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]

[Footnote 3: Salt Springs.]

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]

[Footnote 4: These stampedes are a source of great profit to the Indians of the Plains. It is by this means they deprive the caravans of their animals. The Camanches are particularly expert and daring in this kind of robbery. They even train horses to run from one given point to another in expectancy of caravans. When a camp is made which is nearly in range they turn their trained animals loose, who at once fly across the plain, penetrating and passing through the camp of their victims. All of the picketed animals will endeavor to follow, and usually succeed in following, the trained horses. Such are invariably led into the haunts of the thieves, who easily secure them. Young horses and mules are easily frightened; and, in the havoc which generally ensues, oftentimes great injury is done to the runaways themselves. The sight of a stampede on a grand scale requires steady nerves to witness without tremor; and, woe to the footman who cannot get out of the way when the frightened animals come along. At times, when the herd is very large, the horses scatter over the open country and are irrecoverably lost; and, such as do not become wild, fall a prey to the ravenous wolves. Such, most frequently, is the fate of stampeded horses which have been bred in the States, not being trained by a prairie-life experience to take care of themselves. Instead of bravely stopping and fighting off the wolves, they run. The whole pack are sure to leave the bolder animals and make for the runaways, which they seldom fail to overtake and dispatch. Four years since, one of these stampedes occurred on the Plains of a band of horses, in which there were several hundred valuable animals. It was attended with very heavy loss to the owners. Through the courage and great exertions of those who had the animals in charge, many were recovered, but none without having sustained more or less injury.

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

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]

[Footnote 5: The mountain Indians, during the Summer season generally come down from their secure retreats and are engaged either in hunting buffalo, or marching on the war-path. When they are at peace with the Indians of the Plains, which is rarely the case, they join them, and, together, with their united strength and skill, they make piratical excursions into the Settlements of the Mexicans. While out on this business, they leave their families in some secluded spot for abundant caution, placing them under the guardianship of the old men, assisted by some of the younger members of the tribe.]

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.

[Footnote 6: Animalium patris testiculum.]

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.



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 manoeuvres, 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]

[Footnote 7: The author once saw thirty brave and determined men in pursuit of an old grizzly bear and her two cubs near the head waters of the Arkansas River. In vain they urged their horses to the chase. Not a single steed in the entire band could be induced to run for the game. The old bear was quite thin and her young nearly half grown and were very fleet of foot. The chase lasted for about three miles, but not a man present was able to obtain a shot, because their riding animals were so completely frightened as to be almost unmanageable; consequently, the bears made good their escape. The last that was seen of them was their dim outlines as they traveled leisurely up a deep ravine.]

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 manoeuvering, 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.



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]