The unaccustomed shelter of a roof and the restless worrying of the children, who required much attention, for the change of diet had about the same effect on them as on Rogers and myself when we first partook of the California food, gave them little sleep, but still they rested and were truly grateful for the most perfect hospitality of these kind hearted people.

In the morning the two horsemen and two Indians went to the corral, when the riders would catch a cow with their ropes and draw her head up to a post, binding it fast, while an Indian took a short piece of rope and closely tied the hind legs together above the gambrel joint, making the tail fast also.  They had a large bucket and several gourds.  The Indians then milked the cows they had made fast, getting from a pint to two quarts from each one, milking into a gourd and pouring into the bucket till they had all they desired.  The calves were separated the night before so they could secure some milk.  Cows were not trained to stand and be milked as they were at home.  Setting down the bucket of milk before us, with some small gourds for dippers, we were invited to drink all we wished.  This was a regular banquet to us, for our famished condition and good appetites made food relish wonderfully.

When we made a sign of wishing to pay them for their great kindness they shook their heads and utterly refused.  It was genuine sympathy and hospitality on their part, and none of us ever forgot it; the sight of a native Californian has always brought out thoughts of these good people, and respect and thankfulness to the race.  This rancho, at which we were so kindly entertained was called San Francisquito, or Little San Francisco Rancho.

This morning Mr. Arcane, with our assistance, made an arrangement with these people to give them his two oxen; and they were to take him and his wife and child, to the sea-shore, at a place called San Pedro, from which place he hoped, in some way, to get passage to San Francisco in a sailing vessel.  He had no money, and no property to sell, except perhaps his spy-glass, worth about ten dollars.  With this poor prospect before him he started for the sea.  He bade Bennett’s folks good-bye, then came to me and put a light gold ring on my finger, saying that it and his interest in the little mule were mine.  Then he gave his silver watch to Rogers and said it was all he had to give him, but if he had a million dollars, he would divide, and still think it a small compensation for the faithful services we had rendered him.  “I can never repay you,” said he, “for I owe you a debt that is beyond compensation.  You have saved our lives, and have done it when you knew you could get nothing for it.  I hope we will meet again, and when we do you will be welcome.  If you hear of me anywhere, come and see me, for I want to tell my friends who Manly and Rogers are, and how you helped us.  Good Bye!” There were tears in his eyes, voice full of emotion, and the firm clasp of his hand told how earnest he was, and that he felt more than he could speak.