[Footnote 8: Charles Wentworth Upham.]

[Footnote 9: The reader will easily correct the few discrepancies of facts contained in this statement, by the narrative which is from Carson himself, and given with a view to publication.]

"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 an 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 manoeuvering 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."

[Footnote 10: We give the name which was applied to this river at the date of the facts related in the text. It is now called the Humboldt River.]

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]

[Footnote 11: See page 161.]

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.

[Footnote 12: Corral, a barnyard.]

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 caetera, 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.



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]

[Footnote 13: A lariet is a beautifully made rope, manufactured from hides and used for picketing horses out upon the prairies. They are worth, in New Mexico, about two dollars each.]

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.

The following day the expectations of the trappers were realized. The Indians, at the first dawn of day, approached the breastwork, eager for the battle. They were, evidently, very much astonished at beholding the invincibility of the trappers' position. It was what they had not calculated upon and seemed to cast a perfect damper upon their courage. After firing a few shots which did no harm, and seeing that nothing could be accomplished except by a charge, they commenced a retreat. The trappers, though only sixty strong, were filled with disappointment and chagrin at the course taken by their wary foes. They began to shout to their enemies in derisive terms, hoping the taunts would exasperate and draw them into an attack. Nothing, however, would tempt them to face the danger, for they withdrew to a spot about one mile from the little fort and sat down in council. The speeches appeared to be generally opposed to risking an assault; for, after the council was dissolved, the Indians divided into two nearly equal parties and immediately marched off. One band took the direction of the Crow country and the other shaped their course in the direction from whence they came.

The trappers remained at their little fort during the winter and were not again disturbed by the Indians. Early in the following spring, they set their traps on one of the tributaries of the Missouri River and finished the hunt on the head of Lewis' Fork. They then departed for the rendezvous which was held on Green River near the mouth of Horse Creek, remaining there until the month of August and until the meeting was dissolved.

Kit Carson, on the breaking up of the camp at the rendezvous, accompanied by five other trappers, went to Fort Hall and joined a party attached to the "Northwest Fur Company." With this band he trapped to the head of Salmon River. Thence they went to Malade River, trapping down it to where it empties into the Big Snake River. They continued on up this latter river, and then, after trapping on Goose Creek and Raft River, returned to Fort Hall. Their stock of fur was quite extensive on their arrival here and, an opportunity offering to dispose of it, they sold out at a fair valuation. After recruiting their strength at the Fort for one month, Kit Carson, accompanied by most of the trappers, set out to join Bridger, who was still in the country of the Blackfeet Indians. Upon striking the Missouri River, signs of trappers were discovered, indicating that, whoever the party, or parties might be, they were now above the place where Kit and his party then were. With fourteen companions Kit started in advance of the main party to overtake, and report who these men were. Towards evening of the same day, the advance party came up with the trappers and found that they were under the charge of Joseph Gale and in the employ of Captain Wyatt.

Gale informed Carson that his command had recently been engaged in a closely contested fight with the Blackfeet Indians; that several of his party had been wounded, and one, by the name of Richard Owens, was at first thought to be mortally so; but, eventually, he had begun to recover and now was doing well.

Kit and his men remained one night with Gale. On the following day his party commenced setting their traps, intending to proceed up the river at a slow pace in order to allow the main party to overtake them. The men sent out to set their traps had not gone from the camp over two miles before they were fired upon by a party of Blackfeet Indians and compelled to retreat. They did so, succeeding in joining their comrades without the loss of a single man. The pursuit had been close and well sustained by the savages; hence, it became necessary to take instant measures in order to insure the safety of the advance. Kit Carson, who was the commander of the party, after quietly surveying the scene, gave orders for the men, with their animals, to conceal themselves, as best they could in the brush. His orders had been issued but just in time, for the concealment was barely attained, when the Indians were upon them. They were received with a well-directed volley from the rifles of the little party, which brought down several of the fierce assailants. They recoiled and retreated for a moment. The moment was golden to the few white men. Like men who were fighting for their lives but who were cool in danger, they made no mistakes in reloading their rifles. They were but just ready, however, for the second charge. This time the savages came on with unearthly yells and desperate courage, seemingly well satisfied that before them stood the men whose faithful rifle-talk they had heard before. Kit warned his men to keep cool and fire as if shooting game, a warning which was entirely unnecessary, for the result was that the savages were again driven back with a brave bleeding or dying for nearly every shot fired. It was very fortunate that Kit had chosen this position, for the engagement lasted nearly the entire day. The loss on the part of the Indians was very severe. They did everything in their power to force Kit and his party from their cover, but without avail. Every time they attempted to charge into the thicket the same deadly volley was poured in with never-failing aim, which invariably caused the savages to beat a hasty retreat. Before the next attack the trappers were ready for them with reloaded rifles. At last, as if driven to desperation, the Indians set the thicket on fire, hoping to burn out their foes. Most providentially, in this also they were foiled. After consuming the outer shrubbery, the fire died out. This was the last act attempted by the savages. Seeing the ill-success of their effort to dislodge the trappers by fire, they departed. They may have been hurried in this leave-taking somewhat by news brought in by their spies of the near approach of the main body of the trappers, which had arrived at a point about six miles distant from the battle ground. They had been prevented from hearing the reports of fire-arms by adverse winds, and knew nothing of the fight until informed by the trappers engaged in it. When sufficient time had elapsed for the Indians to be well out of sight, Kit Carson and his companions left their cover and soon found their way into the camp of their friends.

Gale was so continually annoyed by these Indians that he joined the other trappers and together they concluded to leave their country. Their combined forces, though able to cope with them so far as defensive measures were necessary, was utterly powerless to overawe them. This made it next to an impossibility for them to continue in their country with a hope of success in business. For the purpose of getting rid of them, they moved off, some distance, to a small creek where beaver were plenty. Trouble followed them, however. The first day of their arrival, one of the party was killed by the Blackfeet Indians within a short distance, only, of the camp. During the remainder of the stay made by the party on this stream, the rascals hovered around and worried them to such a degree that a trapper could not leave the camp without falling into an ambuscade and being forced to fight his way back again.

It became evident to all interested that so long as such a state of affairs existed they could not employ their time with just hope of advantage. After a short council, it was decided to abandon this region of the country and go to the North Fork of the Missouri. They soon accomplished their journey and began the business of trapping. Proceeding up the river, on the fourth day, they came, suddenly, upon a large village of Flathead and Pondrai Indians who were encamped upon its banks. These Indians were friendly to the whites. A chief of the Flatheads and several of his people joined the trappers and went with them to the Big Snake River where they established their winter quarters. The winter passed away so quietly that not a single incident occurred beyond the usual routine which the imagination of the reader can easily supply. It was quite cold that season, and the snow fell to a great depth. Everything however was arranged as best conduced to comfort, and the trappers found a pleasant and congenial exercise in hunting to supply their daily wants.

The winter seasons in the Rocky Mountains are usually fearful and severe. There, snow storms form mountains for themselves, filling up the passes for weeks, even those which are low being impracticable either for man or beast. As a set-off to all this, the scenery is most grand provided the beholder is well housed. If the case is otherwise and he be doomed to combat these terrible storms, his situation is most critical. During the summer months the lofty peaks of this mighty chain of mountains, like those of the Alps, are covered with white caps of snow. As time, the bright sun and the south wind wear out these old-lady head-gearings, no matter what be the part of the year, whether the cold days of January, or the hot days of August, the snow storms are faithful in replenishing them. It affords a contrast of the elements of the grandest conception to stand in the shade of some wavy verdure of the valley wiping off the unbidden perspiration from the brow, and, at the same instant, look upon a darkly threatening storm-cloud powdering the heads of the hoary monster mountains from its freight of flaky snow. So far these American giant mountains are unsurpassed by their Alpine neighbors of Europe. Not so in the glaciers. Throughout the great range, there are none of those beautiful glaciers to be found that can compare with those possessed by their compeers in Europe.

To the traveler whose taste has led him to wander along the "Great back bones," or vertebrae, of the two hemispheres, preparing the mind to draw truthful contrast, his pleasantest reveries will find him drawing comparisons between them. He is never tired, for the subject he cannot exhaust. When, supposing that his conclusions are at last made and that the Alps have won the highest place in favor, some forgotten scene from America will assume the form and shape of a vivid recollection, rife with scenic grandeur and sublimity, restoring the Rocky chain to its counterpoise; then, an hour of peril and fearful toil will come to memory, and, until the same mental process shall bring them again to an equilibrium, the far-famed Alps will descend in the balance. Each have their attractions, each their grandeur, each their sublimity, each their wonderful, awful silence, each their long and glorious landscape views, while, to each, the general contour is the same. In the point of altitude, the Rocky chain, as is well known to science, has the advantage; but, in historical science and lore, the famous Alps stand preeminent. True, it is from ignorance that we are led to concede this, because no man can give to the world the reminiscences of the Rocky Mountains. Their history, since the first red man entered them, must forever rest in oblivion. In scenery these mountains of the Western Continent again carry off the palm; for, they strike the observer as being more bold, wild and picturesque than their formidable rivals. To the foot-worn traveler, who has journeyed thirty or forty days upon the level prairies, seeing nothing to break the monotony of a sea of earth, the dark outlines of the Rocky Mountains, gradually coming into the view, never fail to prove a refreshing sight both to the physical and mental eye. They appear as if descending from the heavens to the surface of the earth, perpendicularly, as though intended to present a perfect barrier over which no living thing should pass. This view never fails to engross the earnest attention of the traveler, and hours of gazing only serve to enwrap the mind in deeper and more fixed contemplation. Is there not here presented a field, such as no other part of this globe can furnish, in which the explorer, the geologist, the botanist may sow and reap a rich harvest for his enterprise? As yet scientific research, on questions concerning the Rocky Mountains, is comparatively speaking, dumb. But science will soon press forward in her heavenly ordained mission, borne upon the shoulders of some youthful hero, and once more the wise book-men of the gown and slipper, who, surrounded with their tomes on tomes of learned digests, are fast approaching the hour when they had better prepare their last wills and testaments, will again be distanced in the race and doomed to argue technicalities. To the hunter, the real lover of and dependent upon the chase, there can be no comparison between the mighty Alps and the huge Rocky Mountain Barrier of the American Prairies. The one is destitute of animal life while the other bears a teeming population of the choicest game known to the swift-leaden messenger of the white man's rifle. He who wishes to behold in the same gaze, beautiful valleys, highly cultivated by a romantic and interesting race, in rich contrast with wonderfully moulded masses of earth and stone, covered with a medley of green foliage and white snow, let him go to the Alps.

In the following spring Kit Carson, accompanied by only one trapper, started out to hunt the streams in the vicinity of Big Snake River. The Utah nation of Indians inhabit this country; and, with them, Kit Carson stood on a friendly footing. The business of trapping was therefore carried on without fear of molestation. The labors of the two were crowned with great success.

Loaded with a full cargo of fur they soon after set out for Robidoux's Fort, which they reached in safety, selling out their stock to good advantage.

Kit Carson made only a short stop at this Fort. As soon as his fur was disposed of, he immediately organized a small party consisting of five trappers and made a journey to Grand River. After thoroughly trapping this river, he established himself at Brown's Hole on Green River for the winter. Early in the spring he returned with the same party to the country of the Utahs and hunted there for some time. He then went to the New Park, where they finished their trapping operations and returned to Robidoux's Fort. Here Kit again found a purchaser for his furs; but, the prices at which he was obliged to sell them, did not at all please him. Within a few years, the value of beaver fur had greatly deteriorated. This was caused by the slow demand which had gradually ruled at the great emporiums of Europe and America. The skill of the manufacturer had substituted a material for the making of hats which, while it was cheaper, pleased the great race of hat-wearers. The beaver itself was becoming scarce, owing to their being so diligently hunted. It was evident to Kit Carson and many of his mountaineer companions that their occupation was gradually becoming less profitable and that it would soon drive them into other employments. Acting upon this impression Kit Carson, accompanied by "Old Bill Williams,"[14] William New, Mitchell and Fredericks, a Frenchman, started for Bent's Fort, which was then located on the Arkansas River near a large forest of cotton wood trees, and which is, even at this day, known as the "Big Timbers." The party struck the river at a point about one hundred miles above the Fort, where, in later years, was built a settlement called St. Charles.[15]

[Footnote 14: William Williams was a most celebrated character in the Rocky Mountains, where he lived for many years. At one time he was a Methodist preacher in the State of Missouri, which he frequently boasted of in after life. Whenever relating this part of his eventful career, he used to say that he was so well known in his circuit, that the chickens recognized him as he came riding past the farmhouses. The old chanticleers would crow "Here comes Parson Williams! One of us must be made ready for dinner." Upon quitting the States, he traveled extensively among the various tribes of wild Indians throughout the far West and adopted their manners and customs. Whenever he grew weary of one nation he would go to another. To the Missionaries, he was often very useful. He possessed the faculty of easily acquiring languages and could readily translate most of the Bible into several Indian dialects. His own conduct, however, was frequently in strange contrast with the precepts of that Holy Book. He next turns up as a hunter and trapper; when, in this capacity, he became more celebrated for his wild and daring adventures than before he had been for his mild precepts. By many of his companions, he was looked upon as a man who was partially insane. Williams proved to be a perfect enigma and terror to the Mexicans, who thought him possessed of an evil spirit. He once settled for a short time in their midst and became a trader. Soon after he had established himself, he had a quarrel with some of his customers about his charges. He appeared to be instantly disgusted with the Mexicans, for he threw his small stock of goods into the street of the town where he lived, seized his rifle and started again for the mountains. His knowledge of the country over which he had wandered was very extensive; but, when Colonel Fremont put it to the test, he came very near sacrificing his life to his guidance. This was probably owing to the failing of Williams' intellect; for, when he joined the Great Explorer, he was past the meridian of life. After bequeathing his name to several mountains, rivers and passes which were undoubtedly discovered by him, he was slain by the red men while trading with them.]

[Footnote 15: Five years ago this settlement contained, about thirty inhabitants, mostly Mexicans. It was frequently subjected to various kinds of annoyances from Indians. On one occasion it was attacked by the hostile Utahs and Apaches, who killed and carried off as prisoners a total of sixteen settlers. Among the slain was a Canadian who fought so skillfully and desperately before he was dispatched, that he killed three of his assailants. When his body was found, it was literally pierced through and through with lance and arrow wounds, while the hand, with which he had caught hold of some of these weapons, was nearly cut to pieces. Around his corpse, there were a dozen horses' tails which had been cut from the horses which were owned by the dead warriors, and left there, as a sign of mourning, by the Indians.]

On reaching the river, two of the party, Mitchell and New, concluded to tarry awhile in order to gratify their humor for hunting. But Kit Carson, with the remainder of the mountaineers, continued on their course, and, in three days time, were safely lodged within the walls of the Fort. One week subsequently, Mitchell and New followed their companions to the Fort, but in a sad plight. They had not suspected danger, and, consequently, had failed to guard against it. They had been surrounded by Indians and deprived of everything they possessed except their naked bodies. In this denuded state they arrived at the Fort. They were kindly received and provided for by its noble-hearted proprietors; and, for some time enjoyed a respite from all their troubles.

This mountaineer Mitchell, full of eccentricities of character, has seen the ups and downs of a frontiersman during a long and eventful life. He once joined the Camanche nation and became one of their braves.[16]

[Footnote 16: White men have frequently enrolled themselves as warriors among the American Indians; but they have rarely gained the full confidence of the Indians, who, naturally very proud of their birthright, view with a jealous eye all intruders.]

In this capacity he won great renown by the efficient and active part he took in several engagements between the tribe of his adoption and their enemies. His real object in turning Indian was to discover the locality of a gold mine which was said to have an existence in some of the mountains of northern Texas. Having convinced himself that the story of the gold mine, like many of the tales and traditions which gain currency in Indian countries, was entirely without foundation, Mitchell, with some plausible excuse, bid his red friends good bye and sought out his old comrades, the trappers, to whom he ever afterwards proved faithful. About two years since, Mitchell paid a trading visit to the States. On his route, it became necessary that he should pass over the Kansas Territory, just at a time when political difficulties there were exciting the people to the highest pitch of anxiety. The consequence was, that his views upon the all-absorbing questions at issue were frequently asked for by members of both parties. To all these queries he invariably replied, professing his ignorance of everything that appertained thereto. This caused him to be regarded as a dangerous man, and one not to be trusted. He was accordingly treated with indifference and silent reserve. This to a mountaineer, who, during a long period of years, had met every "pale face" as a brother, was insupportable usage. In all haste he finished his business, relinquished his contemplated journey through the States, and started to return to his home in New Mexico. While upon the road, he accidentally fell in with a friend; and, in reply to the question, where have you been? said:

"After a lapse of many years, I thought I should like to see the whites again; so, I was going to the States. But the sample I've seen in Kansas is enough to disgust a man with their character. They do nothing but get up war parties against one another; and, I would much rather be in an Indian country than in civilized Kansas." Mitchell is full of dry humor and commands the faculty of telling a good story, which makes him a pleasant traveling companion.

Since the time when Kit Carson first joined a trapping expedition, up to the time of his arrival at Bent's Fort, a period of eight long years, he had known no rest from arduous toil. Not even when, to the reader, he was apparently idle, buried in the deep snows of the Rocky Mountains and awaiting the return of Spring, has he rested from toil. Even then his daily life has been given up to bodily fatigue and danger, frequently in scenes which, although of thrilling interest, are too lengthy for this narrative. It has been our purpose thus far to present Kit Carson undergoing his novitiate. We regard, and we think a world will eventually regard, this extraordinary man as one raised up by Providence to fulfill a destiny of His all-wise decree. It is premature for us, at this stage of our work, to advance the argument upon which this conclusion, so irresistibly to our mind, is deduced. We have yet before us an array of historical fact and incident to relate, without parallel in the history of nations, and in which Kit Carson plays no insignificant part. For these eight years of stirring practical life, Kit Carson, relying upon his beloved rifle for his sustenance and protection, had penetrated every part of the interior of the North American Continent, setting his traps upon every river of note which rises within this interior, and tracing them from the little springs which originate them to the wide mouths from which they pour their surcharged waters into the mighty viaducts or drains of the vast prairies, and the mighty leviathan ranges of the Rocky Mountains. In this time he had wandered over a wild territory equal in its dimensions to nearly all of the empires, kingdoms and principalities of Europe combined. His journeys, as it has already appeared, were made sometimes on foot and sometimes on horseback. By themselves, his travels will be called no trivial undertakings. Each fresh adventure led him into regions where but seldom, and more frequently never, had a white man trod the soil. He was, therefore, now an explorer in every sense of that distinguishing word, with the single exception that he had not produced the results which the early culture and advantages of a scientific and classical education might have brought about. But the history of the world furnishes few examples, if indeed any, where the physical training, practical skill and knowledge of a country, as possessed by Kit Carson, have been united with scholastic lore. At all events, in the wisdom of that special Providence which was intending the gold mines of California to be consecrated to the advancement of American civilization, with its religious freedom, personal liberties and sacred literature, the novitiate of Kit Carson was decreed to be wholly of a practical nature. But while Kit Carson, with his rifle, was thus reared up in character, courage and experience, the same All-wise hand was directing the pathway of a mind, equal to accomplish His call, through all the labyrinths of Science, History and the Arts, endowing that mind with a keenness of intellectual grasp in strange contrast with the practical skill of its future guide. Those who see no God in nature, no God in events, may batter away at this proposition. The record of Kit Carson's future tasks will prove it to be an invincible stronghold of theory.

Kit Carson's mind had now become well stored with facts and localities which were destined to be made known to the world through his connections with others. It is not detracting from the merits of any one to assert that, without frontiers-men like Kit Carson, the numerous scientific expeditions which have been sent out by the United States Government to explore the far West would have returned but sorry and meagre records for their employers. After reading some of the many printed accounts which parties of a more recent date have gathered from their experience while making their way overland to the Pacific, and also the sad fate of some brave men with noble hearts who have fallen a sacrifice upon the altar of science under the fatal blows of hostile savages, attributable no doubt in some measure to bad advice, we can thus more easily form a correct judgment of the hardships which Kit Carson has been called upon to endure and the wisdom or skill which he has displayed in surmounting every obstacle on his wild and solitary pathway. The hardships which fell to the lot of the "trappers of olden time" also stand out in bolder relief. Out of the whole catalogue of labors, from which man, to gain an honest livelihood has selected, there is not one profession which presents so many formidable obstacles as that under consideration; yet, it was with difficulty that the mountaineers could wean themselves from their calling even when forced by stern necessity.



CHAPTER VII.

Kit Carson is employed as Hunter to Bent's Fort—His Career for Eight Years—Messrs. Bent and St. Vrain—The commencement of his Acquaintance with John C. Fremont on a Steamboat—Is employed as a Guide by the Great Explorer—The Journey—Arrival at Fort Laramie—Indian Difficulties—The business of the Expedition completed—Return to Fort Laramie—Kit Carson goes to Taos and is married—He is employed as Hunter to a Train of Wagons bound for the States—Meeting with Captain Cook and four companies of U.S. Dragoons on Walnut Creek—Mexicans in Trouble—Kit Carson carries a Letter for them to Santa Fe—Indians on the Route—His safe Arrival—Amijos' advance Guard massacred by the Texians—The one Survivor—The Retreat—Kit Carson returns to Bent's Fort—His Adventures with the Utahs and narrow escape from Death—The Texians disarmed—The Express Ride performed.

It has already appeared that Kit Carson was now at Bent's Fort. Also, that his occupation as a trapper of beaver had become unprofitable. His services were however immediately put into requisition by Messrs. Bent and St. Vrain, the proprietors of what was called Bent's Fort, which was a trading-post kept by those gentlemen. The position which he accepted was that of Hunter to the Fort. This office he filled from that time with the most undeviating fidelity and promptitude for eight consecutive years. During all of this long period not a single word of disagreement passed between him and his employers, which fact shows better than mere words, that his duty was faithfully and satisfactorily performed. It is but seldom that such a fact can be stated of any employee, no matter what the service. Here, however, was an example in which, the nature of the employment would of itself, at tunes, present cause for discord, such as scarcity of game, bad luck, and men hungry in consequence. But Kit Carson was too skillful in his profession to allow such reasons to mar his fortunes. With the effort the game always was at hand; for, it was not his custom to return from his hunts empty handed.

Of course Kit Carson's duties were to supply the traders and their men with all the animal food they wanted, an easy task when game was plenty; but, it would often happen that bands of Indians, which were always loitering about the trading post, would precede him in the chase, thereby rendering his labors oftentimes very difficult. From sunrise to sunset and not unfrequently during the night, he wandered over the prairies and mountains within his range in search of food for the maintenance, sometimes of forty men who composed the garrison of the Fort and who were dependent on the skill of their hunter; but, rarely did he fail them. He knew, for hundreds of miles about him, the most eligible places to seek for game. During the eight years referred to, thousands of buffalo, elk, antelope and deer fell at the crack of Kit Carson's rifle. Each day so added to his reputation that it is not to be wondered at, considering the practice of his previous life, that he became unrivalled as a hunter. His name spread rapidly over the Western Continent until, with the rifle, he was the acknowledged "Monarch of the Prairies." The wild Indians, accustomed to measure a man's greatness by the deeds which he is capable of performing with powder and lead, were completely carried away in their admiration of the man. Among the Arrapahoes, Cheyennes, Kiowas and Camanches, Kit Carson was always an honored guest whenever he chose to visit their lodges; and, many a night, while seated at their watch-fires, he has narrated to them the exciting scenes of the day's adventures, to which they have listened with eager attention and unrestrained delight. When arrayed in his rough hunting costume and mounted upon his favorite charger Apache, a splendid animal, Kit Carson was a picture to behold. The buffalo were his favorite game, and well were they worthy of such a noble adversary. In the eyes of a sportsman, the buffalo is a glorious prey. To hunt them is oftentimes attended with great danger; and, while thus engaged, many a skillful man has yielded up his life for his temerity.

The American bison or buffalo seems to demand at our hands a short episode from the narrative of Kit Carson's life. This animal has several traits of character peculiarly his own. If alarmed, he starts off almost instantly and always runs against the wind, his sense of smell appearing to be better than his eyesight. What is a most remarkable fact, a herd of buffalo, when grazing, always post and maintain a line of sentinels to warn the main body of the approach of danger. When a strange object comes within sight or smelling distance, these sentinels immediately give the alarm by tossing up their heads and tails and bellowing furiously. The whole herd instantly heed the warning and are soon in motion. Buffalo run with forelegs stiff, which fact, together with their ugly-looking humps and the lowness of their heads, gives a rocking swing to their gait. If a herd, when in full motion, have to cross a road on which wagons are traveling, they change their course but little; and, it sometimes happens, that large bands will pass within a stone's throw of a caravan. At night they are quite systematic in forming their camps. In the centre are placed the cows and calves; while, to guard against the wolves, large numbers of which always follow them, they station on their outposts, the old bulls. The age to which a buffalo may attain is not known; but, it is certain that they are generally long-lived when not prematurely cut off. When their powers of life begin to fade, they fall an easy prey to the small, carnivorous animals of the plains. The attempt has been made to domesticate and render them useful for agricultural purposes. Hitherto such efforts have invariably failed. When restrained of their freedom, they are reduced to mere objects of curiosity.

In hunting buffalo the most important matter for the attention of the hunter is to provide himself with a suitable horse. The best that can be selected is a trained Mexican or Indian pony. Their familiarity with the game and the prairies, over which the hunter must ride at full speed, renders these horses quite safe. On the other hand a green horse is sure to be terribly frightened when called upon to face these ugly-looking animals, and the rider will find he has his hands full to manage him without thinking of his game. One great danger to be apprehended is the being led into a prairie-dog town. Here a horse needs experience to carry his rider through with safety. Upon reaching the herd, the hunter dashes in at the cows, which, are easily recognized by the fineness of their robes and their smaller forms. The white man hunter, of all weapons, prefers a revolver; but, the red man uses the lance, and bow and arrows, which he handles with remarkable dexterity. The place of election to make the deadly wound is just behind the fore shoulder where the long, shaggy mane of the hump is intersected by the short hair of the body. The death-wound being given, the blood gushes out in torrents and the victim, after a few bounds, falls on her knees with her head bunting into the ground. If, by chance, a vital organ is not reached, the pain of the wound makes the stricken animal desperately courageous. She turns upon her pursuer with terrible earnestness ready to destroy him. It is now that the horse is to be depended upon. If well trained, he will instantly wheel and place himself and rider out of harm's way; but, woe to both horse and hunter if this is not done. The lives of both are in imminent danger. In case the buffalo is killed, the hunter rides up, dismounts and makes his lariet fast to the horns of his game. He next proceeds to cut up the meat and prepare it for his pack animals which he should have near by. By their aid he easily carries it into camp.

It would doubtless afford many a page of exciting interest could we carry the reader through all the varied scenes of the chase in which Kit Carson has been the principal actor. To transmit to our narrative a choice fight with the fierce old grizzly bear; or, perchance, a fine old buffalo bull turning on his destroyer with savage ferocity; or, a wounded panther, with its inevitable accompaniment in the shape of a hand-to-hand encounter for dear life, each of such could not fail in giving interest to the general reader. We are forced, against our own conviction of the duty we owe the public as Kit Carson's chosen Biographer, to pass by all such acts of his personal daring and triumph because of his own unwillingness to relate them for publication. Notwithstanding our urgent requests, backed up by the advice and interference of friends, Kit Carson is inflexibly opposed to relating such acts of himself. He is even more willing to speak of his failures, though such are few, rather than of his victories in the chase. While the description of these adventures could not fail to furnish useful and interesting data, most unfortunately, Kit Carson considers that they are uninteresting minutiae which have pertained to the every-day business of his life and no persuasion can induce him to enter upon their relation. Not so when he is entertaining some of the brave chiefs of the Indian nations whose friendship he has won by his brave deeds. If they are his guests, or he himself theirs, then their delight to hear kindles a pride in his breast to relate. He knows that he will not, by them, be called a boaster.

Before quitting the mountains, Kit Carson married an Indian girl to whom he was most devotedly attached. By this wife he had one child, a daughter. Soon after the birth of this child, his wife died. His daughter, he watched over with the greatest solicitude. When she reached a suitable age, he sent her to St. Louis for the purpose of giving her the advantages of a liberal education. Indeed most of Kit Carson's hard earnings, gained while he was a hunter on the Arkansas, were devoted to the advancement of his child. On arriving at maturity she married and with her husband settled in California.

The libertine custom of indulging in a plurality of wives, as adopted by many of the mountaineers, never received the sanction, in thought, word or action, of Kit Carson. His moral character may well be held up as an example to men whose pretensions to virtuous life are greater. Although he was continually surrounded by licentiousness he proved true to her who had first gained his affections. For this honoring of virtue he is indebted in a measure to the present sway which he holds over the western Indian races. While their chiefs are seldom men of virtuous act or intent, they are high in their appreciation of, and just in their rewards to those whose lives are patterns of honor and chastity. The Indian woman, concerning whom no truthful tale of dereliction can be told, when she arrives at the requisite age, is invested with great power in her tribe. One of their ancient customs, well authenticated, was to honor the virtuous women of their tribe with sacred titles, investing them, in their blind belief, with power to call down the favor, in behalf of the people, of their Manitou, or Great Spirit. But every woman who aspired to this honor, was required upon a certain day in the year, to run the gauntlet of braves. This was sometimes a terrible scene. All the warriors of the tribe, arrayed in their fiercest war costume and armed at every point with lance, bow and arrow, knife, tomahawk, etc., were drawn up under command of the principal chief, in single line. At the head of this line was placed a kind of chaplet, or crown, the possession of which by any woman was supposed to confer the power of necromancy or magic, rendering her able to heal diseases and to foretell events. The line having been formed, all of the young maidens of the tribe were drawn up in a body at the further extremity and any of them who aspired to the possession of the chaplet was at liberty, having first uncovered her back and breast as far as her waist, to march before the line of warriors within ten paces of their front and, if she lived to reach it, take possession of the crown. On the other hand, it was the duty of any warrior, who knew aught by word or deed against the virtue of the advancing maiden, to kill her upon the spot. If one arrow was shot at her, the whole band instantly poured a flight of arrows into her bare and defenceless bosom until life was extinct. Again, it was the belief of the untutored savage that whatever warrior failed to make his knowledge apparent, if he possessed any, by sending his arrow at the aspirant, would always be an object of revenge by the Great Spirit both here and hereafter; and, that he would always live in the hereafter, in sight of the Happy Hunting Grounds, but never be allowed to enter them. This latter belief made it a rare thing for young girls to brave the attempt; but, sometimes, the candidates were numerous and the horrible butchery of the young girls which took place formed a terrible expose of their lewdness. To kill an innocent girl was equally a matter which would be forever avenged by the Great Spirit.

The warm friendship which sprang up between Kit Carson and the proprietors of Bent's Fort, under whom he held his situation as Hunter, is a sufficient index of the gentlemanly conduct and amiability of heart evinced towards him on their part. The names of Bent and St. Vrain were known and respected far and near in the mountains, for, in generosity, hospitality and native worth, they were men of perfect model.

Mr. Bent was appointed, by the proper authority, the first Civil Governor of New Mexico, after that large and valuable country was ceded to and came under the jurisdiction of the United States Government. He held this distinguished position however only a short time; for, in the year 1847, he was most foully and treacherously murdered by the Pueblo Indians and Mexicans. A revolution had broken out among this turbulent people, and, in his endeavors to stem it, Governor Bent was frustrated. At last, being driven to his own house, he barricaded the doors and windows. The rascally rioters, after a severe contest, succeeded in breaking open his doors; and, having gained access to their victim, murdered him in cold blood in the midst of his family. The only crime imputed by the mob against this benevolent and just man was, that he was an American. His untimely death, which was mourned by all the Americans who knew him, cast a settled gloom over the community in which he resided. The Mexicans were afterwards very penitent for the share they took in the committal of this black crime. Although several of the guilty party are still living, they have left the country; for, the mountaineers have not forgotten the friend whom they esteemed and respected, and will avenge his death if ever the opportunity offers.

Cerin St. Vrain, the surviving partner of this celebrated trading firm was equally noted. Upon the declaration of war between the United States and Mexico, St. Vrain took an active part on the side of his country, and, from his extensive knowledge of the Mexican character, was enabled to render important services. At the close of the war, he became extensively engaged in mercantile pursuits within the New Territory, and, by his untiring industry amassed a large fortune. He was the first man who discovered and recognized the superior skill of Kit Carson as a hunter; and, for his subsequent success in life, Kit Carson is much indebted to him. St. Vrain is one of the oldest mountaineers now living; and, as such, he is viewed by his old and new associates in the light of a father.