“Wal, when we got together, I reckon we war about the roughest lookin’ set o’ men you ever see. Each one dressed as suited him best, an’ all armed with rifles, tomahawks, an’ huntin’-knives. But our looks didn’t seem to set ole Gen’ral Taylor agin us, for when we rode up to his camp, an’ our cap’n had told him what we war, an’ what we could do, he seemed mighty glad to see us; and we war sent to onct to the quarter-master, an’ detailed to take care o’ his cattle an’ hosses, fight guerrillas, an’ carry letters from one place to another. We knowed the country purty well, for there were few of us that hadn’t traveled over it more’n onct in our lives; but whenever we war sent off anywhere we used to have a Mexikin guide, who showed us the short cuts through the mountains.
“Wal, just arter the battle o’ Monterey, our company war cut up into little squads, an’ scattered all over the country; some went with the gen’ral, an’ some war put in Cap’n Morgan’s company, an’ sent scoutin’ around, an’ four of us war left at Monterey with the quarter-master.
“One day ole Bill come to me an’ said:
“‘Dick, the kurnel wants to see you. I guess he’s got some business for you to ’tend to.’
“I went up to the head-quarters, an’ the kurnel told me that he had some very important letters which he wanted to send to Major Davis, who was then stationed at a little town called Alamo, an’ as I had the finest hoss in the town, he thought it best to send me. Alamo war on the other side o’ the mountains, an’ about a hundred an’ fifty miles off. As the kurnel had said, I had the best hoss in the hull camp, an’, in course, it wouldn’t have been no trouble to have gone there if the country had been clear—the ride wasn’t nothin’; but the Mexikins war comin’ down toward Monterey, an’ the kurnel thought that they war goin’ to try to take the city from us agin. I knowed there war danger in it, but I didn’t mind that. I war used to it, an’ if I got into a scrape, it wouldn’t be the first one I war in; so I started off arter my hoss, an’ in a few minits I war ready an’ waitin’ at the kurnel’s door for the letters. Purty soon he come out an’ give ’em to me, sayin’:
“‘Now, Dick, be mighty keerful of ’em, ’cause there’s some news in ’em that I shouldn’t like to have the Mexikins get hold of. This man,’ pintin’ to a Greaser that stood a little behind me, holdin’ his hoss, ‘will be your guide. He knows all about the mountains.’ Then, movin’ up a little closer to me, he whispered: ‘He’ll bear watchin’, I think; I don’t know much about him, but he is the only man I have got to send with you, an’ them letters must be in Major Davis’s hands by to-morrow night.’
“‘All right, kurnel,’ I answered; ‘I’ll look out for him. I never see a Greaser yet that could pull the wool over my eyes. I’ll give the letters to Major Davis afore this time to-morrow. Good by.’ An’ me an’ the guide rid off.
“As soon as I had got out of the city, I turned to have a look at my guide, an’ I thought, as the kurnel had said, that he would bear watchin’. He war the most villainous lookin’ Mexikin I ever sot eyes on. He war a young feller, not more’n twenty-two or twenty-three year old; but he had an eye that looked like an eagle’s, an’ it wasn’t still a minit. He war dressed in a reg’lar Greaser’s rig, with a slouch hat, short jacket, all covered with gold lace, an’ pantaloons, wide at the bottom, an’ open on the side as far as his knees. He had a splendid hoss, an’ war armed with a carbine, short saber, an’ a lasso; an’ I knowed that if me an’ him got into a muss, that lasso would bother me more’n his sword or shootin’-iron. The Greasers, as a gen’ral thing, ain’t no great shakes at shootin’, an’ in a rough-an’-tumble fight they ain’t nowhere; but them ar raw-hide lassoes ar the meanest things in the world to fight; they’ll have one of ’em around your neck afore you know it. I had a little experience in that line afore I got back. Arter we had got outside o’ the pickets a little way, he turned in his saddle, an’ tried to commence a talk with me in Spanish; but I made him believe that I couldn’t understand a word he said. I thought that if I should tell him that I couldn’t talk his lingo, it would make him a little keerless; an’ so it did.
“We rid all day as fast as our hosses could travel, an’ afore dark we got acrost the mountains, an’ stopped afore a little house, where the guide said would be a good place to pass the night. I didn’t much like the idee; had rather camp right down in the woods; but, in course, that would only put him on the look-out, an’ I knowed that the best way to do war to act as though I thought every thing war all right. A man come to the gate as we rid up, an’, as soon as he see my guide, he touched his hat to him in reg’lar soldier style. The guide answered the salute, an’ asked the man, in Spanish:
“‘Are you alone, José?’