e Mexican
settlement, on a small tableland high above a black ravine which was
thickly timbered with the giant trees of the Sierras, Ramerrez' band was
awaiting the coming of the _Maestro_. It was not to be a long wait and
they stood around smoking and talking in low tones. Suddenly, the sound
of horses climbing was heard, and soon a horseman came in sight whose
appearance had the effect of throwing them instantly into a state of
excitement, one and all drawing their guns and making a dash for their
horses, which were tied to trees. A moment later, however, another
horseman appeared, and laughing boisterously at themselves they slid
their guns back into their belts and retied their horses, for the man
whom they recognised so quickly, the individual who saved the situation,
as it were, was none other than Jose Castro, an ex-_padrona_ of the
bull-fights and the second in command to Ramerrez. He was a wiry,
hard-faced and shifty-eyed Mexican, but was as thoroughly devoted to
Ramerrez as he had been to the young leader's father. On the other hand,
the man who had caused them to fear that a stranger had surprised them,
and that they had been trapped, was Ramerrez or Johnson--the name that
he had assumed for the dangerous work he was about to engage in--and
they had failed to know him, dressed as he was in the very latest
fashion prevailing among the Americans in Sacramento in '49. Nor was it
to be wondered at, for on his head was a soft, brown hat--large, but not
nearly the proportions of a sombrero; a plain, rough tweed coat and a
waistcoat of a darker tan, which showed a blue flannel shirt beneath it;
and his legs were encased in boots topped by dark brown leggings. In a
word, his get-up resembled closely the type of American referred to
disdainfully by the miners of that time as a Sacramento guy; whereas,
the night before he had taken great pains to attire himself as gaudily
as any of the Mexicans at the dance, and he had worn a short black
jacket of a velvety material that was not unlike corduroy and covered
with braid; his breeches were of the same stuff; above his boots were
leather gaiters; and around his waist was a red sash.

It was now close to four o'clock in the afternoon and the band began
their preparations for the raid. To the rear of the small, open space
where they had been waiting was a fairly good-sized cave, in the opening
of which they deposited various articles unnecessary for the expedition.
It took on