He said he had started for Santa Fe light, because he couldn't get enough men to run a caravan--afraid of Indians, you know.

So, he determined to take money--buy Mexican goods--and risk it himself.

Old fighting cock wouldn't turn back for all the Indians on the plains once he got an idea in his head--he was that kind--Lord, you ought to seen the fight he put up at Spottsylvania! He got to Carson City with two wagons, a driver and a cook--had eight thousand dollars with him, too, the damn fool.

Cook got into row, gambling, cut a man, and was jugged.

Old Waite wouldn't leave even a nigger in that sort of fix--natural fighter--likes any kind of row.