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Klamat was never friendly after that. The defeat of the Indians on all occasions, without being able to inflict any injury in return, made him desperate, and to see me among their enemies did not add to his good nature. But dear little Paquita was the same. The same gentleness in her manner, the same deep sadness in her eyes as she tended me. I now began to think again. I now thought, I surely am awake. If I had been awake, I should have mounted my mule as soon as able to ride, and left the country for ever.

No, I said, after a long debate with myself, I will remain. I will reconsider this whole matter. I will gather these Indians together, get arms and ammuni tion, and around Mount Shasta make my home, and, if needs be, defend it to the end. I had done all that could be done, I thought, to convince the whites and make them do justice to the Indians and to under stand me. I would try no more.

I returned the horses belonging to our ranch at Soda Springs, gave up without any consideration all my interest in the property there, bade Mountain Joe a final farewell, and returned, casting my lot wholly and entirely with the Indians.

As I crossed the little stream running through the Now-aw-wa valley, before reaching the Indian camp, I dismounted, and on a birch tree with my bowie knife I cut this word, "Rubicon."

I never saw Mountain Joe again. I never returned to the ranch, for fear of involving those there i