e. At last
they succeeded in heaving up their anchors, and, favoured by the
land-breeze, they soon cleared the bay. Since that time nothing has
been heard of them.

Fonseca, now certain of his fate, proved to be as mean and cowardly as
he had been tyrannical before his defeat. He made me many splendid
offers if I would but let him go and try his fortune elsewhere: seeing
how much I despised him, he turned to the Mexicans, and tried them one
and all; till, finally, perceiving that he had no hope of mercy, he
began to blaspheme so horribly that I was obliged to order him to be
gagged.

The next morning two companies arrived from Monterey, a council was
convened, twenty of the citizens forming themselves into a jury.
Fonseca was tried and condemned, both as a traitor and a pirate; and, as
shooting would have been too great an honour for such a wretch, he was
hanged in company with the few surviving Sandwichers.

Our party had suffered a little in the beginning of the action; three
Mexicans had been killed and eighteen wounded, as well as two Apaches.
Of my Shoshones, not one received the smallest scratch; and the
Arrapahoes, who had been left to scour the prairie, joined us a short
time after the battle with a few scalps.

The people of San Francisco were true to their promise; the rescued
booty was divided into two equal parts, one of which was offered to the
Indians, as had been agreed upon. On the eve of our departure, presents
were made to us as a token of gratitude, and of course the Indians,
having at the first moment of their confederation, made such a
successful and profitable expedition, accepted it as a good presage for
the future. Their services being no longer required, they turned
towards the north, and started for the settlement under the command of
Roche, to follow up their original intentions of visiting the Shoshones.
As for us, I remained behind at San Francisco.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

Up to the present portion of my narrative, I have lived and kept company
with Indians and a few white men who had conformed to their manners and
customs. I had seen nothing of civilised life, except during my short
sojourn at Monterey, one of the last places in the world to give you a
true knowledge of mankind. I was as all Indians are, until they have
been deceived and outraged, frank, confiding, and honest. I knew that I
could trust my Shoshones, and I thought that I could put confidence in
those who wer