blew out the lights, and firing theirrevolvers, they immediately shifted theirpositions so that the Americans discharged



their pistols into the space merely where theirenemies had stood.

Joaquín shot twice after the lights wereextinguished, hitting a man each time. Withhis pistol dubbed, he trod resolutely for thedoor, where he met an American, over whosehead he shattered his pistol and very nearlykilling him on the spot. It happened that atthe same time the bandits made their egress,a few Americans were also coming out, andbefore the two parties could be fairlyseparated so as to render it safe to fire, thebold robbers had made their escape.

It is significant to add that in a few daysafter this occurrence, the Mexican informerwas found hanging to a tree near thehighway, his dead body bearing the marks ofa recent terrible scourging.

Joaquín was badly wounded by thedischarge of Prescott's double barreledshotgun, and Three Fingered Jack, who wasnow continually with him, was engaged (as helaughingly remarked to an acquaintanceafterwards) for three weeks, off and on, inpicking out buckshot from Joaquín's breast.



"How it come not to kill him," said he, "thedevil only knows. I'm certain it would havedone the job for me."

But subsequent events will show that ThreeFingered Jack was himself equally hard tokill. Prescott lay for a long time in a doubtfulstate, and Joaquín sent spies daily from hisown sick bed in the woods, to see if there wasany prospect of his dying. Much to hisdisappointment, Prescott recovered, andsurely after all he had suffered, he is entitledto live a long time.

Valenzuela was, at this time, in the countyof Yuba, in obedience to the orders of hisleader who told him to do his best in the spaceof two weeks and then to meet him at theArroyo Cantoova rendezvous.

A description of one or two scenes thathappened on Bear River, about twenty milesfrom the city of Marysville, will serve to givean idea of what he was about. This streamheads in the Sierra Nevada foothills, andcrossing a broad plain, empties into theFeather River near the town of NicolausFerry. It waters a fine agricultural andgrazing region, and houses in the spring of



1853, as now, were scattered at intervals offour, five, and six miles along its banks.

In one of these houses lived an old widowwoman, with her son and daughter. Thesethree, seated in their door on a pleasantevening, were surprised - as they lived offfrom the public road - to see four huge fellowsride up, splendidly dressed, and armed to theteeth. One of them had four revolvers and abowie knife. Dismounting, they requestedsupper. It was soon got in readiness by thebrisk young lady - and she is as fresh and rosya creature as ever one had the happiness tosee - and the travelers partook of it mostfreely. The fellow with the four revolvers, whonotwithstanding his fierce look, was quitegentlemanly in his manners, conversing withher agreeably as she politely waited uponthem. The old woman looked rathersuspiciously at the well dressed eaters fromunder her spectacles but said nothing.

As soon as they had finished, Valenzuela,for it was that worthy and none other, steppedup to where the young man was sitting andcocking a pistol between his eyes, asked him ifhe had any objection to having the house



robbed - if so, to name it. The old woman herescreamed out:

"Oh, Lord! I knowed it - I seed the clovenfoot a'stickin out all the time!" and continuedto cry out with such vehemence that theywere forced to put a gag in her mouth.

The young lady saved them the trouble ofusing that precaution in her case by fainting.

The young man, not relishing a cockedpistol in his face with a man carelesslyfingering the trigger, very readily gave hisconsent to have the house searched. Everydrawer was ransacked and every trunk burstopen, and having obtained a few hundreddollars, the robbers left.

At a late hour in the night, another housewas burst open and the terrified inmates weredragged out of their beds and securely boundhand and foot, besides being gagged, beforethey awoke sufficiently to know whether itwas a dream or a reality. There was only oneman at the house, the rest were women andchildren. All the money and jewelry was takenthat could be found, and among other things,a gold watch the chain of which Valenzuelavery coolly put over his neck.



"Go to that old woman and take the gag outof her mouth," said he to one of his men, "shelooks as if she were choking herself to deathin the effort to say something."

As soon as the gag was removed, she beggedValenzuela, with many tears, to give her backthe watch, as it was a present from a dearfriend who was dead and contained a preciouslock of hair.

"Certainly," said the robber, "if that's thecase, I don't want it," and handed it to her.

Strange as it may seem at the first glance,the aged widow felt a sentiment of gratitudetowards the robber, who steeped in villainy ashe was, had soul enough to answer an appealof this kind. The unfortunate family wasfound the next morning by their neighbors,still lying upon the floor, bound hand and foot.

Such terror possessed that neighborhood forsome time afterwards that a traveler, nomatter how peaceable his intentions, could nomore get a chance to stay all night on thatpart of Bear River than he could fly. A youngfellow from the mountains on his way downthe valley, happening to be belated in thatvicinity and called one night at every house in



every direction. He was refused admittance orhospitality, with an obstinacy that astonishedhim. The doors were barred on his approachas if he had been a bearer of pestilence, and tohis loud hellos and earnest solicitations forshelter from the night air, he received theresponse that they had "no accommodation fortravelers," and he began to believe thatindeed they did have but littleaccommodation, sure enough!

It was drizzling rain, the hour was waxinglate, it was dark, and there were many deepand miry sloughs, which were dangerous topass unless in broad daylight. Directed, ateach refusal of "accommodation" to go toanother house "just across the slough" or "jistbeyant that pint," the poor fellow wanderedaround nearly all night, narrowly escapingbeing drowned a dozen times.

Finally, towards morning, leaving his horsetied on the bank of a slough and crossing tothe other side in a canoe, he succeeded - afterfighting a pitched battle with a gang of fiercedogs - in reaching an old shanty in a barleyfield, whose occupant, a bachelor, consented -to his great surprise - to let him stay.



It seems that the young fellow was darkskinned and, unfortunately, not a veryamiable looking fellow at the best, and so hewas accordingly taken for Joaquín or someone of his band traveling around as a spy.

219


Chapter Eleven

O BURDENSOME were the tributes leviedupon the citizens of the whole state bythe robbers, and so ceaselessly did they

commit their depredations that it became a fitsubject for legislative action. A petition,numerously signed, was presented to thelegislature, praying that body to authorizeCaptain Harry Love to organize a company ofMounted Rangers in order to capture, driveout of the country, or exterminate thedesperate bands of highwaymen who placedin continual jeopardy both life and property. Abill to this effect was passed and signed by thegovernor on the 17th of May, 1853, and acompany was organized by Harry Love on the28th of the same month. The pay was setdown at one hundred and fifty dollars amonth per man, and the legal existence of thecompany limited to three months, while the

S



number of men was not to exceed twenty.Notwithstanding the small amount of wagesallowed, each member was required to furnishhis own horse, provisions, and equipments athis individual expense.

Without hesitation, nay, with alacrity, for itwas in consonance with his daring spirit, Loveimmediately took the command of twentychoice men, selected for their well knowncourage, and led them forth to meet asformidable a man as ever figured in the arenaof crime.

This brave - but small - party of MountedRangers was looked upon with the anxiouseyes of the community, from whose midst theystarted as almost certainly destined todestruction.

But they forgot that a leader was now in thefield and armed with the authority of thestate, whose experience was a part of thestormiest histories of the frontier settlements,whose soul was as rugged and severe as thediscipline through which it had passed, whosebrain was as strong and clear in the midst ofdangers as that of the daring robber againstwhom he was sent, and who possessed a



glance as quick and a hand as sudden in theexecution of a deadly purpose.

With untiring energy and the most stealthymovements, Capt. Love set himself to work toobtain a full knowledge of the haunts of thebandit chief, the latest traces of his steps, andall that was necessary to enable him to fallupon him at the best possible time and place.

While on this lookout for him, Joaquín wasbusy in making his preparations for the grandfinale of his career in California. After robbingextensively on the Little Mariposa and theMerced River, he proceeded to the rancho ofJoaquín Guerra, near to San José, killing onhis way a Frenchman who kept the wellknown Tivoli Gardens, and there stopped for afew weeks, lying concealed. The Major Domoof this rancho, Francisco Sierro, was secretlyconnected with his band, and this accounts forJoaquín staying there.

In the meantime, he had dispatched LuisViñuela to the Arroyo Cantoova, with ordersto remove the women to a place of safety inthe province of Sonora, and to sendValenzuela - as soon as he should arrive at therendezvous - to the same place with



remittances of money. There, Valenzuela wasto arm and equip his followers and adherents,who stood in waiting. Viñuela himself was toproceed to the different harboring ranchos inCalifornia and collected at the ArroyoCantoova all the horses that had been leftupon them.

It was Joaquín's own intention to go to therendezvous in a short time and wait for thearrival of his forces. The extreme caution withwhich this wily leader was bringing his plansto a focus is aptly exhibited in the followingcomparatively little incident:

Feeling, one evening, somewhat inclined fora dram and unwilling to show his own person,he sent from Guerra's Rancho an Indian tobring him a bottle of liquor from San José.After the Digger had started, he became alittle uneasy, lest the fellow should betrayhim, and mounting his horse, he overtook himon the road near to Coyote Creek, and killedhim.

On the first day of July, seventy of hisfollowers had arrived at the Arroyo Cantoovawith fifteen hundred horses. In another partof the valley, Joaquín with Reis, Three



Fingered Jack, and a few other men, waswaiting for the final arrival of all his forcesfrom Sonora and other quarters. Hiscorrespondence was arge with many wealthyand influential Mexicans residing in the Stateof California, and he had received assurancesof their earnest cooperation in the movementhe contemplated. A shell was about to burst,which was little dreamed of by the mass of thepeople because they merely looked uponJoaquín as a petty leader of a band ofcutthroats!

On the fifth of July, Capt. Love, who hadbeen secretly tracing the bandit in hismovements, left with his company the town ofSan José and camped near San Juan for fouror five days, scouring the mountains in thatvicinity. From San Juan, he started in thenight on the coast route in the direction of LosAngeles and tarried a night or two on theSalinas plains. Thence he went across theSanta Bonita valley, camping just beforedaylight, without being discovered by any one,in a small valley in the coast range, near toQuién Sabe Rancho.

Leaving this place after a short survey ofthe neighborhood, he proceeded to the Eagle's



Pass and there came upon a party of Mexicanswho were going, or said so at least, into theTulares to capture the wild mustangs that fedthere in great numbers. From this point, theRangers divided, a portion going to thePanoche Pass and the others taking a coursethrough the mountains. They found trails,which led both divisions to the same point,that is, to the Poca Pradera, or Little Prairie.Before reaching this point, Love stopped a fewMexicans, who were evidently carryingforward the news of his advance into that wildand suspicious region.

Separating again, the company again metat the Panoche Pass, from which they went onin a body to the Arroyo Cantoova. Here theyfound the seventy or eighty men of Joaquín'sband, with the fifteen hundred stolen horses.These men, it would be fair to infer, couldhave annihilated the small party of twentymen opposed to them had they seen fit. It wasa wise act by Capt. Love to deceive them as hedid by informing them that he was executinga commission on the part of the state to obtaina list of all the names of those who wereengaged in mustang hunting so that a taxmight be collected from them for the privilege,



in accordance with a recent act of thelegislature.

With this explanation and going throughthe farce of taking down a list of their names -which were no doubt fictitious - he started onin the direction of San Juan. But he turnedabout and stopped seven or eight miles off atthe head of the Arroyo in order to watch theirmovements.

It was now the 24th of the month, on themorning of which day he went back to theirencampment and found it wholly deserted,not a man or a horse left. Fully convincedfrom this sudden abandonment of the placethat they were nothing less than a portion ofJoaquín's band, he resolved to follow theirtrail.

On the 25th, which was Sunday, at 3 o'clockin the morning, he reached the Tulare plains,where he found they had parted theircompany - some going south towards theTejon Pass and others north towards the SanJoaquín River. Detailing a portion of theRangers to proceed to Mariposa County withsome stolen horses, which had been recoveredon the way, the Captain with the remainder of



his party, numbering only eight men,dauntlessly pursued the southern trail, whichled in the more proper direction for findingJoaquín.

Just at daylight, he saw a smoke risingfrom the plains on his left, and wishing toallow no circumstance, however trivial, topass unnoticed at a time so much requiringhis utmost vigilance, he turned from the trailand rode out towards it. He saw nothing morethan some loose horses until within sixhundred yards of the spot from which thesmoke proceeded. Then, rising a mound, hediscovered seven men scattered around asmall fire in a little hollow. One was a fewsteps off, washing a fine looking bay horse outof a pan. Their sentinel, who had just beencooking, at this moment caught sight of theapproaching party and gave the alarm to hiscomrades, who all rushed forth in thedirection of their horses, except the man whoalready held his by the lariat at camp.

Dashing up in hot haste, the Rangerssucceeded in stopping every man before he gotto his animal. The Captain, riding up to theindividual who stood holding the horse,questioned him as to the course upon which



he and the others were traveling. Heanswered that they were going to LosAngeles. Giving the nod to two of his youngmen, Henderson and White, they stoodwatching this individual while the Captainrode towards others of the suspicious lookingparty - who, I have omitted to say, were allMexicans, superbly dressed, each wearingover their finery a costly broadcloth cloak.

Addressing one of these others in relation totheir destination, he replied in directcontradiction to what the first had just said,who flushing up with an angered look,exclaimed:

"No! We're going to Los Angeles," and,turning to Love, said, "Sir, if you have anyquestions to ask, address yourself to me. I amthe leader of this company."

Love answered that he would addresshimself to whom he pleased, withoutconsulting him.

The leader, as he called himself, thenadvanced a few steps towards the saddles andblankets, which lay around the fire, whenLove told him to stop. He walked on withoutheeding the command when the Captain drew



his six shooter and told him if he did not stopin an instant, he would blow his brains out.

With a proud toss of his head and gratinghis teeth together in rage, he stepped backand laid his hand again upon his horse'smane, which had stood quietly during themoment he was away. This individual wasJoaquín Murieta, though Love was ignorant ofthe fact. He was armed only with a bowieknife and was advancing towards his saddleto get his pistols when Love drew his revolveron him and made him stop.

A short distance off stood Three FingeredJack, fully armed, and anxiously watchingevery motion of his chief. Others of the partywere separated by the Rangers, surprised andunable to act in concert, and on foot andunable to get to their horses scattered hereand there. The danger to Joaquín was greatand imminent, yet no sign of fear played uponhis countenance. He held his head firmly andlooked around him with a cool andunflinching glance, as if he calmly studied thedesperate chances of the time. He patted,from time to time, his horse upon the neck,and the fiery steed raised his graceful head,pricked up his sharply pointed ears, and stood



with flashing eyes, as if ready to spring at amoment's warning.

Lieut. Byrnes, who had known the youngrobber when he was an honest man a fewyears before soon rode into camp, havingfallen behind by order of the Captain. Andimmediately on his approach, Joaquín, whoknew him at the first sight, called out to hisfollowers to make their escape, every man forhimself.

Three Fingered Jack bounded off like amighty stag of the forest. He was shot at byseveral of the Rangers. Attention beingmomentarily called away from Joaquín, hemounted his fine, bay horse, already eager torun, and rode off without saddle or bridle atthe speed of the wind. A dozen balls from theColt's repeaters whizzed by him withouteffect. Rushing along a rough and rockyravine with that recklessness that belongs toa bold rider and a powerful, high spiritedanimal, he leaped from a precipice, ten ortwelve feet high, and was thrown violentlyfrom his horse, which turned a halfsomersault as he touched the ground and fellon his back with his heels just a few inches ofhis master's head. Horse and rider recovering



in a moment, Joaquín again mounted with thequickness of lightning, and was again on thewing.

One of his pursuers, named Henderson,fearlessly leapt after him, while others, whowere not so close behind, galloped around tohead him off at a certain favorable point.Henderson and horse went through the samemotions of lofty tumbling as in the examplethat had preceded him. He was not mountedso soon and Joaquín was some distance aheadbefore he was fairly ready to renew the chase.

The bold chieftain was fast escaping dangeron his swift and beautiful steed, and a fewmore vigorous bounds would carry himbeyond the reach of gunshot, when one of thepursuing party, finding that they could not hitthe rider, leveled his rifle at the horse andsent a ball obliquely into his side.

The noble animal sunk a moment but roseagain, still vigorous though bleeding, and wasbearing his master as if he knew that his lifedepended upon him, clearly out of all reach ofa bullet or any fear of a capture. When alas,the poor beast - with a sudden gush of bloodfrom his mouth and nostrils - fell dead



beneath him. A fortunate shot, whoeveraimed that rifle!

Joaquín, still far ahead of his pursuers, ranon, on foot. But they outran him upon theirhorses, and coming again in pistol shot,discharged several balls into his body. Whenthe third ball struck him, he turned around,faced them, and said:

"Don't shoot any more. The work is done."

He stood still a few moments, turning paleas his lifeblood ebbed away; and sinkingslowly to the ground upon his right arm, hesurrendered to death.



While their beloved leader was proudlysubmitting to the inexorable fate that fellupon him - if we may call it fate when it wasborn from his own extreme carelessness inseparating himself from the main body of hismen and in a habitual feeling of too muchsecurity at his rendezvous - his followers werestruggling for their lives against fearful oddsin all directions over the plains.

Three Fingered Jack, pursued by Lovehimself and one or two others, ran five milesbefore he fell, pierced with nine balls. Heleaped over the ground like a wild beast of thechase and frequently gained a considerabledistance on his pursuers, whose horses wouldsometimes tumble in the gopher holes andsoft soil of the plain and throw their ridersheadlong in the dirt. When overtaken, hewould wheel with glaring eyes, and with awhoop of defiance, discharge his six shooter.Though a good shot, out of five trials hemissed every time.

Circumstances were against him, but hewas determined never to be taken alive, andto no proposal of surrender would he listen tofor a moment. He ran on as long as hisstrength would sustain him, and he fought till



he fell dying with his hand on his pistol, fromwhich he had emptied of every load but one.He was, at last, shot through the head byCapt. Love, who had wounded him twicebefore in the long chase. Three Fingered Jack,anomalous as it may seem to be since he wasthe very incarnation of cruelty, was at thesame time as brave a man as this world everproduced, and he died so, as those who killedhim will testify.

Shortly after the chase of Joaquín andThree Fingered Jack commenced, three of theband - not before discovered - galloped outinto the plain from a point a little belowJoaquín's campfire where they had probablymade a small, separate encampment thenight before. There, they dismounted in fullview of several of the Rangers, whoapproached them on three sides. They stoodstill until within reach of pistol shot, whenthey suddenly sprang into their saddles, andfiring their revolvers at the approachingRangers, rode off. The Rangers returned thefire with effect, wounding two of the men andone of the horses. Their animals beingremarkably swift, they distanced their



pursuers and reached the foot of themountains without further injury.

But just at this point, one of the woundedmen grew so faint that he fell back in theflight, and a comrade came back also to assisthim, and thus gave the Rangers anopportunity to come within gunshot. As hegalloped off with his wounded companion torejoin his brothers ahead, a skillfulmarksman leveled a rifle at his retreatingfigure and sent a ball into his back that madehim reel upon his horse, and thus added onemore to the wounded list, which nowcomprised the whole party. They succeeded inescaping, but one of them fell from his horseduring the following night and died in asolitary place among the mountains.

The pursuit being ended on all parts of thefield, the Rangers returned to the point fromwhich they had started. As yet, all wereignorant of the true character of the partythat they had attacked. Byrnes did nothappen to be looking at Joaquín when he firstrode into camp, and consequently had notrecognized him at all. When they all gottogether, it was ascertained that fourMexicans had been killed and two others



taken prisoners. Going up to the dead bodies,one was immediately recognized by Byrnes asthat of Joaquín Murieta and another, by someone else, as that of Three Fingered Jack.

It was important to prove to the satisfactionof the public that the famous and bloodybandit was actually killed, else the fact wouldbe eternally doubted, and many unworthysuspicions would attach to Capt. Love. So he,accordingly, acted as he would not otherwisehave done. And I must shock the nerves of thefastidious - much against my will - by statingthat he caused the head of the renownedMurieta to be cut off and to be hurried awaywith the utmost expedition to the nearestplace, a distance of one hundred and fiftymiles, at which any alcohol could be obtainedin which to preserve it.

Three Fingered Jack's head was also cut off,but being shot through, soon becameoffensive, and was thrown away. His hand,however, was preserved - that terrible, three-fingered hand - which had dyed itself in manya quivering heart, had torn with its ruthlesstalons the throats of many an agonized victim,and had shadowed itself forth upon the



horrified imaginations of thousands who onlyknew that it existed.

The head, which for a long time retained avery natural appearance, was carried forexhibition over a large portion of the state andthoroughly identified in every quarter whereits owner was known. The hand was alsoexhibited in a glass case, not to prove itsidentity (though even that was done) but togive the public the actual sight of an objectthat had flung a strange, haunting dread overthe mind, as if it had been a conscious,voluntary agent of evil.

Many superstitious persons, ignorant of thephenomenon that death presents in thegrowth of the hair and nails, were seized witha kind of terror to observe that the moustacheof the fearful robber had grown longer sincehis head was cut off and that the nails ofThree Fingered Jack's hand had lengthenedalmost an inch.

The bloody encounter being over, Lovegathered up the spoils, which consisted ofseven fine animals (afterwards restored totheir owners), six elegant Mexican saddlesand bridles, six Colt's revolvers, a brace of



holster pistols, and five or six pairs of spurs.Three splendid horses were killed under theirriders in the chase. Five or six fine broadclothcloaks were found at the camp. Money, therewas none. One of the prisoners, however,declared that Three Fingered Jack threwaway a very large purse of gold, which wasencumbering him in his flight. It is probablethat others did the same.

Upon the return of the Rangers from thisexpedition, one of the prisoners, after vainlyendeavoring to persuade his companion tofollow his example, suddenly broke loose fromhis captors and, plunging into a deep sloughnear by, bravely drowned himself. The otherwas taken to Mariposa County Jail, and thereconfined until the company was ready todisband, when he was transferred toMartinez.

While there, he made a confessionimplicating a large number of his countrymenin the villainies that had been perpetrated.And he was prepared to make still moreimportant disclosures - perhaps with the viewof making the value of his information weighagainst his execution - when he wasforestalled in a mysterious manner. The jail



was broken open one night at the dead hours,and the prisoner taken out by an armed moband hung. The Americans knew nothing of thehanging, so that the most rational conjectureis that he was put out of the way by Mexicansto prevent the damning revelations he wouldcertainly have made.

After a thorough identification of the headof Joaquín, the Governor of California,Colonel John Bigler, caused to be paid toCaptain Love the sum of one thousanddollars, which in his official capacity he hadoffered for the capture of the bandit, dead oralive. And subsequently, on the fifteenth dayof May, 1854, the Legislature of California,considering that his truly valuable service inridding the country of so great a terror wasnot sufficiently rewarded, passed an actgranting him an additional sum of fivethousand dollars.

The story is told. Briefly and withoutornament, the life and character of JoaquínMurieta have been sketched. His career wasshort, for he died in his twenty second year;but in the few years that were allowed him, hedisplayed qualities of mind and heart thatmarked him as an extraordinary man, and



leaving his name impressed upon the earlyhistory of this state.

He also leaves behind him the importantlesson that there is nothing so dangerous inits consequences as injustice to individuals -whether it arise from prejudice of color orfrom any other source. That a wrong done toone man is a wrong to society and to theworld.

It is only necessary to add that after thedeath of its chief, the mighty organization hehad established was broken up. It exists nowonly in scattered fragments over Californiaand Mexico. Its subordinate chiefs, amongwho is Joaquín Valenzuela, lack the brillianceand unconquerable will of their leader, andthus will never be able to revive it in its fullforce. And, although all the elements are stillin active existence, they will make themselvesfelt in nothing more - it is probable - thanpetty outbreaks here and there, anddepredations of such a character as can easilybe checked by the vigilance of the laws.

Of Rosita, the beautiful and well beloved ofJoaquín, nothing further is known than thatshe remains in Sonora, silently and sadly



working out the slow task of a life foreverblighted to her, living under the roof of heraged parents. Alas, how happy might shehave been, had man never learned to wronghis fellow man!

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the life and adventures of joaquin murieta

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