But the wily soldier in command did not come by the usual route. Early in the morning we heard the sound of cavalry tramping down the mountain side. We were prepared for that. The officer and his troopers, about eighty in all, walked into an ambuscade and suddenly found themselves confronted by four times their number, raw-boned, bearded, athletic miners, each armed to the teeth. I stepped forward, saluted the officer, who seemed a trifle rattled, congratulated him on being just in time for breakfast and carelessly asked him if he had lost his way. The officer replied, in a surly fashion, that his business was to disperse a band of cut-throats and rebels. I answered that he could hardly mean us; that we were peacefully pursuing a lawful occupation; that we were ready to submit to legal authority, but must first know the nature of our offense. I urged him to examine the camp, interview some well-known Union men who were with us and satisfy himself that we were neither outlaws nor rebels. There was nothing for him to do but make the best of a bad bargain. The troopers rode to camp with their miner escort, had a jolly good breakfast, with more or less joshing on either side, and that part of the incident closed in a happy way. But the officer declined to be comforted. He was clearly mortified at our successful strategy. We all knew that this was only a respite--that more serious trouble was ahead. But, in fact, it proved the camp’s salvation. A gentleman called Sumner--I forget his other name--a Northerner of character and standing, who knew all about our case, came to our defense in San Francisco. I also sent a full statement of our case to my friend, Colonel Crockett, later a Justice of the Supreme Court. These two waited on General McDowell, in command of the Department of the Pacific, and so far convinced him that he sent rather peremptory orders to Visalia not to interfere with us further, except on direct command. At the same time I was advised that I was free to go to and from San Francisco; that there never had been, in fact, a charge against me; that the rearrest of Mr. Greathouse was in no way connected with myself; that the United States marshal had only been advised to keep an eye on me; that he had only wired the Sheriff at Santa Cruz to do the same. Tn other words, I had fled from a man of straw--from a lighted pumpkin head in a dark room--and had stumbled over a fortune. With sufficient money, I made haste to San Francisco, paid my trifling debts, not overlooking the hotel keeper; bought a quartz mill and appurtenances, rushed it down the valley and had the stamps falling in record-breaking time.