"We were told that we could procure something in the edible line at Port Townsend, but were disappointed. The best we could obtain at the stores was some hard bread, in which the worms had propagated in luxuriant fashion. This food was not so particularly appetizing, as you may imagine. A settler kindly took pity on us and shared his slender stock of food. Thence we journeyed to Whatcom, where I have resided nearly ever since." Capt. Roeder told also before he had finished his recital of an acquaintance he had formed in California with the noted Spanish murderer and bandit, Joaquin, and his tribe of cutthroats and robbers. Joaquin's raids and his long career in crime among the mining camps of the early days of California are part of the history of that state. Capt. Roeder was traveling horseback on one occasion between Marysville and Rush Creek. This was in 1851. The night before he left Marysville the sheriff and a posse had attempted to capture Joaquin and his band. The authorities had offered a reward of $10,000 for Joaquin and $5,000 for his men, dead or alive. The sheriff went out from Marysville with a cigar in his mouth and his sombrero on the side of his head, as if he were attending a picnic. It was his own funeral, however, instead of a picnic, for his body was picked out of a fence corner, riddled with bullets. "I was going at a leisurely gait over the mountain road or bridle path that led from Marysville to Rush Creek," said Capt. Roeder. "Suddenly, after a bend in the road, I found myself in the midst of a band of men mounted on bronchos. They were dark-skinned and of Spanish blood. Immediately I recognized Joaquin and 'Three-Fingered Jack,' his first lieutenant. My heart thumped vigorously, and I thought that it was all up with me. I managed somehow to control myself and did not evince any of the excitement I felt or give the outlaws any sign that I knew or suspected who they were. "One of the riders, after saluting me in Spanish, asked me where I was from and whither I was traveling. I told them freely and frankly, as if the occurrence were an everyday transaction. Learning that I had just come from Marysville, the seat of their last outrage, they inquired the news. I told them the truth--that the camp was in a state of great excitement, due to the late visit of the outlaw, Joaquin, and his band; that the sheriff had been murdered and three or four miners and others in the vicinity had been murdered and robbed. It was Joaquin's pleasant practice to lariat a man, rob him and cut his throat, leaving the body by the roadside. They asked me which way Joaquin had gone and I told them that he was seen last traveling towards Arizona. As a matter of fact, the outlaw and his band were then traveling in a direction exactly opposite from that which I had given.