Among them was the Rev.J.W.Brier who seemed to want to impress it on the new California friends that he was the man of all others to be honored.

The ranchman was a good Catholic, and Brier tried to make him understand that he, also, was very devout.

He said, and repeated to him very often--"Me preacher," but he did not succeed very well in impressing the good Californian with the dignity of his profession, for he could talk no Spanish and was not highly gifted in sign language.
When they went away they had no way to reward their good friends who had been friends indeed to them.

They could only look their thanks and express themselves in a very few words of Spanish.

"_Adios Amigos_," said they to the scantily clothed travelers as they set out on their way to the mines.
They followed down the course of the river that flowed through the valley, the Santa Clara River, and knew that it would take them to the sea at last.