But the Mexican troops considered it useless to contend any more, and shortly afterwards the old general himself rode towards us with a flag, to ascertain the conditions under which we would accept his surrender.  Poor man!  He was truly an estimable officer.  The Indians opened their ranks to let him pass, while all the Californians, who felt for his mortification, uncovered themselves as a mark of respect.  The old general demanded a free passage back to Senora, and the big tears were in his eyes as he made the proposal.  Speaking of his younger associates, he never used a word to their disparagement, though the slight curl of his lip showed plainly how bitter were his feelings; he knew too that his fate was sealed, and that he alone would bear the disgrace of the defeat.

So much was he respected by the Californians, that his request was immediately granted, upon his assurance that, under no circumstance, he would return to California as a foe.  As Martinez departed, a Shoshone chief, perceiving that his horse was seriously wounded, dismounted from his own, and addressed him:—­

“Chief of the Watchinangoes (Mexicans) and brother, brave warrior! a Shoshone can honour as well as fight an enemy:  take this horse; it has been the horse of a Red-skin warrior, it will be faithful to the Pale-face.”

The general bowed upon his saddle, and descended, saying, in few words, that he now learned to esteem the Indian warriors who had overpowered him on that fated day, both by their gallantry and generosity.  When the Indian proceeded to change the saddles, Martinez stopped him: 

“Nay, brother,” said he; “keep it with the holsters and their contents, which are more suitable to a conqueror and a young warrior than to a vanquished and broken-hearted old man.”

Having said this, he spurred his new horse, and soon rejoined his men.  We returned to the encampment, and two hours afterwards we saw the Mexicans in full retreat towards the rising sun.

That night was one of mourning; our success had been complete, but dearly purchased.  The Arrapahoes alone had not suffered.  The Apaches had lost thirty men, the Shoshones one hundred and twelve, killed and wounded, and the Montereyans several of their most respected young citizens.  On the following day we buried our dead, and when our task was over, certain that we should remain unmolested for a considerable time, we returned to St. Francisco—­the Indians to receive the promised bounty, and I to make arrangements for our future movements.

By the narrative I have given, the reader may have formed an accurate idea of what did take place in California.  I subsequently received the Mexican newspapers, containing the account of what occurred; and as these are the organs through which the people of Europe are enlightened as to the events of these distant regions, I shall quote the pages, to show how truth may be perverted.

“Chihuahua—­News of the West—­Californian Rebellion.—­This day arrived in our city a particular courier from the Bishop of Senora, bearer of dispatches rather important for the welfare of our government.  The spirit of rebellion is abroad; Texas already has separated from our dominions; Yucatan is endeavouring to follow the pernicious example, and California has just now lighted the flambeau of civil war.