William Hepworth Dixon, White Conquest: Volume 1

[97] cigar, and chatting lazily with anyone who called, the scouts imagined that Sheriff Rowland had given up the game, and that the mystery of Tres Pinos, like so many other mysteries of crime in California, was a thing of the past.

Ten miles from Los Angeles, at the foot of a ridge of hills, stands the lonely ranch belonging to Greek George-Jorge el Griego — which Vasquez made his lair. Windows command the two approaches to his house. A look-out sweeps his line of road. A dozen trails, unknown to strangers, lead into the hills, in which are many clumps and caves. It is a station to defy surprise. Greek George was in Los Angeles, watching the Sheriffs movements, and reporting to his chief that everything looked well.

One night a little after twelve o'clock, Undersheriff Johnson rode out of Los Angeles, with seven companions at his side. At dawn they drew up, under cover of a knoll, and held a long palaver. Some members of the party clomb a height, from which a field glass showed them every part of Greek George's house and grounds. A horse, often ridden by the brigand chief, was hitched to a tree;