File:Narrative of Edward McGowan, including a full account of the author's adventures and perils while persecuted by the San Francisco Vigilance Committee of 1856 (1857) (14764970835).jpg

Identifier: narrativeofedwar34mcgo (find matches)
Title: Narrative of Edward McGowan, including a full account of the author's adventures and perils while persecuted by the San Francisco Vigilance Committee of 1856 ..
Year: 1857 (1850s)
Authors: McGowan, Edward, 1813-1893
Subjects: San Francisco Committee of Vigilance of 1856
Publisher: San Francisco, The author
Contributing Library: University of California Libraries
Digitizing Sponsor: Internet Archive

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poke, thedogs would fly like lightning to do his bidding ; but at thesound of any other voice, they would only growl and lookinto the old mans face for instructions. During the twoweeks I was at this place I never succeeded in patting oneof them on the head, nor could I have ever crossed thethreshold of the Indians hut without his permission. The oldman was a very devout Catholic and counted his beadsevery morning. When he ascertained that I also was of,his religion. He became very friendly with me. He knew!that there was some mystery connected with my beingthere, but never thoroughly understood what it was. Hewas made aware that men were hunting me, and that noj *The Senora was a very pious woman, and made it a practice)every morning to call her children around lier to say tlicir prayers,!and then send them out to tlieir fatlicrj Pedro, to receive his blessing.He generally sat out on tlie porch during the family worship, in which)he never participated. NARRATIVE OF EDWARD MCGOWAN. 99
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100 NARRATIVE OF EDWARD MCGOWAN. one was to know of my presence there. He frequentlybrought me warning from the Senora to go further into thewoods when strangers were about the premit^es. Of the children of my host, C/iino, the eldest of the sons,was, I should judge, about seventeen years of age. He waslooked upon as a sort of major donio, and had a geneialsupervision of the ranch. Juan, the second son, was abouttwelve years old, and his business appeared to be to let thewater in on the crop from tlie Arroyo, herd the stock,milk the cows, etc. Little Avellino, the youngest, w^as hismothers pet, and my favorite. He was a beautiful boy ;not more than eight years old, and a perfect child of na-ture. When in the course of my sojourn at his fathershouse, it became necessary for me to hide in the mountains,it was the faithful little Avellino that brought me my food,and he was generally the unsuspected little messenger sentby his good mother to warn me of danger, when my pur-suers were about

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