“They appeared to consent to this willingly enough. So we made our packs up—taking the best of everything, of course, and whatever was of the greatest value.
“It was now well on in the afternoon, so we determined to start on our journey inland the very next morning. The Indians had still half a dozen good mules left, and they at once set about making preparations for loading them.
“There was a deal of squabbling and wrangling over the division, and more than once they seemed coming to blows.
“As soon as they had chosen all they could carry, we set about piling up the rest of the wreckage in a heap, preparatory to setting fire to it. This was absolutely necessary, for if anything was left behind it would be but a short convoy those Indians would give us. They would hide their mule packs among the mountains and hurry back for more.
“They were very much displeased, therefore, to see what we were about.
“But nothing cared we; and just as the sun dipped down into the western ocean we set fire to the immense pile.
“When darkness fell, and the flames leaped high into the air, the scene was one worthy of the brush of a Rembrandt. The sea was lit up for miles with a ruddy glare; the sands were all aglow with the blaze; the Indians and their mules thrown out in bold relief looked picturesque in the extreme, while we, the white men, armed to the teeth, and carefully watching the Indians, though not in any way to give them cause for alarm, formed a by no means insignificant portion of the scene.
“We were early astir the next day, and on the road before the sun had begun to peep down over the eastern hills.
“We marched in single file, an old grey-bearded Indian leading the van as our guide.