Farrell bade me good-night and Foster, who did not expect to see me again, shook hands at parting—bidding me a final goodbye.
There was much in the expression of Foster’s countenance that I did not admire; and, notwithstanding, the apparent openness of his speech, I could not help thinking him a fellow not only without good feeling, but hypocritical, and treacherous.
Farrell purchased his mule, and also his share of the mining tools; and by break of day the next morning, Foster was on his way to San Francisco.
The post-master of Sonora was annoyed by him no more; and Farrell was left to regret the loss of his plain-speaking partner.
Volume One—Chapter Twenty Five.
A Bull and Bear Fight.
One Sunday afternoon, seeking for amusement, I walked into Sonora; and, following a crowd, I reached the “Plaza de Toros.”
The proprietor of this place had gone to a great expense, to get up a grand entertainment for that day.