The pursuers have often failed because of lack of supplies, and worn-out steeds. The villains are secretly refitted by those who harbor them. An hour suffices to drive up the "caballada," and remount the bandits at any friendly interior ranch.
Obstinate silence is all the roadside dwellers' return to questions.
Valois cons over the bloody record of the last two years. The desperate crimes begin with Andres Armijo and Tomas Maria Carrillo. They were unyielding ex-soldiers. Both of these have been run to earth. Salamon Pico, an independent bandit, of native blood, follows the same general career. John Irving, a renegade American, has held the southern part of the State. With his followers, he murdered General Bean and others. He was only an outcast foreigner.
Maxime Valois knows that Irving and his band have been butchered by savage Indians near the Colorado. Yet none of these have killed for mere lust of blood. This mysterious chieftain who murders for personal vengeance, is soon known to the determined Louisianian. In the long trail of tiger-like assassinations, the robber is disclosed by his unequalled thirst for blood.
"Joaquin Murieta, Joaquin the Mountain Robber, Joaquin the Yellow Tiger." He flashes out from the dark shades of night, or the depths of chaparral and forest. His insane butchery proves Valois to be correct.
Dashing through camps, lurking around towns, appearing in distant localities, he robs stages, plunders stations, and personally murders innocent travellers. Express riders are ambushed. The word "Joaquin," scrawled on a monte card, and pinned to the dead man's breast, often tells the tale. Lonely men are found on the trails with the fatal bullet-hole in the back of the head, shot in surprise. Sometimes he appears with followers, often alone. Now openly daring individual conflict, then slinking at night and in silence. Sneak, bravo, and tiger. He is a Turpin in horsemanship. A fiend in his thirst for blood. A charmed life seems his. On magnificent steeds, he rides down the fleeing traveller. He coolly murders the exhausted "Gringo," taunting his hated race with cowardice. Sweeping from north to south, five hundred miles, this yellow-clad fiend always keeps the Sacramento or San Joaquin between him and the coast. Men shudder at the name of Joaquin Murieta.
Valois sees that the robber chief's permanent haunt is somewhere in the Sierras. This must be found. The sheriffs of Placer, Nevada, Sierra, El Dorado, Tuolumne, Calaveras, and Mariposa counties are in the field with posses. Skirmish after skirmish occurs. All doubtful men are arrested. Yet the red record continues. Doubling on the pursuers, hiding, the bandit whirls from Shasta to Tehama, from Oroville to Sacramento, from Marysville to Placerville. Stockton, San Andreas, Sonora, and Mariposa are terrorized. Plundered pack-trains, murdered men, and robbed wayfarers prove that Joaquin Murieta is ever at work. His swoop is unerring. The yellow serape, black banded, the dark scowling face, and the battery of four revolvers, two on his body, two on his saddle, soon make him known to all the State.
The Governor offers five thousand dollars State reward for Joaquin's head. County rewards are also published. Valois watches all the leading Mexican families. Some wild son or member must be unaccounted for. No criminal has yet appeared of good blood, save Tomas Maria Carrillo. But he has been dead a year, shot in his tracks by a brave man. The bandits hover around Stockton. The Americans go heavily armed, and only travel in large bodies. Public rage reaches its climax, when there is found pinned on the body of a dead deputy-sheriff a printed proclamation of the Governor of $5,000 for Joaquin's head.
Under the printed words is the scrawl:
"I myself will give ten thousand.