delivered their opinions simultaneously; only Estenega had nothing
to say. They argued and suggested, cited evidence, defended and
denounced, lashing themselves into a mighty excitement. At length they
were all on their feet, gesticulating and prancing.

"Mother of God!" cried Requena. "Let us give Vallejo a taste of his
own cruelty. Let us put him in a temascal and set those of his Indian
victims who are still alive to roast him out--"

"No! no! Vallejo is maligned. He had no hand in that massacre. His
heart is whiter than an angel's----"

"It is his liver that is white. His heart is black as a black snake's.
To the devil with him!"

"Make a law that Pio Pico can never put foot out of Los Angeles again,
since he loves it so well--"

"His ugly face would spoil the next generation--"

"Death to Carillo and Iturbi y Moncada! Death to all! Let the poison
out of the veins of California!"

"No! no! As little blood in California as possible. Put them in
prison, and keep them on frijoles and water for a year. That will cure
rebellion: no chickens, no dulces, no aguardiente--"

Alvarado brought his staff of office down sharply upon a board he had
provided for the purpose.