Here we saw his large Santa Fe wagons standing together.  A few squaws and Spanish women, and a few Mexicans, as mean and miserable as the place itself, were lazily sauntering about.  Richard conducted us to the state apartment of the Pueblo, a small mud room, very neatly finished, considering the material, and garnished with a crucifix, a looking-glass, a picture of the Virgin, and a rusty horse pistol.  There were no chairs, but instead of them a number of chests and boxes ranged about the room.  There was another room beyond, less sumptuously decorated, and here three or four Spanish girls, one of them very pretty, were baking cakes at a mud fireplace in the corner.  They brought out a poncho, which they spread upon the floor by way of table-cloth.  A supper, which seemed to us luxurious, was soon laid out upon it, and folded buffalo robes were placed around it to receive the guests.  Two or three Americans, besides ourselves, were present.  We sat down Turkish fashion, and began to inquire the news.  Richard told us that, about three weeks before, General Kearny’s army had left Bent’s Fort to march against Santa Fe; that when last heard from they were approaching the mountainous defiles that led to the city.  One of the Americans produced a dingy newspaper, containing an account of the battles of Palo Alto and Resaca de la Palma.  While we were discussing these matters, the doorway was darkened by a tall, shambling fellow, who stood with his hands in his pockets taking a leisurely survey of the premises before he entered.  He wore brown homespun pantaloons, much too short for his legs, and a pistol and bowie knife stuck in his belt.  His head and one eye were enveloped in a huge bandage of white linen.  Having completed his observations, he came slouching in and sat down on a chest.  Eight or ten more of the same stamp followed, and very coolly arranging themselves about the room, began to stare at the company.  Shaw and I looked at each other.  We were forcibly reminded of the Oregon emigrants, though these unwelcome visitors had a certain glitter of the eye, and a compression of the lips, which distinguished them from our old acquaintances of the prairie.  They began to catechise us at once, inquiring whence we had come, what we meant to do next, and what were our future prospects in life.

The man with the bandaged head had met with an untoward accident a few days before.  He was going down to the river to bring water, and was pushing through the young willows which covered the low ground, when he came unawares upon a grizzly bear, which, having just eaten a buffalo bull, had lain down to sleep off the meal.  The bear rose on his hind legs, and gave the intruder such a blow with his paw that he laid his forehead entirely bare, clawed off the front of his scalp, and narrowly missed one of his eyes.  Fortunately he was not in a very pugnacious mood, being surfeited with his late meal.  The man’s companions, who were close behind, raised a shout and the bear walked away, crushing down the willows in his leisurely retreat.