This affair happened while we were at San Pedro, (the
port of the Pueblo,) and we had all the particulars directly from
those who were on the spot. A few months afterwards, another man, whom
we had often seen in San Diego, murdered a man and his wife on the
high road between the Pueblo and San Louis Rey, and the foreigners not
feeling themselves called upon to act in this case, the parties
being all natives, nothing was done about it; and I frequently
afterwards saw the murderer in San Diego, where he was living with his
wife and family.
When a crime has been committed by Indians, justice, or rather
vengeance, is not so tardy. One Sunday afternoon, while I was at San
Diego, an Indian was sitting on his horse, when another, with whom
he had had some difficulty, came up to him, drew a long knife, and
plunged it directly into the horse's heart. The Indian sprang from his
falling horse, drew out the knife, and plunged it into the other
Indian's breast, over his shoulder, and laid him dead. The poor fellow
was seized at once, clapped into the calabozo, and kept there until an
answer could be received from Monterey.
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