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By the end of November all the emigrants of the Carson River Route had been pushed through. Most of them reached Sacramento, many camped under the oaks near the town, expecting to winter under such scraps of canvas as they could find.
At Sacramento Hales and Burton bought a wagon and mules, put the Taylors into it and set out toward El Crucifijo. There were plenty of buildings on the ranch, it was conveniently near San Francisco, and, moreover, was Hales' ranch.
Burton, in the companionship of the Taylor children, found some relief for the pain that lay in his memory. The poor little starvelings seemed to draw some of his great strength unto themselves and he usually had one or the other of them on his shoulders.
Mrs. Taylor could hardly stir from the mattress on the wagon bed. She was a very religious woman; but, as she smilingly told Hales, her idea of what angels were like had been changed. Now she knew that they were great, bearded, shaggy men, with deep voices, who sometimes swore at mules.
On the road it rained frequently but, after a rain, with the canvas pushed up, she would lie and look for hours at the rolling hills, dotted with oaks, warmed by the sun. The song of meadow larks was in the air.
Many camp-fires lay behind them. Then one afternoon they turned from the road that went to San Francisco and made camp by the oaks near the road that led to the rancho. Before dark they could easily have reached El Crucifijo, but it was pleasant weather and Hales thought it better to camp here while he went to the ranch and explained the situation to Miss Tesla.
Hales unsaddled, unharnessed and picketed the mules and his horse. Burton built a fire, swung the kettle above it on a pole across forked sticks, and got out the bacon for an early supper.
Hales heard horses coming. He stood up and peered toward the road. They were five men; they had left the main road and were coming toward El Crucifijo. One of them was a Spaniard. Nearly all Americans in California at that time looked like border ruffians, being bearded, roughly dressed, armed. These men were rough of mouth too. They turned from the road and came up to the wagon. There was a searching, appraising look in their eyes.
Burton stood up and glowered at the leader, who asked:
"Why are you fellers campin' here?"
"Why shouldn't we camp here?" said Hales, stepping from beside the wagon.
The leader looked at him carefully. The other horsemen stared about; and there was that in their eyes which made Hales feel they were looking to see if anything was in sight that they thought worth stealing.
"Well, you're off the road to 'Frisco," said the leader.
"Yes," said Burton, "an' we'll likely stay off it long as we want to."
"You fellers don't 'pear to be very damn sociable!"
"Not very," Burton agreed sullenly.
The Spaniard was on a de Sola horse, and Hales eyed the man.
"Come on, Ed," one of the gang called to the leader. "We want o' hurry an' git thar."
"Yeah," said another, "we gotta hang that feller afore sundown."
"Who," asked Burton, with an echo of pain in his voice, "you goin' to hang?"
Ed, the leader, grinned.
"A damn thief that what we we know where to catch. We'll make a crucerfix outta that feller." He was was evidently a little hazy on the significance of a crucifix. Then—"You fellers from the mines, ain't you?"
"Emigrant wagon," said Hales, scenting thievery in the question.
"But he's a miner"—pointing at Burton.
"Any luck, pard?" a voice inquired at once.
"What," said Hales in Spanish, "are you rascals about?"
The Spaniard gave a start. He appeared a glum villainous fellow, but answered readily:
"The Americanos look for a thief, señor. They ride to El Crucifijo."
"Here, what you sayin'?" demanded Ed. "Talk plain English, by!"
"Why do you go to El Crucifijo?" asked Hales.
"None o' yore damn bus'ness, " said Ed. "We gotta be gittin' along. Come on, boys!"
He gave a yell, reined back his horse, wheeled about and rode off furiously, the others with him, and now and then they sent up a wild yell.
"There," said Hales, "is a mess of scoundrels. They are up to something. I'll saddle up and go now to the ranch."
"I'm comin', too," said Burton. He turned toward Taylor. "There won't be no danger, only take that loaded rifle an' use it if any o' them fellows come back here." Burton then looked through the end of the wagon: "You won't be afraid, ma'am?"
"No," said Mrs. Taylor, "I shall never in my life be afraid again. "