64 LIFE SKETCHES OF A JAYHAWKER 



outlaw and a notorious bad man. I think it was the fall of fifty-two I had 

 occasion to be at Oakland. Oakland at that time was only a small village, 

 and on my return to San Jose, on horse back, just a few miles this side of 

 Oakland, there was another horseman that overtook me on the road and 

 inquired where I was going. I said to San Jose. He then said he was 

 bound for San Jose also, and that if I had no objection we would ride to- 

 gether. I told him that was agreeable, if I was traveling fast as he wanted 

 to go. He said it made no difference, as he was in no hurry. We traveled on 

 until about noon time and came to a Spanish ranch and inquired if we could 

 have dinner. In welcome, they said. It was a large Spanish ranch and 

 owned by some of the Alvarados. The day was pretty warm, so we stayed 

 there about three hours or more, then resumed our journey. My companion 

 was well dresfced and rode a fine horse with a silver-mounted saddle. I did 

 not know but that he was some great Spanish Don. He could talk some 

 English, and T could talk some Spanish and between the two, we got along 

 very well. We finally came to the creek, where Niles is now situated and 

 rode into the creek to let our horses drink and it was now becoming dusk 

 of the evening. While our horses were drinking, he says, "Let me look 

 at that pistol of yours," which I was carrying in the bolster on my saddle. 

 Someway it struck me very sensibly to say no. But I gave him some evasive 

 answer, told him it was just like all other Colt revolver,s and didn't hand it 

 to him. We rode on a short distance and I told him I wanted to see a party 

 that lived off the road a little way and for him to ride on and I could soon 

 overtake him. The more I thought of his move in the bed of the creek 

 and wanting to get my gun, the more my suspicions were raised. I didn't 

 like the move. The place I called at was the home of Tyson and Morrison, 

 where we had reaped grain during the harvest season, and they insisted on 

 my spending the night with them, which I very willingly did. The follow- 

 ing spring we were driving a band of cattle up the country and passing up 

 the San Joaquin, we met a horseman riding a beautiful black horse and 

 after he passed I remembered I knew that fellow, that I traveled with him 

 from Oakland, and was with him all day on the road, and a little further 

 on we stopped for noon and lunched. Near by a man came from his cabin 

 and wanted to know if we had met Joaquin Murietta. We told him that a 

 Spaniard had been met riding a very nice black horse. "Well," he says, 

 "that's him." He then told that he had stopped there and had jumped his 

 horse over the fence into his patch of barley, so the old man came out 

 and remonstrated with him and told him the grass was good outside any- 

 where. He replied he thought the barley was better and that he didn't 

 know who he was talking to, that he was Joaquin Murietta. He told him he 



didn't care a who the he was, that he had better get 



his horse out of there and went back to his cabin and got his rifle, but be- 

 fore he had time to return, Joaquin had gotten his horse out and was gone. 

 He said if he had been there when he returned, he would have dropped him 

 right thar, and I think he would, as there had been a large reward offered 

 for him, dead or alive, as his depredations had become more numerous from 

 day to day. He and Three-Fingered Jack rode through Sonora at midday 

 and shot down two men as they passed along on the gallop, for no cause 

 whatever, and they had committed numerous murders and robberies. There 

 were posses of men sent out to capture them, but they evaded pursuit for 



