ndians or his own men. Here, after tying up his own leg with buckskin
thongs which he cut from his hunting shirt, he very coolly and
deliberately went to work with his own knife, and cut his own leg off.
After this he crawled to his camp, where he found his companions who
supposed he was dead, and who were expecting the next morning to go and
find his body.

This is said to be a true story, and who of those who were in California
twenty years ago, do not remember Peg Leg Smith and his horse
John. He would come into San Francisco, or Benicia, riding like the
wind, his long grey hair floating about his shoulders, and then that
never-to-be-forgotten war-whoop! And now here in Benicia, he dashes up to
the Vallejos hotel.

"John," he says to his horse, "down sir, quick. I'm mighty dry." Down goes
the horse; old Peg gets off. "Boys, how are you. I say there," addressing
the bar tender, "make me a whiskey toddy."

This is done at once. No pay is expected. No one expects Peg Leg Smith to
pay for any thing, where he is known.

Most of these men possessed many noble impulses, and would prove true to
the death for their friends. But they considered the killing of an Indian
as justifiable, whenever they met with one.

I was at this time at work under Colonel Jack Hayes, of Texas. Every one
familiar with the history of that State in its infancy, will remember him
as an old Indian fighter. He was one who never turned his back on friend
or foe. At this time, he was United States Surveyor-General of California.

Some may like to know how we camp in an Indian country. I will give a
brief description of our camp. First our pack saddles are placed in a
circle, enclosing a pretty large space. Our provisions and goods are then
stored inside of the circle. Our animals are picketed at our heads, the
pack saddles serving as pillows, and our feet being towards the centre of
the circle. When there is danger to be apprehended, the animals are placed
within the circle. But ordinarily, they graze to the extent of their
picket ropes upon the rich grass outside. Generally inside the circle
there is a rousing fire. Those of us who are not on guard, lie down in our
blankets, feet towards the fire. Our rifles are placed in the hollow of
the left arm; our revolvers at our back, ready for instant use. The sky is
our covering, the earth our support. The guard patrols on the outside the
circle, outside the horses. We go to sleep to dream of home and fr