Christopher Carson, Familiarly Known as Kit Carson

by John S. C. Abbott · English · Gutenberg #14243 · 455,109 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: Christopher Carson, Familiarly Known as Kit Carson

Author: John S. C. Abbott

Illustrator: Elizabeth Eleanor Greatorex

Release date: December 3, 2004 [eBook #14243]
Most recently updated: October 28, 2024

Language: English

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CHRISTOPHER CARSON

Familiarly Known as Kit Carson

The Pioneer of the West

JOHN S. C. ABBOTT

With Illustrations by Eleanor Greatorex

New York:
Dodd & Mead, No. 762 Broadway

1874

[Illustration]

Pioneers and Patriots of America

By JOHN S. C. ABBOTT

Each one volume, 12mo, illustrated, $1.50.

DANIEL BOONE

MILES STANDISH

FERDINAND DE SOTO

PETER STUYVESANT

KIT CARSON

DAVID CROCKETT.

Other Volumes in preparation

[Illustration]

PREFACE

It is a prominent object of this volume to bring to light the wild
adventures of the pioneers of this continent, in the solitudes of the
mountains, the prairies and the forests; often amidst hostile Indians, and
far away from the restraints and protection of civilization. This strange,
weird-like life is rapidly passing away, before the progress of
population, railroads and steamboats. But it is desirable that the memory
of it should not drift into oblivion. I think that almost every reader of
this narrative will be somewhat surprised, in its development of the
character of Christopher Carson. With energy and fearlessness
never surpassed, he was certainly one of the most gentle, upright, and
lovable of men. It is strange that the wilderness could have formed so
estimable a character. America will not permit the virtues of so
illustrious a son to be forgotten.

JOHN S.C. ABBOTT.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.

Early Training.

Birth of Christopher Carson.--Perils of the Wilderness.--Necessary
Cautions.--Romance of the Forest.--The Far West.--The
Encampment.--The Cabin and the Fort.--Kit an Apprentice.--The
Alarm.--Destruction of a Trading Band.--The Battle and the
Flight.--Sufferings of the Fugitives.--Dreadful Fate of Mr.
Schenck.--Features of the Western Wilderness.--The March.

CHAPTER II.

Life in the Wilderness.

A Surgical Operation.--A Winter with Kin Cade.--Study of the
Languages and Geography.--Return towards Missouri.--Engagement with
a new Company and Strange Adventures.--The Rattlesnake.--Anecdote
of Kit Carson.--The Sahara.--New Engagements.--Trip to El
Paso.--Trapping and Hunting.--Prairie Scenery.--The Trapper's
Outfit.--Night Encampment.--Testimony of an Amateur Hunter.

CHAPTER III.

Among the Trappers.

The Discomfited Trappers.--The New Party Organized.--A Battle with
the Indians.--Trapping on the Colorado.--March to the
Sacramento.--The Friendly Indians.--Crossing the Desert.--Instinct
of the Mule.--The Enchanting Valley of the Colorado.--The Mission
of San Gabriel.--Vast Herds of Cattle.--The Mission of San
Fernando.--Adventures in the Valley of San Joaquin.--The Meeting of
two Trapping Bands.--Reasons for Kit Carson's Celebrity.--A
Military Expedition.--The Indian Horse Thieves.--The Pursuit and
Capture.

CHAPTER IV.

Conflicts with the Indians.

The American Trapper.--The Trapper of the Hudson's Bay
Company.--The Return Trip.--Polished Life in the Wilderness.--The
Spanish Gentlemen.--Council of the Trappers.--Self-possession of
Kit Carson.--The Camp Cleared of Intruders.--Robbing the
Robbers.--Sale of the Furs.--Mr. Fitzpatrick's Expedition.--Pains
and Pleasures of Rocky Mountain Life.--Pursuit of Indian Horse
Thieves.--Extraordinary Battle.

CHAPTER V.

Marches and Encampments.

The Encampment Among the Rocky Mountains.--The Attempted
Stampede.--Retreat and Pursuit by the Savages.--The Alarm.--Loss
of the Horses.--Their Recovery.--Enterprise of Kit Carson.--Fight
with the Indians.--The Litter for the Wounded.--Union of the two
Trapping Parties.--Successful Return to Taos.--Carson joins a
Trading Party.--Chivalric Adventures.--Attacked by Bears.

CHAPTER VI.

The Rendezvous.

Fair in the Wilderness.--The Encampment.--Dispersion of the
Trappers.--Hostility of the Blackfeet.--Camp on the Big Snake
River.--The Blackfeet Marauders.--The Pursuit.--The Calumet.--The
Battle.--Kit Carson wounded.--The Rencontre with Shunan.--The
Defeat and Humiliation of Shunan.--Remarkable Modesty of
Carson.--Testimony to Mr. Carson's Virtues.

CHAPTER VII.

War with the Blackfeet Indians.

Unsuccessful Trapping.--Disastrous March to Fort Hall.--The Feast
upon Horse-flesh.--The Hunting Expedition.--Its Rare
Attractions.--Dogged by the Blackfeet.--Safe Arrival at the
Fort.--All their Animals Stolen by the Indians.--Expedition to the
Blackfeet Country.--Winter Quarters with the Friendly
Indians.--Sufferings of the Animals.--Return to the Blackfeet
Country.--Battle with the Indians.--Incidents of the Battle.

CHAPTER VIII.

Encampments and Battles.

The Renewal of the Battle.--Peculiarities of the Fight.--The
Rout.--Encampment in the Indian Village.--Number of Trappers among
the Mountains.--The New Rendezvous.--Picturesque Scene of the
Encampment.--The Missionary and the Nobleman.--Brown's Hole.--The
Navajoes.--Kit Carson Purveyor at the Fort.--Trapping at the Black
Hills.--Again upon the Yellowstone.--Pleasant Winter
Quarters.--Signs of the Indians.--Severe Conflict.--Reappearance
of the Indians.--Their utter Discomfiture.

CHAPTER IX.

The Trapper's Elysium.

Trapping on the Missouri.--Attacked by the Blackfeet.--The
Battle.--Persevering Hostility of the Indians.--The Trappers
driven from the Country.--Repair to the North Fork.--Cheerful
Encampments.--Enchanting Scene.--Village of the Flatheads.--The
Blessings of Peace.--Carson's Knowledge of Languages.--Pleasant
Winter Quarters on the Big Snake River.--Successful
Trapping.--Winter at Brown's Hole.--Trip to Fort Bent.--Peculiar
Characters.--Williams and Mitchel.--Hunter at Fort
Bent.--Marriage.--Visit to the States.

CHAPTER X.

Fremont's Expedition.

Carson's Visit to his Childhood's Home.--On the
Steamer.--Introduction to Fremont.--Object of Fremont's
Expedition.--Joins the Expedition.--Organization of the Party.--The
Encampment.--Enchanting View.--Fording the Kansas.--The Stormy
Night.--The Boys on Guard.--The Alarm.--The Returning
Trappers.--The Homeless Adventurer.--Three Indians join the
Party.--First sight of the Buffaloes.--The Chase.

CHAPTER XI.

The Return of the Expedition.

Beautiful Prairie Scene.--Fate of the Buffalo Calf.--Vast Buffalo
Herds.--The Fourth of July on the Plains.--Journey up the South
Fork of the Platte.--Visit to Fort St. Vrain.--Remonstrance of the
Chiefs.--Second Marriage of Mr. Carson.--New Engagements.--Perilous
Ride to Santa Fe.--The Successful Mission.--The Noble Mexican
Boy.--Conflict with the Savages.--Discomfiture of the
Indians.--Fremont's Second Expedition.--Carson joins the
Party.--Course of the Expedition.--Arrival at the Great Salt Lake.

CHAPTER XII.

Marches and Battles.

Entering the Lake.--Dangerous Navigation.--The Return to
Camp.--Feast upon Horse Flesh.--Meeting the Indians.--Joyful
Meeting.--Return to Fort Hall.--Feasting at the Fort.--The Party
Diminished.--The Journey down Snake River.--Crossing the Sierra
Nevada.--Carson Rescues Fremont.--Fort Sutter.--Heroic Achievement
of Carson.--Disbanding the Party.--The third Expedition.--Crossing
the Desert.--Threatened by the Mexicans.--Fight with the
Indians.--The Surprise.--Chastisement of the Indians.

CHAPTER XIII.

The Dispatch Bearer.

Colonel Fremont.--Hazardous Undertaking of Kit Carson.--Carson's
Courage and Prudence.--Threatened Danger.--Interview with General
Kearney, and Results.--Severe Skirmish.--Wonderful Escape of
Carson.--Daring Adventure.--Fearful Suffering.--Lieutenant
Beale.--Carson's Journey to Washington.--Adventures on his Return.

CHAPTER XIV.

The Chivalry of the Wilderness.

Injustice of the Government.--Heroic Resolve of Mr. Carson.--Indian
Outrages.--The valley of Razado.--Barbaric Murders by Apaches.--An
Exciting Chase.--An Attractive Picture.--Plot of Fox
Overthrown.--Gift of Messrs. Brevoort and Weatherhead.--Adventure
with the Cheyennes.

CHAPTER XV.

Recollections of Mountain Life.

Character of the Native Indian.--The Caravan.--Interesting
Incident.--Effects of Cholera.--Commission of Joe Smith.--Snow on
the Mountains.--Government Appointment.--Adventure with three
Bears.--Journey to Los Angelos.--Mt. St. Bernardino.--The
Spring.--Character of Men.--Insubordination Quelled.--Suffering
for Water and Relief.--A Talk with Indians.

CHAPTER XVI.

Recollections of Mountain Life.

Position of The Spring.--The Cachè.--Kit Carson's Character and
Appearance.--Cool Bravery of a Mountain Trapper.--Untamed Character
of Many Hunters.--The Surveyor's Camp in an Indian
Territory.--Terrors from Indians.--Joe Walker.--A Mountain
Man.--Soda Lake.--Optical Illusion.--Camp on Beaver Lake.--The
Piyute Chief.--Conversation with Him.--An Alarm.--A Battle.

CHAPTER XVII.

Frontier Desperadoes and Savage Ferocity.

Original Friendliness of the Indians.--The River Pirates, Culbert
and Magilbray.--Capture of Beausoliel.--His Rescue by the Negro
Cacasotte.--The Cave in the Rock.--The Robber Mason.--His
Assassination.--Fate of the Assassins.--Hostility of the
Apaches.--Expedition of Lieutenant Davidson.--Carson's Testimony in
his Favor.--Flight of the Apaches.

CHAPTER XVIII.

The Last Days of Kit Carson.

The Hunting Party.--Profits of Sheep Raising.--Governmental
Appointment.--Carson's Talk with the Apaches.--His Home in
Taos.--His Character.--Death of Christopher Carson.

CHAPTER XIX.

The Last Hours of Kit Carson.

CHRISTOPHER CARSON.

CHAPTER I.

Early Training.

Christopher Carson, whose renown as Kit Carson has reached almost every
ear in the country, was born in Madison county, Kentucky, on the 24th of
December, 1809. Large portions of Kentucky then consisted of an almost
pathless wilderness, with magnificent forests, free from underbrush, alive
with game, and with luxuriant meadows along the river banks, inviting the
settler's cabin and the plough.

There were then many Indians traversing those wilds. The fearless
emigrants, who ventured to rear their huts in such solitudes, found it
necessary ever to be prepared for an attack.

But very little reliance could be placed even in the friendly
protestations of the vagabond savages, ever prowling about, and almost as
devoid of intelligence or conscience, as the wolves which at midnight were
heard howling around the settler's door. The family of Mr. Carson occupied
a log cabin, which was bullet-proof, with portholes through which their
rifles could command every approach. Women and children were alike taught
the use of the rifle, that in case of an attack by any blood-thirsty gang,
the whole family might resolve itself into a military garrison. Not a tree
or stump was left, within musket shot of the house, behind which an Indian
could secrete himself.

Almost of necessity, under these circumstances, any bright, active boy
would become a skilful marksman. A small garden was cultivated where corn,
beans and a few other vegetables were raised, but the main subsistence of
the family consisted of the game with which forest, meadow and lake were
stored. The settler usually reared his cabin upon the banks of some stream
alive with fishes. There were no schools to take up the time of the boys;
no books to read. Wild geese, ducks and other water fowl, sported upon the
bosom of the river or the lake, whose waters no paddle wheel or even keel
disturbed. Wild turkeys, quails, and pigeons at times, swept the air like
clouds. And then there was the intense excitement of occasionally bringing
down a deer, and even of shooting a ferocious grizzly bear or wolf or
catamount. The romance of the sea creates a Robinson Crusoe. The still
greater romance of the forest creates a Kit Carson. It often makes even an
old man's blood thrill in his veins, to contemplate the wild and wondrous
adventures, which this majestic continent opened to the pioneers of half a
century ago.

Gradually, in Kentucky, the Indians disappeared, either dying off, or
pursuing their game in the unexplored realms nearer the setting sun.
Emigrants, from the East, in large numbers entered the State. Game, both
in forest and meadow, became scarce; and the father of Kit Carson, finding
settlers crowding him, actually rearing their huts within two or three
miles of his cabin, abandoned his home to find more room in the still more
distant West.

Christopher was then the youngest child, a babe but one year old. The
wilderness, west of them, was almost unexplored. But Mr. Carson, at his
blazing fireside, had heard from the Indians, and occasionally from some
adventurous white hunter, glowing accounts of the magnificent prairies,
rivers, lakes and forests of the far West, reposing in the solitude and
the silence which had reigned there since the dawn of the creation.

There were no roads through the wilderness. The guide of the emigrants was
the setting sun. Occasionally they could take advantage of some Indian
trail, trodden hard by the moccasined feet of the savages, in single file,
through countless generations. Through such a country, the father of Kit
Carson commenced a journey of several hundred miles, with his wife and
three or four children, Kit being an infant in arms. Unfortunately we are
not informed of any of the particulars of this journey. But we know, from
numerous other cases, what was its general character.

It must have occupied two or three weeks. All the family went on foot,
making about fifteen miles a day. They probably had two pack horses, laden
with pots and kettles, and a few other essential household and farming
utensils. Early in the afternoon Mr. Carson would begin to look about for
a suitable place of encampment for the night. He would find, if possible,
the picturesque banks of some running stream, where there was grass for
his horses, and a forest growth to furnish him with wood for his cabin and
for fire. If the weather were pleasant, with the prospect of a serene and
cloudless night, a very slight protection would be reared, and the weary
family, with a buffalo robe spread on the soft grass for a blanket, would
sleep far more sweetly in the open air, than most millionaires sleep in
tapestried halls and upon beds of down.

If clouds were gathering and menacing winds were wailing through the
tree-tops, the vigorous arm of Mr. Carson, with his sharp axe, would, in
an hour, rear a camp which could bid defiance to any ordinary storm. The
roof would be so thatched, with bark and long grass, as to be quite
impenetrable by the rain. Buffalo robes, and a few of the soft and
fragrant branches of the hemlock tree, would create a couch which a prince
might envy. Perhaps, as they came along, they had shot a turkey or a brace
of ducks, or a deer, from whose fat haunches they have cut the tenderest
venison. Any one could step out with his rifle and soon return with a
supper.

While Mr. Carson, with his eldest son, was building the camp, the eldest
girl would hold the baby, and Mrs. Carson would cook such a repast of
dainty viands, as, when we consider the appetites, Delmonico never
furnished. It was life in the "Adirondacks," with the additional advantage
that those who were enjoying it, were inured to fatigue, and could have no
sense of discomfort, from the absence of conveniences to which they were
accustomed.

If in the darkness of midnight, the tempest rose and roared through the
tree-tops, with crushing thunder, and floods of rain, the family was
lulled to sounder sleep by these requiems of nature, or awoke to enjoy the
sublimity of the scene, whose grandeur those in lowly life are often able
fully to appreciate, though they may not have language with which to
express their emotions.

The family crossed the Mississippi river, we know not how, perhaps in the
birch canoe of some friendly Indian, perhaps on a raft, swimming the
horses. They then continued their journey two hundred miles farther west,
till they reached a spot far enough from neighbors and from civilization
to suit the taste even of Mr. Carson. This was at the close of the year
1810. There was no State or even Territory of Missouri then. But seven
years before, in 1803, France had ceded to the United States the vast
unexplored regions, whose boundaries even, were scarcely defined, but
which were then called Upper Louisiana.

Here Mr. Carson seems to have reached a very congenial home. He found,
scattered through the wilderness, a few white people, trappers, hunters,
wanderers who had preceded him. The Indians, in numerous bands, as hunters
and as warriors, were roving these wilds. They could not be relied upon,
whatever their friendly professions. Any wrong which they might receive
from any individual white man, their peculiar code of morals told them
they might rightly attempt to redress by wreaking their vengeance upon any
pale face, however innocent he might be. Thus hundreds of Indian warriors
might, at any time, come swooping down upon Mr. Carson's cabin, laying it
in ashes, and burying their tomahawks in the brains of his family.

The few white men, some half a dozen in number, who had gathered around
Mr. Carson, deemed it expedient for self-defence to unite and build a
large log cabin, which should be to them both a house and a fort. This
building of logs, quite long and but one story high, was pierced, at
several points, with portholes, through which the muzzles of the rifles
could be thrust. As an additional precaution they surrounded this house
with palisades, consisting of sticks of timber, six or eight inches in
diameter, and about ten feet high, planted as closely as possible
together. These palisades were also pierced with portholes.

With a practiced eye, these men had selected a very beautiful spot for
their habitation, in what is now called Howard county, Missouri, just
north of the Missouri river. It seems that they had much to fear from the
Indians. There were at this time, frequent wars with them, in the more
eastern portions of the continent, and the rumors of these conflicts
reached the ears of all the roving tribes, and greatly excited them. It
became necessary for the settlers to go upon their hunting excursions with
much caution.

As the months passed rapidly away, other persons one after another, came
to their fort. They were glad to find a safe retreat there, and were
welcomed as giving additional strength to the little garrison. Game began
to be scarce around their lonely habitation, for the crack of the rifle
was almost incessantly heard there. It thus became necessary to resort
more generally to farming, especially to raising large fields of corn,
whose golden ears could easily be converted into pork and into bread. With
these two articles of food, cornbread and bacon, life could be hilarious
on the frontier. Keenness of appetite supplied the want of all other
delicacies.

When they went to the cornfield to work, they first made a careful
exploration of the region around, to see if there were any lurking savages
near. Then with their guns ever ready to be grasped, and keeping a close
lookout for signs of danger, they ploughed and sowed and gathered in their
harvest.

Thus fifteen years passed away. Civilization made gradual encroachments.
Quite a little cluster of log huts was reared in the vicinity, where the
inmates in case of necessity could flee to the fort for protection.
Christopher, at fifteen years of age, was an unlettered boy, small in
stature, but very fond of the solitude of the forest, and quite renowned
as a marksman. He was amiable in disposition, gentle in his manners, and
in all respects a good boy. He had a strong character. Whatever he
undertook, he quietly and without any boasting performed. With sound
judgment, and endowed with singular strength and elasticity, he was even
then deemed equal to any man in all the requirements of frontier life.

[Illustration]

At a short distance from the fort there was a saddler, and Mr. Carson,
with the advice of friends, decided to apprentice his son, now called Kit,
to learn that trade. The boy remained in this employment for two weary
years. Though faithful to every duty, and gaining the respect and
confidence of his employer, the work was uncongenial to him. He longed for
the freedom of the wilderness; for the sublime scenes of nature, to which
such a life would introduce him; for the exciting chase of the buffalo,
and the lucrative pursuits of the trapper, floating on distant streams in
the birch canoe, and loading his bark with rich furs, which ever commanded
a ready sale.

All these little settlements were clustered around some protecting fort. A
man, who was brought up in the remote West, furnishes the following
interesting incident in his own personal experience. It gives a very
graphic description of the alarms to which these pioneers were exposed:

"The fort to which my father belonged was three-quarters of a mile from
his farm. But when this fort went to decay and was unfit for use, a new
one was built near our own house. I well remember, when a little boy, the
family were sometimes waked up in the dead of night by an express, with
the report that the Indians were at hand. The express came softly to the
door and by a gentle tapping raised the family. This was easily done, as
an habitual fear made us ever watchful, and sensible to the slightest
alarm. The whole family were instantly in motion.

"My father seized his gun and other implements of war. My mother waked up
and dressed the children as well as she could. Being myself the oldest of
the children, I had to take my share of the burdens to be carried to the
fort. There was no possibility of getting a horse in the night to aid us.
Besides the little children we caught up such articles of clothing and
provisions as we could get hold of in the dark, for we durst not light a
candle or even stir the fire. All this was done with the utmost dispatch
and in the silence of death. The greatest care was taken not to awaken
the youngest child.

"To the rest it was enough to say _Indian_, and not a whisper was heard
afterward. Thus it often happened that the whole number belonging to a
fort, who were in the evening at their homes, were all in their little
fortress before the dawn of the next morning. In the course of the next
day their household furniture was brought in by men under arms. Some
families belonging to each fort were much less under the influence of fear
than others. These often, after an alarm had subsided, in spite of every
remonstrance, would remove home, while their more prudent neighbors
remained in the fort. Such families were denominated _fool-hardy_, and
gave no small amount of trouble by creating such frequent necessities of
sending runners to warn them of their danger, and sometimes parties of our
men to protect them during their removal."

While Kit Carson was impatiently at work on the bench of the
harness-maker, feeding his soul with the stories, often greatly
exaggerated, of the wonders of scenes and adventures to be encountered in
the boundless West, a party of traders came along, who were on the route
for Santa Fe. This city, renowned in the annals of the West, was the
capital of the Spanish province of New Mexico. It was situated more than
a thousand miles from Missouri, and contained a mongrel population of
about three thousand souls. Goods from the States could be readily sold
there at a profit of one or two hundred per cent. Cotton cloth brought
three dollars a yard.

Captain Pike, upon his return from his exploring tour, brought back quite
glowing accounts of Santa Fe and its surroundings. It was a long and
perilous journey from Missouri. The party was all strongly armed, with
their goods borne in packs upon mules and horses. They expected to live
almost entirely upon the game they could shoot by the way. Kit, purely
from the love of adventure, applied to join them. Gladly was he received.
Though but a boy of eighteen, his stable character, his vigorous strength,
and his training in all the mysteries of frontier life, rendered him an
invaluable acquisition.

The perils to which they were exposed may be inferred from the fate which
some traders encountered soon after Kit Carson's party had accomplished
the journey. There were twelve traders returning from Santa Fe. To avoid
the Indians they took an extreme southern route. Day after day they toiled
along, encountering no savages. It was December, and in that climate mild
and serene. A caravan of twenty horses or mules travelling in single
file, leaves a trail behind which can easily be followed.

Our adventurers were on a treeless prairie, an ocean of land, where
nothing obstructed the view to the remote horizon. One beautiful morning,
just after they had taken their breakfast and resumed their march, they
perceived, not a little to their alarm, some moving object far in the
distance behind. It soon resolved itself into a band of several hundred
Indians, well mounted, painted and decorated in the highest style of
barbaric art. They were thoroughly armed with their deadly bows and arrows
and spears. It was indeed an imposing spectacle as these savage warriors
on their fleet steeds, with their long hair and pennons streaming in the
wind, came down upon them.

The little caravan halted and prepared for defence. There were twelve bold
hearts to encounter several hundred foes on the open prairie. They knew
that the main object of the Indians would be to seize the horses and mules
and effect a stampede with their treasure. This being accomplished they
would torture and murder the traders in mere wantonness. The savages had a
very salutary caution of rifles which could throw a bullet twice as far as
the strongest bow and the most sinewy arm could speed an arrow.

With the swoop of the whirlwind they approached until they came within
gun-shot distance, when they as suddenly stopped. Each trader had fastened
his horse or mule with a rope and an iron pin two feet long driven firmly
into the ground. They knew that if they were captured a cruel death
awaited them. They therefore prepared to sell their lives as dearly as
possible. There was no trunk or tree, or stone behind which either party
could hide. The open prairie covered with grass was smooth as a floor.

For a short time both bands stood looking at each other. The traders in a
small group had every man his rifle. Had the Indians in their resistless
strength come rushing simultaneously upon them, they could easily have
been trampled into the dust. But it was equally certain that twelve
bullets, with unerring aim, would have pierced the hearts of twelve of
their warriors. The Indians were very chary of their own lives. They were
never ready for a fight in the open field, however great might be the odds
in their favor.

The savages having halted and conferred together, endeavored to assume a
friendly attitude. With a great show of brotherly feeling they cautiously
approached one by one. The traders not wishing to commence the conflict,
began to move on, leading their animals and with their rifles cocked,
watching every movement of the intruders. The mounted Indians followed
along, quite surrounding with their large numbers the little band of white
men.

Two of the mules lagged a little behind. One or two of the bolder of the
savages made a dash at them and shot dead a man by the name of Pratt, who
had them in charge. It was the signal of battle. A shower of arrows fell
upon the traders, another man dropped dead, and an arrow buried its head
in the thigh of another. Several of the Indians also fell. But the savages
manifested a great dread of the rifle; and though they were forty to one
against the white men, they retreated to a safe distance. As they felt
sure of their victims, they did not wish to peril their own lives.

The traders hastily took the packs from the mules and piled them around
for a barricade. The Indians were very wary. But by entirely surrounding
the little fort and creeping through the long grass they succeeded in a
few hours in shooting every one of the mules and horses of the traders.
The savages kept up an incessant howling, and thirty-six dreadful hours
thus passed away. It seemed but a prolongation of death's agonies. Hunger
and thirst would ere long destroy them, even though they should escape the
arrow and the tomahawk. It was not deemed wise to expend a single charge
of powder or a bullet, unless sure of their aim. And the Indians crept so
near, prostrated in the long grass, that not a head could be raised above
the frail ramparts without encountering the whiz of arrows.

The day passed away. Night came and went. Another day dawned, and the
hours lingered slowly along, while the traders lay flat upon the ground,
cramped in their narrow limits, awaiting apparently the sure approach of
death.

The night was dark, dense clouds obscuring the sky. The Indians themselves
had become somewhat weary, and deeming it impossible for their victims to
escape and feeling sure of the booty, which could by no possibility be
removed, relaxed their watchfulness. As any death was preferable to
captivity and torture by the Indians, the traders resolved, in the gloom
of midnight to attempt an escape, though the chances were a hundred to one
that they would be almost buried beneath the arrows of the howling
savages.

Cautiously they emerged from their hiding-place, creeping slowly and
almost breathlessly through the tall grass of the prairie, till quite to
their surprise, they found themselves beyond the circle of the besiegers.
There were ten men, one wounded, fleeing for life, expecting every moment
to be pursued by five hundred savages. It was a long, dark, dismal
winter's night, for in that changing clime a freezing night succeeded a
sunny day. Like spectres they fled over the open prairie. That their
flight might not be encumbered they had taken nothing with them but their
guns and ammunition.

They were determined men. In whatever numbers and with whatever speed the
mounted Indians might ride down upon them, ten of their warriors would
inevitably bite the dust ere the fugitives could be taken. The Indians
fully understood this. And when the morning dawned and they saw that their
victims had escaped, instead of pursuing, they satisfied their valor in
holding a triumphant powwow over the rich booty they had gained.

It was a chill day and the wind moaned dismally over the bleak prairie.
But as far as the eye could extend no foe could be seen. Not even a tree
obscured the vision. The exhaustion of the fugitives, from their
thirty-six hours of sleeplessness and battle, and their rapid flight, was
extreme. They shot a few prairie chickens, built a small fire of dried
buffalo chips with which they cooked their frugal breakfast, and then,
lying down upon the rank grass, slept soundly for a few hours.

They then pressed on their pathless way toward the rising sun. Through
weary days and nights they toiled on, through rain and cold, sleeping
often in stormy nights drenched, upon the bare soil, without even a
blanket to cover their shivering frames. Their feet became blistered.
Passing beyond the bounds of the open prairie, they sometimes found
themselves in bogs, sometimes in tangled forests. There were streams to be
waded or to be crossed upon such rude rafts as they could frame with their
hatchets. Their clothes hung in tatters around them, and, most deplorable
of all, their ammunition became expended.

For days they lived upon roots and the tender bark of trees. Some became
delirious, indeed some seemed quite insane through their sufferings. The
man who was wounded, Mr. Schenck, was a gentleman of intelligence and of
refinement and of distinguished family connections, from Ohio. A poetic
temperament had induced him to seek the romance of an adventure through
the unexplored wilderness.

After incredible sufferings his wound became so inflamed that it was
impossible for him to go any farther. Prostrate upon a mound in the forest
his comrades left him. They could do absolutely nothing for him. They
could not supply him with a morsel of food or with a cup of water. They
had no heart even to bid him adieu. Silently they tottered along, and Mr.
Schenck was left to die. Through what hours of suffering he lingered none
but God can tell. Not even his bones were ever found to shed any light
upon his sad fate.

So deep became the dejection of these wanderers that often for hours not
one word was spoken. They were lost in the wilderness and could only
direct their steps toward the rising sun. After leaving Mr. Schenck there
were but nine men remaining. They soon disagreed in reference to the route
to follow. This led to a separation, and five went in one direction and
four in another. The five, after wandering about in the endurance of
sufferings which can scarcely be conceived of, fell in with a party of
friendly Creek Indians, by whom they were rescued and treated with the
greatest humanity. Of the other four two only succeeded in escaping from
the mazes of the wilderness.

Such were the perils upon which the youthful Kit Carson was now entering
from the pure love of adventure. He was not uninformed respecting these
dangers. The knowledge of them did but add to the zest of the enterprise.

Crossing the plains of the interior of our Continent from the Missouri
river to the Rocky mountains, was a very different undertaking half a
century ago, from what it has been in more modern times. The route was
then almost entirely unexplored. There were no charts to guide. The bold
adventurers knew not where they would find springs of water, where forage
for their animals, where they would enter upon verdureless deserts, where
they could find fording-places of the broad and rapid rivers which they
might encounter on their way.

This is not a forest-covered continent. The vast plains of the interior,
whether smooth or undulating or rugged, spread far away for weary leagues,
almost treeless. The forest was found mainly skirting the streams. Immense
herds of buffaloes, often numbering ten or twenty thousand, grazed upon
these rich and boundless pastures. Timid deer and droves of wild horses,
almost countless in numbers, here luxuriated in a congenial home. There
was scarcely a white man in the land whose eyes had ever beheld the cliffs
of the Rocky mountains. And each Indian tribe had its hunting-grounds
marked out with considerable precision, beyond which even the boldest
braves seldom ventured to wander.

About a score of men started upon this trip. They were thoroughly armed,
practiced marksmen, well mounted and each man led a pack mule, heavily
laden with goods for the Santa Fe market. Their leader was
commander-in-chief, whom all were bound implicitly to obey. He led the
company, selecting the route, and he decided when and where to encamp.
The procession followed usually in single file, a long line.

Early in the morning, at the sound of the bugle, all sprang from their
couches which nature had spread, and they spent no more time at their
toilet than did the horse or the cow. After a hurried breakfast they
commenced their march. Generally an abundance of game was found on the
way. The animals always walked slowly along, being never put to the trot.

At noon the leader endeavored to find some spot near a running stream or a
spring, where the animals could find pasture. The resting for a couple of
hours gave them time for their dinner, which they had mainly picked up by
the way.

An hour or two before sundown the camping ground was selected, the animals
were tethered, often in luxuriant grass, and the hardy pioneers, by no
means immoderately fatigued by the day's journey, having eaten their
supper, which a good appetite rendered sumptuous, spent the time till
sleep closed their eyelids in telling stories and singing songs. A very
careful guard was set, and the adventurers enjoyed sound sleep till, with
the dawn, the bugle call again summoned them. Under ordinary circumstances
hardy men of a roving turn of mind, found very great attractions in this
adventurous life. They were by no means willing to exchange its
excitements for the monotonous labors of the field or the shop.

CHAPTER II.

Life in the Wilderness.

A Surgical Operation.--A Winter with Kin Cade.--Study of the
Languages and Geography.--Return towards Missouri.--Engagement
with a new Company and Strange Adventures.--The
Rattlesnake.--Anecdote of Kit Carson.--The Sahara.--New
Engagements.--Trip to El Paso.--Trapping and Hunting.--Prairie
Scenery.--The Trapper's Outfit.--Night Encampment.--Testimony of
an Amateur Hunter.

The company of traders which Kit had joined enjoyed, on the whole, a
prosperous expedition. They met with no hostile Indians and, with one
exception, encountered nothing which they could deem a hardship. There was
one exception, which most persons would deem a terrible one. The
accidental discharge of a gun, incautiously handled, shattered a man's
arm, shivering the bone to splinters. The arm rapidly grew inflamed,
became terribly painful, and must be amputated or the life lost. There was
no one in the party who knew anything of surgery. But they had a razor, a
handsaw and a bar of iron.

It shows the estimation in which the firm, gentle, and yet almost womanly
Kit Carson was held, that he was chosen to perform the operation. Two
others were to assist him. The sufferer took his seat, and was held
firmly, that in his anguish his struggles might not interfere with the
progress of the knife. This boy of but eighteen years then, with great
apparent coolness, undertook this formidable act of surgery.

He bound a ligature around the arm very tightly, to arrest, as far as
possible the flow of blood. With the razor he cut through the quivering
muscles, tendons and nerves. With the handsaw he severed the bone. With
the bar of iron, at almost a white heat, he cauterized the wound. The
cruel operation was successful. And the patient, under the influence of
the pure mountain air, found his wound almost healed before he reached
Santa Fe.

Having arrived at his journey's end, Kit's love of adventure led him not
to return with the traders, by the route over which he had just passed,
but to push on still further in his explorations. About eighty miles
northeast of Santa Fe there was another Spanish settlement, weird-like in
its semi-barbarous, semi-civilized aspects, with its huts of sun-baked
clay, its Catholic priests, its Mexican Indians and its half-breeds. It
was a small, lonely settlement, whose population lived mainly, like the
Indians, upon corn-meal and the chase. Kit ever kept his trusty rifle
with him. His gun and hatchet constituted his purse, furnishing him with
food and lodging.

It was a mountainous region; here in one of the dells, Kit came across the
solitary hut of a mountaineer by the name of Kin Cade. They took a mutual
liking to each other. As Kit could at any day, with his rifle bring in
food enough to last a week, the question of board did not come into
consideration. It was in the latter part of November that Kit first
entered the cabin of this hunter. Here he spent the winter. His bed
consisted probably of husks of corn covered with a buffalo robe, a
luxurious couch for a healthy and weary man. Pitch pine knots brilliantly
illumined the hut in the evening. Traps were set to catch animals for
their furs. Deer skins were softly tanned and colored for clothing, with
ornamental fringes for coats and leggins and moccasins. Kit and his
companion Kin were their own tailors.

Thus passed the winter of 1826. Both of the men were very good-natured,
and of congenial tastes. They wanted for nothing. When the wind howled
amid the crags of the mountains and the storm beat upon their lonely
habitation, with fuel in abundance and a well filled larder, and with no
intoxicating drinks or desire for them, they worked upon their garments
and other conveniences in the warmth of their cheerful fireside. It is
not hazarding too much to say that these two gentle men, in their solitary
cabin, passed a far more happy winter than many families who were
occupying, in splendid misery, the palatial residences of London, Paris
and New York.

Kin Cade was perhaps a Spaniard. He certainly spoke the Spanish language
with correctness and fluency. The intelligence of Kit is manifest from the
fact that he devoted himself assiduously during the winter to the
acquisition of the Spanish language. And his strong natural abilities are
evidenced in his having attained, in that short time, quite the mastery of
the Spanish tongue. It is often said that Kit Carson was entirely an
uneducated man. This is, in one respect, a mistake. The cabin of Kin Cade
was his academy, where he pursued his studies vigorously and successfully
for a whole winter, graduating in the spring with the highest honors that
academy could confer.

We ought not to forget that, in addition to the study of the languages, he
also devoted much attention to the study of geography. They had no books,
no maps. It is doubtful indeed, whether either Kit or his teacher could
read or write. But Kin had been a renowned explorer. He had traversed the
prairies, climbed the mountains, followed the courses of the rivers, and
paddled over the lakes. With his stick he could draw upon the smoothly
trodden floor of his hut, everything that was needful of a chart. There
were probably many idle students in Harvard and Yale, who during those
winter months did not make as much intellectual progress as Kit Carson
made.

In the spring of 1827, Kit again went forth from his winter's retreat into
the wilderness world, which has its active life and engrossing
excitements, often even far greater than are to be found on the city's
crowded pavements. Not finding in these remote regions any congenial
employment, Kit decided to retrace his steps to Missouri. Most persons
would have thought that the journey of some thousand miles on foot,
through a trackless wilderness where he was exposed every step of the way,
to howling wolves and merciless savages, a pretty serious undertaking. Kit
appears to have regarded it but as an every-day occurrence.

He joined a party of returning traders. Much of the region they traversed
may be aptly described in the language which Irving applies to Spain. "It
is a stern melancholy country, with rugged mountains and long sweeping
plains, indescribably lonesome, solitary, savage." After travelling nearly
five hundred miles, about half the distance back to Missouri, they
reached a ford of the Arkansas river. Here they met another party of
traders bound to Santa Fe. Kit, who with great reluctance had decided to
return home, eagerly joined them. His services were deemed very valuable,
and they offered him a rich reward. His knowledge of the Spanish language
became now a valuable investment to him, and as he had already twice
traversed the route, he was at once invested with the dignity of guide as
well as interpreter.

The following incident, related by a traveller who was passing over this
same plain under the guidance of Kit Carson, shows that there are other
dangers to be encountered besides the prowling savage and the wolf:

"It was a bright moonlight night. I had, as was my custom, spread my
saddle leathers for a bed, and had drawn my blanket closely around me.
Weary with the day's march, I had been sleeping soundly for several hours,
when about midnight I awoke suddenly with an unaccountable feeling of
dread. It must have been a sort of instinct which prompted me, for in a
moment I was upon my feet, and then, upon removing my blanket, I found a
rattlesnake, swollen with rage and poison, coiled and ready to strike.

"I drew away the blanket which served as a mattress, intending to kill the
reptile, when to my astonishment it glided away making its escape into a
small opening in the ground directly beneath my bed. The whole matter was
explained at once. The snake had probably been out to see a neighbor; and
getting home after I was asleep, felt a gentlemanly unwillingness to
disturb me. And, as I had taken possession of his dwelling he took part of
my sleeping place, crawling under the blanket where he must have lain
quietly by my side until I rolled over and disturbed him. I can scarcely
say that I slept much more that night, and even Carson admitted that it
made him a little nervous."

Kit Carson was not a garrulous man. He was much more given to reflection
than to talk, and he was never known to speak boastfully of any of his
achievements. It is the invariable testimony of all who knew him, that he
was mild, gentle and unassuming, one of Nature's noblemen. While
travelling he scarcely ever spoke. Nothing escaped his keen eye. His whole
appearance was that of a man deeply impressed with a sense of the
responsibility of his office. He knew full well the treacherous character
of the Indians, and that "the better part of valor is discretion."

He had often seen men killed at night by an invisible foe. From the
impenetrable darkness which surrounded the camp fire, an arrow would come
winged with death, piercing the heart of some mountaineer whose body was
clearly revealed by the firelight. Kit Carson would never thus expose
himself. He would always spread his blanket where the firelight would not
reveal him.

"No, no boys," he would say to his often reckless comrades, "you may hang
around the fire if you will. It may do for you, if you like it. But I do
not wish to have a Digger Indian slip an arrow into me when I cannot see
him."

A gentleman, who was guided over the plains by Kit, writes, "During this
journey I have often watched Carson's preparation for the night. A braver
man than Kit perhaps never lived. In fact, I doubt if he ever knew what
fear was. But with all this he exercised great caution. While arranging
his bed, his saddle, which he always used as a pillow, was disposed in
such a manner as to form a barricade for his head. His pistols half cocked
were placed above it, and his trusty rifle reposed beneath the blanket by
his side, where it was not only ready for instant use but perfectly
protected from the damp. Except now and then to light his pipe, you never
caught Kit, at night, exposing himself to the full glare of the camp
fire."

When on the march everything was conducted with military precision. At the
early dawn as Kit gave the signal to prepare to start, all were instantly
in motion. The mules were brought up; their packs were fastened firmly
upon their backs, an operation which required much labor and skill. The
mules have a strange instinct which leads them to follow with a sort of
fascination a white horse. Thus generally a white horse or mare leads the
cavalcade.

At times it was necessary to march long distances without meeting water.
One of these dreary stretches was eighty miles long. It was necessary to
pass over it as rapidly as possible, day and night almost without resting.
In accomplishing one of these arduous journeys across a desert almost as
bare as that of Sahara, the party set out one afternoon at three o'clock.
One of the travellers writes:

"I shall never forget the impression which that night's journey left upon
my mind. Sometimes the trail led us over large basins of deep sand, where
the trampling of the mules' feet gave forth no sound. This, added to the
almost terrible silence which ever reigns in the solitude of the desert,
rendered our transit more like the passage of some airy spectacle where
the actors were shadows instead of men. Nor is this comparison a strained
one, for our way-worn voyagers, with their tangled locks and unshorn
beards, rendered white as snow by the fine sand with which the air in
these regions is often filled, had a weird and ghost-like look, which the
gloomy scene around, with its frowning rocks and moonlit sands, tended to
enhance and heighten."

It is said, as illustrative of Kit's promptness of action, that one night
an inexperienced guard shouted "Indians." In an instant Kit was on his
feet, pistol in hand. A dark object was approaching him. The loss of a
second of time might enable a savage to bury his arrow-head deep in his
side and to disappear in the darkness. Like a flash of lightning Kit fired
and shot _his mule_. It was a false alarm.

The traders arrived safely in Santa Fe. Kit Carson, having faithfully
performed his contract, began to look around for new adventures. Three
hundred and fifty miles south of Santa Fe, there was the Mexican province
of Chihuahua. It was a very rich mining district, and many adventurers had
flocked to it from Spain. There was here a narrow valley of the Rio Grande
about ten miles in extent, and quite well filled with the rude settlements
of the miners. It is said that at one time there were nearly seventy
thousand Spaniards and Indians scattered along the river banks in search
of the precious metals.

A trading party was bound from Santa Fe to this region. Colonel Trammel
was the leader of this party, and he eagerly secured the services of Kit
Carson, who, in addition to his experience as a traveller, could also
perform the functions of an interpreter. We have no record of the
incidents which occurred on this journey. As the route was well known, and
there were no hostile Indians to be encountered, it was probably
uneventful.

In this valley of El Paso, as it was called, Carson found about five
thousand people, mostly on the right bank of the river. The rudeness of
the style in which they lived painfully impressed him. There was far more
comfort in the cabins he had left in Missouri.

The houses were of clay baked in the sun, with earthen floors. Window
glass was a luxury unknown. It seems almost incredible that they should
have had neither chairs, tables, knives nor forks. These Mexicans were
scarcely one remove from the untamed savages of the wilderness. Young
Carson found nothing to interest him or to invite his stay. He returned to
Santa Fe. The summer had now passed and another winter come.

About a hundred and fifty miles north of Santa Fe there was a small
collection of huts called Taos, inhabited by trappers and hunters. This
pursuit of game for food and fur was the employment which was congenial to
him above all others. He directed his steps to Taos and at once entered
into an engagement with Mr. Ewing Young, making his cabin headquarters.

Hunting and trapping were somewhat different employments, though perhaps
equally exciting. The hunter depended upon his rifle, and was mainly in
search of food. Still the robe of the buffalo and the coat of the grizzly
bear were very useful in various ways, in the cabin of the hunter, and the
softly tanned skin of the deer was invaluable, furnishing every article of
clothing, shirt, leggins and moccasins. The skins of these animals had
also a market value.

But the trapper was in pursuit of furs only. Though the men engaged in
this pursuit were occasionally exposed to great hardship and suffering,
still, in general they probably had, in the gratification of congenial
tastes, a full share of such happiness as this world can furnish.

Young Carson, at the age of nineteen, had no taste for the scholarly
seclusion of Yale or Harvard, no desire to stand all day behind the
counter of the dry-goods store, or to work amid the crowd and the hum of
the factory; he had no wish for what is called society, or to saunter down
Broadway with his cigar and his cane, to exhibit his tightly-fitting
garments; but he did love to set out on a hunting and trapping expedition.
Let us follow him in one of these adventures.

It is a bright morning of the Indian summer, far along in November. There
is a small log cabin on a mound of the wilderness. A dense forest breaks
the northern winds. A rippling stream runs by the door. Beyond lies the
prairie rich in verdure and enamelled with gorgeous autumnal flowers.
Herds of buffalo are grazing in groups of hundreds, sometimes of
thousands, on the broad expanse. Gangs of deer are seen, graceful,
beautiful, following in the train of the antlered bucks, and with scent so
keen and eyes so piercing that it requires the utmost skill of the hunter
to approach them within rifle shot. Clouds of prairie chickens and quails
are floating here and there in their short flight. It is the paradise of
the hunter. Let no one think this description overdrawn. It would be
difficult to exaggerate the loveliness of the flower-spangled prairie on a
bright autumnal day. Eden could scarcely have presented scenes more
attractive.

Young Carson stands at the door of the cabin with a stout mule before him.
The animal is strong and plump, having been feasting upon the wild oats
growing luxuriantly around. Carson is packing his mule. His outfit
consists of a Mexican blanket, rough, thick and warm; a supply of
ammunition; a kettle; possibly a coffee-pot and some coffee, which have
been obtained at Santa Fe; several iron traps; some dressed deerskin for
replacing clothing and moccasins, a hatchet and a few other similar
articles. In addition to his mule he may also take a pony to bear him on
the way. Thus, if by accident, one give out, he has another animal to rely
upon. And if very successful he may have furs enough to load them both on
his return.

His costume consists of a hunting shirt of the soft and pliable deerskin,
ornamented with long fringes and often dyed with bright vermilion.
Pantaloons of the same material are also ornamented with fringes and
porcupine's quills of various colors. Many a tranquil hour has been
beguiled, in the long evenings and when the storm has beaten upon the hut,
in fashioning these garments with artistic taste, learned of the Indians.
A flexible cap, often of rich fur, covers his head, and moccasins, upon
which all the resources of barbaric embroidery have been expended, cover
his feet.

His rifle is borne on his left shoulder. His powder horn and bullet pouch
hang under his right arm. In his bullet pouch he also carries spare
flints, steel and various odds and ends. Beneath the broad belt which
encircles his waist there is a large butcher knife in a sheath of buffalo
hide. There is a whetstone in a buckskin case made fast to the belt, and
also a small hatchet or tomahawk.

Thus accoutred, our young hunter and trapper sets out in search of the
most lonely ravine which he can find among the mountains. He would reach
if possible, some solitary stream which no white man's eye had ever
beheld. He has no road, no trail to guide him. He rides his pony and leads
his mule. Over the prairie, through the forest, across the streams, in
silence and in a solitude which to him is not lonely, he passes on his
way.

Night comes. If pleasant, he unburdens his horse and mule; drives his iron
pickets into the ground, to which his animals are attached by ropes about
thirty feet long, generally in pastures of rich grass or wild oats; builds
a fire, cooks his supper, rolls himself in his blanket and sleeps soundly
till morning. If the weather is unpleasant it makes but little difference.
He knows exactly what to do. In a short time he constructs a frail but
ample shelter; and then, with his feet towards the fire, sleeps sweetly
regardless of the storm. His animals have no more need of shelter than
have the bears and the buffaloes.

This is the _ordinary_ life of the hunter. There are, of course,
exceptions when calamity and woe come. A joint may be sprained, a limb
broken. Fire may burn, or Indians may come, bringing captivity and
torture. But the ordinary life of the hunter, gratifying his natural
taste, has many fascinations. This is evidenced by the eagerness with
which our annual tourists leave their ceiled chambers, in the luxurious
cities, to encamp in the wilderness of the Adirondacks or the Rocky
mountains. There is not a restaurant in the Palais Royal, or on the
Boulevards which can furnish such a repast as these men often find, from
trout which they have taken from the brook, and game which their own
rifles shot, have cooked at the fires which their own hands have kindled.
A gentleman who spent a winter in this way, in the green and sheltered
valleys of the Rocky mountains, writes:

"There was something inexpressibly exhilarating in the sensation of
positive freedom from all worldly care, and a consequent expansion of the
sinews, as it were, of mind and body, which made me feel as elastic as a
ball of India rubber, and in such a state of perfect ease that no more
dread of scalping Indians entered my mind, than if I had been sitting in
Broadway, in one of the windows of the Astor House. The very happiest
moments of my life have been spent in the wilderness of the Far West, with
no friend near me more faithful than my rifle, and no companion more
sociable than my horse and mules.

"With a plentiful supply of pine logs on the fire, and its cheerful blaze
streaming far up into the sky, illuminating the valley far and near, and
exhibiting the animals, with well filled bellies, standing contentedly
over their picket-pins, I would sit enjoying the genial warmth, building
castles in the air. Scarcely ever did I wish to exchange such hours of
freedom for all the luxuries of civilized life. Such are the fascinations
of the life of the mountain hunter that I believe that not one instance
could be adduced of even the most polished and civilized of men, who had
once tasted the sweets of its attendant liberty and freedom from every
worldly care, not sighing once more to partake of its pleasures and
allurements.

"A hunter's camp in the Rocky mountains is quite a picture. It is
invariably made in a picturesque locality. Nothing can be more social and
cheering than the welcome blaze of the camp fire on a cold winter's
night."

Young Carson, alone with his horse and mule, would journey from fifty to a
hundred miles, examining every creek and stream, keeping a sharp lookout
for signs of beaver. Having selected his location, generally in some
valley eight or ten miles in extent, with a winding stream circling
through the centre, which he had reason to believe was well stocked with
beaver, he would choose a position for his camp. This would be more or
less elaborate in its construction, according to the time he intended to
spend there. But he would always find some sunny nook, with a southern
exposure and a pleasing prospect, near the brook or some spring of sweet
water, and, if possible, with forest or rock sheltering from the north
winds.

In a few hours young Carson would construct his half-faced cabin, as the
hunting-camp was called. A large log generally furnished the foundation of
the back part of the hut. Four stout stakes were then planted in the
ground so as to inclose a space about eight feet square. These stakes were
crotched at the ends, so as to support others for the roof. The front was
about five feet high, the back not more than four. The whole slope of the
roof was from the front to the back. The covering was made of bark or
slabs and sometimes of skins. The sides were covered in a similar way. The
whole of the front was open. The smooth ground floor was strewed with
fragrant hemlock branches, over which were spread blankets or buffalo
robes. In front of the opening the camp fire could be built, or on the one
side or the other, in accordance with the wind.

Thus in a few hours young Carson would erect him a home, so cosey and
cheerful in its aspect as to be attractive to every eye. Reclining upon
mattresses really luxurious in their softness, he could bask in the beams
of the sun, circling low in its winter revolutions, or gaze at night upon
the brilliant stars, and not unfrequently have spread out before him an
extended prospect of as rich natural scenery as ever cheered the eye. He
had no anxiety about food. His hook or his rifle supplied him abundantly
with what he deemed the richest viands. He knew where were the tender
cuts. He knew how to cook them deliciously. And he had an appetite to
relish them.

Having thus provided himself with a habitation, he took his traps and,
either on foot or on horseback, as the character of the region or the
distance to be traversed might render best, followed along the windings of
the stream till he came to a beaver dam. He would examine the water
carefully to find some shallow which the beavers must pass in crossing
from shoal to deep water. Here he would plant his trap, always under
water, and carefully adjust the bait. He would then follow on to another
dam, and thus proceed till six traps were set, which was the usual number
taken on such an expedition.

Early every morning he would mount his horse or mule and take the round of
his traps, which generally required a journey of several miles. The
captured animals were skinned on the spot, and the skins only, with the
tails which the hunters deemed a great luxury as an article of food, were
taken to the camp. Then the skin was stretched over a framework to dry.
When dry it was folded into a square sheet, the fur turned inward and a
bundle made containing from ten to twenty skins tightly pressed and
corded, which was ready for transportation. These skins were then worth
about eight dollars per pound.

After an absence of three or four weeks, young Carson would return with
his treasures, often several hundred dollars in value, to the rendezvous
of Mr. Ewing Young at Taos. Soon again he would set out on another similar
expedition. Thus Carson passed the winter of 1827.

CHAPTER III.

Among the Trappers.

The Discomfited Trappers.--The New Party Organized.--A Battle
with the Indians.--Trapping on the Colorado.--March to the
Sacramento.--The Friendly Indians.--Crossing the
Desert.--Instinct of the Mule.--The Enchanting Valley of the
Colorado.--The Mission of San Gabriel.--Vast Herds of
Cattle.--The Mission of San Fernando.--Adventures in the Valley
of San Joaquin.--The Meeting of two Trapping Bands.--Reasons for
Kit Carson's Celebrity.--A Military Expedition.--The Indian Horse
Thieves.--The Pursuit and Capture.

Soon after Carson returned to the cabin of Mr. Young from one of his
trapping expeditions, a party of trappers came back who had set out to
explore the valley of the Colorado, in pursuit of furs. At Taos they were
west of the Rocky mountains, and the route which they were to take led
them still farther in a northwest direction, a distance of three or four
hundred miles. It was known that the region was full of roving Indians,
and it was not doubted that the savages, if they saw any chance of
overpowering the trappers, would do so, and seize their effects, which to
the Indians would prove booty of almost inconceivable value. The rifle
gave the trappers such an advantage over the Indian, with his bow and
arrows, that they never hesitated, when upon the open plain in
encountering almost any superiority of numbers.

This party of eighteen trappers, with their horses and heavily laden
mules, had advanced but a few days' journey, over an almost unexplored
region, when they fell in with a powerful tribe of Indians, who, after a
little palaver, seeing their weakness in numbers and the richness of their
treasure, attacked them with great fury. The Indians had adroitly selected
a spot where they could fight Indian fashion, from behind trees and logs.
The battle lasted a whole day. We are not informed how many of either
party fell in the fray. But the Indians seemed to swarm around the
trappers in countless numbers, and the white men were, greatly to their
chagrin, driven back with the loss of several mules.

As the discomfited party returned with their tale of disaster, the ire of
Mr. Young was raised. It is a comment upon the number of men then roving
the wilderness, that Mr. Young was in a short time enabled to organize
another party of forty men, to resume the enterprise. It was a motley
collection of Spaniards, Americans, Mexicans and half-breeds. Proudly this
powerful band, well armed, well mounted and with heavily laden pack mules,
commenced its adventurous march, burning with the desire to avenge the
insult which the previous expedition had encountered.

Mr. Young had learned highly to prize the capabilities of young Carson,
and engaged him to take a prominent position in this company on its
hazardous tour. After a march of about a hundred miles, they reached the
region occupied by the Indians who had attacked and defeated the former
band. The savages, flushed by success, were all ready to renew the
conflict. Mr. Young himself was the leader of the party. The Indians, by
their gestures and shouts of defiance, gave unmistakable evidence of their
eagerness for the fight.

There was some little delay as both parties prepared for the deadly
strife. Mr. Young, a veteran in the tactics of the forest, posted his men
with great sagacity. He had forty, as we have mentioned, in all.
Twenty-five of them he hid in ambush. With the other fifteen he cautiously
advanced, and at length, as if alarmed, halted. The eminences all in front
of them, seemed filled with the plumed warriors. The previous conflict had
taught them the powers of the deadly rifle bullet. They kept at a
respectful distance, never advancing unless protected by some tree or
rock.

But there were hundreds of savages almost surrounding the little band,
and making the hills and plains resound with the hideous war-whoop. When
the trappers halted and began slowly to draw back, a deafening shout arose
from the triumphant foe, and in a simultaneous charge they advanced, but
still cautiously, not venturing near enough to discharge their arrows.
They were thus drawn along into the trap. When fairly within rifle range,
twenty-five unerring marksmen from their concealment, almost at the same
instant, opened a death-dealing volley upon the surprised and bewildered
warriors. The slaughter was terrible beyond anything they had ever, in
their native battles, witnessed before. Twenty-five of their bravest
warriors, for the bravest were in the advance, fell dead or severely
wounded. The Indians were thrown into an utter panic.

The thunder, the lightning, and the death-bolts had come from they knew
not where. With almost the rapidity of thought the rifles were again
loaded and the whole united band rushed forward upon the Indians who were
now flying wildly in all directions. Instinct taught them to perform all
sorts of gyrations to avoid the bullets which pursued them. They made no
attempt to rally, though many of their proud warriors were left behind
lifeless, or struggling in the convulsions of death.

The power of the rifle was such that, in those days, forty or fifty men
never hesitated to engage whole tribe, though it might number one or two
thousand warriors. A man will fight with terrible persistence when he
knows that defeat is inevitable death by torture. It is a thousandfold
better to fall beneath the arrow, the tomahawk or the war-club, than to be
consumed alive amid the jeers and tortures of yelling Indians inspired
with demoniac instincts. Thus with the trapper it was always either
victory or death.

These hostile warriors were punished with a severity never to be
forgotten. The fugitives carried far and wide to other roving tribes the
tidings of their disaster. The bold trappers proceeded on their way,
encountering no more serious molestation. Smoke upon the distant hills
indicated that their march was watched. If a trap was set at any distance
from the night's encampment, it was pretty surely stolen. Or if a weary
mule was left to recruit, a little behind, intending to bring him up in
the morning, before the dawn he disappeared.

The whole party followed slowly down a tributary of the Colorado river,
very successfully trapping upon the main stream and its branches, until
they reached the head waters of the San Francisco river. They then
divided, and Mr. Young with Carson and seventeen others proceeded several
hundred miles farther west, to the valley of the Sacramento. Before
setting out for this long journey, as it was uncertain what game they
might find by the way, two or three days were devoted to hunting. The
skins of three deer were converted into water tanks, which were without
difficulty carried by the mules. They were induced to this caution because
some friendly Indians had assured them that there was a great destitution
of water by the way.

On their march they encountered a tribe of Indians in all their native
wildness. They were very friendly though they had apparently never seen a
white man before. Perhaps their friendliness was _because_ they had never
yet met any of the pale faces, from whom they subsequently suffered such
great wrongs. These Indians presented remarkably fine specimens of the
physical man. They were tall, erect and admirably proportioned. Their
features were European, their eyes very full and expressive, and the dress
of men and women simple in the extreme. They were all splendid horsemen,
and often as they entered the camp at full speed on their spirited
chargers, it seemed as though the steed and its rider, like the fabled
centaur, were but one animal. Their bodies were painted and oiled so as to
resemble highly polished mahogany.

The travellers found the information communicated to them by the friendly
Indians to be true. For four days they travelled over a dreary, sandy
waste, where there were neither streams nor springs. At the camping place
each night there was given from the tanks, a small amount of water to each
animal and man, but only enough to sustain life. A guard was set over the
rest, for should any accident befall it the destruction of the whole party
would be the probable consequence.

As they were toiling along the fifth day, painfully through the sand, the
mules began to manifest a strange excitement. They pricked up their ears,
snuffed the air, then began to rush forward with all the speed their
exhausted strength would allow. The sagacious animals had scented water at
the distance of nearly a mile. It was a clear running stream, fringed with
grass and shrubs. When the first mule reached the water, the remainder
were scattered for a great distance along the trail. Here the party
encamped and remained for two days to recruit.

The bags of deerskin were again filled with water and the journey was
resumed. The route still led over a similar barren region, where both man
and beast suffered great privations from the want of water. On the fourth
day they came in sight of the splendid valley of the great Colorado. It
was with a thrill of delight that they gazed upon its verdure and its
luxuriance, which were an hundredfold enhanced from the contrast with the
dreary region which they had just traversed.

In their march of eight days through this barren and gameless region,
their provisions had become quite exhausted. They chanced to come across
some Indians from whom they purchased an old mare. The animal was promptly
cut up, cooked and eaten with great gusto. They also obtained, from the
same Indians, a small quantity of corn and beans. In the rich meadows of
the Colorado our adventurers again found abundance. They spent a few
delightful days here, feasting, trapping and hunting. The animals found,
for them, a paradise in the luxuriant pastures of wild oats.

Again the journey to the west was resumed. The account we have of their
movements is so meagre that it is impossible to follow with accuracy the
route they traversed. They followed for some leagues a river, when
suddenly its waters disappeared. They apparently sank beneath the surface
of the quicksands. Still there were indications which enabled them to
follow the course of the river, until finally it rose again above the
surface, and in the open air flowed on to the ocean.

At length they reached the celebrated Catholic Mission of San Gabriel,
near the Pacific coast. The Mission was then in a flourishing condition.
The statistics, published in 1829, indicate a degree of prosperity which
seems almost incredible. More than a thousand Indians were attached to the
Mission, and were laboring in its widely-extended fields, tending its
herds and cultivating the soil. The poor Indians, who were often half
starved upon the plains, found here light employment, shelter and abundant
food. The statistics to which we refer, state that the Mission had seventy
thousand head of cattle, four thousand two hundred horses, four hundred
mules, and two hundred and fifty sheep.

These Missions, several of which were established in a line, within about
fifty miles of the Pacific coast, belonged to the Spanish government, and
were supported by the revenues of the crown. Animals multiplied with great
rapidity upon those luxuriant and almost boundless prairies. They ranged
sometimes, it was said, spreading out over a hundred thousand acres of
wonderfully fertile pastures. There must of course, have been much
guess-work in estimating the numbers of these vast herds, generally
wandering unattended at their pleasure. But with such supplies of animal
and vegetable food there was no fear of want. The indolent Indians
consequently gathered around the Missions in great numbers. They were all
fond of show, and not unwillingly became such Christians as consists in
attending the ceremonies of the church.

The Mission, with its buildings, cultivated fields and vast herds, seemed
like the garden of Eden to our weary travellers. They however, remained
here but one day, as they were not on a tour of pleasure but in pursuit of
furs. A day's travel brought them to another but much smaller Mission,
called San Fernando. Without any delay they pushed on towards the west,
their object being to enter the valley of the Sacramento river, where they
had been told that beavers could be found in great abundance. They
expected to reach the banks of this now renowned, but then scarcely known
river, after a few days' journey in a northeast direction. They were now
in a delightful region. The climate was charming. Brooks of crystal water,
and well filled with fishes, often crossed their path. There was abundant
forage for their cattle; and forest and prairie seemed alive with game.

They soon reached the banks of the San Joaquin, a lovely stream flowing
northerly and emptying into the Sacramento near its mouth. There, finding
a very eligible camping site, and many indications of beaver in the
stream, Mr. Young halted his party, to rest for a few days, and in the
meantime to set their traps. The general character of the scenery around
them may be inferred from Mr. Bryant's description of a similar encampment
in his overland journey to California.

"Finding here an abundance of grass, we remained the following day for the
benefit of our animals. The valley was probably fifteen miles in length,
with a variable width of two or three miles. It was a delightful spot.
Wild plants grew in profusion, many-hued flowers studded its surface, and
silvery streams, bordered by luxuriant verdure and shrubs, were winding
through it. On both sides the mountains towered up by continuous
elevations of several thousand feet, exhibiting a succession of rich
vegetation, and then craggy and sterile cliffs, capped by virgin snow, the
whole forming a landscape of rare combinations of the beautiful and
sublime."

After a short rest the trappers continued their journey slowly, setting
their traps on the San Joaquin and its tributaries. Pretty soon, much to
their surprise, they saw indications that there was another band trapping
on the same streams. In a short time they met, and it was found that the
other party belonged to the Hudson Bay Company, and was commanded by Peter
Ogden.

It is pleasant to record that the two parties, instead of fighting each
other as rivals, cordially fraternized. For several weeks they trapped
near together, often meeting and ever interchanging the courtesies of
brotherly kindness. These men were from Canada. They were veterans in the
profession of hunting and trapping, having long been in the employment of
the Hudson Bay Company, and having served a regular apprenticeship to
prepare them for their difficult and arduous employment. Here again the
peculiarity of Kit Carson's character was developed. Instead of assuming
that he knew all that was to be known about the wilderness, and the
business in which he was engaged, he lost no opportunity of acquiring all
the information he could from these strangers. He questioned them very
carefully, and his experience was such as to enable him to ask just such
questions as were most important.

There is scarcely a man in America who has not heard the name of Kit
Carson. No man can make his name known among the forty millions of this
continent, unless there be something extraordinary in his character and
achievements. Kit Carson was an extraordinary character. His wide-spread
fame was not the result of accident. His achievements were not merely
impulsive movements. He was a man of pure mind, of high morality, and
intensely devoted to the life-work which he had chosen. His studies
during the winter in the cabin of Kin Cade, had made him a proficient in
the colloquial Spanish language. This proved to him an invaluable
acquisition. He had also gathered and stored away in his retentive memory
all that this veteran ranger of the woods could communicate respecting the
geography of the Far West, the difficulties to be encountered and the mode
of surmounting them. And now he was learning everything that could be
learned from these Canadian boatmen and rangers.

Already young Carson had attained eminence. It was often said, "No matter
what happens, Kit Carson always knows at the moment exactly what is best
to be done."

Both as a hunter and a trapper, though he had not yet attained the age of
manhood, he was admitted to be the ablest man in the party. And his native
dignity of person and sobriety of manners commanded universal respect. In
this lovely valley both parties lived, as trappers, luxuriously. They were
very successful with their traps. And deer, elk and antelope were roving
about in such thousands, that any number could be easily taken. These were
indeed the sunny, festival days of our adventurers.

The two united parties, trapping all the way, followed down the valley of
San Joaquin to the Sacramento. Here they separated. The Hudson Bay
Company set out for the Columbia river. Mr. Young and his party remained
to trap in the valley of the Sacramento. At this time an event occurred
which again illustrates the fearlessness, sagacity and energy of Kit
Carson.

Not very far from their encampment there was the Catholic Mission of San
Rafael. Some Indians belonging to that Mission, after committing sundry
atrocities, fled, and took refuge in a distant Indian village. It was
deemed important, in order that the Indians might be held under salutary
restraint, that such a crime should not go unpunished. A force was sent to
demand the surrender of the fugitives. But the Indians assumed a hostile
attitude, refused to give up the criminals, and fiercely attacking the
Mission party, drove them back with loss.

The Mission applied to the trappers for assistance. The request was
promptly granted. Such a victory would puff up the Indians, render them
insolent, and encourage them to make war upon other parties of the whites.
Eleven volunteers were selected for the expedition, and the young and
fragile Kit Carson was entrusted with the command. In manners he was
gentle as a girl, with a voice as soft as that of a woman. He had no
herculean powers of muscle, but he had mind, mental powers which had been
developed in a hundred emergencies. And these stout, hardy veterans of
the wilderness seem with one accord to have decided that he was the
fitting one to lead them into battle, where they were to encounter perhaps
hundreds of savage warriors.

[Illustration]

Cautiously Kit Carson led his little band so as to approach the Indian
village unperceived. At a given signal they raised the war-whoop and
impetuously charged into the cluster of wigwams. As the terrified warriors
rushed out of the huts, all unprepared for battle, these unerring marksmen
laid them low. One-third of the warriors were slain. The rest fled in
dismay. The village was captured with the women and the children. The
victorious Carson then demanded the immediate surrender of the criminals.
The next day they were brought in, strongly bound, and delivered to the
Mission. With his heroic little band Kit Carson returned to the
encampment, apparently unconscious that he had performed any unusual feat.

The trappers purchased of the Mission sixty horses, paying for them in
beaver skins, which always had a cash value. These horses were
indispensable to the trapper. It required a large number to carry the
packs of a successful trapping party. It would be impossible for the
trappers to transport the packs upon their own backs. A party of forty
trappers would need each a horse to ride. Then generally each man led a
spare horse, lest the one he rode should break a limb or in any other way
give out in the midst of the wilderness. If the expedition were
successful, each trapper would have three or four horses or mules to lead
or drive, laden with the packs of skins, the traps, camping utensils and a
supply of food for an emergency. Thus a party of forty men would sometimes
be accompanied by more than two hundred horses. Horses were cheap, and
their food on the rich prairies cost nothing. But it was necessary to
guard the animals with the greatest care, for the Indians were continually
watching for opportunities to steal them.

Soon after Mr. Young, whose party it will be remembered now consisted of
eighteen men, had made his purchase of horses, in preparation for a
return, as the animals were feeding on the open prairie, a band of Indians
succeeded one night in stealing sixty of them, and with their booty, like
the wind they fled towards the valleys of the Snow mountains. Such a
cavalcade of horses in one band, travelling over the turf of the prairie,
would leave a trail behind which could easily be followed. The number of
the Indian thieves was not known, though the boldness of the robbery and
their tracks indicated that the band must have been large.

Twelve men were immediately detached to pursue the gang. Young Carson was
then appointed leader. There were but fourteen horses left in the camp.
Carson, having mounted his twelve men, had the other two horses led, to
meet any emergency. Vigorously the pursuit was pressed. There was no
difficulty in keeping the track. The Indian with all his cunning was never
the equal of the far more intelligent white man. Indeed the ordinary
savage was often but a grown-up child.

For more than one hundred miles Carson continued his pursuit before he
came up with the robbers. They had already entered the green valleys of
the Snowy mountains. The eagle eye of the pursuer saw some smoke circling
up in the distance. No ordinary eye would have perceived it. Immediately
he dismounted his men, and tethered the horses. The rifles were carefully
examined, that every one might be loaded, primed, and in perfect order.
The band then cautiously pressed forward, led by their boy captain, till
they came to the entrance of a wild but lovely glen, where at the distance
of perhaps a mile, they saw these savage warriors, enjoying all the luxury
of a barbaric encampment. A mountain stream, rippled through the valley.
The horses were grazing in the rich pasture. The thieves had killed six of
the fat young horses, and having cooked them and feasted to utter
repletion, were lounging around, basking in the sun, in the fullness of
savage felicity. Little were they aware of the tempest of destruction and
death about to burst upon them.

The Indians could not have chosen a more delightful spot for their
encampment and their feast. Neither could they have selected a spot more
favorable for the unseen approach of the pursuers. But the savages, having
accomplished more than a hundred miles, deemed themselves perfectly safe.

Carson carefully reconnoitred the position, gave minute directions to his
men, and they all, with the noiseless, stealthy movement of the panther,
worked their way along until they were within rifle distance of their
foes. Every man selected his victim and took deliberate aim. The signal
was given. The discharge was simultaneous. Twelve bullets struck twelve
warriors. Most of them dropped instantly dead. Almost with the rapidity of
thought the rifles were loaded, and the little band rushed upon the
bewildered, terror-stricken, bleeding savages. The Indians scattered in
every direction. Eight were killed outright. Carson had no love of
slaughter. Many more, in their flight, might have been struck by the
bullet; but they were allowed to escape. All the horses were recovered
excepting the six which the Indians had killed.

Great was the rejoicing in the camp when the victorious party returned so
abundantly successful. One of the annalists of this extraordinary man
speaking of the enterprise, very truthfully writes:

"Carson, though at that day a youth in years and experience, had risen
rapidly in the estimation of all, and had excited the admiration and
enlisted the confidence of the entire band. When called upon to add his
counsel, concerning any doubtful enterprise, his masterly foresight and
shrewdness, as well as clearness in attending to details, gave him willing
auditors.

"But it was the modest deportment he invariably wore, which won for him
the love of his associates. Kit Carson's power in quickly conceiving the
safest plan of action in difficult emergencies, and his bravery, which in
his youth, sometimes amounted to rashness, caused his companions to follow
his leadership. His courage, promptitude, self-reliance, caution, sympathy
and care for the wounded, marked him at once as the master mind. Like the
great Napoleon, when he joined the army for his first campaign, he was a
hero, in spite of his youth, among men grown grey with experience."

The highest style of manhood, the most attractive character is that in
which the mildness and the delicacy of the woman is combined with the
energy and the fearlessness of the man. In Kit Carson we witness a
wonderful combination of these two qualities. An acquaintance of the
writer, who spent many years of his early life roving through the
wilderness of the far West, and who had often met Kit Carson, said he
never heard an oath from his lips. Even the rude and profane trappers
around him could appreciate the superior dignity of such a character.

Rev. Dr. Bushnell, speaking of the region in which our trappers were
engaged, says, "Middle California, lying between the head waters of the
two great rivers, and about four hundred and fifty or five hundred miles
long from north to south, is dividend lengthwise parallel to the coast,
into three strips or ribbons of about equal width. First the coastwise
region comprising two, three, and sometimes four parallel tiers of
mountains, from five hundred to four thousand, five thousand or even ten
thousand feet high. Next, advancing inward we have a middle strip, from
fifty to seventy miles wide, of almost dead plain, which is called the
great valley; down the scarcely perceptible slopes of which from north to
south, and south to north run the two great rivers, the Sacramento and the
San Joaquin, to join their waters at the middle of the basin, and pass off
to the sea. The third long strip or ribbon is the slope of the Snowy
mountain chain which bound the great valley on the East, and contains in
its foothills, or rather its lower half, all the gold mines."

It was in this middle region called The Great Valley, that Mr. Young and
his trappers pursued their vocation. They commenced far south, at the head
waters of the San Joaquin, and trapped down that stream, a distance of
about one hundred and fifty miles. They then struck the greater flood of
the Sacramento, and followed up that stream nearly three hundred and fifty
miles. They had now obtained furs enough to load down all the horses and
mules at their disposal. They prepared to return to Santa Fe, where they
were sure of a ready market for their furs, which would be sent to Europe
for their final sale.

CHAPTER IV.

Conflicts with the Indians.

The American Trapper.--The Trapper of the Hudson's Bay
Company.--The Return Trip.--Polished Life in the Wilderness.--The
Spanish Gentlemen.--Council of the Trappers.--Self-possession
of Kit Carson.--The Camp Cleared of Intruders.--Robbing the
Robbers.--Sale of the Furs.--Mr. Fitzpatrick's Expedition.--Pains
and Pleasures of Rocky Mountain Life.--Pursuit of Indian Horse
Thieves.--Extraordinary Battle.

In the last chapter we have alluded to the friendly meeting, in the valley
of San Joaquin, of the American trappers with a party from Canada, sent
out by the Hudson's Bay Company. It is a remarkable fact, but one which
all will admit, that the Hudson's Bay Company maintained far more friendly
relations with the Indians than the Americans secured. In fact, they
seldom had any difficulty with them whatever. The following reasons seem
quite satisfactorily to explain this difference. It is said:

"The American trapper was not like the Hudson's Bay employees, bred to the
business. Oftener than any other way he was some wild youth who, after
some misdemeanor in the society of his native place, sought safety from
reproach or punishment in the wilderness. Or he was some disappointed man,
who with feelings embittered towards his fellows, preferred the seclusion
of the forest and mountain. Many were of a class disreputable everywhere,
who gladly embraced a life not subject to social laws. A few were brave,
independent and hardy spirits, who delighted in the hardships and wild
adventures their calling made necessary. All these men, the best with the
worst, were subject to no will but their own. And all experience goes to
prove that a life of perfect liberty is apt to degenerate into a life of
license.

"Even their own lives, and those of their companions, when it depended
upon their own prudence, were but lightly considered. The constant
presence of danger made them reckless. It is easy to conceive how, under
these circumstances, the natives and the foreigners grew to hate each
other, in the Indian country, especially after the Americans came to the
determination to 'shoot an Indian at sight.'

"On the other hand, the employees of the Hudson's Bay Company were many of
them half-breeds, or full-blooded Indians of the Iroquois nation, towards
whom nearly all the tribes were kindly disposed. Even the Frenchmen, who
trapped for this Company, were well liked by the Indians on account of
their suavity of manner, and the ease with which they adapted themselves
to savage life. They were trained to the life of a trapper, were subject
to the will of the Company, and were generally just and equitable in their
dealing with the Indians. Most of them also had native wives, and
half-breed children, and were regarded as relatives. There was a wide
difference."

It was the month of September when Mr. Young and his party set out on
their return. The homeward route was essentially the same which they had
already traversed. They made a brief visit at the Mission of San Fernando,
and then pressed on to the flourishing Mission village of Los Angelos.
This City of the Angels, as it was called, from the salubrity of the
climate and the beauty of the scenery, was on a small river about four
hundred and fifty miles southeast from the present site of San Francisco.

Here Mr. Carson was introduced to a scene of refined, and polished life,
such as he had never witnessed before. He was informed that a Spanish
gentleman of wealth was residing, at the distance of a few miles, on one
of the most highly cultivated farms in the country. Young Carson, who
never allowed any opportunity of extending his knowledge to escape him,
dressed himself carefully in his best apparel, mounted a fine horse, well
caparisoned, and set out to pay the Spaniard a visit.

He reached the _ranche_, as the farm was called, dismounted at a wicket
gate, and having fastened his horse, walked up several rods, over a
gravelled-walk, and beneath an avenue of trees, with occasional clumps of
shrubs and flowers, until he reached the residence. It consisted of a
spacious one story edifice, built of sun-baked bricks, called _adobe_. The
dwelling was a hundred feet long, and the roof was rendered impenetrable
to rain, being covered with a thick coating of asphaltum, mingled with
sand. There was a spring of this valuable pitchy substance near the
village; and the roofs of all the houses in Los Angelos were similarly
covered.

A huge brass knocker was attached to the door. In response to its summons,
an Indian girl made her appearance, and ushered him into an elegantly
furnished parlor. There were several guitars lying about, with other
indications that there were ladies in the household. Soon the gentlemanly
owner of the farm appeared, in morning gown and slippers. He was a fine
looking man, of dignified address, and courteously he saluted the
stranger.

There was a native air of refinement about Kit Carson, with his highly
intellectual features, and his modest, self-possessed bearing, which
seemed always to win, at sight, interest and confidence. Carson
introduced himself as an American, though he spoke in the Spanish
language. His host, evidently much pleased with his guest, replied in
English, saying:

"I address you in your native tongue, which I presume is agreeable to you,
though you speak very good Spanish."

The parties were immediately on the most friendly terms. Carson sought
information which the Spanish gentleman was able and happy to give. It was
an early hour in the morning. Carson was invited to remain to breakfast,
and was soon conducted to the breakfast-room, where he was introduced to
the wife of his host, and several sons and daughters.

There was no restraint in conversation, as both parties could speak, with
equal apparent facility, the Spanish and the English. There was a young
gentleman from Massachusetts, a graduate from a New England college, who
was private tutor in the family. After breakfast the stranger was
conducted around the farm, and to the vineyard.

"I have more grapes," said the host, "than I know what to do with. Last
year I made more butts of wine than I could dispose of, and dried five
thousand pounds of raisins. I have travelled through Europe, and I think
that neither the valley of the Rhine nor the Tagus can produce such grapes
as ours. I think that the Los Angelos grape is indeed food for angels.
They are equal to the grapes of Eschol. You remember the heavy clusters
that were found there, so that two men carried one on a pole resting upon
their shoulders. See that vine now. It is six inches in diameter. And yet
it needs a prop to sustain the weight of the two clusters of grapes which
it bears."

"I have more oranges," he said, "than I can either use or give away. This
is the finest country the sun shines upon. We can live luxuriously upon
just what will grow on our own farms. But we cannot get rich. Our cattle
will only bring the value of the hides. Our horses are of little worth,
for there are plenty running wild, which a good huntsman can take with a
lasso. I think that we shall have the Americans with us before many years,
and, for my part, I hope we shall. The idea of the Californians generally,
as well as other Mexicans, that the Americans are too shrewd for them, is
true enough. But certainly there is plenty of room for a large population,
and I should prefer that the race that has most enterprise should come and
cultivate the country with us."

Thus the conversation continued for two hours. Young Carson modestly
suggested that it would be better if the Spaniards were less cruel in
breaking in their horses.

"Your horses," said he, "would make excellent buffalo hunters with proper
training. I have some horses at camp, that I intend shall see buffalo. But
why do you not deal gently with them when they are first caught? You might
thus preserve all the spirit they have in the herd. Pardon me, but I think
that in taming your horses you break their spirits."

"I sometimes think so too," the Spanish gentleman replied. "We mount one
just caught from the drove, and ride him until he becomes gentle from
exhaustion. Our custom is brought from Spain. It answers well enough with
us, where our horses go in droves; and when one is used up, we turn him
out and take up another."

When young Carson took his leave, the Spaniard, with true Castilian
courtesy, pressed his hand, thanked him for his visit, and promised to
return it at the camp. It was thus instinctively that Kit Carson,
naturally a gentleman, took his position among gentlemen.

In the meantime most of the rude trappers, seeming to be almost of a
different nature from Kit Carson, were indulging in a drunken carouse at
Los Angelos. They got into a brawl with the Mexicans. Knives were drawn,
wounds inflicted, and one Mexican was killed.

It became necessary to get these men away as soon as possible. Carson was
sent forward a day's march, with all who could be collected. The next day
Mr. Young followed, having with much difficulty gathered the remainder of
the band. Soon the party was reunited, and the men were recovered from
their shameful debauch. Then for nine days they vigorously continued their
march homeward, when they again reached the banks of the Colorado river,
not far from the spot where they had crossed it before.

Here they encamped for a few days, while most of the men ranged the stream
for many miles up and down, still very successfully setting their traps.
Carson, with half a dozen men, was left to guard the camp. It was a
responsible position. Nearly all the horses were there, and all the
treasures of furs which they had gathered in their long and laborious
excursion. As the animals were turned out to graze, the packs, which were
taken from them, were arranged in a circular form so as to enclose quite a
space, like a fortress. These bundles of furs not even a bullet could
penetrate. Thus Kit Carson reared for himself and men a rampart, as
General Jackson protected his troops with cotton bags at New Orleans.

Scarcely was this work completed, when a band of five hundred Indians was
seen approaching. As usual, they stopped at a short distance from the
fortified camp, and a few of the warriors, laying aside their arms and
expressing by words and gestures the utmost friendliness, came forward and
were admitted into the camp. They were followed by others. Soon there were
enough stalwart savages there easily to overpower, in a hand-to-hand
fight, the feeble garrison of but six men. Carson's suspicions were
excited, and watching their movements with an eagle eye, he soon
discovered that they all had concealed weapons.

Without the slightest apparent alarm he quietly summoned his men, with
their rifles, into one corner of the enclosure. Then in his usual soft
voice he directed each man to take deliberate aim at some one of the
prominent chiefs. He himself presented the muzzle of his rifle within a
few yards of the head of the leader of the now astonished and affrighted
party. This was all the work of a moment. Then calmly he said to the
leader, "leave this fort instantly or you are dead men." A moment of
hesitation on their part, a word of parleying would have been followed by
the simultaneous discharge of the rifles, and six of the warriors at
least, would have been numbered with the dead. In a moment the fort was
cleared, and the savages did not stop until they had got beyond the reach
of rifle bullets.

One of these Indians could speak Spanish. Thus Kit Carson again found the
inestimable advantage of his winter's studies in the cabin of Kin Cade.
The Indians, five hundred in number, might easily, at the expense of the
loss of a few lives, have overpowered the white men, and seized all their
animals and their goods. But Carson well knew their habits, and that they
would never hazard a contest where they must with certainty expect a
number of their own warriors to be slain. Friendly relations were opened
with the Indians, only two or three being admitted to the fort at a time.
The animals were tethered in the rich herbage within the protection of
their rifles and were carefully watched, night and day.

In a few days the men who had left the camp on a trapping expedition,
returned. The whole united company then followed down the south bank of
the Colorado, setting their traps every night, until they reached its tide
waters. From that point they struck over east to the river Gila, and
trapped up the western banks of that river until they reached the mouth of
the San Pedro, a distance of more than two hundred miles.

Their animals now were very heavily laden with furs, and they were in
great need of more beasts of burden. The following is the account which is
given of the manner in which they obtained a supply. It certainly looks
very suspicious. It is not improbable that the Indians, had they any
historians, would give a very different version of the story.

"Near the mouth of the San Pedro river they discovered a large herd of
horses and mules. On a closer examination they found that they were in
possession of a band of Indians, who had formerly given them some of their
gratuitous hostilities. Not having forgotten their former troubles with
these people, they determined to pay them off in their own coin by
depriving them of the herd. A short search sufficed to discover the Indian
camp. Without waiting an instant, they put their horses to their speed,
and charged in among the huts. The Indians were so completely taken by
surprise, that they became panic-struck, and fled in every direction. They
however rallied somewhat and a running fight commenced, which lasted some
time, but which did not change matters in favor of the Indians. The entire
herd fell into the possession of the trappers.

"On the same evening, after the men had wrapped themselves up in their
blankets, and laid down for sleep, and while enjoying their slumbers, a
noise reached their ears which sounded very much like distant thunder. But
a close application of the sense of hearing showed plainly that an enemy
was near at hand. Springing up, with rifle in hand, for generally in the
mountains a man's gun rests in the same blanket with himself, on all
sleeping occasions, they sallied forth to reconnoitre, and discovered a
few warriors driving along a band of at least two hundred horses. The
trappers comprehended instantly that the warriors had been to the Mexican
settlement in Sonora, on a thieving expedition, and that the horses had
changed hands, with only one party to the bargain. The opportunity to
instill a lesson on the savage marauders was too good to be lost.

"They saluted the thieves with a volley from their rifles, which, with the
bullets whizzing about their heads and bodies, so astonished them that
they seemed almost immediately to forget their stolen property, and to
think only of a precipitous flight. In a few moments the whites found
themselves masters of the field and also of the property. To return, the
animals to their owners was an impossibility. Mr. Young, therefore,
selected as many of the best horses as he needed for himself and men, and,
game being very scarce, killed two, and dried most of the meat for future
use, turning the remainder loose."

Such were the morals of the wilderness. Mr. Young resolved himself into a
court, of which he was legislator, judge, jury and executioner. The
property of others he could confiscate at pleasure, for his own use. The
Indians probably retaliated upon the first band of white men which came
within their power. And this retaliation would be deemed an act of wanton
savage barbarism demanding the extinction of a tribe.

Continuing their march up the Gila river, trapping all the way, from its
head waters they struck across the country to Santa Fe. Here they found a
ready market for their furs, at twelve dollars a pound. Their mules were
laden down with two thousand pounds. Thus the pecuniary results of the
trip amounted to the handsome sum of twenty four thousand dollars. The
trappers, flush with money, returned to Taos. The vagabonds of the party
soon squandered their earnings in rioting, and were then eager to set out
on another excursion. It was now April, 1830.

Young Carson was at this time a very handsome young man of twenty-one
years. He had obtained a high reputation, and his pockets were full of
money, with which he scarcely knew what to do. It is said that, for a
time, he was led astray by the convivial temptations with which he was
surrounded. To what length he went we cannot ascertain. There is no
available information upon this point. Perhaps the whole story is but one
of those slanders to which all men are exposed. One of his annalists
writes:

"Young Kit, at this period of his life, imitated the example set by his
elders, for he wished to be considered by them as an equal and a friend.
He however passed through this terrible ordeal, which most frequently
ruins its votary, and eventually came out brighter, clearer and more noble
for the conscience polish which he received. He contracted no bad habits,
but learned the usefulness and happiness of resisting temptation; and
became so well schooled that he was able, by the caution and advice of
wisdom founded on experience, to prevent many a promising and skilful hand
from grasping ruin in the same vortex."

In the fall of this year Kit joined another trapping expedition. Its
destination was to the innumerable streams and valleys among the Rocky
mountains. Mr. Fitzpatrick, a man of good reputation and a veteran
trapper, had charge of the party. Crossing a pass of the Rocky mountains,
they pursued their route in a direction nearly north, a distance of about
three hundred miles, till they reached the head waters of the Platte
river. They were now on the eastern side of those gigantic ranges which
form the central portion of the North American Continent.

Here, in the midst of the mountains, the winter was inclement, with
piercing blasts and deep snows. Still the trappers, warmly clad,
vigorously pursued both hunting and trapping, availing themselves of
every pleasant day. In inclement weather they gathered joyously around
their ample camp-fires, finding ever enough to do in cooking, dressing
their skins, repairing garments, making moccasins, and in keeping their
guns and knives in order. Some of these valleys were found sheltered and
sunny. Even in mid-winter there were days of genial warmth. They
occasionally changed their camp and trapped along the banks of the Green,
the Bear and the Salmon rivers.

During the winter one sad incident occurred. Four of the trappers who were
out in pursuit of game, were surrounded and overpowered by a numerous
party of Blackfeet Indians, and all were killed. There were buffaloes in
abundance in that region, and these animals found ample forage, as they
had the range of hundreds of miles, and instinct guided them to sheltered
and verdant glens. But in some of the narrow, wind-swept valleys the
animals of the trappers suffered from exposure and want of food. They were
kept alive by cutting down cottonwood trees and gathering the bark and
branches for fodder. But the trappers themselves, having abundance of
game, fared sumptuously.

The beaver is so intelligent that he is one of the most difficult animals
in the world to entrap. Marvellous stories are told by the hunters of his
sagacity. Many of the Indians believe that the beavers have human
intelligence. They say that the only difference between the beaver and the
Indian, is that the latter has been endowed by the Great Spirit with
capabilities to catch the former.

Among these bleak, barren, gigantic ridges there are many lovely valleys
to be found, scores of miles in length and width. Here are found two
extensive natural parks, of extraordinary beauty. Apparently no landscape
gardener could have laid them out more tastefully. There are wide-spread
lawns, sometimes level as a floor, sometimes gently undulating, smooth,
green and at times decorated with an almost inconceivable brilliance of
flowers. Here and there groves are sprinkled, entirely free from
underbrush. There are running streams and crystal lakelets. Birds of
brilliant plumage sport upon the waters. Buffaloes, often in immense
numbers, crop the luxuriant herbage. Deer, elks and antelopes bound over
these fields, reminding one of his childish visions of Paradise. In the
streams otter and beaver find favorite haunts.

During the winter, as business was a little dull, Kit Carson and four of
his companions set off on a private hunting expedition. They were gone
about six weeks. Soon after their return, in the latter part of January,
a party of Crow Indians, one very dark night, succeeded in stealthily
approaching the camp and in driving off nine of the animals which were
grazing at a short distance. It was not until morning that the loss was
discovered.

As usual Kit Carson was sent, at the head of twelve men, in pursuit of the
thieves. They selected their best horses, for it was certain that the
Indians would make no delay in their flight. It was found quite difficult
to follow their trail, for, during the night, a herd of several thousand
buffaloes had crossed and recrossed it, quite trampling it out of sight.
Still the sagacity of Carson triumphed, and after being baffled for a
short time, he again with certainty struck the trail.

For forty miles the pursuit was continued with much vigor. The horses then
began to give out. Night was approaching. Carson thought it necessary to
go into camp till morning, that the horses might be refreshed and
recruited. There was a grove near by. Just as they were entering it for
their sheltered encampment, Kit Carson saw the smoke of Indian fires at no
great distance in advance of him. He had no doubt that the smoke came from
the encampment of the party he was pursuing.

The Indians had fled from the north. Of course it would be from the north
that they would look for the approach of their pursuers. The southern
borders of their camp would consequently be less carefully guarded. The
trappers remained quietly in their hiding-place until midnight. They then
took a wide circuit, so as to approach the Indians from the south. The
savages seemed to have lost all fear of pursuit, for the gleam of their
triumphal fires shone far and wide, and the shouts of their barbaric
revelry resounded over the prairie.

Very cautiously Carson and his men approached, availing themselves of
every opportunity of concealment, creeping for a long distance upon their
hands and knees. Having arrived within half gunshot they gazed upon a very
singular spectacle, and one which would have been very alarming to any men
but those accustomed to the perils of the wilderness.

A large number of Indian warriors, painted, plumed and decorated in the
highest style of savage taste, were celebrating what they deemed a victory
over the white men. Their camp was in a beautiful grove, on what would be
called an undulating prairie. There was some broken ground which
facilitated the approach of the trappers. The nine horses they had stolen
were tethered in some rich grass, at a short distance from the encampment.
The Indians had erected two large huts, or wigwams, which, in their
caution, they had constructed partially as forts into which they could
retreat and protect themselves should they be attacked.

The large fires were burning hotly. At these fires they had roasted two
horses, and had feasted to satiety. They were now dancing franticly around
these fires, brandishing their weapons, shouting their rude songs of
defiance and exultation, interspersed with occasional bursts of the shrill
and piercing war-whoop. The savages outnumbered the trappers many to one.
They were also armed with rifles and had learned how to use them
skillfully. Thus, in view of a battle, the odds seemed fearfully against
the trappers.

It was a dark night in January, and a piercing winter wind swept the
prairie. Even savage muscles will get weary in the frenzied dance, and the
continuously repeated war-whoop will exhaust the most stentorian lungs.
Carson ordered his men to remain perfectly quiet in their concealment. As
they had but a scanty allowance of clothing, they suffered much from the
intense cold. Soon after midnight the savages threw themselves down around
the fires and most of them were soon soundly asleep.

Kit Carson then, with five of his companions, cautiously crept towards the
horses, drew out the picket-pins and led them a short distance to a place
of concealment nearer their own camp. Several of the party were then in
favor of returning, with their recovered property, as rapidly as possible.
They would have several hours advantage of the savages, and they thought
it not advisable to provoke a conflict with foes outnumbering them, and
who were also armed with rifles.

But Mr. Carson said, "our horses are exhausted. We cannot travel fast. We
shall certainly be pursued. The Indians can judge from our trail how few
we are in numbers. They are perfectly acquainted with the country. They
can select their point of attack. With their large numbers they can
surround us. First they will shoot our horses. Then we shall be on foot
and at their mercy. We now can take them by surprise. Our only safety
consists in so weakening them, and appalling them by the vehemence of our
attack, that they will have no heart to renew the conflict."

We do not profess to give Mr. Carson's precise words. These were his
views. They were so manifestly correct that all, at once, fell in with
them. The united party then again advanced, with rifles cocked and primed,
towards the Indian camp. The trappers were in the shade. The recumbent
forms of the sleeping Indians were revealed by the smouldering fires. When
they were within a few yards of the foe, an Indian dog gave the alarm.
Instantly every savage sprang to his feet, presenting a perfect target to
these marksmen who never missed their aim. There was almost an
instantaneous discharge of rifles and thirteen Indian warriors fell
weltering in their blood.

The rest, thus suddenly awoke from sound sleep, witnessing the sudden
carnage, and with no foe visible, fled precipitately to their forts. But
the trappers instantly reloaded their pieces and, secure from harm, in the
darkness, and behind the trees, struck with the bullet every exposed
Indian, and five more fell. This was an awful loss to the Indians. Still
they greatly outnumbered the whites. But they were caught in a trap. They
had neither food nor water in their forts. Not an Indian could creep from
them without encountering certain death.

Upon the dawn of day the Indians were able to ascertain that their foes
were but few in number. As the only possible resort, which could save them
from destruction, they decided to make a simultaneous rush, from the forts
into the grove, and to take their stand also behind the protection of the
trees. This would give them, with their superior numbers, the advantage
over the trappers. They were good marksmen with the rifle, and were
accustomed to that style of fighting. Mr. Carson was prepared for this
movement. They made the rush, and they met their doom. Thirteen more
warriors were struck down, either killed or severely wounded.

The Indians had now lost thirty-one warriors. Discouraged and appalled
they retreated. The way was now clear for the return of Kit Carson. The
savages made no attempts to obstruct their path. With all the horses which
had been stolen, and without a man injured, this Napoleon of the
wilderness re-entered the camp to be greeted by the cheers of his
comrades.

CHAPTER V.

Marches and Encampments.

Mr. Fitzpatrick, with his party of trappers, wandering to and fro, found
himself at length encamped on the head waters of the Arkansas river, in
the heart of the Rocky mountains, more than a thousand miles from the
point where that majestic stream empties into the Mississippi. Their
intercourse with the Indians had not been such as to secure friendly
relations. Powerful tribes were around them, ready to combine for their
destruction. The men were widely scattered in their trapping excursions,
and but few were left here to guard the camp and the furs already taken.

It is impossible to trace with accuracy the course pursued by these
different bands, neither is it a matter of any moment. Kit found himself
at one time, left with but one man to guard the camp. He was fully
conscious of his danger, and made every possible preparation for defence,
should they be attacked. With food in abundance, loop-holes properly
arranged, and a number of rifles ever ready loaded, no war-party, however
numerous, could seize the fort without the loss of many of their men. And
as we have said, the boldest of these warriors were never willing to
expose themselves unprotected to rifle shot.

Neither of the men dared to venture far from their camp for game.
Fortunately this was not necessary. Game existed in such abundance that,
almost from the door of their fortification, they could shoot any quantity
they needed. They always kept a careful guard. While one slept the other
watched. For a month these two men were in this lonely position. At the
end of that time Mr. Blackwell, one of the partners in one of these
expeditions, arrived with fifteen fresh men, and a very thorough outfit.
It was a joyful meeting, and the whole party, taking with them their furs,
commenced a march to the Salt springs, near the head waters of the Platte
river.

These adventurers had been but four days on their route, when one morning
as they were breakfasting, the guard gave the startling cry of "Indians."
Every man was instantly on his feet, rifle in hand. The horses of the
trappers were at but a short distance from the camp, turned loose to crop
the grass, which was there scanty, wherever they could find it. But when
Kit Carson was in a company nothing was ever left to chance. The animals
were all carefully hobbled, a hind foot and a fore foot so bound together
that they could not possibly run.

The Indians, on fleet horses, with flaunting pennons, hair streaming in
the wind, and uttering demoniac yells, came down like the sweep of the
tornado upon the animals. Their object was to cause a stampede, that is,
to throw the animals into such a panic that they would break away from
everything, and follow the Indian horses off into the boundless prairie.
The trappers thus left without any steeds, would find pursuit impossible.

The movement was so sudden and so rapid that, though several shots were
fired, but one Indian was struck. He fell dead upon the sod. One horse
only was lost. One of the warriors, as he was passing by on the full run,
succeeded in cutting the cord of a rearing, struggling steed, and the
terrified animal disappeared with the mounted herd. Had it not been for
the precaution of hobbling the horses, probably every one would have been
lost in this attempted stampede. What is usually called good luck, is
almost always the result of wise precautions. In reference to this adroit
mode of horse-stealing adopted by the Indians, it is written:

"These stampedes are a source of great profit to the Indians of the
Plains. It is by this means they deprive the caravans of their animals.
The Comanches are particularly expert and daring in this kind of robbery.
They even train horses to run from one given point to another, in
expectation of caravans. When a camp is made which is nearly in range,
they turn their trained animals loose, who at once fly across the plain,
penetrating and passing through the camp of their victims. All of the
picketed animals will attempt to follow, and usually succeed. Such are
invariably led into the haunts of the thieves, who easily secure them.

"Young horses and mules are easily frightened. And, in the havoc which
generally ensues, oftentimes great injury is done to the runaways
themselves. The sight of a stampede on a grand scale, requires steady
nerves to witness without tremor. And woe to the footman who cannot get
out of the way when the frightened animals come along. At times, when the
herd is large, the horses scatter over the open country and are
irrecoverably lost.

"A favorite policy of the Indian horse thieves is to creep into camp, cut
loose one animal and thoroughly frighten him. This animal seldom fails to
frighten the remainder, when away they all go with long ropes and
picket-pins dangling after them. The latter sometimes act like harpoons,
being thrown with such impetus as to strike and instantly kill a valuable
steed from among the brother runaways. At other times the limbs of the
running horses get entangled in the ropes, and they are suddenly thrown.
Such seldom escape without broken legs or severe contusions, which are
often incurable. The necessity of travelling on, without delay, renders it
an impossibility to undertake the cure, when it might be practicable under
other circumstances."

The next day the party of trappers travelled fifty miles, till they
thought themselves beyond the reach of the hostile savages. Still they
knew how stealthily their trail might be followed, and they were vigilant
to guard against surprise. They selected, for their night's encampment, a
beautiful spot upon the banks of a clear mountain stream, which emptied
into the Arkansas river. They had there a smooth and verdant meadow, of
limited extent, affording fine pasturage. Here the wearied animals were
strongly picketed. There was also a grove, where they could obtain fuel
and timber for such camp protection as they might require.

It was nearly dark when they reached this spot, hungry and tired after
the long journey of the day. But their camp-fires soon blazed brightly.
Rich viands of choice cuts of venison and other game, were cooked by
artistic hands. And the mountain springs afforded them cool and delicious
water. With ravenous appetites they partook of a feast which any gourmand
might covet. And then wrapped in their furs, and surrounded by the silence
and solitude of the wilderness, with the whole wild scene illumined by
their fires, they fell asleep. In accordance with invariable custom a
careful guard was set.

They had one cause of solicitude, which to any person unfamiliar with
mountain life would have been very serious; the place abounded with
rattlesnakes. The whole region seemed to be a favorite rendezvous for
these venomous reptiles. These mountaineers, however, had become so
thoroughly acquainted with their habits, as to sleep in the midst of them
without anxiety. In the night the rattlesnake seldom moves, in the daytime
with his rattles he gives chivalric warning before he strikes with his
fangs. Consequently it is not often that the trapper or the Indian is
bitten.

Our travellers carefully examined the ground over which they reared their
frail shelters, and then folded in their blankets or buffalo robes,
experienced no solicitude. About midnight a faithful dog began to bark
furiously. It was not doubted that the sagacious animal scented the
approach of Indians. Every trapper was instantly on his feet, with his
rifle in his hand. Their attention was immediately directed to the horses.
The Indians were professional thieves, not murderers; they were in search
of booty, not of revenge. And when they sought to take the lives of the
trappers, it was merely as a necessary means for attaining their end of
robbery.

It subsequently appeared that the Indians were undoubtedly near, and that
the dog had not given a false alarm. The savages probably from their
covert, saw that the animals were strongly tethered, and that the trappers
were on the alert. Any attempt to stampede the horses, would expose them
to the bullets of these unerring marksmen. They therefore withdrew,
waiting for a more favorable opportunity. After an hour of watching, the
trappers, about seventeen in number, having posted an extra guard, lay
down again, but not for sleep. They expected every moment to see a band of
mounted savages, perhaps several hundred in number, coming with the sweep
of the whirlwind upon their horses, and yelling like demons, as they drove
the terrified animals far away into the wilderness. The night, however,
passed away without further disturbance. As the morning dawned serene and
cloudless upon them, all suspicions seem to have been dispelled. They
replenished their fires, cooked their savory breakfast, and decided to
remain for a day or two in their delightful encampment. The region
abounded with the most desirable game, and it was thought that beaver
might be found in the adjacent streams.

Kit Carson had a remarkably retentive memory, and a wonderful aptitude for
comprehending the mazes of rivers, mountains, and valleys. He had very
thoroughly studied the geography of these regions, and told his companions
that at a distance of a few miles, there was a much larger stream than
that upon which they were encamped; and that he had been informed that
beaver were to be found there in abundance. There were two ways of
approaching that stream; the shorter, but more difficult one, was by
clambering over a mountain ridge several hundred feet high, and then
descending into the valley beyond, through which the river flowed. The
other and much longer route, was to follow down the small stream upon
whose banks they were encamped, for several miles, until they reached its
entrance into the larger river.

Four of the trappers, led by Kit Carson, undertook to cross this Rocky
Mountain peak, and explore the valley beyond. They mounted four horses,
laden with their traps, and other articles essential for a short trapping
excursion. Probably the Indians, hidden in the distance, were with keen
eyes watching every movement at the camp. Carson and his companions had
been absent but about four hours, and others of the party were dispersed
in search of game, when a large band of Indians, mounted on fleet horses,
with flaunting pennons, and hair streaming in the wind, and making the
cliffs resound with their yells, succeeded in liberating a large number of
the horses, and with their booty, rapidly disappeared down the winding
glen.

This all took place in almost less time than it has required to describe
it. The hardihood and fearlessness of these hunters is signally manifest
in the fact that four of these men instantly grasped their rifles, and
springing upon four of the fleetest of their remaining horses, set out in
pursuit of these savages, who outnumbered them ten to one. The narrowness
of the glen was such, that the pursuers had the decided advantage over the
spoil-encumbered pursued. They soon overtook them, and opened upon them a
deliberate and deadly fire. One warrior fell dead from his horse. The
others, imminently exposed to the same fate, with terror abandoned the
drove they had captured, and soon disappeared in their rapid flight. The
horses were all regained, and with them the victorious party returned to
the camp. One of the men however was seriously wounded, having been struck
by a bullet from one of the Indian warriors, several of whom were armed
with rifles.

In the meantime, Carson and his companions, after surmounting great
difficulties, reached the valley they sought, and to their disappointment,
found no beaver there. Crossing the ridge had proved so difficult, that
they decided to return by the more circuitous route of the two valleys. As
they were riding along on their pathless way, they suddenly came upon four
Indian warriors, evidently on the war-path; painted, plumed and armed in
the highest style of military decoration. The four Indians instantly
turned their horses and fled. The four trappers at once spurred on their
steeds, and pursued them.

They were dashing on at their highest speed, when suddenly they found they
had been led into an ambush. Sixty warriors came rushing upon them from
behind the hill, where they had been concealed. The trappers had no time
for deliberation. There was but one possible escape. It was to run the
gauntlet. Bowing down to the necks of their horses, so as to expose their
persons as little as possible to bullets or arrows, they urged their
steeds to their utmost speed. The horses had an instinctive dread of the
Indian. Sharing the alarm of their riders, they became frantic with
terror, and needed no urging in their impetuous race. The Indians were
often within sixty feet of their victims, and bullets and arrows flew
thickly around the trappers. But both parties being on the fiercest run,
and there being interposing obstacles of rocks, and shrubs, and trees,
accurate aim was impossible. As the fugitives drew near their camp, the
Indians relinquished the pursuit. One of the men had been struck by an
arrow and wounded.

It was late in the afternoon when these heroic men were all re-assembled
around the camp-fires, to recount the adventures of the day. With the
sleeplessness of the preceding night, and the toil and peril which the
rising sun had ushered in, they were all exceedingly exhausted. Still the
consciousness that they were surrounded by a vigilant and powerful foe,
rendered it necessary for them to adopt every precaution for their safety.
They tethered their horses with very great care, near their camp. They
prepared hasty ramparts which guarded every approach; and having
established a very careful guard, sought that repose which all so greatly
needed. The night passed without alarm.

At the distance of four days' march, there was another encampment of
trappers, under Mr. Gaunt. They decided as speedily as possible to join
them. But the two wounded men found their wounds so inflamed that they
could not travel. The trappers, accustomed to such exigencies, prepared
for them litters very ingeniously constructed. They cut two flexible poles
about twenty-four feet long. These were laid upon the ground, three feet
apart, and a buffalo robe laid between them, strongly fastened on either
side, so as to present a swinging hammock about six feet in length. This
left at either end shafts about six feet long. Two mules or horses, of
about the same size were selected as carriers. The ends of these shafts
were attached to saddles, on each of the animals. Thus the patient was
borne by a gentle, swinging motion, over the roughest paths.

In four days they reached Gaunt's camp. The whole united party set out for
the lovely region to which we have before alluded, known as the Great
Park. Here they found beautiful scenery, game in abundance, a delicious
climate, rich pasturage for their animals, but no beavers. Other trapping
parties had just preceded them, and emptied all the streams of their furs.
For a week or two they wandered far and wide, setting their traps in vain.
At length Kit Carson, weary of such profitless pursuits, took two chosen
companions with him, and with the hearty good wishes of Mr. Gaunt and the
remaining trappers, set out on an expedition on his own account.

He plunged directly into the very heart of the mountains, where game not
being abundant he would be less likely to be annoyed by the savages. His
experience and sagacity guided him safely and successfully. For several
months these three men wandered about among these lonely streams, which
even the Indian rarely visited. They found beaver in abundance, and
loading down their animals with the well packed furs, set out on their
perilous journey home. It was necessary for them to pass over miles of
open prairie, where Indian bands were ever found pursuing buffalo, deer
and other game. It would seem that a miracle only could preserve them from
attack, and they were too few in numbers for a persistent defence.

The sagacity of Kit Carson, however, triumphed over all the obstacles he
had to encounter. He traversed the forest and the prairie undiscovered,
and reached Taos with all his animals and their precious freight. Here he
found furs in great demand. Traders were there from various parts of the
States, ready to purchase his supply at the highest prices. Kit Carson was
abundantly rewarded for all his toil, and for a mountain trapper, might be
deemed rich. His two companions speedily squandered their earnings in all
kinds of extravagant and senseless revelry. Mr. Carson, having perhaps
learned wisdom from past experience, judiciously invested the sums he had
acquired.

Mr. Carson had now very decidedly stepped out from the ranks of
vagabondage, in which so many of the reckless trappers were wandering, and
had entered the more congenial association with intelligent and respected
men. There was at that time at Taos, a gentleman by the name of Lee. He
had the title of Captain, having been formerly an officer in the United
States army. He was then a partner in the firm of Bent and Vrain,
merchants of renown in the fur trade. This firm, in the eager pursuit for
furs, had dispatched Captain Lee to these remote frontiers in New Mexico.

Bands of energetic trappers were penetrating streams and valleys, over
distances thousands of miles in extent. Many of the Indians also, seeking
lucrative trade with the white men, had purchased steel traps and had
become quite successful in the capture of beavers. Captain Lee had
obtained a large number of mules. These he was to load with packs,
containing such goods as he thought would be the most eagerly sought for
by the trappers. Then with a cavalcade of perhaps forty or fifty mules,
horses for his party to ride, and spare horses to meet any accidental
loss, he was to set out on a long tour of hundreds of miles, climbing the
mountains, threading the valleys, crossing the prairies in search of these
widely wandering bands.

In exchange for his goods he received furs; and the mules returned with
their freightage of very rich treasure. This was in the latter part of
October, 1832. Captain Lee became acquainted with Kit Carson, and
immediately appreciated his unusual excellencies as a companion in an
enterprise so arduous and perilous, as that in which he was engaged. He
made him so liberal an offer to join his company, that Mr. Carson promptly
accepted it.

There is a narrow mule-path which has been traversed for ages, between New
Mexico and California. The mules and the Indians ever travel it in single
file. It was then known by the name of The Old Spanish Trail.

As merchants, not trappers, they marched, without any delay, down White
river, forded Green river, and struck across the country to Windy river.
Ascending its windings, they reached the camp of Mr. Robidoux, who, with
twenty men in his employ, was there setting his traps. They had scarcely
arrived at the encampment, when snow began to fall, and an early winter
seemed to be setting in. It was deemed expedient for the united party to
establish winter quarters there. They erected very comfortable lodges, of
buffalo skins, quite impervious to wind and rain, and made everything snug
for a mountain home. They had food in abundance, ample materials for
making and repairing their clothing, and when gathered around their bright
and warm camp-fires seemed to be in want of nothing.

Attached to Mr. Robidoux's company there was an Indian of great strength
and agility, in whom much confidence was reposed. He had become very
expert with the rifle, and had shrewdly studied all the white man's modes
of attack and defence. Horses were in this remote region very valuable.
They could not easily be obtained, and were indispensable to transport the
furs. They were worth two hundred dollars each.

This Indian, one night, selected six of the fleetest horses, and mounting
one and leading the rest, with his stolen property, disappeared over the
trackless waste. It was a sum total loss of twelve hundred dollars. But
the immediate pecuniary loss was not all, for the horses could not easily
be replaced, and without them all the movements of the trapping party were
greatly crippled. Mr. Robidoux, knowing Kit Carson's reputation for
sagacity and courage, immediately applied to him to pursue the Indian. It
was just one of those difficult and hazardous enterprises which was
congenial to the venturous spirit of Carson.

There was a friendly tribe of Indians in the vicinity, in which there was
a young warrior whose chivalric spirit had won the confidence and regard
of Carson. This young man was easily induced to join him in the chase. But
a short time was required for preparation. Grasping their rifles, and
taking their blankets, they each mounted a fine horse and set out in
pursuit of the fugitive, who had several hours the start of them. The wary
thief had so successfully concealed the direction of his flight that it
took them some time to discover his trail. Having at length found it, they
set off, at the highest speed which they felt that their animals could
endure. Over soft ground, the marks left by six horses, running in one
compact band, could be without difficulty followed. But at times the
nature of the soil was such that but a very indistinct imprint of their
footprints was left.

As the thief, in his flight, conscious that he might be overtaken, would
make no difference between day and night, it was necessary that his
pursuers should also press on without allowing darkness to delay them.
This added greatly to the difficulty of following the trail. But the
sagacity of Carson and his intelligent Indian comrade triumphed over all
these obstacles. For one hundred miles they followed the fugitive with
unerring precision. But now they encountered a serious calamity.

This singular race was down the valley of the Green river. The Indian's
horse suddenly gave out completely. He could go no farther. Nothing
remained for Carson but to relinquish the pursuit, and slowly to return
with the dismounted Indian, or to continue the chase alone. Carson could
not endure the thought of failure. His pride of character led him ever to
resolve to accomplish whatever he should undertake. He seems not at all to
have thought of the peril he would encounter in grappling with the savage
alone. The Indian was of herculean size and strength, and of wonderful
agility. He was well armed, and thoroughly understood the use of his
rifle. His bravery had already given him renown, and it was certain that
under the circumstances he would fight with the utmost desperation.

Kit Carson, on the other hand, was slender and almost boyish in stature.
In a conflict with the burly savage it would be a David meeting a Goliath.

It was a peculiarity of Mr. Carson's mind, that his decisions were
instantaneous. He never lost any time in deliberation; but whatever the
emergency, he seemed instinctively to know at the moment, exactly the best
thing to be done. The most mature subsequent deliberation invariably
proved the wisdom of the course he had adopted. This was said to have been
a marked peculiarity in the mind of Napoleon I. However great the
complication of affairs, however immense the results at issue, his mind at
a single flash discerned the proper measures to be adopted; and without
the slightest agitation the decision was pushed into execution.

Carson looked for a moment upon his unhorsed comrade, uttered no words of
lamentation, bade him good bye, wished him a successful return, and pushed
forward on his truly heroic enterprise. Thirty miles farther he rode alone
through the wilderness, carefully husbanding his horse's strength,
allowing him occasional moments of rest, and not unfrequently relieving
him of his burden as he ran along by his side. Though Mr. Carson was, as
we have said, very fragile in form, his sinews seemed tireless as if
wrought of steel.

At length, just as he was rounding a small eminence on the open prairie,
he caught sight of the Indian with his stolen cavalcade, not an eighth of
a mile before him. He was mounted on one of the most powerful of the
steeds, moving leisurely along, leading the rest. There chanced to be two
or three trees not far from the savage. The moment he caught sight of
Carson, his keen eye discerned who his foe was. Instantly he leaped from
his horse, rifle in hand, and rushed at his highest speed for the trees.
Could he but reach that covert, Carson's fate was sealed beyond any
possibility of escape. Sheltered by the trunk of the tree, he could take
deliberate aim at his foe, exposed on the open prairie within half rifle
shot.

Carson comprehended the peril of his position. He sprang from his horse,
unslung his rifle, took calm and sure aim, and just at the moment when the
Indian was reaching his covert, the sharp report was heard, the bullet
whistled through the air, the Indian gave one convulsive bound and fell
dead upon the sod. The savage had already cocked his rifle. As he fell the
piece was discharged, and the bullet intended for Carson's heart, whizzed
harmlessly through the air. Such scenes were of constant occurrence in
this wild mountaineer life. They produced no lasting impression. The
shooting of a bear, a buffalo or an Indian seemed about alike eventful.
These pioneers being entirely beyond the protection of law, were compelled
to be a law to themselves.

Mr. Carson collected the horses, who were all very weary, and quietly
commenced his return home. He did not urge the animals at all, allowed
them to feed abundantly on the rich prairie, and after a few days'
journey, modestly entered the camp with his recaptured animals all in
good condition. This was another of those victories which Carson was
continually winning, and which were giving him increased renown.

A few days after his return to the encampment, two or three wandering
trappers entered their lodges, and informed them that a numerous party
were encamped on Snake river, about fifteen days' journey from them. This
party was in the employ of two men quite distinguished in the fur trade,
Messrs. Fitzpatrick and Bridger. Snake river is one of the tributaries of
Green river, or rather flowing from the western declivities of the Rocky
mountains, it first enters Bear river, then Green river, then the Colorado
river, down whose current it flows a distance of more than a thousand
miles into the gulf of California.

The encampment at Snake river was five or six hundred miles almost due
north from Taos. West of the Rocky mountains the climate is much more mild
than in the same latitudes east of those gigantic ridges. Though it was
mid-winter, and though many snow-storms were to be encountered, Mr. Lee
decided to set out immediately on that journey, doubting not that he could
readily dispose of his remaining goods to Messrs. Fitzpatrick and Bridger.

The execution of this enterprise would require a very laborious march;
but still one not fraught with much danger from the severity of the cold.
Though there were often treeless prairies, whose bleak expanse they must
traverse, all the streams, even the smallest, were fringed with forests.
Suitable precaution would enable them every night to obtain the shelter of
some one of these groves. They were almost certain during the day to
obtain all the game they would need. A couple of hours' work with their
axes, would enable them to rear a sufficient shelter for the night. With
an immense fire roaring, and crackling, and throwing out its genial warmth
in front of their camp, they could, wrapped in their furs and with their
feet to the fire, enjoy all the comfort which the pioneers of the
wilderness could desire. No matter how dismally the wintry storm might
wail through the tree-tops, no matter how fiercely the smothering,
drifting snow-storm might sweep the prairie, they, in their warm and
illuminated cabins, could bid defiance alike to gale and drift. Their
hardy animals, ever accustomed to unsheltered life in winter as well as
summer, knew well how to find the grass beneath the snow, or to browse
upon the succulent foliage.

The journey, though it proved very toilsome, was successfully
accomplished. Captain Lee, with Carson, and their accompanying band,
having reached the Snake river encampment, readily sold all his goods,
taking his pay in beaver skins. With his rich purchase packed upon the
backs of his horses, he returned to Taos. As there was nothing in Captain
Lee's journey home to require the services of so important a man as Mr.
Carson, the latter decided to remain and unite himself with the trappers.

The party was large, the beavers were scarce, and after the lapse of a
month Mr. Carson decided that the prospect of a rich remuneration in the
distribution of their furs, was not encouraging. He therefore arranged an
expedition on his own account. His popularity as a man and his reputation
as a trapper were such that every man in the party was ready to join him.
He selected three of the best men, and crossing the main ridge of the
Rocky mountains, a distance of about one hundred and fifty miles, reached
the Laramie river, a stream which flowed into the north fork of the
Platte.

The warm airs of spring were now beginning to breathe through these
valleys. On the Laramie and its tributaries, Carson and his companions
continued trapping through the whole summer. They were successful beyond
their highest expectations. As they were to carry their furs for sale to
Taos, which was on the west side of the mountains, they set out, laden
with their goods, to cross the wide and rocky range. It was slow work
threading these defiles, and it required a journey of several days.

One afternoon having travelled for hours through a very dreary and barren
ravine, in which they had found no game, they halted two hours before
sunset. Carson, while his two companions were arranging the camp, set off
with his rifle in pursuit of supper. He had wandered about a mile from the
camp, when he came upon the fresh tracks of some elk. Following their
trail for a little distance, he soon discovered a small herd of the
beautiful animals grazing upon a hill-side, just on the edge of a grove.
Moving with great care, circuitously he entered upon the covert of the
trees, crept up within rifle range, selected the largest and fattest of
the herd, and at the report of the rifle, the animal stood for a moment
shivering as if struck by paralysis, and then dropped dead.

Carson was more than usually elated by his success. The party were all
hungry. The region was extremely wild and barren, and there was great
danger that they would have to go supperless to bed. Scarcely had the echo
of his rifle shot died away, when Carson heard a terrific roar, directly
behind him. Instantly turning his head, he saw two enormous grizzly bears,
coming down upon him at full speed, and at the distance of but a few rods.

The grizzly bear is a larger animal and far more ferocious, than the
black bear. A bullet seems to prick rather than to maim him, and he will
attack the hunter with the most desperate and persevering fierceness.
Carson was helpless. He had discharged his rifle. The brutes were close
upon him, and there were two of them. They could outrun him. His fate
seemed sealed.

For once, Kit Carson was frightened; but not so much so as in the
slightest degree to lose his self-possession. With a lightning glance, his
eye swept the grove, in search of a tree into whose branches he might
climb. He saw one at a little distance, and rushed towards it, pursued by
both of the monsters growling and gnashing their teeth. With wonderful
agility, he sprang and caught a lower branch, and drew himself up into the
tree, just in time to escape the blow which one of the bears struck at him
with his terrific claws. But he had by no means obtained a place of
safety. He had been compelled to drop his rifle in his flight. The grizzly
bear can climb a tree, far more easily than can a man. He was too far
distant from the camp to hope for aid from that quarter. Again it seemed
that a dreadful death was inevitable.

The bears hesitated for a moment, growling and showing their claws and
their white teeth. Quick as thought Carson cut and trimmed from the tree a
stout cudgel, which would neither break nor bend. Soon, one of the
bears commenced climbing the tree. The nose of the bear is very tender,
and is the only point vulnerable to blows.

[Illustration]

Cudgel in hand, Carson took his stand upon one of the branches, and as
soon as the bear's head came within reach, assailed him with such a storm
of blows, that he dropped howling to the ground. The other then made the
attempt to climb the tree, and encountered the same fate. The blows which
the sinewy arm of Carson had inflicted, evidently gave the animals
terrible pain. They filled the forest with their howlings, and endeavored
to bury their snouts beneath the sod. For some time they lingered around
the tree, looking wistfully at their prey, as if loth to leave it. But
they did not venture to incur a repetition of the chastisement they had
already received. At length, with almost a ludicrous aspect of
disconsolateness, they slowly retired into the forest.

Carson waited until assured that they had entirely withdrawn. He then
descended the tree, reloaded his rifle, and repairing to the spot where he
had shot the elk, found that it had already been devoured by wolves. This
adventure had occupied many dreadful hours. It was not until the morning
dawned, that Carson found his way back to his anxious companions in the
camp. He often said that never in his life, had he been exposed to greater
peril, than on this occasion.

CHAPTER VI.

The Rendezvous.

In the morning the party fortunately found, in one of their traps, a
beaver, upon whose not very palatable flesh they breakfasted. The tail of
a beaver when well cooked, is esteemed quite a delicacy. But one tail
would not furnish sufficient food for three men. Fifteen days passed away
before Kit Carson's little band was reunited with the larger company of
Messrs. Fitzpatrick and Bridger. A rendezvous had been appointed at a spot
on Green river, which afforded great attractions for an encampment.

In some unexplained way intelligence had been conveyed, through the
wilderness, to the widely dispersed trappers, that a Fair for trading,
would be held at a very commodious and well-known spot on the
above-mentioned stream. There was here a green, smooth, expanded meadow;
the pasturage was rich; a clear mountain stream rippled through it,
fringed by noble forest trees. The vicinity afforded an abundance of game.
Here they reared their camps and built their roaring fires. Band after
band of trappers and traders came in with loud huzzas. Within a few days
between two and three hundred men were assembled there, with five or six
hundred horses or mules.

On one of the gorgeous days of the Indian summer, the encampment presented
a spectacle of beauty which even to these rude men was enchanting. There
was the distant, encircling outline of the Rocky mountains, many of the
snow-capped peaks piercing the clouds. Scattered through the groves, which
were free from underbrush, and whose surface was carpeted with the tufted
grass, were seen the huts of the mountaineers in every variety of the
picturesque, and even of the grotesque. Some were formed of the well
tanned robes of the buffalo; some of boughs, twigs and bark; some of
massive logs. Before all these huts, fires were burning at all times of
the day, and food was being cooked and devoured by these ever-hungry men.
Haunches of venison, prairie chickens, and trout from the stream, were
emitting their savory odors, as they were turned on their spits before
the glowing embers.

The cattle, not even tethered, were grazing over the fertile plain. It was
indeed a wild, weird-like, semi-barbaric Fair which was thus held in the
very heart of the wilderness. Men of many nationalities were present, in
every variety of grotesque costume; and not a few Indians were there, with
scarcely any costume at all. For nearly two months the Fair continued,
with comings and goings, while hill and plain often resounded with
revelry.

At length the festival was dissolved, and the mountaineers, breaking up
into smaller bands, separated. The traders, with their horses loaded down
with the furs, returned to the marts of civilization. The trappers again
directed their steps to the solitudes of the remoter streams.

Kit Carson joined a party of fifty men, to explore the highest tributaries
of the Missouri river. The region was occupied by a numerous band of
warlike Indians, called Blackfeet. Many of the warriors had obtained
rifles. The itinerant trader could not refrain from furnishing the Indians
with guns and ammunition, at the exorbitant prices which the savages were
ready to pay. It shows the superiority of the white men, that fifty of
them ventured to enter upon these plains and into these defiles, where
thousands of these well-armed warriors were watching for their
destruction.

The enterprise proved more bold than successful. The trappers found the
Indians so vigilant and hostile, that it was necessary to protect
themselves by an intrenched camp. They had to adopt the most wearisome
precautions to protect their animals, never allowing them to graze beyond
rifle distance from the camp, unless under a strong guard. Matters grew
daily more and more desperate. The Indians seemed to be gathering from
great distances, so as almost to surround the encampment. If any small
party wandered a mile, to examine their traps, they were pretty sure to
find the traps stolen, and to be fired upon from ambush. This state of
affairs at length constrained them to quit the country. Like an army,
exposed hourly to an attack from its foes, this heroic band of fifty men
commenced its march in military array, watching with an eagle eye, knowing
not but that at any moment hundreds of strongly mounted, well-armed
savages might come rushing down upon them. They could indulge in no rest,
till they got beyond the territory of the Blackfeet.

A march of one or two hundred miles brought them to the banks of the Big
Snake river. It was the month of November. In those northern latitudes
winter was setting in with much severity. The hill-tops were covered with
snow; the streams were coated with ice; freezing blasts from the mountains
swept the bleak plains and the narrow defiles. It was necessary to go into
winter quarters for a couple of months. But there was no discomfort in
this.

They selected a snug valley having a southern exposure, with a northern
barrier of hills, and in the midst of a wide-spread grove which fringed a
pure mountain stream. There were fifty men. Every man belonged to the
working class. Every man was skilled in the trades of hunting, trapping,
wigwam-building, cooking, and tailoring. A few hours' work reared their
cosey huts. Fuel was cheap and abundant. The broadcloth for their clothing
was already woven on the backs of buffaloes, bears, deer and wolves. Their
own nimble hands speedily formed them into garments impervious to wind and
cold. They had laid in quite a store of game, which the cold weather
preserved, and there was enough more within their reach. And fortunately
for them all, nature's law of prohibition, had effectually banished from
the whole region all intoxicating drinks. Where there is no whiskey there
is rarely any quarrel. The pure mountain stream supplied them with their
health-giving beverage.

In a few days everything was cosey and comfortable around them. During
the months of December and January, and until the middle of February,
while wintry blasts swept the hills, warmth, abundance and friendliness
reigned in these sheltered, cheerful huts in a Rocky Mountain valley.
There was one exciting event which disturbed the serenity of this winter
encampment.

A band of Blackfeet Indians had cautiously dogged their footsteps,
watching for an opportunity to stampede their horses. One very dark night,
a number of these savages, supported by quite a numerous band of warriors,
crept, like wolves, into the grazing ground of the horses, and succeeded
in seizing eighteen of them, with which they made off rapidly towards
their own country. The loss was not discovered until morning. After a few
moments' deliberation it was decided that the valuable property must be
recovered if possible, and the Indians chastised for such insolence.

The unanimous voice called upon Kit Carson to lead the enterprise, and to
select his men. He took eleven. In a few minutes they were all mounted; a
blanket their only baggage; their rifles and ammunition their only stores.
The ground was covered with snow. These veteran mountaineers knew well
when and how to spare their horses for a continuous pursuit.

The Indians being more numerous, having horses to lead, and with their
steeds somewhat jaded with the long journey from their own country, could
not travel as fast as their pursuers were able to do with their fresh
animals. Still the savages had so much the start that it required fifty
miles of sharp riding before they were overtaken. Fortunately for the
pursuers, there had been recently a heavy fall of snow, so that the
Indians were under the necessity of breaking a path. Their party was so
large that the white men were furnished with a clearly marked,
well-trodden trail. This toil through the snow, seems quite to have
exhausted the strength of the horses of the Indians. They had been
compelled to stop at noonday to refresh the animals. A spot had been
selected on a hill-side, where the wind had blown away the snow, and where
the horses found, for grazing, an abundance of succulent dried grass.

Suddenly, and probably not a little to their consternation, the twelve
trappers, rounding an eminence on the full trot, appeared before them.
Carson halted his troop to reconnoitre; for his foes were strongly posted
and far outnumbered him. The savages, seeing the impossibility of
immediately gathering and mounting their horses for flight, cunningly
sent a flag of truce to solicit a parley. According to their custom, this
flag consisted of one of their warriors advancing entirely unarmed,
half-way to the opposing band. There he stopped, and folding his arms,
waited for some one of the other party similarly weaponless, to come
forward to confer with him.

These savage thieves manifested a degree of intelligence in their cunning,
which was hardly to have been expected of them. Through their interpreter
they assumed an air of perfect innocence, affecting great surprise that
the horses belonged to the trappers, saying that they supposed that they
had been robbing their hereditary foes, the Snake Indians.

"Nothing would induce us," said these barbarian diplomatists, "to commit
any depredations upon our friends the white men."

Such barefaced falsehood did not, for a moment, deceive Kit Carson. But it
was needful for him to move with great caution. The number of the Indians,
their position, their weapons, and the nature of the ground upon which
they had met, rendered the result of a battle very doubtful. It would not
do for Carson to manifest the slightest trepidation, or the least doubt of
his ability to recover the stolen property, and to chastise the marauders.

After some pretty severe questioning, he suggested that since they were
friends, they should all meet in council unarmed, and smoke the calumet of
peace. There are generally some points of honor, which will bind the most
abandoned men. Such was the smoking of the pipe of peace with the savages.
A large fire was built. The two parties met around it. The calumet was
lighted, and passed around to each person present. Every one of the
savages first puffed two whiffs, and the white men then did the same. This
was the solemn pledge that there should be no treachery.

The council then commenced. Several of the Indian warriors made long and
wordy speeches, with many protestations of friendship, but carefully
avoiding any offer to restore the stolen animals. Mr. Carson listened
patiently and made no response, until they had talked themselves out. He
then simply replied, that he was very happy to learn that the Indians were
friendly in their feelings toward the whites, and that the taking of the
animals was a mistake. The trappers would therefore overlook the affair,
and peacefully return home with the restored horses.

The Indian orators again began to chatter, branching off upon various
points irrelevant to the question at issue. But Mr. Carson was in no mood
to be drawn into a profitless palaver. To these eloquent speeches he made
no response, but simply demanded the return of the horses.

The Indians began to bluster, to talk loud and to grow insolent. But Mr.
Carson never allowed himself to lose his temper. A man in a passion seldom
acts wisely. With calm persistence he said, "I can listen to no overtures
of peace, until our horses are restored." Still the Indians hesitated to
provoke a battle in which some of their warriors would undoubtedly fall.
At length they sent out and brought in five of the poorest and most
exhausted of the horses, saying that these were all that they could or
would restore.

The trappers accepted this as a declaration of war. In a body they retired
to seize their rifles and to submit the question to the arbitrament of
battle. The savages also, with tumultuous howlings, rushed to grasp their
guns. The battle immediately commenced, each party seeking the shelter of
trees. But for the dread in which the savages stood of the powers of the
white men, the advantages would have been in their favor ten to one. There
were unerring marksmen on both sides. No one could expose himself to the
aim of either party without almost certain death. Kit Carson and one of
his companions, by the name of Markhead, were the foremost of the band of
trappers, and they stood behind trees not far from each other. As Carson
was watching the movements of a burly savage, who was endeavoring to get a
shot at him, he saw another savage taking deliberate aim, from his
concealment, at Markhead.

With the rapidity of thought Carson wheeled around, and at the same
instant the bullet from his rifle pierced the heart of the savage and he
fell dead. But there was another report, almost simultaneous with that
from Carson's gun. A bullet whizzed through the air, touched the bark of
the tree, behind which nearly the whole of Carson's body was concealed,
and severed one of the sinews of his shoulder, shattering a portion of the
bone. The blood gushed freely from the wound, and Carson fell, almost
fainting, to the ground. With much difficulty his friends succeeded in
bearing him off from the field, and in their rough kindness ministered to
his wants.

This loss of Carson's guidance and arm was irreparable and fatal to the
trappers. Still they continued the battle valiantly, holding the Indians
at bay until night came. The night was bitter cold. The trappers could not
light any fire, for it would surely guide the Indians to their retreat,
and present them as fair targets to the bullets of the savages.

Disappointed as these bold men were, they had the consolation of feeling
that the wound of their leader had not passed unavenged. They were sure
that several of the Indians had been killed and many wounded. Though they
did not doubt that the Indians would still fight desperately in defence,
they did not fear that they would venture to pursue and to attack the
trappers where they could choose their own ground. The trappers therefore,
bearing as tenderly as possible their wounded leader, commenced their
return to the camp which they reached in safety. The savages, as it
afterward appeared, fled as rapidly as possible in the other direction.

The adventure added to the reputation of Kit Carson. All admitted that it
was to save the life of a comrade that he had imperilled his own. And no
one doubted that, but for his wound, his sagacity would have triumphed
over the savages, and that he would have brought back all the horses. It
was immediately decided, in general council, that another expedition of
thirty men, under Captain Bridger, should pursue and chastise the thieves.
This well armed party vigorously followed the Indian trail for several
days. But the savages had fled so rapidly, into distant and unknown parts,
that they could not be overtaken. The trappers returned disappointed to
their camp.

Spring was returning with its milder breezes and its warmer sun. The time
for the spring hunt had commenced. There were no hostile Indians in the
vicinity to disturb the trappers. Success, surpassing their most sanguine
expectations, attended their efforts. Every morning the trappers came in
from their various directions laden with furs. All were elated with their
extraordinary prosperity. There is the spring hunting and the fall
hunting. But there is a period in midsummer when the fur is valueless or
cannot easily be taken. Game was then abundant, camping was a luxury. This
was the time selected by the traders for their Fairs in the wilderness.
Here, as we have mentioned, there was exchange of the commodities needed
in mountaineer-life, for the furs the trappers had taken during the
autumn, winter and spring. There was at this time another rendezvous on
Green river, where there was to be a renewal of the scenes of the past
year.

Kit Carson very speedily recovered from his wounds. His perfect health and
temperate habits caused a cure, which seemed almost miraculous. As we have
mentioned, these mountaineers were beyond the limits of the laws. There
was no governmental protection whatever. Every man was compelled to be his
own protector, filling the threefold office of judge, jury and
executioner.

The incident we are about to record would have been highly immoral in any
well-ordered community where law was recognized and could be enforced. And
yet the same act occurring in the savage wilderness may have merited the
high commendation which it universally received.

There was a fellow at the rendezvous, as the Fair among the mountains was
called, known as captain Shunan. He was of unknown nationality, of very
powerful frame, a bully and a braggadocio. Totally devoid of principle,
and conscious of his muscular superiority, he was ever swaggering through
the camp, dealing blows and provoking quarrels. He was universally
detested and also feared. Every one in the camp desired to see him
humbled.

One day Shunan was particularly offensive. That morning he had engaged in
two fights, and had knocked down and flogged both of the men whom he had
assailed. The traders had brought whiskey to the rendezvous, and probably
whiskey was at the bottom of these troubles. Mr. Carson was quietly
talking with some of his friends, in one part of the extended encampment,
when the swaggering bully came along seeking to provoke another fight.
"These Americans," said he, "are all cowards; they are all women. I am
going into the bush to cut some rods and I'll switch every one of them."

Kit Carson immediately stepped forward in his calm, unimpassioned way,
and with his soft and almost feminine voice said:

"Captain Shunan, I am an American and one of the smallest and weakest of
them all. We have no disposition to quarrel with any one. But this conduct
can no longer be endured. If it is continued, I shall be under the
necessity of shooting you."

There was almost a magic power in Kit Carson's calmness. He had a piercing
eye, before whose glance many would quail. There was an indescribable
something in his soft words, which indicated that they came from a
lion-like heart. The whole company of trappers looked on in perfect
silence, curious to see what would be the result of this bold movement.

Shunan at first, the herculean bully, looked down upon his fragile
opponent, with much of the contempt with which Goliath contemplated David.
But apparently that glance showed him that he had encountered no ordinary
foe. The reputation also of Kit Carson, as an able and fearless man
extended through the whole encampment. There was a moment of perfect
silence, Shunan not uttering one word in reply. He then turned upon his
heel and walked rapidly across the plain towards his camp. Carson and the
mountaineers understood perfectly what this meant. He had gone to seize
his rifle, mount his horse, and shoot Kit Carson for defying him.

Carson also turned his steps towards his own lodge. He took a loaded
pistol, bestrode his horse, and saw Shunan riding down towards him rifle
in hand. All this had occupied but a few minutes. Still it had arrested
the attention of nearly the whole encampment. It was well known that when
Carson and Shunan should meet on the hostile field, there was to be no
vulgar rough and tussle fight, but a decisive conflict which would settle
forever the question, whether the one or the other was to be master. The
common law of the wilderness demanded only, that the parties should be
left to settle the question in their own way.

Kit Carson always rode a magnificent horse. He bestrode his steed as if he
were a part of the animal, and seemed as unembarrassed in his movements
when in the saddle, as when on the floor of his tent. Rapidly he rode down
upon Shunan until the heads of their horses nearly touched. Calmly he
inquired, as if it were one of the most ordinary occurrences of life.

"Am I the person you are looking for?" The treacherous bully answered,
"No," hoping thus, in some degree, to throw his opponent off his guard;
but at the same instant, he brought his rifle to his shoulder with the
muzzle not four feet from the heart of his intended victim. The life of
Carson depended upon the fraction of a moment. We call him a lucky man; we
should rather say, he was a wise man prepared for every emergency. His
pistol was in his hand, cocked and primed. Quick as a flash, it was
raised, not at the heart, but at the right arm of the insolent bully, whom
he would bring to order.

So simultaneous was the discharge of both weapons, that but one report was
heard. But Carson's bullet entered upon its mission probably half a second
before the ball of Shunan left the rifle. Shunan's wrist was shattered, as
the bullet struck it; and from the curvature of the arm the ball passed
through a second time above the elbow. The sudden shock caused the rifle
to tilt a little upwards and thus saved the hero's life. Carson's face was
severely burned by the powder, and the ball glanced over the top of his
head, just cutting through the skin. The bully's rifle dropped from his
hand. He had received a terrible and an utterly disabling wound. He had
fought his last battle. No surgery could ever heal those fractured bones
so as to put that arm again in fighting trim. The wretch had sought the
life of Carson; but Carson had sought only to subdue the tyrant.

Shunan was thoroughly humbled, and became as docile as a child. They took
him to his tent, and treated him with all the rough nursing which trappers
in the wilderness could bestow. The shattered bones of course could never
recover their former strength. The weakest of those upon whom he formerly
trampled, could now chastise him, should he assume any of his former
insolent airs. The tyrant became docile as a child, and the whole camp
regarded Carson as its benefactor.

It is worthy of special notice, that Mr. Carson was not at all elated by
his victory. He never boasted of it. He never alluded to it, but with a
saddened countenance. Whenever the subject was referred to, he always
expressed his heartfelt regret, that it had been needful to resort to such
severe measures to preserve the good order of the camp.

In the life of John Charles Fremont we find the following reference to Mr.
Carson and to this adventure:

"Christopher Carson is a remarkably peaceable and quiet man, temperate in
his habits, and strictly moral in his deportment." In a letter written
from California in 1847, introducing Carson as the bearer of dispatches to
the government, Col. Fremont says:

"'With me Carson and Truth, mean the same thing. He is always the
same,--gallant and disinterested.'

"He is kind-hearted and averse to all quarrelsome and turbulent scenes,
and has never been engaged in any mere personal broils or encounters,
except on one single occasion, which he sometimes modestly describes to
his friends. The narrative is fully confirmed by an eye-witness, of whose
presence at the time he was not aware, and whose account he has probably
never seen."

Another who knew him well, writes, in corroborative testimony:

"The name of Christopher Carson has been familiarly known for nearly a
quarter of a century. From its association with the names of great
explorers and military men, it is now spread throughout the civilized
world. It has been generally conceded, that no small share of the benefits
derived from these explorations, was due to the sagacity, skill,
experience, advice and labor of Christopher Carson. His sober habits,
strict honor, and great regard for truth, have endeared him to all who can
call him friend; and among such may be enumerated, names belonging to some
of the most distinguished men whose deeds are recorded on the pages of
American history.

"A few years ago, the writer of this first met Christopher Carson. It
needed neither a second introduction, nor the assistance of a friendly
panegyric, to enable him to discover, in Christopher Carson, those traits
of manhood which are esteemed by the great and good to be the
distinguishing ornaments of character. This acquaintance ripened into a
friendship of the purest stamp. Since then the writer has been the
intimate friend and companion of Christopher Carson at his home, in the
wild scenes of the chase, on the war trail, and upon the field of battle.

"Christopher Carson physically, is small in stature, but of compact
framework. He has a large and finely developed head, a twinkling grey eye,
and hair of a sandy color which he wears combed back. His education having
been much neglected in his youth, he is deficient in theoretical learning.
By natural abilities, however, he has greatly compensated for this defect.
He speaks the French and Spanish languages fluently, besides being a
perfect master of several Indian dialects. In Indian customs, their
manners, habits, and the groundwork of their conduct, no man on the
American Continent is better skilled."

CHAPTER VII.

War with the Blackfeet Indians.

Unsuccessful Trapping.--Disastrous March to Fort Hall.--The Feast
upon Horse-flesh.--The Hunting Expedition.--Its Rare
Attractions.--Dogged by the Blackfeet.--Safe Arrival at the
Fort.--All their Animals Stolen by the Indians.--Expedition to
the Blackfeet Country.--Winter Quarters with the Friendly
Indians.--Sufferings of the Animals.--Return to the Blackfeet
Country.--Battle with the Indians.--Incidents of the Battle.

At the close of the summer months the rendezvous was broken up, and all
parties scattered; the traders to their homes, within the precincts of
civilization, and the trappers to the savage wilderness. Kit Carson joined
a party bound to the upper waters of the Yellowstone river. This is a
large stream with many tributaries, all of which take their rise amidst
the eastern ravines of the Rocky mountains, pouring their united flood
into the Missouri at Fort William. From the head waters of the river, to
the point where it enters the Missouri, there is a distance of five or six
hundred miles, of perhaps as wild a country as can be found on this
continent.

Here, amidst these rugged defiles, the mountaineers set their traps. But
they caught no beaver. They then struck across the country, in a southeast
direction, a distance of one or two hundred miles, to the Big Horn river,
another large tributary of the Yellowstone. Here again they were
unsuccessful. They then journeyed westward, several hundred miles, to what
are called the Three Forks of the Missouri river. Here again they set
their traps in vain. Our disappointed but persistent trappers turned their
footsteps south, and having travelled about two hundred miles, passing
through one of the defiles of the Rocky mountains, they reached the head
waters of the Big Snake river. This is a large stream, some six hundred
miles in length, which pours its flood through the Columbia river into the
Pacific Ocean.

Here Kit Carson met a Mr. McCoy, formerly a trader in the employment of
the Hudson Bay Company, but who was now out on a trapping excursion. With
the consent of his companions, Kit Carson and five others withdrew from
the larger party to join their fortunes with Mr. McCoy. A rumor had
reached them that abundance of beaver were to be found at a distance of
about one hundred and fifty miles, on Mary's river, since called the
Humboldt. Here again they were doomed to disappointment. They followed
down this stream, trapping in vain, for a hundred miles, till its waters
were lost in what is called the Great Basin.

These hardy adventurers now directed their steps north, and after
traversing a country, most of it wild and barren, about two hundred miles
in extent, again reached the banks of the Snake river, midway between its
source and its mouth. Here the company divided. Mr. McCoy set out to trap
down the stream, about one hundred and fifty miles, to Fort Walla Walla,
which was near the junction of this river with the Columbia.

Kit Carson and his band followed up the stream about the same distance,
trapping most of the way. They, however, encountered continued
disappointments. The region they traversed was dreary and barren in the
extreme. Often there was no game to be found. They were brought to the
very verge of starvation. For some time they subsisted upon nutritious
roots, which they had adopted the precaution to take with them. When these
were exhausted they were reduced to the greatest straits, and could be
only saved from starving by bleeding the mules and drinking the warm
blood. This is a resource which could not be repeated. The animals were
also very poor, though enough of dry and scanty grass was found to keep
them alive.

The whole party became frightfully emaciated, and they began to fear that
they should be compelled to kill some of their mules. But the men
themselves had become so weak it was with difficulty they could carry
their rifles. The loss of any of these useful beasts of burden would
terribly enhance their peril. It might compel them to abandon, not only
their traps, but also their rifles and their ammunition. In this dreadful
emergency they came across a band of Indians who proved to be friendly.
But the savages were also in an extremely destitute condition.

Fortunately for both parties there was water at hand, and the withered
herbage furnished the animals with sustenance. The Indians had a young
horse which was respectably fat. It required all of Kit Carson's
diplomatic skill and knowledge of the Indian character to induce the
Indians to part with the animal. It was not until after much maneuvering
that they succeeded in obtaining him. He was immediately killed and eaten.
To the hungry men, the horse flesh afforded as delicious a feast as
epicure ever found in the most costly viands.

At last Kit Carson and his men reached Fort Hall. Here they were, of
course, kindly received by their countrymen, and all their wants were
immediately and abundantly supplied. This fort was then mainly occupied as
a trading post. As the men were neither sick nor wounded, but only half
starved, they found themselves in a few days quite recruited, and ready
again for any adventure of enterprise and hardship. During their sojourn
at the fort the men were not idle. They had their saddles, clothing and
moccasins to repair. All their outfit was in the condition of a ship which
has just weathered a storm with loss of anchor, sails, spars, and leaking
badly.

Having finished their repairs the party, in good condition, with their
mules, set out on a hunting expedition. They were told that in a fertile
region, about fifty miles south of them, large herds of buffaloes had
recently been seen. The weather was delightful. They were all in good
spirits. It was trapper philosophy never to anticipate evil,--never to
borrow any trouble. At a rapid pace they marched through a pleasant,
luxuriant well watered region, entirely forgetful of past sufferings.

On the evening of the second day, as they were emerging from a forest,
there was opened before them a scene of remarkable beauty and grandeur.
Far as the eye could extend towards the south, east and west an undulating
prairie spread, with its wilderness of flowers of every gorgeous hue,
waving in the evening breeze like the gently heaving ocean. The sun was
just setting in a cloudless sky, illuminating with extraordinary
brilliance the enchanting scene. Here and there in the distance of the
boundless plain, a few clumps of trees were scattered, as if nature had
arranged them with the special purpose of decorating the Eden-like
landscape. But that which cheered the hunters more than all the other
aspects of sublimity and loveliness, were the immense herds, grazing on
the apparently limitless prairie. Many of these herds numbered thousands
and yet they appeared but like little spots scattered over the vast
expanse. The hunter had found his paradise; for there were other varieties
of game in that luxuriant pasture, elk, deer, antelopes and there was room
enough for them all.

Our adventurers immediately selected a spot for their camp on the edge of
the forest, near a bubbling spring. With great alacrity they reared their
hut, and arranged all the apparatus for camping, with which they were
abundantly supplied. Poles were cut from the forest, and planted in the
open sunny prairie, with ropes of hide stretched upon them. Upon these
ropes they were to suspend strips of buffalo meat to be cured by drying in
the sun. Every thing was prepared over night for the commencement of
operations in the early dawn. The best marksmen were selected for hunters.
They were to go into the prairie, shoot the game and bring it in. The rest
were detailed to cut up the meat and hang it on the ropes to dry. After
it was sufficiently dried, they were to take it down, and pack it closely
in bundles for transportation.

These were halcyon days, and abundant was the harvest of game which these
bold reapers were gathering. During the days thus spent, in shooting the
game and curing the meat, the hunters lived upon the fat of the land. The
tongue and liver of the buffalo, and the peculiar fat, found along the
spine are deemed great delicacies.

In a few days a sufficient supply had been obtained to load all their pack
animals. So heavily were they laden that their homeward journey was very
slow. They were followed by a foe, of whom they had not the slightest
conception. A band of Blackfeet Indians had discerned them from the far
distance with their keen eyes. Keeping carefully concealed, they watched
every movement of the unconscious hunters. When the party commenced its
return they dogged their steps; in the darkness creeping near their
encampment at night, watching for an opportunity to stampede their animals
and to rob them of their treasure. Though Kit Carson had no suspicion that
any savages were on his trail, his constitutional caution baffled all
their cunning.

The fort was reached in safety, and the abundance which they brought was
hailed with rejoicing. The party of hunters encamped just outside the
pickets of the fort, where there was good pasturage for their animals, and
where they could watch them. The inmates of the fort had fenced in a large
field or barnyard which they called a _corral_. Into this yard at night
they drove their animals, from the prairie, and placed a guard over them.
At any time a band of savages might, like an apparition, come shrieking
down upon the animals to bear them away in the terrors of a stampede, or
might silently, in midnight gloom, steal towards them and lead them
noiselessly away one by one.

Two or three nights after the arrival of the hunters at the fort, all the
horses and mules were driven, as usual, into the enclosure; the bars were
put up and a sentinel was placed on duty. It so happened that the
sentinel, that night, was an inexperienced hand; a new comer, not familiar
with the customs of the fort. He was stationed, at a slight distance from
the enclosure, where he could watch all its approaches, and give the alarm
should any band of Indians appear. He supposed that a large, well mounted
band alone would attempt the hazardous enterprise of capturing the
animals.

The latter part of the night, just before the dawn of the morning, he saw
two men advance, without any disguise, deliberately let down the bars and
drive out the horses and mules. He supposed them to be two of the inmates
of the fort or some of his own companions, who were authorized to take out
the herd to graze upon the prairie. Concluding therefore that he was
relieved from duty, he returned to his camp and was soon fast asleep.

In the morning the horses and mules had all disappeared. They were nowhere
to be seen. There was hurrying to and fro, for a solution of the mystery,
when a short investigation revealed the true state of affairs. The cunning
Indians had come in a strong party, well mounted, and were concealed at a
short distance. Two of their number had gone forward and driven out the
animals. The horses and mules are always ready to rush along with any herd
leading them.

Placing the stolen animals between the van and the rear guards of their
steeds, the Indians moved cautiously until they had gained some little
distance from the fort. Then giving the rein to their powerful charges,
with the fleetness of the wind they fled, over the hills and through the
valleys, to their wild and distant fastnesses.

Not a single animal was left for the garrison or the trappers upon which
to give chase. The Indians, who have but little sense of right and wrong,
might well exult in their achievement. Without the loss of a single man,
and even without receiving a wound, they had taken from beneath the very
walls of the fort, its whole herd, leaving the garrison powerless to
pursue. The loss was very severe to the trappers. Without their horses and
mules, they could do nothing. It only remained for them to wait for the
return of Mr. McCoy and his party, who had promised, after visiting Fort
Walla Walla, to rendezvous at Fort Hall.

The Blackfeet Indians were at that time, forty years ago, the terror of
the whole region. It is said that the warlike tribe numbered thirty
thousand souls. Of course there could not have been any very accurate
estimate of the population. Not long after this the small-pox prevailed,
with awful fatality. One half of the tribe perished. The dead were left
unburied, as the savages endeavored to flee in all directions from the
fearful pestilence.

A month passed slowly away before Mr. McCoy with his party reached the
fort. Very opportunely he brought a fresh supply of animals; having
purchased a number at Fort Walla Walla. The united band returned to the
Green river. Here Mr. Carson joined a party of one hundred trappers who,
in their strength, were to plunge into the very heart of the Blackfeet
country, on the Yellowstone river.

Arriving at the region where they were to set their traps, they divided
into two companies of fifty men each. It was necessary to be always armed
and on the alert, ready to repel any sudden attack. The duty of one
company was to explore the streams in search of beavers and game for food.
The other party guarded the camp, dressed, rudely tanned, and packed the
skins, and cooked the food. The trappers were so strong, that they not
only went where they pleased, but they were eager to come in contact with
the savages, that they might pay off old scores. They were, however, not
molested. Not an Indian crossed their path. They subsequently learned, as
a solution of the mystery, that at that time the small-pox was making
dreadful ravages. Thousands were dying and it was feared the whole tribe
would perish. The Indians in their terror, had secluded themselves in the
remotest solitudes.

Winter was now approaching, with its freezing gales, its drifting snows,
its icy streams. It was necessary to find winter quarters for two or three
months. The region, drained by the Yellowstone and its tributaries,
extends over thousands of square miles. In one portion of the territory
there was a mountainous region inhabited by the Crow Indians. As they were
the deadly foe of the Blackfeet tribe, they were disposed to cultivate
friendly relations with the whites, and to enter into an alliance with
them.

Quite a large band of the Crow Indians joined the trappers, and conducted
them to one of their most sheltered valleys. Here they reared their huts
and lodges. The mountain ridges broke the force of the cold north wind.
They had water and fuel in abundance. Game was not scarce and they had
also an ample supply of dried meat in store. But as the season advanced,
the cold became increasingly severe, until at last it was more intense
than the trappers had ever before experienced. Still the trappers, with
their rousing fires and abundant clothing, found no difficulty in keeping
warm.

But the animals suffered terribly. Snow covered the valleys to such a
depth, that they could obtain no food by grazing. It was with the utmost
difficulty they kept the animals alive. They cut down cottonwood trees and
thawed the bark and small branches by their fires. This bark was then torn
into shreds, sufficiently small for the animal to chew. The rough outside
bark was thrown aside, and the tender inner bark, which comes next the
body of the tree, was carefully peeled off for food. There is sufficient
nutrition in this barely to keep the animals alive for a time, but they
can by no means thrive under it.

Quite a company of Indians reared their lodges in the same valley with the
trappers. In the pleasant days they vied with each other, in various
athletic games, and particularly in their skill in hunting. Both parties
were very happy in this truly paternal intercourse. There were no
quarrels, for there was no whiskey there. One barrel of intoxicating drink
would have changed kindly greetings into hateful brawls, and would have
crimsoned many knives. Independently of the anxiety, the trappers felt for
their suffering animals, the six or eight weeks of wintry cold passed away
very pleasantly. The returning sun of spring poured its warmth into the
sheltered valley, melting the snows and releasing the streams. With
wonderful rapidity the swelling bud gave place to leaves and blossoms. The
green grass sprang up on the mounds, the animals rejoiced and began even
to prance in their new-found vigor. The winter had gone and the time for
the singing of birds had come.

The trappers were in need of certain supplies, before they could
advantageously set out on their spring hunting tour. They therefore sent
two of their party to obtain these supplies at Fort Laramie, which was one
or two hundred miles south of them, on the Platte river. They did not
return. They were never heard from. It is probable that they fell into the
hands of hostile Indians, who killed them and took possession of all their
effects. This was another of those innumerable tragedies, ever occurring
in this wicked world, which are only recorded in God's book of
remembrance.

The trappers, after waiting for their companions for some time, were
compelled to enter upon their spring hunt without them. They continued for
some time setting their traps on the Yellowstone river, and then struck
over to what is called the Twenty five yard river. After spending a few
weeks there, they pushed on to the upper waters of the Missouri, where
those waters flow through the most rugged ravines of the Rocky mountains.
Here again they were in the vicinity of their Blackfeet foes. And they
learned, through some wanderer in the wilderness, that the main village of
that tribe was at the distance of but a few miles from them.

In the previous collisions between the Blackfeet and the trappers, the
Indians had gained decidedly the advantage. They had at one time driven
the trappers entirely out of their country, having stolen their traps, and
effectually prevented them from taking furs. In the conflict, in which Kit
Carson was wounded, the Indians had retired, though with loss, still
victorious, carrying with them all their booty of stolen horses. Most
humiliating of all, they had, without firing a shot, captured all the
animals of the garrison and the trappers at Fort Hall. And it was most
probable that they had robbed and murdered the two men who had been sent
to fort Laramie.

The trappers were all burning to avenge these wrongs. The thievish
Blackfeet had made these assaults upon them entirely unprovoked. The
savages were greatly elated with their victories, and it was deemed
essential that they should be so thoroughly chastised, that they would no
longer molest those who were hunting and trapping within those wild
solitudes. The whole party of trappers struck the trail which led to the
Indian encampment, and cautiously followed it, until they were within ten
or fifteen miles of their foes.

The company, numbering a hundred men, with one or two hundred horses and
mules, presented a very imposing cavalcade. A council of war was held, and
Kit Carson, with five picked men was sent forward to reconnoitre the
position of the village, and to decide upon the best points of attack. The
rest of the company retired to some little distance from the trail, where
they concealed themselves, obliterating, as far as possible, their tracks.
It was deemed necessary to proceed with the utmost caution. The Blackfeet
composed one of the most numerous and ferocious of all the Indian tribes.
Their warriors were numbered by thousands. It was certain that they would
fight, and that a high degree of intelligence would guide them in the
battle.

After the lapse of a few hours, Kit Carson returned from his perilous
adventure. He had attained an eminence from which he could look down upon
the valleys of the foe, which was in one part of an extended plain in the
midst of hills. He reported that there was some great agitation in the
camp. There were runnings to and fro, driving in the animals from their
pasturage, saddling and packing them, and sundry other preparations
indicative of a general alarm. It might be that their braves were entering
on the war-path. It might be that they were preparing for flight. It was
not improbable that, through their scouts, they had gained intimation of
the approach of the trappers. A council of war was held. Promptly it was
decided to send out forty-three men, under the leadership of Kit Carson to
give the Blackfeet battle. The remaining men, fifty-five in number, were
left, under Mr. Fontenelle, to discharge the responsible duty of guarding
the animals and the equipage. They were also to move slowly on, as a
reserve force, who could rush to the aid of the advanced force, or upon
which those men could fall back in case of disaster.

They soon reached the village. It was pretty evident that they were
expected. But the savages had only bows and arrows. This gave the
assailants an immense advantage. They had both rifles and pistols. Taking
a circuitous route, they approached the village from an unexpected
quarter. They were scarcely seen before a discharge of their guns struck
down ten of the bravest warriors. But at that time it was an encampment
rather than a village, occupied mainly by fighting men, who greatly
outnumbered their assailants. The Indians fought heroically. Each man
instantly sprang behind some tree where, protected, he could watch his
opportunity and keep his foe at a distance. When a rifle was once
discharged, it took some time to reload; but the Indians could throw a
dozen arrows in a minute, with sinewy arms, with sure aim and with deadly
power.

The battle was mainly in the forest, neither party being willing to
encounter the exposure of the open plain. The Indians, behind the trees,
watched their opportunity. As there were several Indians to one white man,
and the trappers were necessarily dispersed, seeking the protection of the
trees, the Indians, as soon as a rifle was discharged, would dodge from
tree to tree, ever drawing nearer to their assailants. For three hours
this battle continued. The ammunition of the trappers was nearly
exhausted, and they remitted the energy of their fire, awaiting the
arrival of their companions. The Indians comprehended the state of things
and sagaciously resolved to make a simultaneous charge, before the
trappers should have opportunity to replenish their powder-horns and
bullet-pouches.

There was a distance of many rods between the two contending parties. The
ground was mainly level, and there was no underbrush to intercept the
view. The trappers saw and understood the movement for the charge. Every
man was prepared, with his loaded rifle and revolver. On came the Indians,
dodging, as they could, from tree to tree, but with an impetuosity of
onset which excited the admiration of their opponent

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