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THE

LIFE AND ADVENTURES

OF

KIT CARSON,

THE

NESTOR OF THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS,

FROM FACTS NARRATED BY HIMSELF.

BY DE WITT C. PETERS, M.D.,

LATE ASSISTANT SURGEON U.S.A.

WITH ORIGINAL ILLUSTRATIONS,

DRAWN BY LUMLEY, ENGRAVED BY N. ORR & CO.

"All are but parts of one stupendous whole,
Whose body nature is, and God the soul."

NEW YORK:

W.R.C. CLARK & CO.,

348 BROADWAY.

MDCCCLVIII.

W.H. TINSON, STEREOTYPER AND PRINTER,

Rear of 43 & 45 Centre Street, N.Y.

TO

COL. CERAN ST. VRAIN,

OF NEW MEXICO.

Dear Sir,

You were first among the brave mountaineers to discover and direct the manly energy, extraordinary natural ability, and unyielding courage which have attached to the subject of this volume; and, as among the first Americans who put foot on the Rocky Mountains, you are perhaps best acquainted with the history of the men, who, for fifty years, have lived there. Christopher Carson, after a long life, now crowned with successful and honorable achievements, still looks upon you, sir, as his earliest patron, and places your name on the list of his warmest friends. Through a life of unusual activity and duration, which, reflecting honor and renown upon your name, has given you a distinguished position among your countrymen, you have never been known to forget a duty to your fellow man.

For these considerations, the dedication of this volume to you cannot but appear appropriate. That he may continue to merit a place in your confidence and esteem is the earnest desire of

THE AUTHOR.

Fernandez de Taos, New Mexico.

Sir:

We, the undersigned citizens of the Territory of New Mexico, have been acquainted with Mr. Christopher Carson for a number of years, indeed almost from the time of his first arrival in the country. We have been his companions both in the mountains and as a private citizen. We are also acquainted with the fact that for the past few months, during his leisure hours, he has been engaged dictating his life. This is, to our certain knowledge, the only authentic biography of himself and his travels that has ever been written. We heartily recommend THIS BOOK to the reading community for perusal, as it presents a life out of the usual routine of business, and is checkered with adventures which have tried this bold and daring man. We are cognizant of most of the details of the book, and vouch for their accuracy.

Very respectfully,

CERAN ST. VRAIN,
LIEUT. COL. N.M. VOLUNTEERS.

CHARLES BEAUBIEN,
LATE CIRCUIT JUDGE.

THE AUTHOR'S PREFACE.

The pages here presented to the public form a book of facts. They unfold for the student, as does no other work yet extant, the great interior wilderness of the territories belonging to the United States. The scenic views, though plainly colored and wrought by the hand of an unpretending artist, inasmuch as they portray a part of the North American continent which is unsurpassed by any other country on the face of the earth, will not fail to interest the American public. In addition to this, the reader is introduced to an intimate acquaintance with the Indian races of the countries which He east and west of the Rocky Mountains. The savage warrior and hunter is presented, stripped of all the decorations with which writers of fiction have dressed him. He is seen in his ferocity and gentleness, in his rascality and nobility, in his boyhood, manhood, and old age, and in his wisdom and ignorance. The attentive reader will learn of his approximations to truth, his bundle of superstitions, his acts at home and on the war path, his success while following the buffalo and engaging the wild Rocky Mountain bear, that terror of the western wilderness. He will also behold him carrying devastation to the homes of the New Mexican settlers, and freely spilling their best blood to satiate a savage revenge. He will see him attacking and massacring parties of the white men traveling across the prairies, and trace him in his savage wars with the early settlers and frontiersmen.

In order to acquire these important data that they might be added to the pages of American history and form a reliable record, it was necessary that some brave, bold and determined man should become an actor on the scenes and among the races described. Such an actor has been, and yet is, Christopher Carson, the Nestor of the Rocky Mountains; and, it is the experience, as well as the acts, of his stirring life, which the following pages present.

In olden times there existed, in the Rocky Mountains, a race familiarly known by the name of "Trappers and Hunters." They are now almost extinct. Their history has not yet been written. Pen paintings, drawn from the imagination, founded upon distant views of their exploits and adventures, have occasionally served, as do legends, to "adorn a tale." The volume now offered to the public, gives their history as related by one whose name as a trapper and hunter of the "Far West," stands second to none; by a man, who, for fifteen years, saw not the face of a white woman, or slept under a roof; who, during those long years, with his rifle alone, killed over two thousand buffalo, between four and five thousand deer, antelope and elk, besides wild game, such as bears, wild turkeys, prairie chickens, etc., etc. in numbers beyond calculation. On account of their originality, daring and interest, the real facts, concerning this race of trappers and hunters, will be handed down to posterity as matters belonging to history.

As is the case with the Indian, the race of the "Simon Pure Trapper" is nearly run. The advance of civilization, keeping up its untiring march to the westward, is daily encroaching upon their wild haunts and bringing the day close at hand when warrior and trapper will depart forever to their "Happy Hunting Grounds."

With the extinction of the great fur companies, the trappers of "Olden Time" disbanded and separated.

The greatest number of these men, to be found at the present day, reside in the Territory of New Mexico; which, in the time of their prosperity, was the country where they located their head quarters. In this Territory, Christopher Carson now resides. His name, in the Rocky Mountains, has been familiarly known for more than a quarter of a century; and, from its association with the names of great explorers and military men, is now spread throughout the civilized world. It has been generally conceded, and the concession has become strengthened by time, that no small share of the benefits derived from these explorations and campaigns, as well as the safety of the commands themselves, was and is due to the sagacity, skill, experience, advice and labor of Christopher Carson. The exploring parties, and expeditions here referred to, are those which he accompanied in the capacity of chief guide and adviser.

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. His past life has been a mystery which this book will unveil. Instead of Kit Carson as by imagination—a bold braggart and reckless, improvident hero of the rifle—he will appear a retired man, and one who is very reserved in his intercourse with others. This fact, alone, will account for the difficulty which has hitherto attended presenting the public with an accurate history of his life.

A few years since, the writer of this work 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 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. For a long period, in common with hundreds—and, we might with truth add, thousands, the writer has desired to see Christopher Carson's wonderful career made public for the world of readers; but, while this idea was germinating in his brain, he did not, for an instant, flatter himself that the pleasant task would ever be assigned to him. Finally, however, at the urgent solicitation of many personal friends, Christopher Carson dictated the facts upon which this book is written. They were then placed in the writer's hands, with instructions to add to them such information as had fallen under his observation, during quite extensive travels over a large part of the wide expanse of country, which has been Christopher Carson's theatre for action.

The book is a book of solid truth; therefore, the faults in the style, arrangement and composition, become affairs of minor consideration. For this reason, the writer makes no apologies to embarrass the critics.

Christopher Carson, physically, is small in stature, but of compact frame-work. He has a large and finely developed head, a twinkling grey eye, and hair of a sandy color, which he wears combed back à la Franklin mode. 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.

The writer, while on a foreign tour, once had the opportunity and pleasure of hearing Gordon Cumming and other hunters of less note, discourse on their hunting exploits; furthermore, in our own country, while seated around camp-fires and in log houses, he has listened to the adventures of ancient and modern Nimrods in the chase; besides these facts, he has both seen and read much of hunting exploits; but, no hunter ever filled his fancy so perfectly, as does Christopher Carson, a man who acts and never boasts.

Without further comment, the reader is presented with the work, while the writer cherishes the hope, that the facts, which for the first time are given to the world, will prove to be both interesting and important as jottings of history.

The author begs leave to return to his friend, C. Hatch Smith, A.M., of Brooklyn, New York, his acknowledgment for valuable assistance in revising, correcting and arranging his manuscript.

196 Twenty-third street, New York.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.

CHAPTER II.

CHAPTER III.

CHAPTER IV.

CHAPTER V.

CHAPTER VI.

CHAPTER VII.

CHAPTER VIII.

CHAPTER IX.

CHAPTER X.

CHAPTER XI.

CHAPTER XII.

CHAPTER XIII.

CHAPTER XIV.

CHAPTER XV.

CHAPTER XVI.

CHAPTER XVII.

LIFE OF KIT CARSON.

CHAPTER I.

Carson's Birthplace—His Emigration to Missouri—Early Prospects—Is an Apprentice—Stories of the Rocky Mountains—He Enlists to go there—Adventures on the Prairies—Broaders is Wounded—Carson's Nerve put to the Test—Rude Amputation—Safe Arrival at Santa Fé—Goes to Taos and learns the Spanish Language—Early Vicissitudes—Disappointment and Attempt to return to Missouri—Is employed as an Interpreter, Teamster, etc.

It is now a well-established fact, that no State in the American Union has given birth to so many distinguished pioneers and explorers of its boundless Territories, as the commonwealth of Kentucky. An Author, whose task is to tell of a Hero, his bravery, endurance, privations, integrity, self-denial and deeds of daring, carries the morale with which to gain at once for these characteristics the assent of the reader, by the simple assertion, "My Hero was born a Kentuckian." Indeed, in America, to be a native of the State of Kentucky, is to inherit all the attributes of a brave man, a safe counsellor and a true friend. It is, at least, certain that this State, whether the fact is due to its inland and salubrious climate, or to its habits of physical training, has added many a Hero unto humanity.

Christopher Carson, by his countrymen familiarly called "Kit Carson," was born in the County of Madison, State of Kentucky, on the 24th day of December, 1809. The Carson family were among the first settlers of Kentucky, and became owners of fine farms. Besides being an industrious and skillful farmer, the father of Kit Carson was a celebrated hunter. When the Indians of Kentucky became quieted down, putting an end to the calls upon his courage and skill as a woodsman, he settled into a simple, respectable farmer. This monotonous life did not suit his disposition; and, as the tide of emigration into the wilds of Missouri was then commencing, where both game and the red man still roamed, he resolved to migrate in that direction. It was only one year after the birth of his son Christopher, that Mr. Carson sold his estate in Kentucky and established himself, with his large family, in that part of the State of Missouri now known as Howard County. At this time Howard County, Missouri, was a wilderness, on the remote American frontier. At his new home, the father was in his element. His reputation of carrying an unerring rifle and always enacting the deeds of a brave man, was not long in following him into this wilderness. Mr. Carson's only assistant, on his first arrival in Howard County, was his eldest son, Moses Carson, who was afterwards settled in the State of California, where he resided twenty-five years before the great California gold discovery was made.

For two or three years after arriving at their new home, the Carson family, with a few neighbors, lived in a picketed log fort; and when they were engaged in agricultural pursuits, working their farms, and so forth, it was necessary to plough, sow and reap under guard, men being stationed at the sides and extremities of their fields to prevent the working party from being surprised and massacred by wild and hostile savages who infested the country. At this time the small pox, that disease which has proved such a terrible scourge to the Indian, had but seldom visited him.[¹]

The incidents which enliven and add interest to the historic page, have proved of spontaneous and vigorous growth in the new settlements of America. Nearly every book which deals with the early planting and progress of the American colonists and pioneers, contains full, and frequently glowing, descriptions of exploits in the forest; strifes of the hunter; fights with the savages; fearful and terrible surprises of lurking warriors, as they arouse the brave settler and his family from their midnight dreams by the wild, death-announcing war-whoop; hair-breadth escapes from the larger kinds of game, boldly bearded in their lair; the manly courage which never yields, but surmounts every obstacle presented by the unbroken and boundless forest; all these are subjects and facts which have already so many counterparts in book-thought, accessible to the general reader, that their details may be safely omitted during the boyhood days of young Carson. It is better, therefore, to pass over the youthful period of his eventful life, until he began to ripen into manhood.

Kit Carson, at fifteen years of age, was no ordinary person. He had at this early age earned, and well earned, a reputation, on the basis of which the prediction was ventured in his behalf, that he would not fail to make and leave a mark upon the hearts of his countrymen. Those who knew him at the age of fifteen, hesitated not to say, "Kit Carson is the boy who will grow into a man of influence and renown."

The chief points of his character which elicited this prediction were thus early clearly marked. Some of his traits were kindness and good qualities of heart, determined perseverance, indomitable will, unflinching courage, great quickness and shrewdness of perception, and promptitude in execution. The predictions uttered by the hardy rangers of the forest concerning a boy like Carson are seldom at fault; and Kit was one who, by many a youthful feat worthy the muscle of riper years, had endeared himself to their honest love. It was among such men and for such reason, that Kit Carson thus early in life had won the influence and rewards of a general favorite.

His frame was slight, below the medium stature, closely knit together, and endowed with extraordinary elasticity. He had, even then, stood the test of much hard usage. What the body lacked in strength was more than compensated for by his indomitable will; consequently, at this early age, he was considered capable of performing a frontier man's work, both in tilling the soil and handling the rifle.

It was at this period of his eventful life that his father, acting partially under the advice of friends, determined that his son Kit should learn a trade. A few miles from Kit's forest home, there lived a Mr. David Workman, a saddler. To him he was apprenticed. With Mr. Workman young Carson remained two years, enjoying both the confidence and respect of his employer; but, mourning over the awl, the hide of new leather, the buckle and strap; for, the glorious shade of the mighty forest; the wild battle with buffalo and bear; the crack of the unerring rifle, pointed at the trembling deer. Saddlery is an honorable employment; but saddlery never made a greater mistake than when it strove to hitch to its traces the bold impulse, the wild yearning, the sinewy muscle of Kit Carson. Harness-making was so irksome to his ardent temperament and brave heart, that he resolved to take advantage of the first favorable opportunity and quit it forever. With him, to resolve has ever been followed by action. During the latter part of his stay with Mr. Workman, many stories of adventures in the Rocky Mountains reached the ear of the youthful Kentuckian in his Missouri home. The almost miraculous hyperbole which flavored the narratives were not long in awakening in his breast a strong desire to share in such stirring events. The venturesome mind at last became inspired. He determined to go; and, giving his restless spirit full sway, in 1826, joined a party bound for his boyish fancy-pictures of the Elysian Fields. The leader of this expedition required no second request from young Carson before enrolling his name on the company-list. The hardy woodsman saw stamped upon the frank and open countenance of the boy who stood before him those sterling qualities which have since made his name a household word. These formed a passport which, on the spot, awakened the respect and unlocked the hearts of those whose companionship he sought.

The work of preparation was now commenced by the different parties to the expedition. All of the arrangements having been finally completed, the bold and hardy band soon started upon their journey. Their route lay over the vast, and then unexplored territory, bounded by the Rocky Mountains on the one side, and the Missouri River on the other. Before them lay, stretched out in almost never-ending space, those great prairies, the half of which are still unknown to the white man. Crossing the plains in 1826 was an entirely different feat from what it is at this day. Where, then, were the published guides? Where were the charts indicating the eligible camping grounds with their springs of pure water? These oases of the American Sahara were not yet acquainted with the white man's foot. The herds of buffaloes, the droves of wild horses, knew not the crack of the white man's rifle. They had fled only at the approach of the native Indian warrior and the yearly fires of the prairie. It was a difficult task to find a man who had gazed on the lofty peaks of the mountain ranges which formed a serpentine division of the vast American Territories, or who had drank the waters at the camping places on the prairies. The traveller at that day was, in every force of meaning which the word extends, literally, an explorer, whose chosen object was the task of a hero. The Indians themselves could give no information of the route beyond the confined limits of their hunting ranges. The path which this pioneer party entered was existent only in the imagination of the book-making geographer, about as accurate and useful from its detail, as the route of Baron Munchausen to the icelands of the North Pole on the back of his eagle. The whole expanse of the rolling prairie, to those brave hearts, was one boundless uncertainty. This language may possibly be pronounced redundant. It may be in phrase; it is not in fact. The carpet-knight, the holiday ranger, the book-worm explorer, knows but little of the herculean work which has furnished for the world a practical knowledge of the western half of the North American continent. We shall see in the progress of this work whether the adventures of Kit Carson entitle him to a place in the heart of the American nation on the same shelf with his compeers.

In that day, the fierce red-man chief scoured the broad prairies, a petty king in his tribe, a ruler of his wild domain. Bold, haughty, cautious, wily, unrelenting, revengeful, he led his impassioned warriors in the chase and to battle. Even to-day, the lurking Indian foeman is no mean adversary to be laughed and brushed out of the way, notwithstanding disease, war, assassination and necessary chastisement have united rapidly to decimate his race, thereby gradually lessening its power. Thirty years ago the rolling plains were alive with them, and their numbers alone made them formidable. It is not strange that the untutored savages of the prairie, like those of their race who hailed with ungovernable curiosity the landing of the Pilgrims on Plymouth Rock, should have been attracted by the wonderful inventions of the white-man intruder. A very short period of time served to turn this ungovernable curiosity into troublesome thieving. Knowing no law but their wild traditionary rules, they wrested from the adventurous pioneer, his rifle, knife, axe, wagon, harness, horse, powder, ball, flint, watch, compass, cooking utensils, and so forth. The result was, sanguinary engagements ensued, which led to bitter hostility between the two races. Doubtless the opinion may be controverted, but it nevertheless shall be hazarded, that, until the weaker party shall be exterminated by the stronger, the wild war-whoop, with its keen-edged knife and death-dealing rifle accompaniments, will continue, from time to time, to palsy the nerve, and arouse the courage of the pioneer white man. The Indian, in his attack, no longer showers cloth-yard arrows upon his foe. He has learned to kill his adversary with the voice of thunder and the unseen bullet.

The bold traveller, whose pathway lies over those great highroads which lead to the Pacific, must still watch for the red man's ambush by day; and, by night, sleep under the protecting vigilance of the faithful, quick-sighted sentinel. The savage never forgives his own or his ancestor's foe. Every generation of them learns from tradition the trials and exploits of its tribe. From earliest boyhood these form the burden of their education in history; and, on performing the feat of courage or strength which admits them to the councils of the braves, their nation's wrongs are uppermost in their thoughts, causing them to thirst for a revenge which sooner or later gives them a grave, making themselves, in turn, an object of revenge.

It has already appeared that when Kit Carson entered upon his first expedition, game was to be had in abundance. His route lay across the western wilds to Santa Fé. All this distance the bulk of provisions, consisting of a small quantity of flour and bacon, had to be transported by himself and his companions. These articles were kept as a reserve, and were looked upon as luxuries; for, that man was estimated to be a very poor shot who could not obtain, with his rifle, all the animal food he required for his individual sustenance. These hunters, however, well understood the laws which govern and the advantages which follow division of labor. Everything was so arranged, both for this and subsequent expeditions, by which a regular hunter was appointed, and each man assigned some particular duty according to his capacity. These appointments were usually made by the leader of the party, whose supervision was acknowledged by general consent on account of his known experience and capability. This plan was the more necessary in order to avoid confusion.

The caravan had hardly launched out on its long and tedious tramp, when an accident occurred which came very near proving serious in its results. For several days the men had been greatly annoyed by wolves who appeared more than usually ravenous and bold.[²]

In order to frighten the wolves, the teamsters would occasionally shoot them. One of the members of the expedition was obliged to take a fresh rifle from a wagon. In taking the gun out, the hammer of the lock caught against some projecting object, which caused it to be partially set. Having become freed, however, before it was fully set, it came down and fired the gun. The contents of the barrel were sent through the man's arm. No member of the expedition was conversant with surgical knowledge. Here was an occasion to shake the nerves of any feeling man; and, beneath the rough exterior of the western ranger, there runs as deep a stream of true humanity as can be found anywhere on the American continent. Every suggestion was offered and every effort was put forth which heart feeling chained to anxiety and the terrible necessity, could offer. Every remedy which promised a good result was duly weighed; and, if pronounced worthy of trial, it was adopted. The sufferer had kind, though rough nurses; but, the absence of scientific skill, under such emergency, proved a sad want for the unfortunate man. Notwithstanding their united efforts, Broader's arm grew alarmingly worse. It soon became manifest to all that he must part with his arm, or lose his life; perhaps both. At this critical period, a consultation was held, in which the suffering patient joined. Due deliberation was extended to all the symptoms. The giving of advice in such a council by men who could only give judgment from an imaginary stand-point, must strike the heart of true sympathy as having been painful in no ordinary degree. After every possible argument had been offered in favor of saving the arm, the final decision of the council was that it must come off. The next difficulty which presented itself was quite as formidable as the expression of a correct judgment. Who should perform the office of surgeon, was the knotty question? Again the consultations became exciting and intensely painful. The members of the council, however, took it upon themselves to designate the persons, and chose Carson with two others. These immediately set at work to execute their sad but necessary task. The arrangements were all hastily, but carefully made, and the cutting begun. The instruments used were a razor, an old saw; and, to arrest the hemorrhage, the king bolt taken from one of the wagons was heated and applied to serve as an actual cautery. The operation, rudely performed, with rude instruments, by unpractised hands, excited to action only by the spur of absolute necessity, proved, nevertheless, entirely successful. Before the caravan arrived at Santa Fé the patient had so far recovered that he was able to take care of himself.

Besides this unfortunate affair, nothing worthy of note transpired, beyond the general record of their route, during the remainder of their journey. The latter would be too voluminous for the general reader, and has already served its purpose as an assistant to other exploring parties, both from published account and conversational directions. The party entered Santa Fé in the month of November. Very soon after, Kit Carson left his companions and proceeded to Fernandez de Taos, a Mexican town, which lies about eighty miles to the northeast of the capital of New Mexico. During the winter that followed his arrival in the territory of New Mexico, Kit lived with an old mountaineer by the name of Kin Cade, who very kindly offered him a home. It was at this period of his life that he commenced studying the Spanish language. His friend Kin Cade became his assistant in this task. At the same time Kit neglected no opportunity to learn all he could about the Rocky Mountains. He little thought, then, that these earth-formed giants were to become his future home, and so gloriously to herald his name throughout the entire civilized globe.

The pinching effects of want now attacked poor Kit. He could obtain no employment. His expectations in this respect, as well as his earnest efforts, received so little encouragement that he began, finally, to despond. Extreme poverty is a wet damper on the fires of the best genius; but, as was the case with Kit, it does not effectually put it out. Kit saw with sorrow that he must retrace his steps. To obtain means to carry out his ardent desires, in the spring of 1827 he started on a backward trip to Missouri. Every step he took in this direction was accompanied with such displeasure, that had it not been his best and surest policy, he would have mastered any difficulties of another and better course, had such offered. Four hundred and fifty miles from Santa Fé, being about one half the distance across the prairies, had been accomplished by the party Kit had joined for this homeward trip. The fording of the Arkansas River had been reached. Here Kit's party met with some traders bound for New Mexico. They offered him employment, which he gladly accepted; and, in their company, retraced his steps back to Santa Fé But when arrived at Santa Fé, Kit found himself again without money. He was afforded an opportunity to obtain a wardrobe, but to the mountaineer, such property would be entirely a superfluity. He feels nearly independent on the score of clothing, as he considers that he needs but little raiment, and that little he is always proud to owe to his beloved rifle. This brings to his hand buckskins in plenty, and his own ingenuity is the fashion-plate by which they are manufactured into wearable and comfortable vesture. There is one article of clothing, however, for which the frontiersman feels an ardent predilection. It is a woollen shirt. This article, Kit really needed; and, in equal pace with his necessity, ran his anxiety that something should offer by which to obtain one. The reader may smile at this; and, so does Kit at this day, as he recounts the fact in his own inimitable style. But Kit says that to obtain a woollen shirt then, was, to him, no laughing matter. At a moment when he almost despaired of gaining employment, he received an offer to go as a teamster with an expedition bound to El Paso. This opportunity was a chance for success not to be lost, and he closed with the proposition. After faithfully performing his engagement, he, however, returned to Santa Fé, where he made a short stay, and then proceeded to Taos. In this town Kit entered into the service of Mr. Ewing Young, who was a trader and trapper. The reader may prepare again for a smile, as he will now learn that Kit became a cook. Mr. Ewing Young has the satisfaction of boasting that the renowned Kit Carson once performed the responsible and arduous duties of a master cook in the culinary department of his establishment; and that, for these valuable services, labor, care and diligence, he gave to Kit, as a quid pro quo, his board. In this way Kit supported himself in his straitened circumstances until the following spring.

What was the bright thought which made the bold, the ardent, the energetic Kit Carson accept this menial office? Surely the brain metal which was so brightly polished when he set out from Howard county, Missouri, must have been sadly rusted. Not so! The hope which buoyed up his spirits while he attempted to rival French pastry and English beef with American venison and Buffalo meat on the table of Mr. Ewing Young, was that some trapper, or hunter, would come into Taos, their favorite place of resort; and, by being ready for an emergency, he would obtain an opportunity for gaining a permission to join them. His intention was certainly good, but it lacked the bright crown of good intention—success. In the spring of 1828, much chagrined with his, so far, continued bad luck, and no prospect of gaining his object appearing, he again joined a homeward-bound party and with it, sorrowfully, started for Missouri. But, as on the former trip homeward, he met on the route a party bound for Santa Fé. That indomitable ingredient in his composition, an iron will, caused him once more to turn his face westward. He joined this party and returned to Santa Fé, in order again to tempt fortune for an opportunity to reach the Rocky Mountains. But during all these changes and counterchanges Kit had not been idle. He had picked up considerable knowledge, and, to his other stock of accomplishments, had added the ability to speak the Spanish language.

On arriving once more at Santa Fé, he fell in with Col. Tramell, who was at that time a well-known trader. Col Tramell needed a Spanish interpreter. Kit obtained the post, and set out with him for Chihuahua, one of the Mexican States. Here again Kit made a change in his employment. In Chihuahua he fell in with Mr. Robert McKnight. To him he hired out as a teamster, and in this capacity went to the copper mines which are found near to the Rio Gila. Amid the weary necessities of this humble but honorable calling, Kit's heart was constantly alive with ambition to become a hunter and trapper. He knew that he was expert with the rifle, which had been his boyish toy, and felt confident that he could rely upon it as an assistant to gain an honest living. His constant thought at this time was, let him now be engaged in whatever calling chance offered and necessity caused him to accept, the final pursuit of his life would be as a hunter and trapper. Here, then, is presented a fair example of the strife, both inward and outward, through which a young man of courage and ambition must expect to pass before he can win position, influence, and the comforts of life, whatever the scene of his action, or whatever the choice of employment suitable to his talent and genius. Kit Carson was determined, no matter what might be the obstacles which presented themselves, to be a hunter and trapper.

The reader will have made a sad mistake if he has concluded, that during the time which has intervened since Kit started from Missouri, he has been roaming in a country where there was less danger than when he was in the picketed fort with his father. Such a supposition would be greatly at fault. The towns in New Mexico, at this early period, were almost entirely at the mercy of the Indians. The Mexicans were nearly destitute of means to defend themselves. Very few of the Anglo-Saxon race had entered this territory, and those who had were, in turn, exposed to the vacillating wills of the proverbially treacherous Mexicans. A man like Kit Carson, however, born and bred in danger, cared but little about this state of affairs. The dangers did not enter into his calculations of chance to overcome the difficulties which beset the pathway which the alluring hopes of his ambition had marked out. Not long afterward, he left the copper mines, and once more bent his steps to Taos, in company with a small party. At Taos, he found a band of trappers which had been sent out by Mr. Ewing Young. While en route for the river Colorado of the west, in pursuit of game, they had been attacked by a band of Indians. After fighting an entire day, they had been compelled to retreat, and returned to New Mexico.

CHAPTER II.

The news of the Defeat of Mr. Young's Trapping Party by the Indians reaches Taos—Young raises a Party to chastise the Indians—Kit Carson becomes a Conspicuous Member of the Expedition—The Indians are found on Salt River—The Fight—Trapping Exploits—A new Country—Trials and Vicissitudes—Sacramento Valley—California and its Roman Catholic Missions in 1829—Another Indian Fight—Sale of Furs—Indian Depredations—Kit Carson and Twelve Trappers engage with the Indians in a Battle—Return to the Camp with recovered Property.

The news of the attack and defeat of his men by the Indians, was brought to Mr. Ewing Young at Taos by a member of the unfortunate expedition. On learning the causes which brought this unpleasant termination to his enterprise, Mr. Young raised a party of forty men, consisting of Americans, Canadians and Frenchmen, and put himself at its head. Kit Carson was received into the party, and soon became one of its most prominent and efficient aids. Mr. Young's object was two-fold: first, to chastise the Indians; and, second, to make all he could out of the expedition by employing the men in their calling as trappers. Under the Mexican laws, licenses were required from the government to all Mexicans who set out on trapping expeditions. These were not granted to citizens of the United States. This was not the mere will of governmental officials; the Mexican statutory law prohibited the granting of licenses to citizens of the United States. This law was, however, often made a dead letter by Americans; for, they frequently, but stealthily evaded it. In order, therefore, to hoodwink the Mexican authorities, Mr. Young had to resort to various expedients. His preparations were so carefully and secretly made, that the real business he had in contemplation did not transpire, or even a suspicion gain currency as to his intended whereabouts.

In April, 1829, the party set out, eager to bring about results equal to their anticipations. At first, to avoid the curiosity and inquiring disposition of the Mexicans, they traveled northward, as if their destination was into the territory of the United States. Hints had been sufficiently freely bestowed upon the Mexicans to lead them to believe that such was the destination of the party. After journeying fifty miles in this direction, and feeling themselves free from the scrutiny of the Mexican authorities, they changed their course to the southwest, and travelled through the country occupied by the Navajoes, who are an interesting and dangerous race of Indians, even to the trader of this day. On their route, the company passed through Zuni, a Peublo town; thence they traveled to the head of Salt River, one of the tributaries of the Rio Gila. Here they discovered the band of Indians who had attacked and defeated the former party. As soon as the Indians discovered the party of trappers, they became eager for the affray. The usual preliminaries for such fights were, therefore, quickly made on both sides. Young directed the greater part of his men to lie in ambush, for he felt confident that the Indians did not know his strength. The bands of savages who covered the hills round about mistook the halt necessary to complete the ambush for cowardice and fear on the part of the whites. At this their courage arose, to such a degree, that they made a bold charge against, as they supposed, the small party of white men who were visible. They were allowed to advance well into the trap, until, by the position of the trappers in ambush, they came under a cross fire. At the word of command, a general volley was fired into the advance column. Fifteen warriors fell dead, and many others were wounded. The Indians became panic-stricken, and the trappers immediately following up their advantage, advanced from cover. The warriors did not rally for a second attack, but fled in every direction, leaving Young, with his party, masters of the field. Strange as it has ever seemed, to the inquiring mind, in those days and for many succeeding years, companies of white men from fifty to sixty in number could wage successful war against whole tribes of Indians, who could easily muster a thousand fighting men. A reason often given for this is, that the trappers of the western wilds are invariably "dead shots" with the rifle and well versed in Indian strategy. On the other hand, the red men were, comparatively speaking, poorly armed, and could not travel together for any length of time in large parties, because they depended for food chiefly upon hunting. Had there existed no other cause, the means of obtaining provision being limited, must have compelled them to separate. Very frequently whole tribes are reduced to depend upon daily hunts. The bravery of the Indians is of a different stamp from that which is exhibited by the whites, especially where the white man is a Simon-pure western trapper. The white man on the prairie or in the mountains, knows but too well that if attacked by Indians he must conquer or die. It was, and is, seldom that a company out on an expedition has any place of refuge to which it may retreat. Here is the principal reason why the trapper is so seldom defeated. He cannot afford to lose his life to a certainty, and consequently will not allow a defeat.

After this fight, Young's party trapped down the Salt River to San Francisco River, and thence on up to the head of the latter stream. The Indians failed not to hover on their pathway, and to make nightly attacks upon their party. Frequently they would crawl into camp and steal a trap, or kill a mule or a horse, and do whatever other damage they could secretly. At the head of the San Francisco River the company was divided. It was so arranged, that one party was to proceed to the valley of the Sacramento in California. Of this detachment Kit Carson was a member. The other party had orders to return to New Mexico for the purpose of procuring traps to replace those stolen. This latter party was also commissioned to take and dispose of the stock of beaver already on hand. The party bound for California was eighteen in number. Of this party Mr. Young took command. Previous to setting out, a few days were devoted to hunting. They only succeeded, however, in killing three deer. The meat of these animals they prepared to take with them, as they were about to journey into a country never before explored. The skins of the three deer were converted into tanks for carrying water. They had learned from some friendly Indians that the country over which they had to pass en route was destitute of water. The red men told them additionally that the valley (meaning the Sacramento) was beautiful, and that the streams were full of beaver. All of this information the trappers found was true. For four days they travelled over a barren country, where not one drop of water could be found. At each night's camping-place, small allowances of water from the tanks was distributed by the commander to each man and animal. A guard was then stationed over the remainder to prevent any accident from depriving the company of this now precious article of sustenance. At the close of the fourth day, however, they again found water. The instinct exhibited by the pack mules on this occasion was truly remarkable. Long before any member of the party thought that water was so near, the mules, with unerring certainty, had smelt it, and each one, according to his remaining strength, had hurried on to partake of it. The result was, that when the first mule had reached the water, the remainder were scattered along upon the trail for a great distance. The company encamped here, and remained two days to recruit.

The journey was renewed on the third day, the route being still over a similar kind of country, necessitating both man and beast to submit to similar privations as to water. In four days more they came in sight of the great Cañon of the Colorado, which failed not to awaken a thrill of delight in every member of the party. Just before reaching the Cañon they met a party of Mohave Indians, of whom they purchased an old mare. She was killed and eaten by the party with great gusto. The party remained three days on the banks of the Colorado recruiting their strength. While remaining here, another party of Mohave Indians visited them, from whom they procured a small quantity of corn and beans. Leaving the Colorado they recommenced their journey and travelled southwest. In three days they arrived at a stream which rises in the coast range, runs northeast and is lost in the sands of the Great Basin. About two years previous to their arrival here, three trappers by the names of Smith, Sublett, and Jackson, with a large party of men, had a desperate fight in this neighborhood with hostile Indians. They, also, had learned from friendly Indians of the wonders of the Sacramento Valley, and were en route to explore it when attacked. Four only out of their entire company escaped with their lives. These succeeded in making their way to the nearest Mexican settlements, which they reached in a state of complete destitution, after many hardships. Young and his party followed the dry bed of this river for several days before they came to any visible water. It may be interesting to some of our readers to know that there are many of these curious rivers in western America, which, for miles disappear from the surface of the earth, and, probably, run through the quicksand beneath, as they reappear again. The outline of the river usually exists between the place of its disappearance and the place where the water again comes to the surface of the earth. By digging a few feet into the sand within the outline, the water is generally obtained. It takes but a short time, however, for the hole thus made to fill up again. On quitting this river, the party journeyed to the westward, and, in four days, came to the Mission of San Gabriel. Here they found one Roman Catholic priest, fifteen Mexican soldiers, and about one thousand Indians. Belonging to this little colony were eighty thousand head of cattle, fine fields and vineyards. Literally the work and life of the Jewish patriarchs were here being reënacted.

"A shepherd on the mighty plain he watched his roving store."

To the half-starved followers of Mr. Young, this Mission appeared to be a "Paradise of Earth." They remained here, however, but one day. Having nothing else to trade, they parted with their butcher knives, receiving for four of them one fat ox. It would all appear a fabulous tale, were we to incorporate into this narrative a history, or even a slight description of the immensity of the herds of horses and cattle which once roamed over the plains and valleys of California and New Mexico. It is but a few years since, that some wealthy Mexicans owned herds in these parts of America which they numbered by tens of thousands. They were, however, almost valueless for want of a market; and, until the tide of emigration poured in, developing the resources of the country by its demand for provisions and labor, horses and cattle were sold for a mere trifle. In one day's march from San Gabriel, Young and his party arrived at another Roman Catholic Mission, called San Fernando. This establishment was on a much smaller scale than the first. Young and his hardy followers, however, stopping only for a few hours, pushed on for the Sacramento River, which proved to be distant only a few days' march. Their course from San Fernando was northeast. The last part of their journey led through a delightful tract of country, where water, grass and game existed in abundance, seemingly a foretaste of the success which awaited their further advance. Selecting an eligible camping site, Young here rested his party for some time. When they were fully recruited, the party started for the San Joaquin, and commenced trapping down the river. What gave the men great surprise, they discovered unmistakable signs of another trapping party. In a short time it appeared that they were close to a party belonging to the Hudson's Bay Company, commanded by Peter Ogden. Young's men, however, continued setting their traps on the San Joaquin and its tributaries. The two parties were near each other for some time, and as deer, elk, and antelope existed by thousands around them, which it was no trouble to kill in any numbers desirable, they fared well. On again reaching the Sacramento River, the two parties separated. Mr. Ogden, with his party, set out for the Columbia River, while Mr. Young's party encamped where they were, for the remainder of the summer. As the season for trapping had passed, they employed their time in hunting and preparing meat for future necessity.

It was here that Kit Carson soon distinguished himself as a superior hunter, which reputation he has maintained ever since, no matter who have been his antagonists. Not but that Kit may have had his equals; but that it is next to an impossibility to find his superior. At all events, the world has given Kit Carson the title of "Nestor of the Rocky Mountains," for his reputation as a hunter alone; and as his biographer, we take pleasure in recording the facts by which the title has been earned and maintained. Let the reader possess himself of the facts, as they shall appear divested of any and every picture which fancy or partiality may accidentally cause us to paint, and even then Kit Carson will not lose the title. On the contrary, it will become the more indelibly stamped upon his brow.

During the sojourn of the trappers on the Sacramento, an event occurred which exhibited the readiness with which these men responded to calls upon them for aid in a just cause. A few of the Indians belonging to the Mission of the San Rafael, after committing some excesses, deserted from those to whom they had pretended friendship. The priest having charge of the Mission sent a strong force to search for the fugitives. They were found secreted in an Indian village, the inhabitants of which were not on friendly terms with the priest's party. A demand was made that the deserters should be given up, which being refused, a fight ensued, and the priest's party was defeated. Assistance was now asked from the trappers. The request was complied with by Carson and eleven of his companions, who volunteered for the occasion. Thus reinforced, the vanquished party returned and resumed the fight, but with a far different result. The Indian village was captured and one third of its inhabitants killed. The day following a second demand to deliver up the deserters was complied with. Carson and his companions then left the priest's party and rejoined their camp. A short time after this affair had happened, Mr. Young carried the furs he had on hand to the Mission of San Rafael, where he was so fortunate as to find a captain of a trading schooner to whom he succeeded in disposing of the entire stock. With the money accruing from the sale, he purchased horses and then rejoined his company.

A circumstance occurred a few days after Mr. Young's return, which proved to be a good warning to the party for their future vigilance. During one dark night, some Indians, eluding the watch of the sentinels, succeeded in entering the camp and moving off sixty horses. As soon as the robbery was discovered, which had been the more easily accomplished because the trappers, not apprehending danger, had allowed the animals to take care of themselves, Mr. Young directed Kit Carson to take twelve men with the remaining horses, fourteen in number, and pursue the thieves. Carson, in obedience to his orders, immediately started for the Sierra Nevada Mountains, following the trail of the Indians. After travelling one hundred miles he came up with the robbers, and discovered them in the act of feasting upon horse-flesh, six of their own animals having been killed to supply the viands. Doubtless stolen fruit made the feast all the sweeter to the savages, but Kit determined to mingle a little of the bitter as a condiment to the roasted flesh. Gathering his men well together, and approaching very close to the foe without being discovered, he gave the order to charge. His men needed no second command. They fell upon the feasting savages like a thunderbolt, scattering them right and left without mercy. Eight of the warriors were killed in the short conflict which ensued. The remainder were allowed to escape. With some difficulty they next succeeded in recovering all their horses, except the six which had been killed. With their horses, and three children taken prisoners, they returned to camp. It is unnecessary to add that, to men thus isolated in the wilderness, Kit and his party were hailed with joyful greetings when their complete success became known. To them their horses were like the good ship to the hardy sailors on the mighty ocean. The joyful reaction which followed such complete success was in ratio to the fears which the continuing suspense had excited.

Kit Carson, though at that day a youth in years and experience when compared with the other members of the party of which he was then an associate, had risen rapidly in the estimation of all, and had excited the admiration and enlisted in his behalf the confidence of the entire band. When called upon to add his counsel and advice to the general fund of knowledge offered by the trappers concerning any doubtful or difficult enterprise, his masterly foresight and shrewdness, as well as clearness in attending to details, alone gave him willing auditors. But it was the retired manner and modest deportment, which he invariably wore, that won for him the love of his associates. Such characteristics failed not to surprise, in no ordinary degree, those who could boast a long lifetime of experience in Indian countries. Kit Carson's powers of quickly conceiving thoughts, on difficult emergencies, which pointed out the safest and best plans of action, "just the things that ought to be done," and his bravery, which, in his youth, sometimes amounted to rashness, were the component parts of his ability which thus caused his companions to follow his leadership. His courage, promptitude, willingness, self-reliance, caution, sympathy, and care for the wounded, marked him at once as the master-mind and safest counsellor. His first trapping expedition gained him so much credit, that from the time it was concluded, he found no difficulty in joining any band of trappers, no matter how select the party. In this respect the mountaineers resemble sea-faring men, who invariably dislike new and untried hands, because such are so apt to give more trouble than assistance. Green hands, therefore, are treated with indifference when they apply to be admitted as members on a contemplated hunt. The reader will here see one difficulty which had to be overcome by Carson, and which kept him so long in want of employment. From this time Kit carried a rifle and worked from an experience which commanded admiration, respect, and esteem wherever he went, and with whatever party he became connected. 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.

CHAPTER III.

The Return from California to New Mexico—San Fernando and the Peublo of Los Angelos—Description of these Peublos—Passports demanded at Los Angelos—Trouble with the Mexican Authorities—Kit Carson sent on with the Pack Animals One Trapper shoots another—The Mexicans become frightened—Indians come into Camp with their Weapons concealed—Cool Reception by Kit Carson—Arrival at Santa Fé and Taos—Money realized soon parted with—Carson joins another Expedition—The Rivers trapped on—Four Men Killed by Blackfeet Indians—Kit Carson joins Gaunt's Party—The Parks—Winter Quarters—Crow Indian Depredations—Kit Carson and his Party in Pursuit—the Fight—Winter on the Arkansas—Another Expedition—Two Deserters—Kit Carson sent in Pursuit—The Fate of the Runaways—Adventures with Indians—Hair-breadth Escape made by Kit Carson.

In September, Mr. Young, having accomplished all that he had intended, informed his men that he was going to New Mexico. The homeward route was through most of the country over which they had previously traveled. The preparations for the journey having been completed, the party started, touching on the way at the Mission of San Fernando, and thence through to the Peublo of Los Angelos. Scattered over various parts of the dominion of Old Mexico are these Peublos, or Indian villages, called so because they are inhabited by Indians who bear that name. These are the true descendants of the ancient Aztecs, who were once the subjects of the Montezumas. They are usually a quiet and industrious race, and are most devout in their religious worship, according to the principles, forms, and ceremonies of the Roman Catholic Church. They have not failed to inherit the superstition of their forefathers. Not withstanding the changes which time, with its cohorts of emigration, books, religious teachings, association with other races, mechanics, science and art, in greater or less degree, has introduced into their country, and accomplished under their eyes, they still believe that some day their great chief will return to them; accordingly, in each and every one of their towns, they keep a watch-fire burning, in order, on his advent, to let him know where his children live.

At Los Angelos the Mexican authorities came to the trappers and demanded their passports. On finding that such articles of paper authority did not form any part of a trapper's outfit, they determined to arrest them. Fear, however, prevented their determination from assuming any very formidable action. Former experience in a similar matter of official duty had taught those Mexicans that the American trappers were men of a peculiarly resolute nature. Fair and legitimate means were therefore laid aside, and a foul policy adopted. They commenced supplying them with "firewater," thus attacking them in a weak point. When they should become fully inebriated they considered the matter of their arrest both easy and certain.

Mr. Young, seeing the intentions of the authorities, and their underhanded method of carrying them out, determined to thwart them. He directed Carson to take three men, the loose animals and the camp equipage, and move on, with the instructions, that if he did not soon join him, to push on; that if he did not eventually overtake him, to report in New Mexico that the main party had been massacred. Young succeeded in collecting his men as best he could, for they were yet sufficiently sober to retain a little of their reason. The treacherous Mexicans, however, continued annoying the commander of the trappers by gratuitously offering the men all the liquor they desired. One by one, the trappers were allowing themselves to be easily conquered, as the effects of the liquor began to be more active. They would soon have fallen a complete prey to their enemies, had not a most singular circumstance put the Mexicans to flight. One of the trappers, named James Higgins, without any provocation and without any excuse, except that he was intoxicated, shot a man named James Lawrence, inflicting a slight wound. Such conduct so terrified the Mexicans that they took sudden and precipitous leave. This happened, very fortunately, before the party arrived at the mission of San Gabriel, where they would all have been arrested, and perhaps killed, by the Mexicans, aided by parties and reinforcements at the mission.

About dark, Young, by urging his half-drunken men into a forced march, succeeded in overtaking Carson. At the first supply of water, they went into camp. A night of sleep soon set the brains of Young's trappers once more to rights. The next day the party, most of them sufficiently ashamed of their drunken debauch, commenced with vigor the homeward march. They continued nine days almost upon their former track, when outward bound. On the ninth day, they once more stood on the banks of the Colorado River.

While encamped on this stream, a band of five hundred Indians made their appearance and entered the camp. The rascals professed the greatest friendship for the trappers, but their actions not fully measuring their words, the white men looked to Carson for advice. He had discovered that beneath their articles of dress their weapons were very carefully concealed; and from this circumstance it became quite clearly apparent the Indians intended to massacre the entire party. Here Carson's boldness proved, as it had before, and did many a time afterwards, the safety of himself and friends or associates. At the time the Indians entered the camp, Carson, with only a few of the party, occupied it; the rest were out visiting their traps, which it was their general custom to set whenever they arrived at a suitable stream. Kit having thus become satisfied concerning the design of the savages, and feeling that the salvation of the entire party rested upon his courage and wisdom, made up his mind that boldness was the wisest policy he could adopt. He found present among the warriors one who could speak the Spanish language. Through him he ordered the red men "to leave the camp. In the event of their not doing so immediately, he and his friends would, without further parley, commence hostilities, and would be sure each in killing his man, although they might all in the end lose their own lives."

The Indians had been accustomed to act about as they chose with such small parties of Mexicans as they chanced to meet, and consequently were taken completely by surprise at Kit's unusual boldness. Seeing that they would inevitably lose several of their braves if they made any hostile demonstration, they chose the discreet part of best policy, and departed. As a general rule, no matter what the profit or urgent necessity which chance offers, these Indians will not hazard a contest when, to a certainty, they must expect their own killed will equal the number of scalps which they can obtain. This rule, and doubtless some fearfulness on the part of the Indians, saved the lives of the entire band.

As has already appeared, the trappers were on the banks of the Colorado at the time this affair happened. They continued their work on it, descending the south side until they reached tide water, when they changed their camp on to the Gila, and continued trapping up this river as far as the mouth of the San Pedro. Near the outlet of this river, they discovered a large herd of horses and mules; on a closer examination, they found that they were in the 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 a 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 settlements 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 bullet-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 either became wild mustangs or fell again into the clutches of the Indians. The company then renewed their trapping, and continued it up the Gila to a point opposite the copper mines of New Mexico. Here they left the river and proceeded to the copper mines, where they found Mr. Robert McKnight engaged in trading with the neighboring Indian tribes. These mines were not then, and ever since have not been, worked. The holes which had many years before been made by the miners—but who they were is unknown—formed a safe hiding-place for their skins. The stock of beaver was therefore placed under the care of Mr. McKnight. Young and his men then renewed their march, and in due time arrived safely at Santa Fé. Here they purchased licenses to trade with the Indians who live about the copper mines. With these licenses as protection papers, they returned to where the skins were concealed. Having once more recovered their fur, they returned with it to Santa Fé. The deserted mines of New Mexico show incontrovertible signs of having been successfully and extensively worked, at some remote period, for various kinds of metals. They have proved a knotty historical problem to many an investigating mind; for their authentic history has fallen, and probably will ever remain in oblivion. It may have been that about a century ago the Spaniards, with Indian assistants, worked them; and the savages becoming hostile to their employers, in some sudden fit of frenzy may have massacred the Spaniards. There is a legendary story circulating, similar to the traditions of the Indians, giving this explanation. The more probable hypothesis, however, is that the Indians themselves, many centuries in the past, were versed to some extent in the art of mining, and carried on the business in these mines; but from indolence or, to them, uselessness of the metals, the work was abandoned, and their descendants failed to obtain the knowledge which their ancestors possessed. These mines, and those which exist nearer to the large towns, will some day render New Mexico a profitable and rich field for the learned antiquary.

The ruse which Mr. Young found absolutely necessary to employ, in order to blind the Mexican authorities, succeeded so well, that when the fur arrived at Santa Fe, every one considered the trappers had made a very good trade. The amount of beaver thus brought in amounted to two thousand pounds. The market price was twelve dollars the pound. The proceeds, therefore, of the entire trip were nearly twenty-four thousand dollars. The division of this handsome sum gave to each man several hundred dollars. It was during the month of April, 1830, that Mr. Young's party again reached the town of Taos. Here they disbanded, having completed their enterprise. Like as Jack, when he returns from his battles with old ocean, having a pocket well lined with hard earnings, fails not to plunge into excess, with the determination to make up for the pleasure lost by years of toil, the brave mountaineers courted merrymaking. From their own accounts, they passed a short time gloriously. This similarity of disposition between trappers and sailors, in regard to pleasure's syren cup and its consequent draft upon their treasures, causing them to forget the risk of life and limb and the expense of their valuable time, is most remarkable. These hardy trappers, like reliable old salts, proved to be as true to the bowl as they had been to their steel; for, most of the party, in a very brief space of time, were penniless and ready to be fitted out for another expedition. 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 skillful hand from grasping ruin in the same vortex.

The scenes of pleasure lasted until the fall of 1830. Kit then joined his second trapping expedition. This band had been formed for the purpose of trapping the principal streams of the Rocky Mountains. Mr. Fitzpatrick, a trapper well known and respected by the mountaineers, had charge of the party. He was, at that time, well acquainted by experience with the Rocky Mountains, and has, since then, gained an enviable fame as an Indian Agent. The new party travelled North and commenced operations on the Platte River, which they followed down stream to one of its tributaries, the Sweet Water River. From here they worked on until they reached the Green River. Hence they journeyed to Jackson's Hole, which is a fork of the Great Columbia River. After making a short stay at this point they started for the Salmon River. Here they were joined by a band of their own party, who had left Taos some days in advance of the main body, and for whom they were then hunting. The whole party, as now organized, remained where they were throughout the winter of 1830 and 1831, employed in killing only the amount of game necessary for their sustenance. An unfortunate affair here happened to them. Four of their men, while hunting buffalo, were attacked and killed by a party of Blackfeet Indians. No other incident occurred during the winter to change the everyday routine. In April of 1831, they recommenced trapping, shaping their course for Bear River. This is the principal stream that empties into GREAT SALT LAKE. Thence they returned to Green River, where they found some Trappers under the command of Mr. Sinclair, who left New Mexico soon after Mr. Fitzpatrick's party and had wintered on the Bear River. Among many other facts, they learned from this party that Captain Gaunt, who was an old mountaineer well known to most of the whites present, had passed the winter on the Laramie River, and that he was then with his men in the New Park. Kit Carson and four of his companions determined to join him. For this purpose they started, and, after ten days of steady travel, found his party.

There are two of these natural Parks in the Rocky Mountains. To distinguish them they are called the Old Park and the New Park. As their names imply, they are fair natural examples of the manufactured parks of civilization. In some things nature has lavished upon them charms and beauties which no human skill can imitate. These parks are favorite haunts of the deer, antelope and elk, while the streams which run through them are well stocked with otter and beaver. Kit and his companions were graciously received by Gaunt; and, with him they trapped the streams in the vicinity of the New Park and the plains of Laramie to the South fork of the Platte. Having finished here, they left for the Arkansas, remaining there while their captain went to Taos to dispose of their stock of furs and to make such purchases of necessaries as the men required. Gaunt returned after an absence of two months; when, trapping operations were resumed on the Arkansas River, which they trapped until it froze over. The party then went into Winter Quarters.

The business of trapping for beaver is no child's play. A person unaccustomed to it may possibly look upon it as no very difficult task. A single trial is usually sufficient to satisfy the uninitiated on this point; for, the beaver, above all other wild animals of America is endowed with an extraordinary amount of instinct. His handiwork and habits sufficiently attest this.

There are bands of Indians living in the Northwestern part of America who really believe that the beaver has almost as much intelligence as an Indian, holding and maintaining that all the difference that exists between a beaver and an Indian, is, that the latter has been endowed by the Great Spirit with power and capabilities to catch the former. Some of the stories which old mountaineers occasionally inflict upon an inquisitive traveller are somewhat startling; nevertheless, what this amphibious animal really performs is truly astounding, and oftentimes the truth fails to gain credence.

During the winter the trappers had many very pleasant times, for they had little work beyond the task of making themselves comfortable. The snow fell to a great depth, which proved rather hard for their animals. By dint of cutting down cottonwood trees and gathering the bark and branches for fodder, they managed to prevent them from dying of starvation. The buffalo existed about there in great abundance; and, early in the winter, they had taken the precaution to kill and prepare a large supply of this kind of game, while it was in good condition. As the season advanced therefore, the trappers found themselves living quite sumptuously.

In the month of January, the daily routine of their lives was rather unpleasantly disturbed. A party of fifty Crow Indians made an unfriendly visit to their camp on one very dark night. They succeeded in stealing nine of their loose animals, with which they escaped unperceived. Early the next morning, the signs of the Indians were discovered. Kit Carson, with twelve of his companions, immediately saddled their horses and started in pursuit. It was very difficult to follow the trail of the Indians from the fact that many herds of buffalo had crossed and repeatedly recrossed it during the night, making the tracks very indistinct. Having traveled forty miles, their horses, which were very poor in flesh, became fatigued, causing them to think of making a halt. After due consultation, it was agreed that they had best go into camp. With this object in view they traveled towards some timber which was near by. On arriving at the woods, the advance of the party, to their surprise and not less to their satisfaction, discovered the smoke of their enemies' fires. The distance between the parties was inconsiderable; but, in order that their movements might be made unobserved, the trappers retreated to a secluded spot where they awaited the night, judging it best to take the party by surprise. Their first care was to secure and provide for their animals. The second was to prepare their arms. As soon as it would do for them to move, they started, eager for the strife. It was judged best first to make a half circuit and then approach the Indians from the direction they themselves were travelling, as from this source, they wisely judged the red men would be less apprehensive of an attack. Their movements were made slowly and with great care in order not to alarm the savages. Having obtained a position close enough to observe the strength of their enemies, they stopped to reconnoitre. The men then crept for a long distance on their hands and knees until finally they obtained a full view of the Indians, which showed them that the savages had erected two rough forts and that they were now divided into two parties. A dance was in progress in honor of the robbery so recently perpetrated, which proved conclusively, that they were without even a suspicion of danger. Just outside one of the forts, the nine stolen animals were securely tied. This sight did not tend to allay the wrath of the trappers. They resolved that come what might the attempt to regain their property and punish the Indians should be made notwithstanding their strength. To insure success in spite of their weakness, they determined to conceal themselves and wait quietly until the Indians had lain down for sleep. During this time of suspense the trappers were subjected to great suffering for the weather was intensely cold and they possessed but a scanty allowance of clothing fit for such work. But as there is an end to all things, there was an end to the dance and other festivities and the savages sought their rest. At last the time for action arrived. Kit Carson and five of his companions commenced crawling towards the stolen horses, which, on reaching, were easily set free by cutting their halters. They then threw snow-balls at them and by this means drove them away without disturbing the sleeping Indians. The trappers who acted as a reserve party soon after joined Kit and his companions; and, after retreating some distance in order to be out of the hearing of the enemy, they held a council to obtain the views of each member of the party as to their next step. It appeared that a difference of opinion existed; some of the men were in favor of returning, having recovered their property and sustained no damage. The remainder, those who had lost no animals, wanted satisfaction for the trouble and hardship they had undergone while in pursuit of the thieves. Kit Carson and two others composed this latter party and thus were determined to punish the thieves, let the consequences of the attempt be ever so fatal. The more peaceful party, seeing this earnestness, could not do otherwise than lend their aid in the fight and cheerfully did so.

There always existed such a feeling of brotherly love among the old trappers of the Rocky Mountains, that the hour of peril was never the hour for separation or desertion. This instance affords a fair example how the minority could easily rule the majority when the minority held to the side of danger. The whole band were now unanimous in favor of the attack.

Kit Carson, who had from the first acted as captain, ordered three men to take the recovered animals back to where they had secured their saddle horses. Then, with his comrades, he marched directly for the Indian camp. A dog belonging to the enemy first gave the alarm of approaching danger to the Indians; but not until Kit and his party were within a few paces of the first fort. As soon as the occupants of the fort heard the noise they sprang to their feet, and thus became fair marks for the unerring rifles of the trappers. The whites did not throw away a single shot; every ball struck a warrior in some vital spot. Those who survived retreated to the fort occupied by their friends, and, as soon as possible, commenced returning the fire; but without execution, as the trappers, on discharging their first volley, had well concealed themselves behind trees, from whence they were shooting only when sure of an object. It was now nearly daybreak; and as the savages discovered the weakness of the attacking party, they resolved to charge, feeling sure of success. They did so; but the white men, who were expert fighters in this kind of warfare, quietly waited until the Indians were fully exposed. They then fired and killed five warriors. The remainder immediately retreated into the fort.

After considerable deliberation, the Indians decided once more to make a sortie. On they came, and this time with such determination that the trappers could not withstand the assault, but were compelled to retreat. They disputed, however, every inch of ground over which they trod, as they fell back from one tree to another, continually making their bullets tell with terrible effect on their foes. The three men who had been sent back with the horses had joined their comrades soon after they had commenced retreating. They had heard the incessant firing and had become convinced that the fight was hotly contested and that their services were required. On their joining, the whole party resolved to make one more stand, and as soon as the Indians saw this, they wavered and finally drew off. Both sides had now, seemingly, had enough of fighting, and hostilities soon after entirely ceased, the savages marching back and leaving the whites masters of the field. Several of the trappers were slightly, but none dangerously, wounded. The Indians had paid dearly, in numbers killed, for their rascality. Finding the coast clear, Carson and his men set out and soon rejoined their comrades on the Arkansas River. In the Spring, after having cached their fur, the whole band departed for Laramie River on another expedition.

While on the south fork of the Platte, two of the party deserted, taking with them three of their best animals. Suspecting their design, Gaunt sent Kit Carson and another man in pursuit of the fugitives, who had one day the start. As was suspected, the two deserters had gone to the camp where the beaver fur was concealed and buried. They had succeeded in digging it up and stealing about three hundred pounds of this valuable property, belonging to the company in general, share and share alike. Carson and his companion failed entirely in their efforts to find the two men. Doubtless they never lived to enjoy their ill-gotten wealth; for, notwithstanding careful search was made, the men were never heard from afterwards. It is probable that they were killed by Indians, a fate which they, at least, richly merited.

This old camp, the reader will please bear in mind, was on the Arkansas River. Kit Carson and his comrade, after finding that the two deserters had thus succeeded in stealing the fur which had been buried by the company, made every further effort which lay in their power to recover it. As has also been seen, they were unsuccessful. It now remained for them to determine their future course. The country was so infested with hostile Indians that it made their position, thus alone, very precarious. To regain their commander's company was almost impracticable; at least, without a more important object to make the risk necessary, it was a foolhardy attempt. Time in learning the loss was of no great importance either to their leader or their party. Sooner or later this, as a matter of course, would be fully shown. Kit and his comrade, therefore, determined to remain where they were, in the old camp; and, to this end, immediately arranged everything so that they could make a successful defence in case they should be attacked by the savages. They did not dare to venture out far from their fortifications; but, this was no great trial to them, as game existed in great plenty and came very near their fortifications. While one slept, the other stood on guard. It was their intention to await the return of their party; but, at the expiration of one month, they were quite happily relieved from their perilous position. Mr. Blackwell, Mr. Gaunt's partner, arrived from the United States. He was accompanied by fifteen men, and brought with him a complete outfit for the entire band. Kit and his comrade had been expecting and were anxiously looking for this party. They were also made quite happy in obtaining the articles of outfit which would render their wild life more agreeable and easy. Shortly after this arrival, four men from the trapping party came into camp and brought the news as to the whereabouts of Gaunt and his men. They were overjoyed at finding Kit and his comrade, as they said that they had hunted for them in all directions; and, finally had given up all hopes of ever seeing them again. The whole party now began the march to join Gaunt at the Ballo Salado.[³]

These Springs form the head waters of the south fork of the River Platte. When four days' journey had been accomplished, and while they were partaking of their breakfast in camp, an alarm of Indians was given by one of the men. He had accidentally discovered the red skin rascals as they were prowling about the camp. A rush was instantly made by the trappers, with rifles in hand, to save their horses. Shots were fired and one Indian fell. The rest of the band made off as empty-handed as they came, with one exception. One brave had succeeded in capturing and mounting a horse before the white men could reach him. Notwithstanding he had a dead brother lying on the ground, he appeared to be altogether too polite to make the trappers a longer visit; at least, without a proper introduction. On the contrary, he galloped off; seemingly, quite proud of his trophy. Had it not been that the trappers had taken the precaution to hobble their horses before turning them out to graze, they would have lost them all in this attempted stampede.[⁴]

This day the party travelled fifty miles and thought themselves clear of Indians, as there were no visible signs of their presence. The experience of the day, however, had admonished them to be on their guard against surprise. To make things sure as to their animals, they fastened them to stakes driven in the earth, sufficient rope being given them for grazing. The place selected for their camp was a beautiful spot, being on a small stream which empties into the Arkansas, the water of which is sparkling and clear. There are many of these charming little brooks which, emptying into, form this river. To the general traveler, however, they present one great drawback as eligible camping sites. Their banks are usually pretty thickly lined with rattlesnakes. The mountaineer is quite well accustomed and reconciled to this venomous reptile, as they abound in nearly every section of his hunting and trapping grounds. Not so however with the mere visitor of, or casual traveller over, the Western Territories. To them his rattlesnake-ship is a formidable personage.

The rattlesnake rarely moves after sunset. The night air is generally too chilling for him. In the day time they are a noble enemy, always warning their antagonist of their hostile intentions by springing their rattles, thus giving a person warning of his danger. By these two wise provisions of the Creator the power of this otherwise terrible reptile, is so limited or restrained, that the trapper rarely gives him a thought unless he comes in direct contact. Although they are so numerous, it very seldom happens that either the Indian or the trapper is bitten by them.

The party had not been long at rest before their suspicions were aroused that hostile Indians were near them. A faithful dog belonging to the camp kept up a furious barking, much more lustily than when wolves annoyed him. An extra guard was therefore immediately posted, when the remainder of the party lay down; but, not for sleep. They expected at every moment that their services would be needed to defend the camp. Everything however passed as usual during the night; and, with the morning, all suspicion was laid aside. Kit Carson, with three companions, proposed a visit to a fork of a river close by, to look for signs of beaver. They had been informed that these animals were numerous in this particular stream. Carson and the three men had been absent about one hour when the signs of Indians proved to be realities, in the shape of a bold and well-sustained charge upon their camp. The rascals succeeded in running off all of their loose animals.

Four of the men immediately saddled the fleetest of the remaining horses and instantly gave chase. After a quick run they came up with the savages and immediately gave them battle. A sharp skirmish ensued in which one of the warriors was killed, when the remainder fled, leaving the property once more in the hands of its rightful owners. The men however did not come off entirely safe. One of them received a very severe wound; which, eventually, gave him considerable difficulty; but from the effects of which he finally recovered.

Kit and his companions in the mean time, in order to reach their destination, found it necessary, unless they should take a long and circuitous route, to cross one of those lofty peaks for which the Rocky Mountains are so famous. The ascent was however commenced and successfully accomplished; but, not without labor and an occasional resting-place being sought for breathing their animals. In due time, they reached the desired stream; but, the beaver signs did not appear. Finding their errand had proved entirely useless, they started to return into camp. Experience had taught them that the longest way round was, in this case, the quickest way home. Taking therefore a circuitous route, they avoided recrossing the lofty mountain peak already alluded to. As they were riding carelessly homeward, beguiling the time with anecdote and remark upon their future prospects, the scenery around them, with an occasional sight at some kind of game, what should appear ahead of them but four Indian warriors, remarkably well mounted, painted and decked with feathers, showing, conclusively, that they were out upon the war-path. As soon as Kit and his companions saw the warriors, and without one word as to their proper and best action being interchanged, they simultaneously put spurs to their horses and dashed at the Indians in order quickly to bring them within range of their rifles. The pace became a hot one; but, as suddenly as the charge had been commenced, so suddenly the trappers found that they had, this time "caught a Tartar;" for, as they dashed on, sixty warriors, fully armed and splendidly mounted, came into view from beneath a hill where they were awaiting in ambush.

There was but one course for the trappers to take and that was to run the gauntlet, which they did in gallant style, although twenty yards would have frequently measured the distance between them and the hostile savages. The bullets from the rifles of the Indians flew about their ears thick and fast, for a heavy fire was opened upon them, as they passed, and incessantly kept up until they were out of their reach. The trappers did not return a shot. It would not have been according to their custom. There is no one thing Simon-pure trappers consider to be a greater folly than firing their rifles on such an occasion as is here described. There is nothing they so much dread as being left on foot with an empty gun and no time to load, when perhaps a single shot might change defeat into victory; sure captivity into freedom, or a dead companion into a laughing, jolly and lovable help-mate, ready for setting a trap or to engage in the next bloody skirmish. This must inevitably happen if, after the rider has fired, among the score or so of passing bullets, one of them, perchance, took a peculiar fancy for a vital organ of his horse. The mortally wounded animal would make no account of dismounting his master and leaving him to the tender mercies of the refined savages. In every close and unequal contest, such as above detailed, they only think of the surest and speediest method of escape, leaving revenge to be obtained on some more fitting and favorable occasion. For some unaccountable reason the savages did not give chase.

As soon as Carson and his comrades had got out of the reach of the Indians they began to recall the suspicions concerning signs of Indians which their faithful dog had aroused. Fears for the safety of their companions arose accordingly. Therefore, giving spurs to their horses they pushed on with vigor to know the worst. The facts that awaited them at camp concerning the attack by the Indians, stealing and rescue of the horses gave them therefore but little surprise. They had already surmised the reason why the Indians had thus set a trap for them. Having been watching the camp during the night and finding the white men fully on the alert and carefully guarding against any surprise, they had quietly waited until suspicion of their proximity had been entirely laid aside. The departure of Carson and his companions from camp was doubtless seen by the savages and afforded them a clear proof that the white men had forgotten their fears. As Kit's departure with the men weakened the camp party the Indians had gathered together sufficient courage to make a bold charge for the coveted plunder. The final result, however, which led to their losing the stolen property, and the life of one of their braves, had caused them to think of an attack upon Kit's party; thus, obtaining by its massacre, revenge for their dead companion; and, the horses which Kit and his comrades rode would have been a consolation for their failure to retain the horses obtained at the camp. The attack was skillfully planned and would undoubtedly have succeeded, but for the unexpected daring and promptitude displayed by Kit and his comrades. The Indians had not looked for the bold charge upon their advance party; but, on the contrary, they had been prepared for a chase and fight in the opposite direction. Had such a skirmish taken place, nothing beyond an absolute miracle, or change of the laws of nature, could have saved the little band. Kit and his friends had reason, therefore, to be very thankful for their safety. They all felt that they had retained their scalps by a very close shave. To use the expressive language of Carson employed in narrating the event "The red skins made a good attempt but, thank God, failed."

Two of the trappers had received, in this affray, wounds; which proved to be of a serious nature: much more so than they or their companions thought on the first examination given them. In consequence, the whole party was obliged to halt and again go into camp, having accomplished but a very short remove from their savage foes. It became necessary to maintain a strong and careful guard during the succeeding night, notwithstanding the labors of the past day and night had been more than usually arduous. However, they succeeded in passing the night without further molestation. The next morning, it was found necessary to make a litter for one of the wounded men whose condition had grown to be much worse.

The method which the mountaineers adopt for making a litter, they have taken from the Indians, and is as follows. Take two strong poles, six feet of which, at either extremity, is allowed for shafts, or handles, while the patient lies in the intermediate space on a buffalo robe, or strong sacking, which-ever is most convenient. Two mules or horses of the same size are then selected; and, to saddles upon each of the animals, the poles, at their extremities, are fastened. Another and simpler plan, but one not so comfortable to the patient, is to take the two poles as before and attach them strongly to a saddle on but one animal, while the two ends are allowed to drag upon the ground. Directly in the rear of the horse the patient's bed is affixed. If the poles are long they will act as springs, especially when the wood used is of a kind which has considerable elasticity.

Having arranged everything to the satisfaction and comfort of the wounded men, the party commenced their march and in four days reached Gaunt's camp where they rested until the wounded men had nearly recovered. This simple fact shows the careful and sympathizing care which the mountaineers of the west ever exhibit towards each other in distress. It speaks more than would volumes of mere praise, concerning their character for true manhood.

When the wounded men had so far recovered that they could safely proceed, the whole party, now quite strong in its numerical power, as well as skill and mountaineer experience, departed for, and, in due time, arrived at the Old Park. The coveted beaver however were scarce there, for other trappers had preceded them; and, to employ trapping phrase, "had caught all the fur in those streams that could be taken that season." This was an unpleasant condition for their business prospects; but, as the old adage hath it, "what could not be cured was quietly endured." Catching beaver is not always a matter of choice. The beaver themselves have considerable to say on the subject.

CHAPTER IV.

Kit Carson and two Companions plan a Hunt for themselves—The Great Success met with—Return to Taos—Sale of the Beaver Fur—Kit Carson joins Captain Lee and goes on a Trading Expedition—Winter Quarters—Kit Carson is sent in Pursuit of a Thief—Overtakes and is obliged to shoot the Runaway—Property recovered—The Return to Camp—The Sale of Goods—Kit Carson joins Fitzpatrick and Party—Kit Carson organizes a Hunting Party—His Encounter with two Grizzly Bears—The Summer Rendezvous—Kit Carson joins fifty Trappers and goes to the Country of the Blackfeet Indians—Annoyances received from these Indians—Winter Quarters in 1832—Horses Stolen—Kit Carson and eleven Men in Pursuit—A Parley—A Fight—Kit Carson severely wounded—His great Sufferings and Fortitude—His Convalescence—The Retreat—A New Expedition—Braggadocio—Kit Carson Fights a Duel and Wounds his man—Duels in the Rocky Mountains in Olden Times.

The fortunes of Gaunt's party in not finding game continued to grow darker and darker as they traveled from stream to stream. The men began to grow disheartened at this succession of failures. Kit Carson, finally, became so tired of going empty handed, that he resolved to try a hunt upon his own account. On stating his intentions to the party, two of his old companions offered to join him. These were gladly accepted by Kit; and, had they not been deterred by the consideration that their dangers would be greatly augmented if they worked with so small a party, others would most willingly have joined his company. With the good wishes, therefore, of Gaunt and his entire band, Kit and his two brave comrades boldly and confidently commenced their march.

The plan Kit adopted was to confine his operations exclusively to the mountain streams and not to venture out upon the Prairie. By taking this course he hoped to avoid much of the danger to be apprehended from Indians.[⁵]

For several months they followed the business of trapping without being in any way annoyed by the Indians. Their success was abundant. At the end of the season they had gathered together a splendid stock of beaver fur and began to think of a homeward trip. Having made everything ready, they finally started for Taos. True, their party was small and the risks they ran of attacks from hostile and covetous Indians were imminent; but, fortune, or Providence favored them and there was finally a satisfactory end to their anxieties; for, after a quick march over the plains, they arrived safely at Taos. Beaver fur was, at the time of their arrival, in great demand and prices ruled correspondingly high. Kit and his comrades obtained the benefit of this state of the market and disposed of their fine stock to great advantage.

The money realized, so far as Kit's two comrades were concerned, was soon expended in fleeting pleasures and a new outfit for the next trapping expedition which might offer. Kit's former experience had been sufficient on this score, and he had become impressed with the highly important fact that there existed a much wiser course to be pursued. With his characteristic consistency, Kit acted upon this conviction and wisely saved his hard earnings.

While remaining at Taos, Kit Carson met with Captain Lee, formerly of the United States Army; but, at this time, a partner of Bent and St. Vrain, two names as familiarly known to the mountaineers as the household words of their boyhood days.

Captain Lee was purchasing goods for the purpose of trading with and supplying the trappers. He desired Kit Carson to join in his enterprise and made him an offer which was accepted.

In the latter part of October 1832, with their goods well packed and properly fitted for the rough transportation which they must necessarily be subjected to, they set out to find the trappers. They traveled for some distance on a route well known as the "Old Spanish Trail." This is nothing more than a mule path which leads from New Mexico to California.

Having arrived safely at White River, they continued their march down stream, following the windings of the river until they came to Green River. Green River, they forded and then struck across the country for the Winty River which is a branch of the Green River.

Here they found Mr. Robidoux who had a party of twenty men in his employ and who was engaged both in trapping and trading according as opportunity presented itself. Soon after these parties met, snow began to fall, indicating the approach of the cold season. A mutual understanding having been arrived at, the two parties joined together and began to establish Winter Quarters suitable for the whole.

They selected a site for their permanent camp on the Winty River, at its mouth, where the men made themselves as comfortable as possible under such circumstances. They were provided with skin lodges, so common among the Indians of America, and which according to Kit's mountaineer experience are very comfortable substitutes for houses.

During the winter Mr. Robidoux lost six of his most valuable and high-priced horses, in the following manner. Attached to the camp there was a California Indian who was employed by Mr. Robidoux, a keen and shrewd savage: and one, whose acquaintance with the trappers had enabled him to gain the confidence of Mr. Robidoux. He was also an expert with the rifle and possessed undoubted courage with great bodily strength and activity. These qualifications made him a troublesome customer in a skirmish.

This Indian's education on the score of property rights had not been as well attended to as the methods of attack and defence in the chase and on the war path. By some, not strange, personal argument, he concluded to appropriate the six valuable horses above mentioned, in the law wordy vocabulary of civilization, "to his own, use, benefit and behoof, without asking the consent, good-will, approbation, permission and personal, directions of the said owner, to wit Mr. Robidoux."

As these horses were worth, even at that remote spot on the great American Continent, the just and full sum of two hundred dollars each, making a round sum total of twelve hundred dollars, Mr. Robidoux was not content to pocket the loss; or, much less, to allow the rascal to enjoy ill-gotten wealth on the principle that "stolen fruit is sweet." He determined, if possible to show him that some stolen fruit is bitter.

Knowing Kit Carson's reputation for skill and his fearless disposition, as soon as he had discovered his loss, he came and requested him to pursue the Indian. Kit Carson is a man who never works without orders except when he is leader. He therefore informed Captain Lee of Mr. Robidoux's request and asked permission to serve his friend. This, as a matter of course, was readily granted by Captain Lee; when, Kit instantly made his preparations for the adventure. He was very soon on horseback, well armed and well prepared for hard and close work.

There chanced, near by to the camp, to be an Indian village belonging to the Utah Tribe. The whites were on friendly terms with the inhabitants of this village, which determined Carson to seek out, from among their warriors, one active and intelligent brave, and get him to join in the chase. This was the more easily accomplished as Carson's reputation for skill, courage and experience was already well known in this tribe. He, himself, had made a large circle of acquaintance among the braves, and many of them had become strongly attached to him. Some of these attachments have existed for years and are still maintained; for, a fact well known, the American Indian warrior, as a general rule, is true and unchangeable in his friendships. With this object in view, Carson, putting his horse to his speed, started for the Utah village. On making his errand known to such of the braves as enjoyed his confidence, he found no difficulty in engaging a well-known warrior, and one on whom he knew he could rely, to accompany him. The wily savage was soon ready for the march, when Kit gave the word to start. Both men were splendidly mounted. Their pace was that of no sluggard. The high-conditioned animals which they rode seemed to catch the eager spirit of their masters, and entering into it, bent themselves to their work with determination accordingly. To discover the trail of the deserter and to study its various characteristics, a science of no mean or useless order in the matter of a woodman's education, required the two men to slacken their pace for a short time. The tracks made by the stolen animals, however, were well marked; and, to such practised eyes, afforded a certain indication as to their route. Again putting their horses to their speed, with compressed lips and eyes directed to the trail before them, Carson and the Indian warrior dashed on, feeling confident, that, if the rascal escaped with his ill-gotten booty, the sin would not be laid upon their shoulders. The trail led down the Green River. This fact made Carson conclude that California was the destination aimed at in the deserter's calculations. Kit and his Indian brave had accomplished about one hundred miles, having, not once, lost sight of the trail, when, most unfortunately for Kit, the horse of the Indian was suddenly taken sick and his strength gave out completely. The Indian could go no further except on foot, and this mode of travel he was unwilling to adopt, refusing absolutely Carson's request made to him to do so. This was an unpleasant predicament, especially as the rascal, who formed the chase, was a dangerous antagonist even to an experienced fighter and in an honest cause. Goaded on by the fear of punishment for theft, Carson well knew that he would require all of his own address to purchase success; for, the rascal would not fail to make a most desperate resistance. But Kit Carson's courage arose, as the difficulties of the adventure seemed to multiply. With a farewell word to his Indian companion, he put spurs to his horse and entered boldly upon the trail alone, being determined to run every hazard, which the unhappy accident to the Indian's horse seemed to require at his hands. The spectacle here presented to the reader, is one which exhibits Kit Carson in his true character both as a faithful and earnest friend, and a determined and dangerous adversary. Such is his character. A life of most singular events has never yet found him false to his friend or his manhood. While he is not rash in judgment, he is consummately skillful, quick and brave. Onward he dashed, never for an instant taking his eagle eye from the tracks which formed his compass. Think not that such tracks are easily traced. None but a practised and ready eye can follow them to any advantageous end. To trace them even at a snail's pace, for an unpractised eye, is like the child putting pen and ink to paper through his first copy-book of penmanship. Many and many an awful blot and horribly crooked line will doubtless carry the simile fully and strikingly to the mind. But the result which crowned Kit's effort showed conclusively that, notwithstanding he had followed the trail for over one hundred and thirty miles, he had made no blots or crooked lines. At the distance of thirty miles from the place where he parted with his Indian companion, Kit discovered the chase. His pace now became tremendous. The wily savage had descried him almost at the same instant that he was discovered by Kit, and instantly prepared for a desperate encounter. With this object in view, the savage turned to seek a cover from whence he could fire upon his adversary and reload long before he should himself become exposed to a shot. The rascal's plan was good enough, but he was too slow in its execution to overcome Kit's activity. Kit had unslung his rifle as soon as he saw his enemy. Anticipating the object of the savage, he, instantly, covered him with his rifle. His horse was now at full speed and he was rapidly nearing the Indian. At the moment he discovered that the Indian had reached his cover and before he could take advantage of it, without relaxing his horse's speed, he fired. The ball from Carson's rifle was so well directed that the Indian, as it struck him, gave one bound and then fell dead in his tracks. At the same instant the rascal's rifle went off with a sharp report, sending a bullet whizzing at some distance from the line of Carson's approach. The fact of the Indian's rifle being fired at all is a sufficient explanation of what was his intent, had his career not been so suddenly cut short, thereby preventing its fulfillment.

The words of an old trapper are here very much to the point. The author was, on a fitting occasion, questioning him in regard to Kit Carson's capabilities with the rifle. Said he: "If a man has a serious quarrel with Kit Carson, he had better not let him get the first sight over his rifle; for, if he succeeds in this, his adversary is as good as dead."

An intimate acquaintance and tried friendship with Kit Carson has, since then, repeatedly furnished occasions which have confirmed this trapper's statement; although, in the first instance, a person will find it no easy task to render an altercation necessary, for Kit Carson holds his passions fully under control; and, besides, they are of a very conciliatory type. No man will sooner shun a difficulty when justice, honor and necessity do not warrant strife.

The work of collecting the horses was soon accomplished, when Carson immediately commenced his journey back to the camp. This he reached in safety, after overcoming a few minor difficulties caused by his charge; and, had the satisfaction of returning the six horses to Mr. Robidoux in as good condition as they were the night on which they were stolen; and, also, of informing him that there was one rascal less in the world to prey upon honest people.

This event served to interrupt the monotony and routine of winter camp duty, affording a basis for many a long yarn during the evening hours around the camp fires. These trappers, especially whenever a green-eyed bundle of curiosity chances to seek their company, can spin yarns most wondrous. The habits of the beaver and their remarkable instinct, form a fit subject for their active imagination. It would doubtless add very much to the interest of these pages if we could set down a few of these anecdotes and tales for the general reader; but, the task would be hopeless as to its accomplishment. To give them life and reality, they require all the surroundings of time, place and occasion; there should be the dark night; the wild whistling wind; the shaking tent with its covering of skins; the roasted venison, bear's meat, or horse flesh; the rifles standing in the corners; the lamp of bear's grease; in fine, all the similitude of camp life. Then the wild stories of bear fightings, beaver intelligence, Indian deviltry, and hairbreadth escapes, become intensely real. The auditor hangs upon each word which falls from the lips of the supposed sage orator with eager earnestness, while curiosity never becomes satisfied.

"Ah! Jones, that is a whopper."

"Sure as I live, but the beaver slept every night with the trapper, and in the day time, if he left the tent, the beaver would fall to work and make a dam across the floor of the tent, using the chist, skins, arms and everything."

"Oh! Jones!"

"But, I tell you it is true. Tame a beaver once, and you'll find I'se tellin' a plain statement as true as ever a Padre made."

"Padre! who'd believe a Mexican priest? Mr. Jones, that tame beaver of your'n must have been born in the States, where he hadn't trees and mud to build dams with, and had to resort to furnitur."

"That beaver," responded Jones, "was as near like a human bein' as any man present."

"How do you make that out, Mr. Jones?"

"Why, one day his master died. Well, they tried all they could to console the beaver, but it 'twant no use. He wouldn't be consoled. All he did was to git an ole shoe belonging to his master, an' if he didn't haul that ere shoe around day after day wherever he went. Well, the beaver 'gan to grow thin, and one night they found he was a dyin', jest from starvin' himself to death and a huggin' the ole shoe."

"Oh! Jones," said the greenhorn, "you don't expect I'll swallow all that yarn?"

But Mr. Jones and all of the other trappers present preserved an imperturbable dignity of mien, as if the very reference to the animal mentioned demanded from them all due reverence.

"Well, but that was not doing as a human being would do. I never seen a man carry an old shoe around till he died from starvin'."

"That is neither here nor there," continued Mr. Jones. "It was when the trapper first made the beaver's acquaintance that he showed he knew as much as a human critter. At that time he had one wife and lived with her all alone in a hole, side o' the dam. They had two sons and a darter. The darter the old beaver had married to a fine lookin' young beaver who lived t'other side the dam."

The whistle which the neophyte here gave seemed to give great dissatisfaction to all of the trappers present. One of them quietly asked him—

"Is that the way, youngster, you'se bin eddicated in perliteniss of manners? If it is, I know a beaver who kin larn you sumthin'. In the fust place, if a young beaver ever kums inter the presence of the ole uns, especially if she's, that is the ole uns, a female beaver, the young un 'mediately fetches his right fore paw up to his forehead, jest 'hind the right eyebrow, an' makes a reverintial bow of cerimony in salute. I'se seen that ar' oftener than you've put one leg ahead of t'other yit, young un."

The trappers present all confirmed the truth of this statement by a solemn nod of assent to the query, "Ain't that true, gentlemen?" which, at least, served to prevent unceremonious whistling.

It is thus that we might go on and fill page after page with this picture-talk of the trappers. Some of their yarns are pretty tightly strained, but most of them contain a capital hit and are usually founded on the facts. It is a well authenticated fact that the beaver has but one mate; and, that they live together a loving couple, as if husband and wife. As to their liaisons, coquetry, flirting and so forth, doubtless the society in some parts of the human family will bear a faithful resemblance in these respects also. As an example of industry the world will look in vain for a better one than is afforded by the little beaver of the Western Rivers. Look at them patiently felling the tallest trees; and, so nicely adjusting their fall and calculating their height, that they strike the opposite bank of their stream gaining a fixed and permanent lodgment. It is thus that these wonderful little creatures will often erect dams across wide rivers and effectually stop the rushing torrents.

As has appeared, after collecting the six horses, Kit Carson returned with them safely into camp. A few days subsequent to this occurrence, a band of trappers belonging to another party en route, entered the camp. These men reported that Fitzpatrick and Bridger were encamped on Snake River distant about fifteen days' journey. This was too good news for Captain Lee and Kit to warrant their remaining any longer idle. They doubted not but that they should be able to dispose of their goods to these parties. With this object in view, they prepared for the march and started. Their journey, although perilous and laborious, was successfully accomplished. Messrs. Fitzpatrick and Bridger received and entertained them very hospitably, and purchased their entire stock, paying therefor in beaver fur. Kit Carson then joined Fitzpatrick's band, but remained with it only one month. His reason for separating from it was, that there were too many men congregated together either to accomplish much, or to make the general result profitable in the distribution. He, accordingly, arranged an enterprise upon his own account; and, from his well-established reputation, found more men than he wanted ready to join him. From those who applied, he selected but three. These were men of the best material; and, no man could judge a trapper's qualifications better than Kit Carson.

With his three men he immediately set out for the Laramie River. On this stream and its tributaries, he spent the summer. Perhaps our readers will look for a full description of the course which the American trapper pursues in order to catch beaver. It is very simple in its detail but difficult and tedious in its application. The trap is the common steel trap made in the usual form; if there is any difference, it is larger and more powerful. It is set in the haunts of the beaver with a particular kind of bait[⁶] known chiefly among trappers. It is a singular fact that, frequently, old beavers will be discovered springing the traps, by the aid of a stick. If discovered at his work, he seems to enjoy hugely the vexation of the trappers which they sometimes exhibit. An old trapper, however, especially if he be a Frenchman or Mexican, feels so much pride in the matter, that he will cover up his vexation under assumed politeness, as if the beaver could understand and appreciate his language.

But to escape from these pleasing digressions, Kit Carson and his men concluded their summer's work with unusual success. Their exertions had been crowned with rewards which surpassed their fondest anticipations. As the wintry months were again fast coming on, Kit and his men determined to rejoin Bridger's' command. The return trip, was therefore commenced and duly prosecuted. Late one afternoon, just after the little party had gone into camp, Kit, having lingered somewhat behind, suddenly rode into the camp ground and leaped from his horse, giving it in care of one of the men. With his rifle, he then started in pursuit of game for supper. He walked on about one mile from the camp and there came upon the fresh tracks of some elk. Following up the trail he discovered the game grazing on the side of a hill. In the neighborhood of the animals there were some low and craggy pine trees. Moving along with great care, he finally gained the cover of the trees, which brought him in close proximity to the elk, and within certain range of his rifle. This care was the more necessary as his party had been without meat diet for some time and began to be greatly in need thereof. These ever wary animals saw, or scented him; or, at any rate, became conscious of approaching danger from some cause, before he could reach the spot from which he desired to take his aim. They had commenced moving; and, in another instant, would have bounded away, out of all reach of his rifle. His eye and piece, however, were too quick for them; for, bringing his piece into position and without dwelling upon his aim, he sped a bullet after the largest and the fattest of the noble game before him. He had wisely allowed for the first leap, for his shot caught the nimble animal in mid air and brought him to the earth, writhing in his death agony with a fearful wound through the heart and lungs, from which there was no escape. One quiver ran through the frame of the beautiful animal, when, he breathed his last. The echoing sound of the rifle shot had hardly died away, to which the true hunter ever listens with unfeigned pleasure as the sweetest of music on his ear, whenever he has seen that his game is surely within his grasp, the last faint melody was broken in upon and completely lost in a terrific roar from the woods directly behind him. Instantly turning his head to note the source of this sound, the meaning and cause of which he well knew by his experienced woodman's ear, educated until its nicety was truly wonderful, he saw two huge and terribly angry grizzly bears. As his eye first rested upon these unwelcome guests, they were bounding towards him, their eyes flashing fiery passion, their pearly teeth glittering with eagerness to mangle his flesh, and their monstrous fore-arms, hung with sharp, bony claws, ready and anxious to hug his body in a close and most loving embrace. There was not much time for Kit to scratch his head and cogitate. In fact, one instant spent in thought then would have proved his death warrant without hope of a reprieve. Messrs. Bruin evidently considered their domain most unjustly intruded upon. The gentle elk and deer mayhap were their dancing boys and girls; and, like many a petty king in savage land, they may have dined late and were now enjoying a scenic treat of their ballet troupe. At all events Kit required no second thought to perceive that the monarchs of the American forest were unappeasably angry and were fast nearing him with mighty stride. Dropping his rifle, the little leaden bullet of which would now have been worth to him its weight in gold if it could by some magic wand have been transferred from the heart of the elk back into its breech, he bounded from his position in close imitation of the elk, but with better success. The trees! he hoped and prayed, as he fairly flew over the ground with the bears hot in chase, for one quick grasp at a sturdy sapling. By good fortune, or special Providence, his hope, or prayer, was answered. Grasping a lower limb he swung his body up into the first tier of branches just as passing Bruin brushed against one of his legs. Bears climb trees and Kit Carson was not ignorant of the fact. Instantly drawing his keen-edged hunting knife, he cut away for dear life at a thick short branch. The knife and his energy conquered the cutting just as Messrs. Bruin had gathered themselves up for an ascent, a proceeding on their part to which Mr. Carson would not give assent. Mr. Carson was well acquainted with the Messrs. Bruin's pride in, and extreme consideration for, their noses. A few sharp raps made with the severed branch upon the noses of the ascending bears, while they fairly made them to howl with pain and rage, caused them hastily to beat a retreat. This scene of ascending, getting their noses tickled and again descending howling with pain and rage now kept Mr. Carson and Messrs. Bruin actively busy for some time. The huge monsters and monarchs of the mountains were determined not to give it up so. Such a full and fair chase and to be beaten by a simple white man on their own domain! This evidently galled their sensitive natures. It is true the roaring of the bears in his rear had stimulated Mr. Carson in the race, so much so, that he undoubtedly ran at the top of his speed; and, being naturally, as well as by long practice, very fleet of foot, he had managed to outstrip his pursuers in the race. It is true he had made short work of climbing the tree and here again had very innocently beaten the bears at their own game and one in which they took great pride. It is more than probable that the bears were in too good condition to run well. Had it been early spring time they would doubtless have been much lower in flesh. That was their own fault too; they should have known that racing time cannot be made on high condition. After leaving their hibernating quarters they should have been less given to a sumptuous habit at the table.

Two huge and terribly angry grizzly bears were bounding towards him, their eyes flashing fiery passion, their pearly teeth glittering with eagerness to mangle his flesh, and their monstrous forearms, hung with sharp, bony claws, ready and anxious to hug his body in a close and most loving embrace.—Page 83.

Affairs were, however, by no manner of means settled. They had the daring trespasser on their domain treed, and almost within their reach; and, indeed, to keep out of the way of their uncomely claws, Kit was obliged to gather himself up in the smallest possible space and cling to the topmost boughs. The bears now allowed themselves a short respite for breathing, during which they gave vent to their wrath by many shrill screeches. Then they renewed their endeavors to force the hunter from his resting place. Mounted on their hind paws they would reach for him; but, the blows with the stick, applied freely to their noses, would make them desist. In vain did they exhaust every means to force the man to descend; he was not to be driven or coaxed. The hard knocks they had sustained upon their noses had now aroused them almost to madness. Together they made one desperate effort to tear Kit from the tree. As in all their previous attempts, they were foiled, and their ardor dampened and cooled by the drumming operations upon their noses, which this time was so freely and strongly applied upon one of them as to make him lachrymate and cry out with pain. One at a time they departed; but, it was not until they had been out of sight and hearing for some time that Kit considered it safe to venture down from the tree; when, he hastened to regain and immediately to reload his rifle.

Thus ended an adventure in which Kit Carson considers that he failed to lose life and limb by the narrowest miss that ever occurred to him. Although he has killed much more than his quantum of this kind of game, and has gained what is a practical advantage to every western hunter, to wit: a knowledge of all their abilities with which they enforce sway, Kit Carson regards this adventure in the light of a warning. It is a warning too which he never allows himself to forget; consequently, whenever he has hunted since, he watches as closely for signs of Mr. Bruin as he does for the game he seeks; it would, therefore, be a difficult matter for the bears again to surprise him. Some of the most desperate battles on record between hunters and wild animals are narrated of encounters with the bear tribe.

Several years ago, a Mexican by the name of Armador Sanchez, still well known in the Rocky Mountains as a brave and skillful hunter, had a fight with a bear which lasted several hours. This terrible battle ended by both the combatants being laid prostrate upon the ground, so completely exhausted as to be utterly unable to reach each other from the want of physical strength. In this condition they spent one night; and, on the following morning, when the brave Mexican hunter had recovered sufficiently to be able to creep to his antagonist, he found him dead. This close conflict grew out of the hunter's noble daring in endeavoring to save the life of a Mexican boy, whom, at the instant the hunter attacked the beast, the bear was about to tear into pieces. At one time the bear had the youth in his terrible clutches in such a manner that it was impossible for him to plant a shot in any vital organ. But nothing daunted, with his rifle and revolver, he lodged several bullets in other parts of the fierce monster. Still the savage animal clung to the unfortunate boy, endeavoring to tear him to pieces, and horribly mangling him in every part of his body. The noble hunter could resist no longer, and dropping his pistols and rifle, he drew his sheath-knife and slung shot, and, after winding his blanket around his left arm to protects it, rushed in and compelled the animal to turn upon him. Wounds were freely given and returned; but, the wary Mexican fought with such dexterity and determination, that the bear finally became so mad with pain and rage that by a tremendous effort, with one blow of his powerful paw, he knocked the brave hunter headlong upon the ground, where he lay some time before recovering his breath. Instead of following up this advantage, the brute, doubtless being deceived because the man did not move, commenced examining and licking his own bleeding wounds. But the brave hunter had now got his spirit so completely up, that he determined to conquer his antagonist or die. Early in the fight, by a blow from his slung-shot, he had succeeded in breaking the bear's lower jaw. This had greatly disabled the animal and undoubtedly was the successful wound which eventually gave Sanchez the victory. When he felt himself sufficiently rested, he renewed the fight; and, by adopting various manœuvres, in which he was greatly assisted by some adjacent trees, succeeded in putting in several telling blows with his knife. Again the animal became aroused to madness unendurable, and, gathering himself up for a final effort, succeeded in planting a terrible blow on the hunter's head, which once more brought him to the ground. From this blow and the previous loss of blood, the brave man fainted entirely away. How long he remained in this state he could not tell; but, on becoming again conscious, he found that the victory was on his side, for the bear had already breathed his last. The poor boy, notwithstanding his wounds, as soon as the battle was decided; and, as he supposed, at the cost of his friend's life, started for a neighboring fort, and, reaching it the following morning, reported the affair. A party of men well armed immediately marched to the rescue. They found the brave hunter in a most pitiful condition, with his flesh terribly mangled, his clothes torn into ribbons, and his back and shoulders one mass of lacerated wounds. His reason had already become unseated. In his native language he would call out to his now visionary foe, "If you are a brave man, come on." Although the most delicate care and assistance was rendered to Sanchez, it was many weeks before he was able to resume his occupation; and, even then, he owed his life to the wonderful recuperative powers of his healthy and iron constitution. Had the fact been otherwise, he could not have survived his injuries. One more brave heart must have yielded its last drop of heroic blood in defence of youthful weakness. This picture, because it does not exaggerate the facts, we leave with regret; for, it is a pleasure to contemplate such nobility of character, whatever be the name which declares the governmental allegiance of the hero.

It is not going beyond the bounds of truth to assert that the grizzly bear of the Rocky Mountains is as formidable an enemy as the hunter is called upon to meet, wherever the hunting-ground and whatever the animal which opponents to our assertion may set up. When caught out on the open prairie, where he can be attacked on horseback and lassoed, the chances are against the bear; but, in a broken country, woe to his assailants, unless life is saved by some trick; or, happy fortune; a lucky shot; a telling blow, like Sanchez's with his slung-shot; or, the fanciful drumming, such as was Kit's, on the noses of his antagonists; or, some other equally singular and unlooked-for expedient. The weight of one of these monsters often runs as high as fifteen hundred pounds; and, their fore paws, which they can manage with the greatest dexterity, frequently measure fourteen inches. The courage, sagacity and skill invariably evinced by this species of bear, when engaged in a fight, is not equaled by any other wild animal on the face of the globe, not excepting the lion.

We take pleasure in here giving further publicity to the careful research and plain truths which have emanated from the pen of that distinguished and successful traveler Dr. Livingston. The new ideas which appear in his pages in regard to the courage of the "King of Beasts," have served, in a measure, to correct the general impression, and to bring down from its high-stilted hyperbole the courage, sagacity and terrible power of the lion, which, he states, are overrated. We do not desire to contradict published statements any farther than our own personal knowledge extends; hence, we give our authority for our statements in regard to the lion, very well satisfied ourself with Dr. Livingstone's love of truth and earnest candor. So much for the lion. Our statements in regard to the Rocky Mountain grizzly bear rest upon our own knowledge and investigation, gathered in his own haunts and on his own wild domain; and, as such, are given upon our own responsibility. Because brave American woodsmen can readily conquer the monarch of the American forest; and because the chicken-hearted Afric son, or dweller, trembles before the steady glare of the Afric King of Beasts, ergo his bearship must in popular opinion, play subordinate to his lionship. For the sake of truth, we should like to see the Spanish arena once open for a fighting encounter between a Rocky Mountain bear and an African lion, full and native grown specimens of each. The bull-fights all good men abhor; but, such a battle would serve to set at rest a fast-growing doubt among naturalists; and, so far, would prove available to science and the cause of truth. We would readily stake a purse on the bear.

With the Indians of the West, who live mostly by hunting, among whom, nine out of ten would, single handed, readily face a score of native lion spearsmen and, we verily believe, put them to flight; a man is considered a great brave who, alone, will undertake to kill a grizzly bear. If he succeeds, which is very rarely the case, his fortune in his tribe is made, once and for all. The reputation he gains will cling to and follow him into his grave and form one of the chief burdens of the tradition which bears his name to posterity. The Indians usually hunt and attack him in large parties; and, when the contest becomes really earnest, it requires a most immoderate amount of yelling, and fierce cry for the onset, to keep their bravery up in fighting trim. The victory is seldom gained without the sacrifice of several lives. The mounted hunter almost invariably finds it a difficult task to bring his charger even within shooting range of this kind of game. On an untrained or young horse the accomplishment of this feat is next to an impossibility; for, instinct seems to teach them the true character of the game even though they approach it for the first time.[⁷]

Darkness closed in about Kit Carson before he could reach his camp; and, indeed, the sky was so cloudy that it was with great difficulty he found his way to it. The idea of sending out a pack animal for the elk was out of the question; therefore, the whole party went, supperless, to bed. In the morning they breakfasted upon a beaver found in one of their traps; for, they well knew that, long before daylight, the prowling wolves had feasted upon the elk; hence, they resigned it without a visit. The flavor of the meat of the beaver is not very palatable and the trappers rarely use it; never when they can do better. Not so with its tail. To this they are very partial; and, when properly boiled, it is, indeed, a great delicacy.

Believing that Bridger would visit this place, Kit ordered his men to make a permanent camp. Kit's sagacity was not at fault in this hypothesis; for, in fifteen days, this famous old mountaineer made his appearance accompanied by his whole band. The two parties once more consolidated and started for the summer rendezvous, which was appointed to be held on the Green River.

Upon their arrival at this place, they found congregated, all the principal trappers of the Rocky Mountains. They were divided into two camps, and numbered about two hundred men. The objects which brought them thus together were, the disposal of their fur and the purchase of supplies.

When all the parties had reported their arrival, the trading commenced and was conducted upon a basis which gave general satisfaction. The most exorbitant and fabulous prices ruled for such articles as the mountaineers required. Sugar and coffee brought two dollars the pint; powder, the same; and ordinary blankets were sold at fifteen and twenty-five dollars each.

Coffee, sugar, and even flour, were luxuries not every day indulged in by the hardy mountaineers. They seldom partook of such dainties; not more frequently than two or three times in the year, and then, merely as rare treats. Their standard food was game and wild vegetables when in their season.

This meeting of the trappers continued in progress during two months. It was then dissolved; and, once more the bold mountaineers formed into bands of a size convenient for trapping, and started out to engage in the fall hunt. Kit Carson joined a party of fifty men which was bound for the country occupied by the Blackfeet Indians, and which lies on and adjacent to the head waters of the Missouri River. The party met with very poor success in catching beaver, but had their fill of annoyances from the tribe of savages already referred to. Finally the state of affairs between the trappers and the Indians became so desperate, that a white man could not leave his camp and go a distance of a single mile alone without being fired upon, so completely and untiringly was their camp surrounded and watched by this wily and dangerous tribe of Indians.

This state of affairs led them to the determination to quit the country, as the trapping season was far advanced. With this line of policy they began the march; and, in the month of November, 1832, arrived on the banks of the Big Snake River where they established winter quarters and remained until the subsequent February.

During these winter months, the quiet monotony of their life was unexpectedly broken in upon by a band of their old enemies, the Blackfeet Indians. Taking advantage of an unusually dark night they entered the camp and succeeded in running off eighteen of their horses. In consideration of their leniency displayed towards them when they were engaged trapping in their own country, then merely acting on the defensive, this act on the part of the savages appeared to the trappers to be more than they ought peaceably to bear. Such appeared to be the general opinion, and it was determined that a party should be sent out to recover the property and inflict a chastisement upon the hostile savages which they would not soon forget. Kit Carson with eleven men to accompany him was selected for this delicate but highly important service. Having prepared everything for the route, the party started and after fifty miles of sharp riding through the snow, came up with the savages. The progress of the Indians had been, fortunately, considerably retarded by the necessity of breaking a path through the deep snow, which had but very recently fallen. The trappers instantly made an attempt to recover their animals which were found grazing on the side of a hill, the Indians having previously come to a halt. In doing this, shots were exchanged by both parties without effect. The savages had on snow shoes which gave them considerable advantage over the trappers. After some manœuvering, the Indians asked for a parley which was granted. On these occasions, it is customary for one man from each party to advance to a spot about halfway between the contending parties and there have a talk. The rascals, through their representative, informed the trappers through their representative, that they had supposed that they had been committing a robbery upon the Snake Indians; and, that they did not desire to steal from the white men.

The trappers, believing these tales to be false, considered this a mere ruse on the part of the Indians to make them unwary of passing events. However, they put the very natural query to them, why, if they were so friendly disposed, they did not follow out their usual custom; and, on seeing them approach, lay down their arms and advance to meet their white brothers, so that they might have a smoke together and talk over their difficulties and thus amicably settle matters.

Their replies to this query contained nothing but evasions. Finally, however, it having been mutually agreed upon, both parties disarmed and marched to the place where their representatives were talking. The Calumet was then prepared, lighted and handed around to each person present, it being puffed once or twice by every one of the savages and every one of the whites. The council then commenced. The head men among the savages led off by making several lengthy and unmeaning speeches. In their replies, the trappers came directly to the point, and said they could hear no overtures for peace, until their property was restored to them. The Indians, upon hearing this demand several times repeated, began to presume upon their strength, assuming an overbearing demeanor. After considerable talk among themselves, they sent out and brought in five of the poorest horses, declaring that it was the only number they could return. The trappers, upon hearing this, ran for their arms; when, the Indians instantly started for theirs. The fight was now renewed by both parties. Kit Carson, in the rush made for the rifles, and one of his companions named Markhead, succeeded in getting hold of their weapons first; and consequently, they formed the advance in the return to the contest. They selected for their antagonists, two Indians who were close together; but, who were partially concealed behind separate trees. As Kit was on the point of raising his rifle to fire he saw by a quick side glance at Markhead, that he was working at the lock of his gun without paying attention to his adversary who was aiming at him with, almost, a certainty of killing him. Kit instantly changed the direction of his rifle and fired, sending a bullet through the heart of Markhead's adversary; but, in thus saving the life of his friend, he was obliged, for the instant, to neglect his own adversary. A quick glance showed him the fellow sighting over his rifle and that the mouth of the Indian's gun covered his breast. Upon the instant he endeavored to dodge the bullet, but he was unsuccessful in doing so completely. It struck him in such a way that, first cutting the skin of his neck and glancing, it passed through his left shoulder. The head of the bone, of the arm in the shoulder was shattered; but, fortunately, the main artery of the arm escaped injury. Notwithstanding his wound Kit immediately endeavored to reload his rifle. In this effort he was unsuccessful, for his left arm hung powerless by his side. He was obliged, therefore, to remain a mere spectator during the remainder of the fight; when, being overcome by the loss of blood and the consequent fast increasing weakness, he threw himself upon the ground. The fight continued to be hotly contested by both the trappers and Indians until, gradually, the firing ceased, when the trappers drew off and went into camp. They did not dare to light any fires, as they would inevitably bring the Indians upon them. With nothing but their saddle-blankets to protect them from the bitter cold, even the safe and sound members of the party suffered severely. Kit's condition failed not to arouse the heartfelt sympathy of his friends, for there was not one among them who would not have readily risked life and limb to save Kit's. But his condition was most critical; at the least, he was in a most unenviable condition. His wounds bled profusely, and, the blood, as it oozed out, froze to the rude dressings. This, undoubtedly, in the final result, was beneficial to him, as the cold acted as a partial check upon the hemorrhage. It was, however, none the less painful to endure. He bore his agonizing sufferings without a single murmur, exhibiting in patient fortitude and resignation the same brave spirit and dauntless courage which distinguished him in every action. Not once did a single complaint escape from his lips. Had he received this wound within the pales of civilization with its concomitant constitution, he might never have recovered the use of his arm. In the pure air, and with a constitution in the best possible trim, after all danger from hemorrhage had passed, his chances to recover were favorable; and, finally, resulted in giving him once more, the full use of his arm.

That night the trappers held a council. It was decided, that, although the result of the fight had been that they had given the Indians a sound thrashing, there having been several braves killed while they had suffered only in one wounded, they were, nevertheless, not then strong enough to pursue the savages farther. They adopted therefore the policy of returning to the camp and reporting their progress.

On their arrival, a council was immediately called and their adventures duly rehearsed. The result was that a second party was immediately organized comprising thirty men. Under the command of Bridger, this party followed the trail for some days, but returned to camp without finding the savages. They, after their late engagement, had made their way as fast as possible into distant parts. A short time after this, the weather moderated and it was time for the spring hunt.

This was now commenced and continued quite active for several weeks on the Green and Snake Rivers. The success of the trappers was far beyond their most sanguine expectations. Beaver fur seemed absolutely to rain down upon them. The season having passed, they went into summer rendezvous on the banks of the Green River. This was brought about by the arrival of the traders with their supplies. The whole force of trappers, therefore, again rested until the first week of September; when, they again broke up their camp for the fall hunt.

Some time previous to this last named event Kit Carson, having recovered from the effects of his wounds, was very reluctantly drawn into an "affair of honor." The circumstances of this occurrence we give in detail for two reasons. It was an event in Carson's life, and therefore is required at our hands; but, it serves to exhibit the manner of the duello among these western mountaineers which throws around the circumstance the importance of an example in their manners and customs. By itself, so far as Kit Carson was concerned, it was of very little importance, serving but little, in his opinion, to adorn the story of his life.

Among the men congregated at the rendezvous, there was a Captain Shunan, a powerful Frenchman. The Captain was exceedingly overbearing in his intercourse with all around him. Upon the slightest pretext, he was sure to endeavor to involve some of the trappers in a quarrel. The result was that he was heartily despised by all, although, for the sake of peace, he was allowed to go unmolested. One day his conduct was particularly offensive to the entire command; for, after having had two fist fights with a couple of weak and inoffensive men, he commenced boasting that he could easily flog all the Frenchmen present; and, as to the Americans, he said that "he could cut a stick and switch them." Such actions and manners, at last, attracted Kit Carson's notice and caused him to be greatly annoyed. He thought the matter over and concluded that if Captain Shunan was allowed to gather many more such detestable laurels, he would soon become even more bold and troublesome. As no other member of the company seemed disposed to put a check upon such unmanly behavior, he quietly determined to make the affair his own.

An opportunity soon presented itself. A number of the company had congregated together and were engaged in conversation, when Captain Shunan began anew his bullying language; this time a little more boisterous than usual. Kit Carson advancing into the centre of the company and placing himself in front of the Captain thus addressed him:

"Shunan, before you stands the humblest specimen of an American in this band of trappers, among whom, there are, to my certain knowledge, men who could easily chastise you; but, being peaceably disposed, they keep aloof from you. At any rate, I assume the responsibility of ordering you to cease your threats, or I will be under the necessity of killing you."

To this Captain Shunan did not reply; but, immediately after Kit Carson had closed his remarks, he turned upon his heel and walked directly for his lodge.

Kit Carson was too well versed in trapper rules not to read the meaning of this action. He, therefore, walked off also; but, in the direction of his own lodge. In a brief space of time, both men appeared before the camp, each mounted on their respective horses. The affair had drawn together the whole band, and they were now, quietly, so many witnesses of the facts here recorded.

Captain Shunan was armed with his rifle. Kit Carson had taken merely a single-barrel dragoon pistol which happened to be the first weapon that had fallen in his way, because of his hurry to be on the ground. The two men now rode rapidly towards one another, until their horses' heads almost touched, when both horsemen reined up, and Kit Carson addressed Captain Shunan as follows:

"Am I the person you are looking for?"

Captain Shunan replied, "No!"

It was apparent that this reply of Captain Shunan was a falsehood; for, while giving it utterance, he raised his rifle in the act of shooting, bringing it to his shoulder and covering his antagonist. Before, however, Captain Shunan could discharge his gun, the ball from Kit Carson's pistol shattered his forearm, causing the rifle to tilt upwards, which changed the direction of its contents in such a way that Kit Carson received a wound in his scalp while the powder severely burnt his face.

Before, however, Captain Shunan could discharge his gun, the ball from Kit Carson's pistol shattered his forearm.—Page 100.

It was the universal opinion of the spectators of this unhappy scene that both parties fired nearly at the same instant. The facts of the case show very plainly, first, that Captain Shunan's intent was to kill his antagonist. Why did he aim at Kit Carson's breast? Second, that Kit Carson's shot was delivered perhaps a second or two in advance of Captain Shunan's; third, that Kit Carson did not desire to kill his antagonist, but merely to save his own life, by disabling his adversary. The fact that his shot struck first and hit Captain Shunan's right arm is sufficient proof of this. When Kit Carson's well-known and indisputable skill with all kinds of fire-arms is taken into the account; and that, notwithstanding this skill, he hit his adversary in one of only two places (his right or left arms) which would have rendered his aim with the rifle uncertain, the statement that Kit Carson did not intend to kill his adversary becomes an incontrovertible fact. Last, had Kit Carson not gained a second in advance in the firing, he would have lost his own life, inevitably; and, the emphatic "No!" the lie of his antagonist, would have been crowned with success. Such plain deception seldom is allowed to triumph by an all-wise Providence.

In judging Kit Carson in this matter, the reader will commit an ungenerous error if he fails to allow to be placed, in the balance of judgment, the stirring deeds and daily hair-breadth risks Kit Carson, during so many years of his eventful life, was constantly called upon to take a part in and undergo. We take leave of this unfortunate scene in his life, feeling confident a just public opinion will see in it no cause to pluck from the brow of Kit Carson any of the laurels which it has been called upon to place there. As a man of truth, honor, virtue, and reverence for the laws of his country, Kit Carson has few equals and no superior among Americans. It needed not this incident to establish his courage; that had long been proven to be undoubted. Nor did the result elate his feelings in the least. He met his companions without a smile, and invariably expressed his regrets that he felt it to be his duty, for the good order and peace of the camp, to interfere in the matter. On the other hand, when he espoused the cause of the majority in maintaining the right, he was not a man to be easily thwarted. When the affair was ended, Kit was congratulated and received the thanks of nearly every individual present; for, each felt that a load of most vexatious and troublesome responsibility had been taken from his shoulders. The good fellowship immediately introduced into the camp was also a circumstance of mark.

The wounded man was carried to his quarters and every attention shown him in the power of his companions. His punishment had the effect completely to subdue him.

These duels among the old trappers of the Rocky Mountains were not very unfrequent occurrences. Men, situated as they were, beyond the reach of the mighty arm of the law, find it absolutely necessary to legislate for themselves. It is not within our province to advocate either the right or wrong of duelling; for, with the best of reasoning, there will always exist a difference of opinion on the subject. In the case of these mountaineers, when any serious offence was given, the man receiving the injury to body or fame held the right of demanding satisfaction. The interests of the entire band required an immediate settlement of difficulties, so that their future plans could be carried out in concert. In their dealings with each other they were strictly honorable; and when by any mischance a rogue crept into their ranks, if detected in any rascality, he was summarily and severely dealt with. Their duels were serious events; for, oftentimes both men were killed. In fact, the case could hardly be otherwise. They were men of unflinching courage, and their weapons were generally rifles, which, from long practice, they held with a certain and deadly aim. We cannot better close this passage in the life of Kit Carson than to quote the language held in 1846 by the Biographer[⁸] of the great explorer, JOHN CHARLES FREMONT:

"He" (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 or heard of. I shall tell the story as it is gathered from them both.[⁹]

"In the year 1835, the Rev. Samuel Parker made an exploring and missionary tour, under the auspices of the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions, beyond the Rocky Mountains, and as far as the settlements on the Columbia River. In his printed journal he gives an account of the incident to which I am referring; it occurred on the 12th of August, at a point on the borders of Green River, beyond the South Pass, on the occasion of a 'rendezvous,' that is, on a spot selected for Indians, trappers, and hunters to bring to market their peltries, and obtain supplies from the agents of the Fur Companies. There was a large concourse of savage tribes, and all the various denizens of the wilderness. There were Frenchmen, Spaniards, Dutchmen, Canadians, and Western backwoodsmen. The Rev. Mr. Parker happened to be there, to witness the strange gathering. Of course there were some rude characters, and not a little irregularity and disorder. Conflicts were liable to arise between quarrelsome persons, growing out of the feuds among the tribes, and animosities between the representatives of different nations, all actuated by pride of race or country.

"A hunter, named Shunan, a Frenchman, who was well known by the title of the 'big bully of the mountains,' mounted his horse with a loaded rifle, and dashing defiantly around, challenged any person, of any nationality, to meet him in single combat. He boasted of his exploits, and used the most insulting and irritating language, and was particularly insolent and abusive towards Americans, whom he described as only worth being whipped with switches. Kit Carson was in the crowd, and his patriotic spirit kindled at the taunt. He at once stepped forward and said, 'I am an American, the most trifling one among them, but if you wish to die, I will accept your challenge.' Shunan defied him. Carson at once leaped upon his horse, with a loaded pistol, and both dashed into close conflict. They fired, almost at the same moment, but Carson an instant the quickest. Their horses' heads touched. Shunan's ball just grazed Carson's cheek, near the left eye, and cut off some locks of his hair. Carson's ball entered Shunan's hand, came out at the wrist, and passed through his arm above the elbow. The bully begged his life, and it was spared.

"This put an effectual stop to all such insolent proceedings, and Americans were insulted no longer. Carson is still living, being yet, indeed, in his prime. His faithful commander has recorded his name on the geography of the continent, by calling after him a river and a lake, in the great basin they explored together."

CHAPTER V.

The Fall Hunt—McCoy of the Hudson's Bay Company organizes a Trapping Party which Kit Carson joins—The Hunt—Scarcity of Beaver on Humboldt River—The Party is divided—Kit Carson with a majority of the Men goes to Fort Hall—Hardships and Privations met with—Buffalo Hunt—All their Animals stolen in the Night by a Party of Blackfeet Indians—Arrival of McCoy from Fort Walla Walla—The Rendezvous—Kit Carson joins a strong Band—The Small Pox among the Blackfeet Indians—The Crow Indians on good terms with the Whites—Intense Cold—Immense Herds of Buffalo—Danger of their goring to death the Horses—The Spring Hunt—The Blackfeet Indian Village overtaken—A desperate Fight with these Indians—The Rendezvous—Sir William Stuart and a favorite Missionary—Kit Carson goes on a Trading Expedition to the Navajoe Indians—The Return—He accepts the post of Hunter of the Trading Post at Brown's Hole.

Arrangements for the fall hunt were now in active progress among the trappers. Though the reader may find some similarity of fact and idea as we progress in this part of the Life of Kit Carson, the interest which hangs about it, nevertheless, will not, or should not be dampened, because this pen-painting of his long and active experience is a better and more faithful exhibit of those qualifications, knowledge and skill which afterwards made him, first the guide and then the bosom friend of the illustrious Fremont, than any assertions whether authenticated by published record, whether rested upon statement on knowledge, information and belief of acquaintances and friends, or, whether facts taken from the thousand allusions to his exploits which have from time to time flooded the press of the United States.

The company of trappers which had been so fortunate as to secure the services of Kit Carson, for facts seem now to warrant us in employing this language of just praise, set out for the Yellow Stone River, which stream they safely reached, and on which they set their traps. Dame Fortune here seemed to be in unpleasant mood. Crossing the country from the Yellow Stone to the Big Horn River, they again courted the old lady's smile with stoical patience, but with no better results. They next extended their efforts to the three forks of the Missouri River; also, to the Big Snake River. The fickle old lady proved scornful on all these streams, and finally, on the latter stream and its tributaries they wintered.

In this section of the country they fell in with Mr. Thomas McCoy, a trader who was in the employ of the Hudson's Bay Company. In his trading operations Mr. McCoy had been unsuccessful and had concluded to organize a trapping expedition. The inducements which he held out led Kit Carson and five of his companions to become members of his party. With him they traveled to Mary's River,[¹⁰] from whence reports had circulated that beaver existed in great abundance. The party struck upon this stream high up and slowly followed it down to where it is lost in the Great Basin. Their success here was not satisfactory; consequently, the party returned to the Big Snake River. By McCoy's direction the party tarried upon this river for some time when it was divided. McCoy and a small escort started for Fort Walla Walla. Kit Carson and the majority of the men took up their line of march for Fort Hall. While en route, the latter division was subjected to the greatest privations imaginable. Among the worst of these was hunger, as their trail led through a barren region of country. For a short time, they managed to subsist upon a small supply of nutritious roots which had been provided in advance. This source finally gave out, when their affairs assumed a most desperate attitude. To keep from starving, they bled their mules and drank the warm red blood with avidity, so acutely had the days of fasting sharpened their appetites. This operation, however could not be repeated without endangering the lives of their animals. These also were on a short allowance of food, for the grass was very poor and scanty. The whole party had become frightfully reduced in strength, and began to think it necessary to kill some of their animals, which at this time they could but ill spare. In this terrible condition they met with a band of Indians who proved to be of a friendly disposition. The party was then only about four days' journey from Fort Hall. Most unhappily, the Indians themselves possessed but a scanty supply of provisions, and no more than their immediate wants required. It was not without considerable manœuvering and talk, during which all the skill and Indian experience possessed by Kit Carson were brought into active requisition, that the savages were prevailed upon to trade with the trappers. By the trade the half famished men obtained a fat horse, which was immediately killed, and on which they regaled with as much relish as the epicure in the settlements enjoys his "joint of roast beef."

To a man not accustomed to this kind of meat, mule flesh and horse flesh would not be likely to prove over tempting or appropriate viands. Let him feel the pangs of hunger very sharply, and his ideas of lusciousness and propriety in respect to food will rapidly change. The civilized world has condemned the practice as belonging to barbarians. A mountaineer, not being quite so fastidious, scouts these ideas, considering them foolish prejudices of people who have never been forced by necessity to test the wisdom of their condemnation. Let the epicurean sages have their choice, eat horse flesh or starve, and, they confidently maintain, horse flesh would gradually grow to be considered a dainty, the rarer over beef, in proportion to its greater cost.

The trappers of the western prairies, who wander thousands of miles over barren as well as fertile lands, where game cannot exist from stern necessity, are compelled to submit to all kinds of vicissitudes; but, with buoyant spirits, they conquer results, which, a faint heart and yielding courage would behold almost in their grasp but fail to reach.

An emergency calls forth skill and great energies; and, in an unexplored country where, as in the case here recorded, everything living suddenly disappears, it is then that the wits of a trapper save his life when an ordinary traveler would lie down and die.

Kit Carson and his men, at last, succeeded in reaching Fort Hall. They were kindly received and amply provided for by the whites who then occupied it as a trading post. Here they rapidly recruited their strength, and in the course of a few days felt able to start out upon a buffalo hunt. Reports had come in that large numbers of buffalo existed in close proximity to the Fort. Kit Carson and his men were not the kind who live upon the bounty of others when game can be had in return for the necessary effort to find. They were also not the men to hoard their stock of provisions whenever they met parties in distress. The first query which different bands of trappers offer to each other on meeting in the wilderness, is, "Does game exist in plenty," or "is game plenty in such and such sections of country?" This takes precedence over the commonplace question, "What's the news?" Oftentimes, when venturing into distant and unexplored districts of territory they were obliged to take their chances of finding sustenance; but, they hardly ever neglected an opportunity to inform themselves on the subject: on the contrary, they often sacrificed both time and profits in order to secure correct details. Any other course would have been fool-hardy rashness, just fit for parties of over-bold inexperience to take the consequences of.

Hunting the buffalo is a manly and interesting sport; and, as Kit Carson on this occasion engaged in it with successful results, it might be interesting to the general reader, and, in this place the unity of the narrative seems to require, a complete and practical description of the manner of taking the buffalo. We have, however deferred this part of our duty to an occasion when Kit Carson had his friend John C. Fremont upon his first buffalo hunt. We shall then permit the bold Explorer to tell the story of a buffalo hunt in our behalf.[¹¹]

During their sojourn at Fort Hall, the hardy trappers were not idle. Besides the calls upon them by the hunt, they set to work with great industry repairing their saddles, clothing and moccasins. With the aid of a few buck-skins, usually procured from Indians, and a few rude tools, they soon accomplished wonders.

To give the reader an appropriate view of the genius to conquer obstacles displayed by the mountaineers, he must picture one of them just starting upon a long journey over the prairies and through the mountains. His wagon and harness trappings, if he chances to be possessed of worldly effects sufficient to warrant him in purchasing a first-class outfit, present a neat and trim appearance. Follow him to the point of his destination, and there the reader will discover, perhaps, a hundredth part of the original vehicle and trappings. While en route, the bold and self-reliant man has met with a hundred accidents. He has been repeatedly called upon to mend and patch both wagon and harness, besides his own clothing. Though he now presents a dilapidated appearance, he is none the less a man; and, if his name is known as a regular trapper and mountaineer, he is immediately a welcomed and honored guest. If the broadcloth of a prince covered his back, spotless, scientifically shaped and foreign woven, his reception would not be more heartfelt and sincerely cordial. It is amusing to see the raw-hide patches of harness, wagon and clothing, now become dry and hard as oak. To have dispensed with the use of buckskin on his route, would have been like cutting off the right arm of the gallant pioneer. Buckskin and the western wilds of America are almost synonymous terms; at least, the one suggests the other, and therefore they are of the same brotherhood. The traveler in these regions of this day fails not to learn and appreciate its value. It has not only furnished material for clothing, but has been used to repair almost every article in daily use. Even the camp and tea-kettle, as well as the frying, milk and saucepan, bedstead and hammock, chair and table, all have had their buckskin appendage, as fast as any of them have become injured or broken.

Everything being in readiness, Carson set out with his followers for their hunting-grounds. Their pace was one of so much rapidity, that after one day's march they discovered signs of the buffalo. On the following morning immense herds were in sight. A suitable place for a camp was soon selected, and everything which could impede their work well stowed away. The best marksmen were selected for hunters, and the remainder of the party detailed to take care of the meat as fast as the hunters should bring it in. Poles were planted on the open prairies, and from one to the other ropes of hide were stretched. Upon these ropes strips of the buffalo meat were hung for curing, which consists of merely drying it in the sun's rays. After it is sufficiently dried, it is taken down and bound up in bundles. During the time of hunting and curing, the trappers feasted upon the delicacies of the game, which consist of the tongue, liver and peculiar fat which is found along the back of the buffalo. Their past sufferings from hunger had made them so determined in the work of procuring game, that in a few days they possessed meat sufficient to load down all their pack animals. They now thought about returning to Fort Hall. Their pace, however, rendered so by their weighty game, was very slow. Their old enemies, the Blackfeet Indians, had discovered them while engaged in this hunt. They followed them on the march to the Fort, the trappers being wholly unaware of their presence; in fact, the idea of hostile Indians had not troubled their thoughts.

Two or three nights after they arrived at the Fort, taking advantage of a dark evening, the Indians deprived them of all their animals. This was the result of carelessness on the part of one of the men, which, under the circumstances, was excusable. The party had encamped just without the pickets of the Fort, but had taken the precaution to secure their horses and mules while they slept, by placing them in the corral[¹²] belonging to the station. A sentinel was put upon duty over the corral, in order to make everything doubly secure. In the latter part of the night, nearly at daybreak, the sentinel saw two persons advance and deliberately let down the bars leading into the yard and drive out the animals. He mistook these men for two of his companions who were authorized to take the herd out to graze. Concluding, therefore, without going to them, that he was relieved, he sought his resting-place and was soon fast asleep. In the morning, anxious inquiries were made for the horses and mules, when a very short investigation revealed the truth of matters. It was, undoubtedly, very fortunate for the sentinel that he fell into the error alluded to. It was very apparent that the two advanced Indians who let down the bars were backed up by a strong party. The signs of Indians, discovered afterwards, proved this beyond a doubt. Their reserve party were posted where the least resistance on the part of the sentinel would have been followed by his quick and certain death. This successful theft was, no doubt, considered by the Indians a cause for great rejoicing. It may have formed the basis of promoting the brave who planned and directed it, as the animals had been obtained without the loss of a man or even the receiving of a wound. The parties living at the Fort were equally as poorly off for horses and mules as were now the trappers. The same Indians had recently performed the same trick upon them. The loss was most severely felt by the trappers, inasmuch as they had not a single animal left upon which to give chase. Nothing remained for them to enact, except a stoical indifference over their loss and await the return of McCoy, who had agreed, after finishing his business at Fort Walla Walla, to rejoin, them at Fort Hall.

This tribe of Indians, the Blackfeet, whose meddlesome dispositions have so frequently brought them in contact with Kit Carson in such and dissimilar affairs, occupy the country on the Yellow Stone River and about the head waters of the Missouri. There are other tribes in close proximity, the most important of which is the tribe called the Crows. When Kit Carson first entered upon his wild career the Blackfeet Indians numbered nearly thirty thousand souls. They were greatly reduced in numbers within the next six or seven years, between 1832 and 1839. In the last-named year, in consequence of the ravages of the small pox, heretofore alluded to and which prevailed the year previous, they had lost at least fifty per cent. The Indian computations of 1850, according to Brownell, give their numbers at only about thirteen thousand. They are one of the finest races of the American Aborigines. Powerful in frame and development; well trained in horsemanship, although in this they are surpassed by the Camanches; capable of great endurance; and, usually well fitted as to arms, dress, horse trappings, et cætera, they generally prove knotty customers as enemies. We ought not to pass by this notice of the Blackfeet Indians without calling the attention of the inquisitive reader to a remarkable proof which is afforded by the whole intercourse of these western trappers with the Blackfeet Indians, as thus detailed by Kit Carson, of an assertion hazarded some years ago by Charles De Wolf Brownell, in his admirable work upon the Indian races of North and South America. On pages 465-6, Mr. Brownell comes to the defence of the Crow tribe of Indians, which, up to that time, had been characterized as a "lawless, thieving horde of savages." "But," says Mr. Brownell, "those best acquainted with their character and disposition, speak of them as honest and trustworthy." The adventures of Kit Carson among both the Crow and the Blackfeet Indians, we think, demonstrate pretty conclusively which of these contiguous tribes are the horse stealers. The Crows, it will be remembered, are more particularly inhabitants of the mountainous regions. The Blackfeet have ever been their sworn and implacable foes. Their burials of the hatchet have been few and far between, and never in deep soil. It is not, therefore, to be wondered at that the Blackfeet reputation should extend to the Crows; but, although circumstances exist which condemn the latter, they are few in number compared with the sins laid by the traders and trappers at the tent-doors of the former.

After the lapse of one month McCoy made his appearance and, most opportunely, brought an extra supply of animals. The camp was soon struck and the whole band started for the rendezvous, which had been appointed to convene at the mouth of Horse Creek on the Green River. They reached this place after several days of hard travel. As usual, trading operations did not commence until all the regular bands of trappers had arrived and reported. They were then commenced and continued through a period of twenty days. Here Kit Carson left the company under McCoy and joined a company under the management of a Mr. Fontenelle which numbered one hundred men. This party went to and trapped on the Yellow Stone River. On commencing operations the party was divided into fifty trappers and fifty keepers. The duties of the former were to take the beaver and provide game for food. The latter to guard their property and cook. The trappers were now in the midst of their sworn foes, the Blackfeet Indians. They felt themselves sufficiently strong and were desirous to pay off old scores. They therefore trapped where they pleased, being determined to dispute the right of possession to the country if attacked. They were not, however, molested. A good reason appeared for this, soon after, brought by some friendly Indians belonging to the Crow Tribe. They informed the whites that the small pox was making terrible havoc with the Blackfeet Indians. Thousands were dying and fears were entertained that the whole tribe would be cut off. In order to attend to their sick they had secluded themselves. The trapping season being nearly over, as the streams began to freeze, the party commenced looking out for a camping site.

In conjunction with the main body of the Crow nation they proceeded to a well protected valley and erected their lodges, making themselves as comfortable as possible under the circumstances. As the season advanced, the cold became more severe, until at last, it was more intense than ever before experienced by the trappers or Indians. Fuel, however, was abundant, and, excepting the inconvenience of keeping unusually large fires, they suffered but little. Not so with their animals. It was with the greatest difficulty that they preserved them from starvation. By the most unwearied exertions, however, they succeeded in obtaining food enough barely to keep them alive until the weather became more mild and auspicious. At one time the crisis was so imminent, that the trappers were compelled to resort to cottonwood trees, thawing the bark and small branches, after gathering them, by their fires. This bark was torn from the trees in shreds sufficiently small for the animals to masticate. The Indians of the Rocky Mountains, when suffering from hunger, are often driven to the extremity of eating this material. For miles, not unfrequently, the traveler discovers these trees denuded of their bark, after a party has passed through on their way to find the buffalo. The rough, outside cuticle is discarded, and the tender texture, next to the body of the tree, is the part selected for food. It will act in staying the appetite, but cannot, for any great length of time, support life. It is dangerous to allow starving animals to eat freely of it; the trappers, therefore, feed it to them but sparingly.

The intense cold operated to bring upon them another serious annoyance in the shape of immense herds of starving buffalo, which, goaded on by the pangs of hunger, would watch for an opportunity to gore the animals and steal their scanty allowance of provender. It was only by building large fires in the valleys and constantly standing guard that the trappers succeeded in keeping them off.

During the winter, to beguile the time, the whites vied with their Indian allies in many of their sports. As game existed in superabundance, always ready for a loaded rifle, both parties were contented and happy. Time flew away rapidly and soon brought again the sunshine of spring with the buds and blossoms, gay wild flowers, green herbage and forest verdure. For the purpose of procuring supplies, the trappers dispatched two messengers to Fort Laramie. They did not return and were never again heard from. The conclusion which gained belief was, that they had been murdered by the Sioux Indians. The party waited as long as they possibly could for the return of their two companions, but, finally, were compelled to commence the spring hunt without them. They trapped a short time on the Yellow Stone River and then went to the Twenty-Five-Yard River. From thence they proceeded to the head waters of the Missouri, and, on the most northern of its forks, remained some time, meeting with considerable success. Here they obtained news of the Blackfeet Indians, which showed that the ravages of the small pox had been greatly over estimated. They were still nearly as strong, and in character, had not at all become subdued. Upon drawing near to the source of this river, they discovered that the main village of these savages, their old foes, was in close proximity. This was pleasing intelligence to the trappers. They had suffered too many unprovoked insults at their hands not to desire the avenging of their wrongs and to punish them by way of retaliation. During the whole winter, and, in fact, from the time the party was first organized, they had anxiously abided their opportunity to meet and punish the rascally Blackfeet warriors. The old scores, or sores, had been festering too long, and here was a chance to probe them satisfactorily.

The party cautiously followed upon the trail which led to the Indian encampment until within one day's journey of it. Here they came to a halt. Kit Carson, with five men, was sent in advance to reconnoitre. Upon approaching the Indians, the reconnoitering party discovered them busily engaged driving in their animals to saddle and pack, and making such other preparations necessary to the effecting of a hurried decampment. Kit and his companions hastened back and reported the results of their observations. A council was immediately held which decided to send out forty-three picked men to give battle; and, for the commander of this party, Kit Carson was unanimously elected. The fifty-five men left behind under Mr. Fontenelle had the onerous duty of guarding the animals and equipage. It was a part of the programme, also, that the latter force should move on slowly and act as a reserve in case of need.

Kit Carson and his command were in fine spirits and lost no time in overhauling the village. In the first charge they killed ten of the bravest warriors. The savages quickly recovered from this blow and commenced retreating in good order. For three consecutive hours they heroically received a series of these furious and deadly assaults without offering much resistance. At the end of this time the firing of the mountaineers began to slacken, as their ammunition was running low. These experienced and brave, though rascally Indians, soon surmised the cause of this sudden change of affairs. Rallying their forces, they turned upon their assailants in right good earnest and a desperate hand-to-hand engagement ensued. The white men now had an opportunity to use their small arms, which told with such terrible effect upon their foes that they were soon driven back again. They, however, rallied once more and charged so manfully that the trappers were forced to retreat. In this latter engagement a horse belonging to a mountaineer by the name of Cotton, fell, throwing his rider and holding him on the ground by his weight. This happened as he was passing a point of rocks. Six of the warriors, seeing the accident, instantly hurried forward to take Cotton's scalp. But Kit Carson's eagle eye was watching every part of the battle-field and discovered, in time to be of service, the danger to which his friend was exposed. Although some distance off, Kit sprang from his saddle, and, with the leap of an antelope and the rallying cry for his men, was on the ground, ready to make a certain shot. His aim and the crack of his rifle almost belonged to the same instant of time. It was none the less sure. The foremost warrior, a powerful savage, whose fingers evidently itched for the scalp of the mountaineer, fell, shot through the heart. By this time others had followed the bold example of their leader, when the five remaining warriors, seeing the imminent danger which threatened them, turned to run back into their band. But two of them however reached a place of safety. The remainder, caught in their fleet career by the unerring and death-dealing bullets of the mountaineers, measured their lengths upon the battle-ground, stricken with wounds which demanded and received from them their last wild war-whoop.

Kit Carson's eagle eye was watching every part of the battle-field and discovered, in time to be of service, the danger to which his friend was exposed. Although some distance off, Kit sprang from his saddle, and, with the leap of an antelope and the rallying cry for his men, was on the ground ready to make a certain shot.—Page 120.

When Kit Carson fired, his horse, being under no restraint, became frightened and dashed away, leaving his brave rider on foot. Kit however instantly comprehended his position. The fallen horseman had succeeded in extricating himself, but not without difficulty, for the ground was very uneven. He had received a few pretty severe contusions, but was, notwithstanding these, worth a dozen Indians yet, and failed not to show the fact. Seeing Cotton thus all right, Kit Carson made his way to one of his companions, and, as the fighting had, apparently by mutual consent, ceased for a few moments, mounted up behind him and thus rejoined the main body of his men. The runaway horse, after quite a chase, was soon captured by a trapper and returned to his captain. A period of inactivity now reigned over the battle-field, each party apparently waiting for the other to again open the ball. During this resting spell, the reserve division of the trappers came in sight, having been anxiously expected for some time. The Indians showed no fear at this addition to the number of their adversaries. On the contrary, being no doubt carried away by their recent success in making a stand, they commenced posting themselves among the rocks about one hundred and fifty yards distant from the position taken up by the trappers. The arrival of the reserve was a great relief to the advance, because, they were tired of fighting without ammunition. Having well filled their ammunition pouches they once more became eager for the affray. Everything being in readiness, with a cheer, they started on foot to attack and dislodge the enemy. In a few moments was commenced the severest skirmish of the day. It became so exciting that frequently a trapper would occupy one side, and a stalwart warrior the other, of some large rock, each intent upon the life of his adversary. In such cases it required the closest watchfulness and the utmost dexterity to kill or dislodge the bold savage. The power of powder in the hands of skillful men soon began to assert its superiority in the battle, and when once the Indians commenced to waver, it was all over with them. Their first wavering soon broke into a complete rout, when they ran for their lives. As they scattered in every direction, the pursuit which followed was short. In this battle the trappers considered that they had thoroughly settled all outstanding accounts with the Blackfeet Indians, for they had killed a large number of their warriors and wounded many more. On their side three men only were killed and a few severely wounded.

Fontenelle and his men camped for a few days in the vicinity of the scene of their late engagement, burying their dead and repairing damages. They then resumed the business of trapping, traversing the Blackfeet country whenever they chose without fear of molestation. The success in their late engagement seemed to follow them in their business, for their stock of fur accumulated rapidly.

While they were encamped upon Green River, an express rider, sent by the traders, came into camp and informed the party that the rendezvous would be held on Mud River. With a large stock of beaver, the party started for that place, arriving in eight days.

Besides the usual traders and trappers, the party met at this rendezvous some missionaries and a distinguished English nobleman, Sir William Stuart. Of this latter gentleman, Kit Carson says: "For the goodness of his heart and numerous rare qualities of mind, he will always be remembered by those of the mountaineers who had the honor of his acquaintance."

Among the missionaries was "Old Father De Smidt," as he afterwards came to be familiarly called. This gentleman is at present well known as being a leading literary and religious man at St. Louis, Missouri. Perhaps there never was a person in the wilds of America who became so universally beloved both by the white and red man. While in the mountains, he acted with untiring zeal for the good of all with whom he came into contact. Wherever duty called him, there he was sure to be found, no matter what the obstacles or dangers spread upon the path. He worked during a long series of years in these dangerous localities, and accomplished much good. When, at last, he returned to civilization, he left an indelible name behind him.

In twenty days after the camp at the rendezvous was formed, it broke up again into small parties. Kit Carson, with seven companions, went to Brown's Hole. This was a trading post. Here they found two traders who were contemplating getting up a business expedition to the Navajoe Indians. This tribe exhibits more traces of white blood than any other of the wild races in North America. They are brave and fond of owning large possessions. These consist chiefly of immense herds of fine horses and sheep. In this respect they are not unlike the ancient inhabitants of the earth, who "watched their roving store" on Syrian soil and the contiguous countries. The parties who desired to trade with them usually carried a stock of trinkets and articles of use, for which they received horses, mules, blankets and lariets.[¹³]

Navajoe blankets are very celebrated in the far west of America, and especially in old Mexico, where they are in great demand and command high prices. Many of these articles are really beautiful, and, from their fine texture, together with the great amount of labor spent in their manufacture, are expensive, even when purchased of the Indians. The art of weaving these blankets has been long known to the Navajoe Indians; and, all the female children belonging to the nation are taught the art during their earliest years. It is only after much practice, however, that they become expert.

Kit Carson joined the two traders, whose names were Thompson and Sinclair, and made the trip with them which they had planned. They realized very handsomely from it, bringing back a large drove of very fine mules. The animals were driven to the Fort on the South Fork of the Platte, where they were disposed of at fair prices. Having received his share of the profits, Kit returned again to Brown's Hole. The season was too far gone for him to think of joining another trapping expedition that fall. He therefore began to look about for some suitable employment for the winter. As soon as it became known that his services were open for an engagement, several offers were made him, all of which he rejected. The reader will doubtless see a contrast between the Kit Carson renowned as a trapper and hunter and the Kit Carson who, at Taos, only a few years before, was glad to hire out as a cook, in order to gain his daily sustenance. For some time, strong inducements of high wages had been held out to him by the occupants of the Fort, in order to prevail upon him to accept the responsible and arduous office of Hunter to the Fort. The task of supplying, by the aid of the rifle, all the flesh twenty men would naturally consume during an entire winter, formed the duty required and expected from this officer. The inducements were so tempting, the task so congenial with his feelings, and, withal, the urgent persuasions of the men so pressing, that Kit Carson finally accepted the offer and entered upon his duties. He soon showed the company that he knew his business, and could perform it with an ease and certainty which failed not to elicit universal esteem and commendation. When the time arrived for him to resign the office in the Spring, he left behind him golden opinions of his skill as a marksman.

CHAPTER VI.

Bridger and Carson trapping on the Black Hills—The Main Camp—The Rendezvous—Winter Quarters on the Yellow Stone—Carson with forty men in a desperate fight with the Blackfeet Indians—A Council—Sentinel posted—One Thousand Warriors come to punish the Trappers—The War Dance—The Courage of the Savages deserts them—Winter Quarters—The Spring Hunt—Another Fight with the Blackfeet—Continued Annoyances—The Trappers abandon the Country—The Rocky Mountains and Alps compared—Other Trapping Expeditions—Beaver becoming scarce—Prices of Fur reduced—Kit Carson and the Trappers give up their Vocation—The Journey to Bent's Fort—Mitchell the Mountaineer—His Eccentricities.

In the spring, Kit Carson joined Bridger. With four companions they went to the Black Hills to hunt. In the streams adjacent to that country, the beaver existed in large numbers and their success in trapping was excellent.

Soon after arriving, however, the party broke up. Kit Carson and a trapper named Owens made a hunt by themselves and were very fortunate in obtaining a large stock of the fur. After which they joined the main camp of the trappers on Green River. When the summer was pretty well advanced, the camp was broken up and all of its occupants started for the Rendezvous, this year held on the Popoayhi, a branch of the Wind River.

In the fall, most of the trappers went to the country which lies in the immediate neighborhood of the Yellow Stone River. Having trapped all the streams there, they went into winter quarters on that stream.

Nothing was heard of their sworn enemies, the Blackfeet Indians until about the middle of the winter. A party who were out hunting suddenly came upon some signs which, looking suspicious, attracted their attention. To these signs they gave a close investigation, and fully made up their minds that they were close to the stronghold of their foes. Without waiting to follow up the signs they immediately retraced their steps and informed their party in camp of their conviction that trouble was brewing. A command of forty men was instantly detailed to seek out the Indians and give them battle. Kit Carson was once more called upon to lead the brave trappers in this expedition, and everything was left to his direction and good judgment. Soon after commencing their march, the company fell in with a scouting party of the enemy in the vicinity of the spot where the fresh signs had been discovered. To this party the trappers gave chase, wisely concluding they would run for their main body. The result satisfied their anticipations. In a short time they found themselves opposed to a strong band of the Indians, when, a regular fight was instantly commenced. After quite a spirited contest, the Indians gave way and retreated, but in good order, to an island in the Yellow Stone River where they had previously erected strong barricades. Night put a stop to the scenes of the day and further action was deferred until the next morning. As soon as the light would again warrant it, the trappers plunged into the stream and made for the island, being determined to dislodge the Indians. To their great dismay the brave savages had already retreated having quietly given them the slip during the night.

The result of the battle the day before was now made apparent. It was evident that not much powder had been wasted in the action. The snow within the fortification was red with fresh blood, and from the place a bloody trail led to a hole in the ice of the stream where a large number of lifeless bodies had been sunk. There was nothing now to be done except to return to camp. Upon their arrival a council was convened to devise measures and plans for their future conduct. It was quite evident to all that the campaign had but just commenced. It was the general impression that the main village of the Blackfeet tribe had been located within a few miles. When therefore the news of their recent severe loss should be carried there by the survivors in the battle, active measures would be set on foot to seek revenge. It was the decision of the council that the trappers should act chiefly on the defensive. Measures were immediately set on foot to guard against surprise. To make everything doubly secure, none but the most trusty and well-tried men were detailed to perform sentinel duty. Near their camp there was a very lofty hill which commanded a fine view of the surrounding country. Upon this eminence they posted a sentinel throughout the day time. Their arrangements having been all determined upon and plans laid, the execution of them, to men so well skilled in frontier life, occupied but little time. Notwithstanding this celerity in their movements they had been none too quick. Soon after their preparations were fully made, the sentinel on the hill gave his signal indicating the approach of the Indians, showing that their precaution in this respect had been a wise one. The order was immediately given to erect strong breastworks. This task was so successfully accomplished, that, in a few hours, they had prepared a little fortress, which, covered with their unerring rifles, was impregnable against any force the Indians could bring against it. The advance party of the savages soon appeared in sight, but when they discovered the strength of the trappers, they halted and awaited, distant about half a mile from the breastwork, the arrival of the rest of the band. It was three days before the whole force of the Indians had arrived. They mustered about one thousand warriors. It was a sight which few white men of the American nation have looked upon. Arrayed in their fantastic war costume and bedaubed with paint, armed with lances, bows and arrows, rifles, tomahawks, knives, etc., some mounted and some on foot, they presented a wild and fearful scene of barbaric strength and fancy. Soon after their last company had reported, the frightful war-dance, peculiar to the American savages, was enacted in sight of the trappers' position. The battle songs and shouts which accompanied the dance reached the ears of the whites with fearful distinctness. Any other than hearts of oak with courage of steel would have quailed before this terrible display of savage enmity and ferocity. This dance, to men so well skilled in the ways of the Indian warrior, was a sure signal that the next day would be certain to have a fearful history for one party or the other and doubtless for both. The odds, most assuredly, were apparently greatly in favor of the savage host and against the little band of hardy mountaineers.