One night he burst into our room at the hide-house,
breathless, pale as a ghost, covered with mud, and torn by thorns
and briers, nearly naked, and begged for a crust of bread, saying
he had neither eaten nor slept for three days. Here was the great
Mr. Russell, who a month before was ``Don Tomas,'' ``Capitan de la
playa,'' ``Maestro de la casa,'' &c., &c., begging food and
shelter of Kanakas and sailors. He stayed with us till he had
given himself up, and was dragged off to the calabozo.
Another, and a more amusing, specimen was one whom we saw at San
Francisco. He had been a lad on board the ship California, in one
of her first voyages, and ran away and commenced Ranchero,
gambling, stealing horses, &c. He worked along up to San
Francisco, and was living on a rancho near there while we were in
port. One morning, when we went ashore in the boat, we found him
at the landing-place, dressed in California style,-- a wide hat,
faded velveteen trousers, and a blanket thrown over his shoulders,--
and wishing to go off in the boat, saying he was going to pasear
with our captain a little. We had many doubts of the reception he
would meet with; but he seemed to think himself company for any
one.
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