Page:Sherman - Memoirs of Gen. William T. Sherman, 1891, Volume 1.djvu/57

 If my memory is correct, we beheld from that mountain the &#xfb01;ring of a salute from the battle at Monterey, and counted the number of guns from the white pu&#xfb00;s of smoke, but could not hear the sound. That night we slept on piles of wheat in a mill at Soquel, near Santa Cruz, and, our supplies being short, I advised that we should make an early start next morning, so as to reach the ranch of Don Juan Antonio Vallejo, a particular friend, who had a large and valuable cattle-ranch on the Pajaro River, about twenty miles on our way to Monterey. Accordingly, we were o&#xfb00; by the &#xfb01;rst light of day, and by nine o’clock we had reached the ranch. It was on a high point of the plateau, overlooking the plain of the Parajo, on which were grazing numbers of horses and cattle. The house was of adobe, with a long range of adobe-huts occupied by the semi-civilized Indians, who at that time did all the labor of a ranch, the herding and marking of cattle, breaking of horses, and cultivating the little patches of wheat and vegetables which constituted all the farming of that day. Every thing about the house looked deserted, and, seeing a small Indian boy leaning up against a post, I approached him and asked him in Spanish, “Where is the master?” “Gone to Presidio” (Monterey). “Is anybody in the house?” “No.”  “Is it locked up?”  “Yes.”  “Is no one about who can get in?”  “No.”  “Have you any meat?”  “No.”  “Any &#xfb02;our or grain?”  “No.”  “Any chickens?”  “No.”  “Any eggs?”  “No.”  “What do you live on?”  “Nada” (nothing). The utter indi&#xfb00;erence of this boy, and the tone of his answer “Nada,” attracted the attention of Colonel Mason, who had been listening to our conversation, and who knew enough of Spanish to catch the meaning, and he exclaimed with some feeling, “So we get nada for our breakfast.” I felt morti&#xfb01;ed, for I had held out the prospect of a splendid breakfast and tortillas with rice, chickens, eggs, etc., at the ranch of my friend José Antonio, as a justi&#xfb01;cation for twenty miles at a full canter for his breakfast. But there was no help for it, and we accordingly went a short distance to a pond, where we unpacked our mules and made a slim breakfast