As they rode, the lieutenant and Kit waxed more and more enthusiastic, and Oliver heard them say that here was where they hoped some day to live.
Mindful of the cautions as to the horse-stealing Indians, the march was made strictly military. Scouts were placed ahead, and on the flanks, to beat the brush; rifle-men formed van, and rear, and between van and rear were the cavvy, pack-animals and cattle. However, no Indians were sighted until, on April 8, 280 miles from New Helvetia, at the banks of the Tulare River natives appeared.
As soon as these ascertained that the Frémont and Carson men were not California soldiery, they gathered in friendly fashion, and brought otter-skins, and fish, and bread and acorn-flour. They were dark-skinned, handsome Indians. Several spoke Spanish, learned at the missions. They were well-mannered――but the lieutenant and Kit thought best, on the whole, to corral the animals, at night.
It was time that the pass should be near, on the left; the pass through the mountain range, to the desert. A fine broad trail pointed off to the southeast; and upon being questioned as to a pass in that direction one of the Indians nodded, with a smile showing white teeth, and with a “Si, señor; buen camino (Yes, sir; good road).” Following this trail, on for the desert rode the Frémont and Carson company.
The landscape was growing sandy and more bare. Diverging to the left, to ascend along a creek, the company entered, not Walker Pass, but that Tehachepi Pass through which to-day penetrates from desert California into valley California the Santa Fé Railroad, overland line.
While encamped at the western side of the Tehachepi Pass the camp received another visitor. Down the pleasantly wooded slope he came riding, with many a jingle and much graceful sway of body――a combination of knight-errant and cowboy; and a romantic sight he made. He wore a large, peaked hat; short braided jacket reaching scarcely to his waist; black velvet trousers tight at the hips, flaring at the bottoms, and slashed along the seams with white; a sash of crimson; yellow goat-skin boots armed with the huge Spanish spurs. Bridle and saddle were lavishly decorated; chains dangled from the one, brass tacks glistened in the other. But he was no Spaniard or Mexican; he was an Indian.