ans in close proximity, he did
not dare discharge his rifle--the usual signal when a trapper is lost
or in danger--or to make any demonstration, so he was compelled to lie
there and suffer, hoping that his comrades, missing him, would start
out to search for him. They did so, but more than twenty-four hours had
elapsed before they found him, as the bottom of the canyon was the last
place they thought of.

Doctors, in the wild region where their camp was located, were as
impossible as angels; so his companions set his broken bones as well as
they could, while Baptiste suffered excruciating torture. When they had
completed their crude surgery, they improvised a litter of poles, and
rigged it on a couple of pack-mules, and thus carried him around with
them from camp to camp until he recovered--a period extending over three
months.

This affair completely cured Baptiste of his original sentimentality in
relation to the Indian, and he became one of their worst haters.

When acting as a juror in the trials of rebel Mexicans and Indians, he
was asleep half the time, and never heard much of the evidence, and that
portion which he did was so much Greek to him. In the last nine cases,
in which the Indian who had murdered Governor Bent was tried, Baptiste,
as soon as the jury room was closed, sang out: "Hang 'em, hang 'em,
sacre enfans des garces, dey dam gran rascale!" "But wait," suggested
one of the cooler members; "let's look at the evidence and find out
whether they are really guilty." Upon this wise caution, Baptiste got
greatly excited, paced the floor, and cried out: "Hang de Indian anyhow;
he may not be guilty now--mais he vare soon will be. Hang 'em all,
parceque dey kill Monsieur Charles; dey take son topknot, vot you call
im--scalp. Hang 'em, hang 'em--sa-a-cre-e!"

On Friday the 9th, the day for the execution, the sky was unspotted,
save by hastily fleeting clouds; and as the rising sun loomed over
the Taos Mountain, the bright rays, shining on the yellow and white
mud-houses, reflected cheerful hues, while the shades of the toppling
peaks, receding from the plain beneath, drew within themselves. The
humble valley wore an air of calm repose. The Plaza was deserted;
woe-begone burros drawled forth sacrilegious brays, as the warm sunbeams
roused them from hard, grassless ground, to scent their breakfast among
straw and bones.

Poor Mexicans hurried to and fro, casting suspicious glances around;
los Yankees at El c