Their principal object was to seize the horses. To effect this the more easily, they saluted the little band with a flight of arrows as they advanced. Fuentes and Pablo now heard Giacome warning them to start the horses and run for it. Both were mounted. They obeyed the directions of Giacome and with the entire band of horses charged boldly into the midst of the Indians regardless of their weapons. The charge succeeded in breaking their line, through which Fuentes and Pablo boldly dashed after their animals. The Indians deferred the chase to attend to a more bloody purpose. Having put sixty miles between them and the site of the attack, they left their horses and started in search of their main body. This search led them into Fremont's camp. Fuentes feared that the worst had overtaken his wife. Pablo already looked upon himself as an orphan boy. He doubted not that the bloody savages had murdered both his father and mother. It was a sad picture to witness their grief. But Kit Carson could not do so unmoved. The heart of such grief has ever awakened his earnest sympathy. His sympathy, too, has never been of a wordy nature. He volunteered to go with Fuentes and make an attempt to deliver the captives, if such they should prove, or to avenge their death, if that became the sad alternative.

Fuentes had left the horses at a spring of water, well known to Carson. There he had found signs of white men which had led him into Fremont's camp. There was no difficulty for Carson to find the spring. The whole company therefore traveled to the spring, which they reached early the next morning, distant about thirty miles from their last camp. The horses were not to be seen. A short examination of signs soon revealed to Carson and Godey that the two Mexicans had been followed by the Indians and that they had come upon the horses shortly after they had left them. Of course therefore they had captured and driven them off.

Carson and Godey were determined to make one effort to punish the rascals. They started, taking Fuentes with them, upon the trail of the Indians. The chase was a severe one, as, in the judgment of the mountaineers, the Indians would not make a short trail after acquiring so much booty. The horse which Fuentes rode, most unfortunately, gave out after a short ride. There was no time to be lost and no means at hand to supply this important deficiency. To turn back to camp would supply it, but that course would also lose them their game. Fuentes, therefore, was requested to return to Fremont's camp, and there await the return of Kit Carson and Godey. These two had been the only men in the entire command who had volunteered in this chase. The loss of Fuentes therefore made their task literally a Don Quixotic adventure. Two men against thirty. But Kit Carson was not the man to turn his back upon an adventure as soon as the difficulties began to present themselves. He well knew that he had one man on whom he could rely. Richard Godey was his tried and trusty friend, his kindred spirit and a noble hearted man. Leaving the Mexican to find his way back to camp, a distance of about twenty miles, they gave him their word that they would finish the business. The following night was very dark, and in order to keep on the right scent Carson and Godey were obliged to lead their horses and frequently to follow the trail by the sense of feeling. It was seldom, however, that they lost the path, and never for more than a few moments at a time. Gradually the signs grew fresher as they advanced, which gave them the assurance that they were rapidly gaining on the pursuit. Finally, they concluded that only a few hours separated them from the savages. Having accomplished a considerable part of their journey during the night, and finding that both themselves and their horses required rest, they concluded to halt. Having unsaddled their animals and turned them out to graze, they wrapped themselves up in their wet blankets and laid down to sleep. The weather, however, was too cold to permit sleeping in comfort without a fire. That they dare not make, fearing it would prove a warning signal to the savages. Having worried through the remainder of this cold and cheerless night, they arose early in the morning and went to the bottom of a deep ravine where they kindled a small fire and succeeded in warming themselves. At daybreak they re-saddled their jaded horses and once more started upon the trail. Just as the sun was rising they discovered the Indians. When first seen they were encamped two miles in advance, and were enjoying a breakfast on horse steaks, having already killed five of the stolen animals. Kit Carson and his friend dismounted, and, concealing their horses near by, held a council of war. They decided to crawl in among the herd of stolen animals which were grazing, without guard, at a short distance from the camp of the savages. Upon reaching the horses, they agreed to be guided by circumstances. First divesting themselves of all useless apparel, they commenced their task. After much cautious labor they gained their point and stood among the animals. As soon, however, as they arrived, one of the young horses of the band became frightened at the grotesque figures cut by the two creeping men and exhibited his fear by snorting and kicking up his heels. This alarmed the remainder of the horses and caused quite a commotion among them, which had the effect to alarm the savages, who sprang for their arms. With a yell, Carson and Godey instantly turned towards the savages. As soon as they were all fairly in view the two white men saw that they had thirty warriors before them to deal with. When they had advanced within rifle range Kit Carson halted and, aiming his rifle at the stoutest looking brave, fired. The fierce savage fell with a cry of anguish. Godey had also halted and fired, but he missed his aim. Instantly reloading, he made the second attempt and this time brought down a warrior. While these events were taking place the red men were running about in great confusion. Occasionally they returned a few arrows, but they all proved but harmless missiles. The fact was the Indians were puzzled what to think of the audacity of the two men. Evidently they considered them to be an advance party of some strong force, acting with a view of decoying them into a close fight. Acting upon this they began to fly in every direction except that from which danger impended. Kit and Godey, as they had calculated, were thus, quite unceremoniously, left masters of the enemy's camp. Besides the recaptured horses, they had two trophies lying upon the ground in the shape of a brace of stalwart warriors. In order to show their companions on their return that they were not given to boasting, they followed the example and practice of the savages and scalped the two Indians. The common expression now in use is that they proceeded to "take the hair" of their victims. The performance of this act was a matter of choice and fell to the lot of Godey, while Kit Carson, with the two rifles, ascended an eminence near at hand for the double purpose of standing guard over his companion and also to reconnoitre. Godey commenced his operations on the savage which he himself had shot. Having finished with him, he started for the other Indian hit by Kit Carson. But this fellow after he had fallen had crawled quite out of view among some rocks. Being only wounded, he raised up and sent an arrow at Godey as he approached which pierced his shirt collar. The Indian had already lost a large amount of blood. His last act so exhausted him that he sank back upon the ground and expired. They next proceeded to collect the horses. Upon counting them they found the number stated by the Mexican to be correct with the exception of five killed by the Indians for their feast. The animals were now driven to the spot where their own horses had been left.. Here they held another council and determined to seek out the fate of the remainder of the Mexican party. They therefore bent their steps towards the late camp of the Mexicans. There they found the bodies of the two men terribly mangled. The savage ferocity of the rascally savages had here had full play as soon as they found that the two who were on guard had broken through their line and escaped with the horses. Their bodies were naked and full of arrows. The women were not to be found. The remains were decently interred by Carson and Godey, and then they set about looking for the women. After a long search they could discover nothing of them, and concluded that they had been reserved for a worse fate. The remains of these two poor captives were afterwards found by some of Fremont's men. The Indians, not satisfied with killing them, had staked their bodies to the ground. Kit Carson and Godey having now accomplished, on this errand of mercy, all that lay in the power of man to do, set out to return and soon rejoined their friends, whom they found anxiously waiting for them. Col. Fremont concludes his account of this affair in the following words:

"Their object accomplished, our men gathered up all the surviving horses, fifteen in number, returned upon their trail, and rejoined us at our camp in the afternoon of the same day. They had rode about one hundred miles in the pursuit and return, and all in thirty hours. The time, place, object, and numbers considered, this expedition of Carson and Godey may be considered among the boldest and most disinterested which the annals of western adventure, so full of daring deeds, can present. Two men, in a savage desert, pursue day and night an unknown body of Indians into the defiles of an unknown mountain—attack them on sight, without counting numbers—and defeat them in an instant—and for what? To punish the robbers of the desert, and to avenge the wrongs of Mexicans whom they did not know. I repeat: it was Carson and Godey who did this—the former an American, born in Kentucky; the latter a Frenchman by descent, born in St. Louis; and both trained to western enterprise from early life."

The stolen property was restored to the Mexicans without one cent being demanded or received by either Carson or Godey.

It was not for the love of Indian fighting as many may suppose, that Kit Carson was moved to take part in such expeditions; but, when the life of a fellow-creature is exposed to Indian barbarities, no living man is more willing, or more capable of rendering a lasting service than Christopher Carson. A name that, wherever it is known, is ranked among the "bravest of the brave."

Soon after the two volunteers came in, Fremont resumed his journey and continued it without anything transpiring to disturb the equanimity of the party until they reached a point on the Virgin River where the Spanish Trail leaves it. It became necessary to change camps here, in order that the animals might take advantage of better grass. As the party were enjoying a day's rest, one of the men, a Canadian by birth, missed his riding mule from the herd. Without informing any of his friends of his intentions, he started out in quest of the animal. His absence, at first, was not noticed; but, soon, inquiries were made for him, and when an unusual length of time had passed without his return, Fremont became anxious for his safety. He directed Kit Carson to take three men and go in search of him. On arriving at their last camp, Kit found a spot where, undoubtedly, the man had fallen from his horse wounded, as, about the place, there were pools of coagulated blood. It was now believed that their companion was dead. Kit immediately ordered the party to search for his body, but they could not find it. They then followed the trail of the Canadian's horse, which it was very evident he had caught and mounted before being shot. It led to where the animal had crossed the river. There, all signs disappeared. After a faithful search for the trail, Kit returned to camp, and informed his commander of the result of his day's work. The next morning the search was renewed by all of the company. They discovered Indian signs, yet could not trace them to where the body was. After looking in every conceivable hiding-place in the neighborhood of the signs, they gave up the hunt. Kit Carson was much affected by the loss of this man. He had been his friend. They had been associated in many trapping expeditions, and knew each other most intimately. He felt assured that, if the Canadian had not been surprised by any enemy in ambuscade, he would have killed one or two Indians before he himself fell; for, besides being a very brave man, he was well versed in Indian mode of warfare, and was considered a fine marksman.

The party now proceeded on their journey, returning to and keeping on the Spanish Trail, which was not left until they reached the "Vega of Santa Clara." There they struck out across the country to the Utah lake, which, after crossing, they left, and went to the Wintry River, and thence to Green River, Brown's Hole, Little Snake River, and so on to the mouth of St. Vrain's Fork. It was here that they traversed the mountains and came upon Laramie River below the New Park. They journeyed through this into the Old Park, and thence traveled to the head waters of the south fork of the Platte. On quitting it, they bent their way to the Arkansas River, coming on to it at a point just below the place where it leaves the Rocky Mountains; and, by keeping on down it, they arrived at Bent's Fort on the 2d of July, 1844. On the following fourth of July Mr. Bent gave a dinner in commemoration of the occasion to Fremont and his party. Although hundreds of miles separated from their countrymen, yet they sat down to as sumptuous a repast as could be furnished in many towns of the States.

The exploring party considered their labors finished at this post, as, in accordance with the tastes of many of the party, they were near enough to civilization. The command was dissolved, and Colonel Fremont proceeded on his route to Washington. Kit Carson, about the same time, started for Taos, where he had been for a long time anxiously expected by his family and friends.

The description which Colonel Fremont has given of the country through which this expedition traveled, seems to be an appropriate and almost a necessary addition to this work. On the 24th day of May the party, on their return, reached the Utah Lake. "Early the next day," says Fremont, "we came in sight of the lake; and, as we descended to the broad bottoms of the Spanish Fork, three horsemen were seen galloping towards us, who proved to be Utah Indians—scouts from a village, which was encamped near the mouth of the river. They were armed with rifles, and their horses were in good condition. We encamped near them, on the Spanish Fork, which is one of the principal tributaries to the lake. Finding the Indians troublesome, and desirous to remain here a day, we removed the next morning further down the lake, and encamped on a fertile bottom near the foot of the same mountainous ridge which borders the Great Salt Lake, and along which we had journeyed the previous September.

"We had now accomplished an object we had in view when leaving the Dalles of the Columbia in November last; we had reached the Utah Lake; but by a route very different from what we had intended, and without sufficient time remaining to make the examinations which were desired. It is a lake of note in this country, under the dominion of the Utahs, who resort to it for fish. Its greatest breadth is about fifteen miles, stretching far to the north, narrowing as it goes, and connecting with the Great Salt Lake.

"In arriving at the Utah Lake, we had completed an immense circuit of twelve degrees diameter north and south, and ten degrees east and west; and found ourselves in May, 1844, on the same sheet of water which we had left in September, 1843. The Utah is the southern limb of the Great Salt Lake; and thus we had seen that remarkable sheet of water both at its northern and southern extremity, and were able to fix its position at these two points. The circuit which we had made, and which had cost us eight months of time, and 3,500 miles of traveling, had given us a view of Oregon and of North California from the Rocky Mountains to the Pacific Ocean, and of the two principal streams which form bays or harbors on the coast of that sea. Having completed this circuit, and being now about to turn the back upon the Pacific slope of our continent, and to recross the Rocky Mountains, it is natural to look back upon our footsteps, and take some brief view of the leading features and general structure of the country we have traversed. These are peculiar and striking, and differ essentially from the Atlantic side of our country. The mountains all are higher, more numerous, and more distinctly defined in their ranges and directions; and, what is so contrary to the natural order of such formations, one of these, ranges, which is near the coast (the Sierra Nevada and the Coast Range), presents higher elevations and peaks than any which are to be found in the Rocky Mountains themselves. In our eight months' circuit, we were never out, of sight of snow; and the Sierra Nevada, where we crossed it, was near 2,000 feet higher than the South Pass in the Rocky Mountains. In height, these mountains greatly exceed those of the Atlantic side, constantly presenting peaks which enter the region of eternal snow; and some of them volcanic, and in a frequent state of activity. They are seen at great distances and guide the traveler in his courses.

"The course and elevation of these ranges give direction to the rivers, and character to the coast. No great river does, or can, take its rise below the Cascade and Sierra Nevada Range; the distance to the sea is too short to admit of it. The rivers of the San Francisco Bay, which are the largest after the Columbia, are local to that bay, and lateral to the coast, having their sources about on a line with the Dalles of the Columbia, and running each in a valley of its own, between the Coast Range and the Cascade and Sierra Nevada Range. The Columbia is the only river which traverses the whole breadth of the country, breaking through all the ranges, and entering the sea. Drawing its waters from a section of ten degrees of latitude in the Rocky Mountains, which are collected into one stream by three main forks (Lewis's, Clark's, and the North Fork), near the centre of the Oregon valley, this great river thence proceeds by a single channel to the sea, while its three forks lead each to a pass in the mountains, which opens the way into the interior of the continent. This fact in relation to the rivers of this region gives an immense value to the Columbia. Its mouth is the only inlet and outlet to and from the sea; its three forks lead to the passes in the mountains; it is, therefore, the only line of communication between the Pacific and the interior of North America; and all operations of war or commerce, of national or social intercourse, must be conducted upon it. This gives it a value beyond estimation, and would involve irreparable injury if lost. In this unity and concentration of its waters, the Pacific side of our continent differs entirely from the Atlantic side, where the waters of the Alleghany Mountains are dispersed into many rivers, having their different entrances into the sea, and opening many lines of communication with the interior."

"The Pacific coast is equally different from that of the Atlantic. The coast of the Atlantic is low and open, indented with numerous bays, sounds, and river estuaries, accessible everywhere, and opening by many channels into the heart of the country. The Pacific coast, on the contrary, is high and compact, with few bays, and but one that opens into the heart of the country. The immediate coast is what the seamen call iron bound. A little within, it is skirted by two successive ranges of mountains, standing as ramparts between the sea and the interior country; and to get through which, there is but one gate, and that narrow and easily defended. This structure of the coast, backed by these two ranges of mountains, with its concentration and unity of waters, gives to the country an immense military strength, and will probably render Oregon the most impregnable country in the world."

"Differing so much from the Atlantic side of our continent in coast, mountains, and rivers, the Pacific side differs from it in another most rare and singular feature—that of the Great interior Basin, of which I have so often spoken, and the whole form and character of which I was so anxious to ascertain. Its existence is vouched for by such of the American traders and hunters as have some knowledge of that region; the structure of the Sierra Nevada range of mountains requires it to be there; and my own observations confirm it. Mr. Joseph Walker, who is so well acquainted in those parts, informed that, from the Great Salt Lake west, there was a succession of lakes and rivers which have no outlet to the sea, nor any connection with the Columbia, or with the Colorado of the Gulf of California. He described some of these lakes as being large, with numerous streams, and even considerable rivers, falling into them. In fact, all concur in the general report of these interior rivers and lakes; and, for want of understanding the force and power of evaporation, which so soon establishes an equilibrium between the loss and supply of waters, the fable of whirlpools and subterraneous outlets has gained belief as the only imaginable way of carrying off the waters which have no visible discharge. The structure of the country would require this formation of interior lakes; for the waters which would collect between the Rocky Mountains and the Sierra Nevada, not being able to cross this formidable barrier, nor to get to the Columbia or the Colorado, must naturally collect into reservoirs, each of which would have its little system of streams and rivers to supply it. This would be the natural effect; and what I saw went to confirm it. The Great Salt Lake is a formation of this kind, and quite a large one; and having many streams, and one considerable river, four or five hundred miles long, falling into it. This lake and river I saw and examined myself; and also saw the Wahsatch and Bear River Mountains which inclose the waters of the lake on the east, and constitute, in that quarter, the rim of the Great Basin. Afterwards, along the eastern base of the Sierra Nevada, where we traveled for forty-two days, I saw the line of lakes and rivers which lie at the foot of that Sierra; and which Sierra is the western rim of the Basin. In going down Lewis's Fork and the main Columbia, I crossed only inferior streams coming in from the left, such as could draw their water from a short distance only; and I often saw the mountains at their heads, white with snow; which, all accounts said, divided the waters of the desert from those of the Columbia, and which could be no other than the range of mountains which form the rim of the Basin on its northern side. And in returning from California along the Spanish trail, as far as the head of the Santa Clara Fork of the Rio Virgen, I crossed only small streams making their way south to the Colorado, or lost in sand—as the Mo-hah-ve; while to the left, lofty mountains, their summits white with snow, were often visible, and which must have turned water to the north as well as to the south, and thus constituted, on this part, the southern rim of the Basin. At the head of the Santa Clara Fork, and in the Vegas de Santa Clara, we crossed the ridge which parted the two systems of waters. We entered the Basin at that point, and have traveled in it ever since, having its southeastern rim (the Wahsatch Mountain) on the right, and crossing the streams which flow down into it. The existence of the Basin is, therefore, an established fact in my mind; its extent and contents are yet to be better ascertained. It cannot be less than four or five hundred miles each way, and must lie principally in the Alta California; the demarcation latitude of 42 deg. probably cutting a segment from the north part of the rim. Of its interior, but little is known. It is called a desert, and, from what I saw of it, sterility may be its prominent characteristic; but where there is so much water there must be some oasis. The great river and the great lake reported may not be equal to the report; but where there is so much snow, there must be streams; and where there is no outlet, there must be lakes to hold the accumulated waters, or sands to swallow them up. In this eastern part of the basin, containing Sevier, Utah, and the Great Salt lakes, and the rivers and creeks falling into them, we know there is good soil and good grass, adapted to civilized settlements. In the western part, on Salmon-trout River, and some other streams, the same remark may be made."

"The contents of this Great Basin are yet to be examined. That it is peopled, we know; but miserably and sparsely. From all that I heard and saw, I should say that humanity here appeared in its lowest form, and in its most elementary state. Dispersed in single families; without fire-arms; eating seeds and insects; digging roots (and hence their name); such is the condition of the greater part. Others are a degree higher, and live in communities upon some lake or river that supplies fish, and from which they repulse the miserable digger. The rabbit is the largest animal known in this desert; its flesh affords a little meat; and their bag-like covering is made of its skins. The wild sage is their only wood, and here it is of extraordinary size—sometimes a foot in diameter, and six or eight feet high. It serves for fuel, for building material, for shelter to the rabbits, and for some sort of covering for the feet and legs in cold weather. Such are the accounts of the inhabitants and productions of the Great Basin; and which, though imperfect, must have some foundation, and excite our desire to know the whole."

"The whole idea of such a desert and such a people, is a novelty in our country, and excites Asiatic, not American ideas. Interior basins, with their own systems of lakes and rivers, and often sterile, are common enough in Asia; people in the elementary state of families, living in deserts, with no other occupation than the mere animal search for food, may still be seen in that ancient quarter of the globe; but in America such things are new and strange, unknown and unsuspected, and discredited when related. But I flatter myself that what is discovered, though not enough to satisfy curiosity, is sufficient to excite it, and that subsequent explorations will complete what has been commenced."

"This account of the Great Basin, it will be remembered, belongs to the Alta California, and has no application to Oregon, whose capabilities may justify a separate remark. Referring to my journal for particular descriptions, and for sectional boundaries between good and bad districts, I can only say, in general and comparative terms, that, in that branch of agriculture which implies the cultivation of grains and staple crops, it would be inferior to the Atlantic States, though many parts are superior for wheat, while in the rearing of flocks and herds it would claim a high place. Its grazing capabilities are great; and even in the indigenous grass now there, an element of individual and national wealth may be found. In fact the valuable grasses begin within one hundred and fifty miles of the Missouri frontier and extend to the Pacific Ocean. East of the Rocky Mountains, it is the short, curly grass, on which the buffalo delight to feed (whence its name of buffalo), and which is still good when dry and apparently dead. West of those mountains it is a larger growth, in clusters, and hence called bunch grass, and which has a second or fall growth. Plains and mountains both exhibit them; and I have seen good pasturage at an elevation of ten thousand feet. In this spontaneous product, the trading or traveling caravans can find subsistence for their animals; and in military operations any number of cavalry may be moved, and any number of cattle may be driven, and thus men and horses be supported on long expeditions, and even in winter in the sheltered situations.

"Commercially, the value of the Oregon country must be great, washed as it is by the North Pacific Ocean, fronting Asia, producing many of the elements of commerce, mild and healthy in its climate, and becoming, as it naturally will, a thoroughfare for the East India and China trade."

Col. Fremont, in this beautiful and instructive passage of descriptive writing, refers to the grass on which the buffalo "delight to feed." It is eminently proper that we should add a few words for general information concerning the grasses of the prairies, as also concerning the timber, flowers, game, face of the country, etc., etc., in which the whole life of Kit Carson has been spent.

On the west side of the Arkansas River, and between that stream and the Rocky Mountains, there are three distinct species of grass found. The first is the short, curly variety, on which the buffalo are said to feed, from which fact it takes its name. The second kind is the Grama grass, which is, I believe, indigenous to only this section of America. Its stalk grows to the height of about one foot. Near its top, it gives off, at right angles, another stem, which is usually from one and a half to three inches in length. From this last-mentioned stem, hang clusters of seeds which are well protected by a suitable covering. It is said, and my own observation confirms the fact, that horses will leave grain, such as corn and oats, to feed on this grass; and its wonderful nutritious properties cannot be denied. Wild oats are often seen in the mountain valleys. Along the low swampy lands which skirt the rivers of the plains, there is yet another species of grass which grows oftentimes several feet high, and has a broad blade, similar almost to that of the flag plant. On approaching the mountains the blue grass is found, which is nearly the same as that usually met with in many of our western States. The bunch grass, as spoken of by Fremont, is not confined to the mountains in New Mexico; it is sometimes met with in the valleys, where it grows to an immense height; but, in the low lands, it is useless, being too tough for animals to masticate. Strangers, when journeying in these parts, often make the mistake of selecting camps in this tall grass, being deceived by its thrifty appearance; but, one night, thus spent, will clearly prove its utter worthlessness.

On the plains there are but few wild flowers; but, as the traveler approaches the mountains, they greet his eyes in extensive beds and of variegated colors. As a grazing country, the Rocky Mountains and their immediate vicinity cannot be surpassed. The timber found there is poor in quality. It comprises pine, cedar, and cotton wood, with here and there patches of small and crooked oak bushes. The rivers in the mountains are formed from melting snows and springs. They come tumbling down through rough gorges and rocky canons, until they are free in the valleys, where, they form bold and beautiful rivers. The brook trout are the fish which mostly inhabit them, and, a singular fact, in many of these streams this kind of fish treat the presence of a man with perfect indifference, which has led me to believe, that in their primitive state, the "shy trout" fear neither man nor beast. The Indians catch them, and it may be that this fish is first frightened by them. In the Rocky Mountains, south of the head waters of the Arkansas, comparatively speaking, there are but few small birds and squirrels. The raven, the crow, the hawk, the owl, and occasionally the eagle, are seen. Wild geese, ducks, and cranes, are common. Pigeons, including the wild dove, are not often seen. The magpie is found in abundance. Turkeys and grouse are also in abundance. Wild rabbits and a species of hare are also common. Indeed a man can travel for days in the Rocky Mountains and never hear the musical notes of a bird. In these mountains, rattle-snakes are only found in the valleys, where it is warm. In the summer, the deer and elk live in the mountains; but, when cold weather sets in, they are driven out of them by the deep snows. The antelope of the plains seek the mountain valleys during the winter. The buffalo migrate south as the season becomes too severe for them. Sometimes they are caught by the storms, and are obliged to winter also in the mountain valleys. The pine trees of the Rocky Mountains bear a small nut, which is called by the Mexicans pinon, which, when cooked, are quite pleasant to the taste. There are many small salt lakes in the mountains, and many marshes, where the ground is covered white by the salt deposit. The mineral wealth of the Rocky Mountains is very great, and there is no doubt but some day, rich veins of gold, silver, and iron ore will be discovered there. The geological formation of the country is such as to warrant this belief. Nearly every stream carries down in its floods that precious metal, gold; but, in such small quantities, as not to attract the attention of miners. I have found there, on the surface of the earth, small pieces of material resembling stone coal, which have probably been thrown up by some volcanic action. Hot and mineral springs are not unfrequently met with. They are places of frequent resort by the Indians, who use them for medicinal purposes.



CHAPTER IX.

Kit Carson concludes to become a Farmer—He is joined in the Enterprise by a Friend—They build a Ranche on the Cimeron River—Descriptions of Mexican Customs and Country—Fremont once more at Bent's Fort—Express sent for Kit Carson to join the Expedition as Guide—The Ranche Sold, and the Departure—The Third Expedition and its Explorations—Difficulties with the Mexican-Californians—General Castro's Orders to leave the Country—Determination to Fight—Fremont goes to Lawson's Fort—Fremont and his Men encounter a Thousand Indians—The Battle and the Victory—The news that War had been declared between the United States and Mexico reaches Fremont—Lieutenant Gillespie rescued from the Indians—Three of the party killed in the Night by Indians—The Savages repulsed—The Burial of Comrades.

In the early spring of 1845, Kit Carson, after weighing the various occupations which presented, decided to become a farmer. One of his mountaineer friends, Mr. Richard Owens, came to the same conclusion. Together they talked over their plans, and concluded that it would be to them, at least, newness of life to be domiciled in their own houses. The two hunters carefully marked out their plans, and then set to work with a will for success to carry them into execution. A very short time enabled them to choose a farming site, because their knowledge of the country enabled them to see all of its desirable localities, as it were at a glance. They decided to purchase a tract of wild land situated on the little Cimeron River, and improve it. Their arrangements were soon made, tools and implements, stock and animals, provisions and necessaries all procured. With the services of some laborers hired by them, they were soon engaged actively preparing their land for the reception of seed. The spot which they selected was forty-five miles east of Taos. They commenced the enterprise by building some small huts. These afforded both themselves and their Mexican laborers a comfortable lodgment. They sowed a considerable quantity of grain, and prepared timber almost sufficient to build good substantial houses. Their vigorously prosecuted labors began to show evident results, and in the prospect, it was clearly apparent that another year would serve to give them profitable reward for their enterprise.

It seems appropriate at this point, that we should enable the reader to look upon and judge of the farming country and habits of New Mexico; their markets, and some of the manners and customs of the people who dwell in cities. The town of Taos affords a fair sample of the markets, and as Kit Carson has many times been exhibited to the reader at that place, it is very proper that we should describe it.

The town of Taos is located in a valley called by the same name. The town consists of a series of villages, which are scattered, and are known to the Mexicans by various names. The main village is called Fernandez de Taos, and is located near the centre of the valley, on a high plateau of ground. The buildings here, as, indeed, in all the towns of New Mexico, are constructed of adobes, and are one story high, with what is usually known as flat roofs. These houses are huddled together without much regard being paid to streets. The main attraction of the town is the plaza, where all the business, such as marketing, etc., is carried on. It is here that the stores are located; and, on a fete day, or in business hours, it is thronged with Mexicans, Americans, and Indians. Among these there is a large per-centage of idlers. The houses are mostly covered with a white material, which is either chalk or lime. The church is the largest building in the town, and is a rough specimen of architecture, which is rudely finished within. It has a flat-sounding bell, propped up in a sort of a belfry. To make a noise on this, a piece of iron, or several stones are used; and, when an attempt at chiming is made, it is very laughable. The figures representing saints, and even the altar, are a strange compound of imitation. On the respective days set apart by the Catholic church for worship, marriages and fete services are carried on with a great attempt at pomp, but, under the circumstances, they leave no lasting impression of grandeur, save on the inhabitants, who have beheld nothing beyond their own country. The dignitary most respected in these towns is the Padre (or Priest), who is looked upon as sacred; and, when so inclined, this class of men have the power of accomplishing much good; but, oftentimes, they pervert this power, setting bad examples in their mode of life, and offering wicked counsel. However, under the management of the present bishop, who is a very exemplary man, these things are being changed. The old Priests of New Mexico were formerly educated in Old Mexico. Their information was very imperfect, and their minds were contracted down to extreme narrowness, from want of observation; hence, they were the means of retarding the natural progress of the people. It cannot be denied but that the Catholic religion has been the pioneer system in the far West, and that, in the hands of good and pure men, it has done much praiseworthy work, and has set an example which other creeds might and ought to follow. The valley of Taos is bounded on all sides by lofty mountains, which are but continuations of the Rocky chain. The boundaries of this valley are very irregular, both in the course they take and in their altitudes. The valley is about thirty miles wide and some fifteen miles long. The ground has the appearance, at first sight, of being a plain; but, on closer observation, it is found to contain many ravines, and to bear the appearance of being undulating. To the west side of it, rolls the Rio Grande, which cuts, for most of the way, through a deep and impassable (for fording purposes) channel. In the valley, there are but few, if any, trees, which fact gives the villages a barren look. The mountains about are covered with timber, which is not generally of the first quality for building purposes. The number of people included within the limits of this valley, it is difficult to estimate; but, about ten thousand would include every living soul. The occupation of the people is farming. Raising horses, cattle and sheep is carried on to a certain extent; but most of the large herds of these animals owned in this town are kept at ranches situated at more distant points, where grass is to be had in abundance, and those retained about the villages are only kept for immediate use. The reason for this is found in the fact that most of this valley is not under cultivation, but is covered with sage bushes. It is around the skirts of the mountains, that the only valuable grass is found. The people, as a general thing, are quite poor, but, as they find a ready market through the military posts for their produce, they manage to realize some money, and thus live quite comfortably, in contrast with their former destitute condition under the government of Old Mexico. Some of the inhabitants might be said to be rich, though but few of this class own ten thousand dollars' worth of property. It is with great labor that the people of Taos bring their crops to perfection, as it is necessary to irrigate the soil, unless the season, which is rarely the fact, is favorable in furnishing rains to them. There are no fences to divide one man's possessions from another's; but, by common law, they furnish shepherds to guard their flocks and cattle and keep them from trespassing. The climate is very severe during the winter season, but in the summer it is delightful. The health of this community is wonderfully good. Indeed, the only severe diseases they have to contend against are brought on by vices. Excluding small pox, and the lesser complaints among young children, no epidemics are known. The country is so elevated and inland, that the air is dry and salubrious, and the "dew point" is rarely reached so as to amount to anything. It may be well to add here, that for the consumptive patient, in the early stages of the disease, there is no such climate in the world to visit, as that of New Mexico; but, as a matter of course, he must vary his location with the changes of temperature, being governed by the seasons. The winter in Taos is too severe for him; then, he must go South, towards, or even to El Paso, where it is congenial to his disease. I prophesy that some day our internal continent will be the "Mecca" for pilgrims with this disease.

The dress of the New Mexican is the same as in Old Mexico. The peasant wears his sombrero and his everlasting blanket, which serves him as a coat, and a covering by night. He rarely has but one suit of clothes, which are put on new and worn until they are of no further use. By amalgamating with the Americans, they are gradually changing their style of dress. The buckskin pants, which were characteristically cut and ornamented, are giving way to the ordinary cloth ones of his white companion. It is so with the blanket, which is being shed for the coat; and, again, this is true with the moccasin, which is being replaced by the leathern shoe. The dress of the female has undergone the same alteration. From almost a state of nudity, they have been raised to a position from which they look upon silk and satin with a "connoisseur's eye." When New Mexico was part and parcel of the domain of Old Mexico, Taos was the seat of much smuggling from the United States, and many an apparent pack of grain drawn into the town has been nothing less than packages of domestic goods, the duties upon which, when introduced in the legal way, were enormous; hence the white men engaged in this business, when successful, met with ample rewards for their labors. The frontiers were like the olden sea coasts. The Mexicans kept out scores of custom-house officers to guard their frontiers, but the shrewd foreigners, many times, were able to escape them; at others, they were so fortunate as to find that a bribe would answer as well. An old trick was to have a double bottom to a wagon, and, in the vacant space thus formed, were stowed valuable shawls and such light articles as would meet a sure and remunerative sale. Sometimes the goods were brought near the frontiers and there hidden in the ground until a favorable opportunity offered to steal them into the country. When there was great danger that these secreted goods would be discovered, the smugglers would so arrange a keg of powder with a loaded pistol pointing at it, with strings running to the shrubbery near by, so as to cause it to explode and kill the searchers should the bushes about be disturbed. One old smuggler once fixed things in this manner, but performed his task too well; for, on going to remove his property, he came very near blowing himself up, as the mine was sprung and he was thrown in the air, but miraculously escaped. Many of the adventures of these men would be interesting; but they are too voluminous to be embodied in our work. The valley of Taos is well watered by mountain streams which flow into the Rio Grande. On one of these creeks and near the mountains, to the east of Fernandez de Taos, is located an Indian Pueblo which is very interesting to the traveler. Its houses are built one on top of another until a sort of pyramid is formed. The people enter their respective domicils through the roofs, which form a kind of steps. At the foot of this queer building there is a church; and around, the scenery is very picturesque, as the whole is bounded on one side by a gap in the mountains, while on the other is the open valley. This band of Indians at first offered great resistance and fought with much bravery against the United States; but now they are counted among its most faithful allies, and are great in their admiration of Kit Carson. The farming utensils of the New Mexicans are rude in the extreme; but the agricultural implements of the Anglo-Saxon are slowly replacing these articles. The old plough, as frequently used at the present time by the New Mexicans, is indeed a curiosity, as it probably was invented in the earliest times. It consists of one piece of timber which is crooked the proper shape by nature; the end of this is sharpened, and on it is fastened a single piece of iron which has an attempt at a sharp point. The force to propel this farming implement is attached in the usual way, with but few modifications. Oxen are always employed in this labor, and their yoke is fastened after the Egyptian fashion, to their horns instead of by bows. In breaking up the hard prairies, this plough had a difficult task to perform and was often broken; but, by the assistance of men employed in clearing obstacles, such as sage bushes, etc., the task was imperfectly gone through with. The Mexican axe is another curious tool, which resembles as much the common pick of our laborers as it does the axe used by American woodsmen. The sickle is used in harvesting to this day in these parts, performing the duties of the scythe, the cradle, etc. The most remarkable sight of all is the Mexican cart, the noise of which, when moving, can, be heard on a still day at a great distance. The wheels of this vehicle are at least one foot thick, and consist of pieces of solid wood which are pegged together and made to approach a circle by the best judgment of the eye, without the aid of measuring. These wheels are very heavy, and when rolling they go by jerks, owing to their want of proportion, etc. The body of the cart, as are all of its parts, is made of soft wood, and seems to be constructed for weight and strength instead of beauty. The whole affair, when complete, is almost a load by itself; hence, it is capable of carrying but a small cargo. The grain that Mexicans of New Mexico grow is corn and wheat, and it is on these crops that they depend for their support. In converting this grain into flour, they either use the old water mill which is very primitive in its construction, or else, when these are not near by, they make use of two stones and grind it by hand. Their common diet is a sort of thick gruel made of corn meal, wheat bread, eggs, peas, beans, pumpkins, which latter articles they roast, and then break holes into them and with a spoon dip out the contents as they are required; and, to finish the catalogue, sometimes meat, game and milk. The fruits found in New Mexico are not various, and are mostly confined to apples, peaches, plums and grapes. These latter are truly superior, and are raised in the greatest abundance in the south of the Territory, where, also, they manufacture a very pleasant red wine, which goes by the name of El Paso Wine. We take the manners and customs of the people of Taos as a good type to judge of the manners and customs of the New Mexicans, for the town is second only in size, in this Territory, to Santa Fe. The inhabitants of New Mexico, notwithstanding their poverty and neglect, owing to their remote locality, are perhaps as happy and contented as any community in the world. They are not over-celebrated for their chastity or virtue; and, to the disgrace of the white man, they have not been assisted by him in these cardinal principles; but, time will work wonders on this score and teach the immorality of such proceedings. Their great source of enjoyment consists in dancing; and hence the fandango is always looked for as a time when dull care will be dispelled. A grand fandango is the event of a New Mexican's life. These affairs are gotten up sometimes for charitable purposes, when the money gathered in the sale of refreshments is distributed to the poor; or else they are started by individuals to make a little money out of. In a town the size of Taos, during the winter season, hardly a night passes by without a dance. Written invitations in Spanish are freely circulated about the town in order to entrap the strangers, while the inhabitants are invited by other means. The music consists of a high-strung violin and a species of guitar. This is perambulated about the town. The players perform light dancing tunes and accompany the music with their voices, making up the words as they go along. This music is learned entirely by ear, and is transmitted from one generation to another through the means of these fandangos. The vocal music is anything but harmonious to the ear, but some of the airs, when played on the instruments, are rather pleasing, and one, on hearing them, finds himself often humming them afterwards. The powers of music are nowhere better illustrated than among these people. Their ready ear quickly catches a new tune, and it is not uncommon to hear, in a Mexican town, a senorita giving vent to a negro melody or a favorite polka which she has heard some American sing or whistle. At Santa Fe there are several noted players on the violin and harp who cannot read a word of music, yet they can play on their respective instruments with taste and skill. A New Mexican female, in preparing herself for these balls, is very particular in making, by the aid of cosmetics, her complexion as light as possible. She first uses a red berry which stains her face almost to the color of brick and renders her excessively ugly; this she leaves on several hours, when it is washed off and chalk is applied so freely as to render it easily perceptible. In her toilet she is also very particular, as far as the exterior is concerned, and in the fandango the stranger's eyes are taken by storm by the gaudy colors he sees rather than the neatness of the dress. The floor of the dancing-room is usually the mother earth, which is frequently sprinkled with water to keep down the dust. The men are in their everyday habiliments, with the addition of any clean thing they may chance to possess; but, usually they are a motley crowd, a glance at whom at first leaves the impression that they are far from being refined. Except when dancing, they cling to their blankets, and at the least pause in the proceedings, they at once draw forth the materials and make their cigarettos. Both men and women indulge in these articles; and oftentimes when the dance is in full blast, the air of the room is densely charged with the smell of the burning punchi, a species of tobacco, making it anything but agreeable. The women are seated on benches along the walls of the building, by themselves, while the men congregate in knots together. On the commencement of a figure, the Mexican selects his partner and notifies her that she is his choice by making a signal to her with his hand, when she takes her position in the dance. The eyes and the latent smile on the face of the "dark eyed senorita" shows she is enjoying herself. The men exhibit their pleasure in a more boisterous manner; that is, by occasionally whooping and cracking jokes. Gambling[18] is carried on under the same roof; and in this both men and women join as long as their money lasts. Then they make room for others who are anxious to try their fortunes. This vice is truly of a national character, and so given to it are these people, that they will part with anything to support their appetite. To their credit it can be said, that the New Mexican women indulge but sparingly in alcoholic liquor; but the men are prone to the intoxicating cup. They often anticipate the evil effects of drink, and it is not unfrequent to see a New Mexican assuming the airs of a drunken man after two or three mouthfuls of "aqua-diente." The spirit of the ball is carried on well into the short hours of night, when all parties depart for their homes. Intoxication, that curse to all men, is playing havoc with this innocent amusement of the people, and causing these scenes to terminate in riot, and often bloodshed, especially when the jealousy of the white blood is raised at some imagined insult; and then, as is always the case, the two races come in fierce contact. It is hoped that by the aid of schools and education these things may be ameliorated, but they cannot be cured. The mischief is too deeply rooted.

[Footnote 18: The game most frequently played is monte.]

We have thus endeavored to give the reader a view of the people among whom Kit Carson had determined to become a farmer. But he was not destined to finish and perfect his plans.

Near the conclusion of the second exploring expedition, and at the time when Kit Carson took his departure from the party, Col. Fremont had received a promise from him to the effect that he would join, as guide, any party of discovery, for the further exploration of the Rocky Mountains, which he, Col. Fremont, should command.

During the active duties of a farmer's life, and just as Kit Carson had brought his new enterprise into working order, an expressman from Col. Fremont arrived at his ranche, bearing dispatches to Carson. The purport of these dispatches was to remind Kit Carson of his promise, to inform him of the organization of a third expedition, and to appoint a place where Kit Carson might find his old commander.

The express found Carson in the midst of so many cares and anxieties concerning his new project, that it became a very difficult matter for him to keep his word. But the sacrifice of pecuniary interest was but a slight consideration with Kit, when weighed in the balance against his promise. He knew that his promise had not been either lightly given or received. Col. Fremont, by it, had the first right to his time and energies, and had formed his expectations accordingly; and Kit lost, therefore, no time in making preparations to satisfy these expectations by reporting himself at the appointed place of meeting, ready for the march.

But to effect this was attended with no slight difficulties. Kit Carson had a large sum invested in his improvements, by way of payments for labor, as well as purchases of stock, provision, farming tools, utensils, teams, wagons, seed, and stock in general. The erection of his house, barns, etc., was under an advance which reached far towards completion. But with Kit Carson, his word was worth more than prospective losses which its fulfillment would entail. In company with Mr. Owens, he set himself actively at work to effect a complete sell-out. After a good deal of anxious inquiry, he found a man who was willing to pay one half of the real valuation attached to his property. Notwithstanding this sacrifice, the bargain was closed and the business details completed. In company with Mr. Owens, Kit Carson once more bade his family and friends an affectionate farewell. They took the route for Bent's Fort, and arrived there in the course of a few days. The meeting between Fremont and Carson was mutually satisfactory. With his friend, Mr. Owens, he joined the Third expedition of Col. Fremont, which was the last one which he undertook by authority of the United States government.

A long tramp was before them. The arrangements preparatory were, therefore, made with corresponding care and diligence. The route led up the Arkansas River to the point where that stream leaves the mountains; thence they made a circuit by the Ballo Salado, or Soda Springs, coming back again upon the Arkansas, striking the stream above its great canon. Thence they journeyed on to the head waters of the river. Here they left the Arkansas River and took a direct route for the Piney River, down which latter stream they traveled to a spot within twenty-five miles of its mouth. From this place they continued their explorations of the country to the head of White River. Following down it, they soon reached the mountains. Crossing them, they proceeded to Prevost's Fork.

At this spot a desperate fight once occurred between a party of trappers and a band of hostile Indians. The trappers were commanded by a man whose name has ever since been applied to the stream. Prevost, although he had a strong party and fought a most desperate battle, nevertheless was outnumbered, outgeneralled, and most completely overpowered. The Indians succeeded in killing the entire party, including himself, with but four exceptions. These four escaped only with the greatest difficulty and prudence. Through them the particulars of the affair became known to the mountaineers.

Col. Fremont (we should before this have mentioned that Fremont had been promoted in the corps of Topographical Engineers from the post of Lieutenant to the rank of Captain by brevet) now examined the country as far as the south side of the Great Salt Lake, passing on his route a smaller body of water, which, for many years, has been known as Little Utah Lake. The command halted at Great Salt Lake a few days to recruit, preparatory to undertaking the further exploration of the lake, together with one of its largest islands, which would be reached by this southern route. The Indians met with on the journey, informed them that on this island there was plenty of fresh water, and game in abundance. On arriving at a suitable place, Col. Fremont pitched his tents for the main camp. On the following morning, taking Kit Carson and a few chosen men, Col. Fremont started to explore the island. The reports of the Indians were proven to be true. In addition to plenty of fresh water and game, they discovered very good timber growing there. The game, which proved to be antelope, was so abundant that they decided to kill from the herds a quantity sufficient for future use. The island was about fifteen miles in length by about five in breadth. From the main land to the island they were able to ride their horses, as the water was not deep. Upon the banks of the lake they found the salt deposit to vary from the thickness of a wafer to the depth of twelve inches.

Having made their observations, the small party returned to the main camp. On the following day the journey was resumed, the route leading around the south side of the lake, until they reached the last fresh water to be found in that direction. Before them lay a wide and unknown desert, over which no white man had ever passed. Kit Carson had been at this spot several times in previous years, and had often heard the oldest trappers speak of the impossibility of crossing it for man or beast. They had always shrunk from a path apparently endless, which offered appearances of neither grass nor water. Colonel Fremont had determined to try the formidable desert, and, if possible, unfold its hidden secrets. His men were equally ambitious with himself, and were ready to second his efforts without fearing the trials or sufferings which the desert route might exact.

Colonel Fremont arranged all of his plans commensurate with the hardships in expectancy. Early the subsequent morning he dispatched Kit Carson, Maxwell and two others as an advance party to break the road and look for a camping site. With his telescope, he then ascended a neighboring mountain to watch the little party of pioneers. In the event that water and grass should be found, Kit Carson's orders were to build a fire, the smoke of which would serve as a signal to Fremont, who would immediately follow up their trail with the whole command.

For sixty miles, Kit Carson with his little party traveled over this level, barren and sandy desert, without coming to a drop of water or a blade of grass. At the end of this distance they reached the mountains, on the west side of the lake, and found both in abundance. The signal of smoke was now made, according to agreement. Even at this long distance Fremont discovered it, and immediately set his party in motion. Kit Carson sent back one of the men to meet the main body, and guide it across the dreary waste. Before the party had accomplished more than half the distance to Kit Carson's advance, night set in, forcing the whole band to encamp without water, grass, or fuel. The camp became more necessary because the darkness was so great that they could not follow the trail in a night march. Early the following day the march was resumed, and a few hours served once more to reunite the command. They had the misfortune, however, to lose a few of their animals. The place which Kit Carson had selected for the camp was, to the weary travelers, in every respect equal to an oasis on the Great Sahara. There is no one thing which a traveler on the plains dreads more than being forced to camp without water and grass.

At this resting-place Colonel Fremont, in order to accomplish as much as possible, divided his forces into two commands. One of them he gave into the charge of Mr. Talbot, his assistant, and appointed for his guide a mountaineer named Walker. To this party Colonel Fremont gave instructions to shape their course for Mary's River; on striking which, they were to follow down the stream to where it is lost in the Great Basin. Colonel Fremont retained with him fifteen men besides his guide. The route which he pursued lay in the country south of Mary's River forming a large tract of land, which it was very desirable that he should explore. After finishing this, he was to join Talbot on the lake which is formed by the widening of the Carson River. The country through which Colonel Fremont traveled, he found to be well furnished with grass, water and wood. It is highly picturesque; but, as its characteristics are so vividly painted in his reports, it is superfluous to add our attempt to the same task. Having arrived at the lake already mentioned, he there awaited the arrival of Talbot. It was three days before the command was again united. They, however, remained together only one night. Early the following morning they separated once more. This time, Talbot's instructions were, to find a certain pass which would bring him out in the vicinity of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, which he was to cross, and then keep on his course for the waters of the San Joaquin. Fremont, with his division, journeyed up the Carson River, and after traversing the Sierra Nevada Mountains, he arrived safe at Sutter's Fort, without meeting with any incidents that were not to be expected on such a trip. Captain Sutter, with his usual urbanity of manner, kindly received them, and supplied their wants. Of him, Fremont purchased forty head of cattle and a few horses, with which he set out to look for Mr. Talbot. In doing so, he traveled up the valley of the San Joaquin, and forded that river at about where it is ushered forth from the mountains. Mr. Talbot was not to be found in this direction, so the party went to Kings River, and journeyed up it to its head waters. It now happened that the cattle belonging to the party began to grow foot-sore and weary from travel over rocky trails and through deep snows. It became evident that the looked-for men were not in that quarter; therefore, Fremont returned to the prairies near by, in the hopes of saving his cattle; but, when he arrived there, he was destitute of these animals, for they had all given out and died. The party had, previous to this misfortune, killed some of the best of the oxen, and prepared the meat to carry along with them; but, in no great quantities, as their riding animals were not strong enough to bear heavy burdens. The command had hardly left the mountains and succeeded in reaching the prairies, before they were obliged to submit to further trials and losses. After going into camp one night, the men, tired and worn out by much labor, had lain down to rest. As a guard had been posted, they gave themselves but little concern about danger. Their sentinels were not on the look-out as sharply as they might have been. The consequence was, that some hostile Indians crept within their lines and killed two mules, which depredation was not discovered until the next morning.

Fremont had no animals remaining in condition to give chase, and therefore had quietly to submit to his loss. He now resolved to give up for the time being his search for Talbot's party and return to Sutter's Fort, where he could reorganize. While on their road to the Fort, the men came suddenly upon a band of the same Indians who had recently annoyed them. These fellows seemed to invite an engagement, and were gratified by Col. Fremont. In the skirmish that ensued, they lost five warriors killed. The rest fled. The party, after undergoing many hardships, finally reached their point of destination. During the latter part of this tramp, game had become so scarce that the men had to shoot whatever came in their way. This time it chanced to be wild horses. When they arrived at the Fort they were on foot, their saddle and pack animals having all given out and broken down. By the kind assistance of Mr. Sutter, they were furnished anew. After recruiting a little their own worn-out bodies, they started on their second trip in quest of their companions. They traversed the coast range and went to San Jose to see if they could hear anything through the Mexicans and Indians who resided there, concerning the whereabouts of the missing men; as perchance, some of the hunters or traders among these people might, in their travels, have met or heard something of them. On making inquiries at San Jose, they were informed that the party was encamped at a well known place on the San Joaquin. This piece of intelligence immediately decided Fremont to dispatch Carson and two companions to that section of country, while he and the remainder of the men would remain where they were and await his return. Kit Carson performed his mission with his usual promptness and soon returned with his charge, when the expedition was once more united under one leader. Owing to the great trials and privations recently met with, and the inability to procure at Sutter's Fort all that was wanted in the matter of an outfit, therefore it was determined upon that the party should proceed next to Monterey, where they knew they could purchase the articles that were actually required. While en route, and when within thirty miles of this last-named town, an impertinent order was received from Gen. Castro, the Mexican commander of the territory. The purport of this order was, that Fremont and his party must immediately vacate the country without further notice, or else the gallant general would be obliged to drive them out. It was late in the afternoon when the messenger with this document arrived in Fremont's camp; yet, he found time the same day to pack up and fall back to a place where he could fortify his position, as he felt confident that this was but an empty excuse which the Mexican general had invented to prevent him from penetrating further into the country. The Americans had hardly got things in proper trim before the Mexican general, at the head of several hundred troops, arrived and established his camp and head-quarters within sight of the former, being deluded with the belief that he would easily intimidate the exploring party. The general commenced firing his cannon and making a great uproar. He had all branches of the service with him, including artillery, infantry and cavalry. In the intention of intimidation, however, he was greatly mistaken, though the difference in numbers between the two parties was in itself almost decisive, should they come to a conflict. Yet the Mexicans had but poorly estimated the mettle contained in the American commander and his forty men. They were ready, one and all, to sell their lives dearly in a cause good as that before them. Unshaken in their purpose, the little band of intrepid men remained in their camp for the period of three days. The Americans who were then living at Monterey sent several expressmen to their countrymen, warning them of their danger, as they felt that the Mexicans could, without a doubt, completely annihilate them. Fremont's reply was perfectly characteristic of the man; he said he had done nothing to raise the wrath of the Mexicans, who were now treating him disgracefully. He had come to perform a duty, and could not leave without executing it. In fact, neither himself nor his men would submit to be driven out of the country. At the end of three days, Fremont saw that there was no prospect of Gen. Castro's consummating his threat; and, considering that he had sufficiently shown his willingness to fight if driven to it, he therefore concluded to strike his camp and withdraw to the Sacramento River. The party were not disturbed in their movements, and on reaching this stream they followed it up until they came to Peter Lawson's Trading Post, where Fremont intended, since he could not go to Monterey without being too rash, to purchase the outfit for the homeward-bound trip. The party remained at this post some ten days, during which time some American settlers in the neighborhood came in with the information that one thousand Indian warriors were collecting for the avowed purpose of destroying their ranches, probably at the instigation of the Mexicans. The exploring party, and also five white men from the Post, proffered their services to go to the aid of their countrymen, and shortly afterwards the whole command under Fremont moved forward to meet and measure their strength with the savages. The village of the Indians was in due time found, when the whites commenced the fight by making an attack on it. The battle was for a little while stoutly contested; but finally the red men were completely routed. The number of the killed it was difficult to ascertain; but Carson is of the opinion that this fight had the tendency of fixing on the minds of this tribe the truth of their inability to cope with white men, the convincing evidence of which was that the battle-ground was strewn with their dead. Having more than accomplished his chastisement of the Indians, Fremont with his party returned to Lawson's.

On finishing his purchases, at this post, whose occupants had done their utmost to supply his wants and make his stay agreeable, the explorer once more set his command in motion en route for the Columbia River. He traveled up the Sacramento and passed near the Shasta Buttes,[19] and thence on to the Tlamath Lake. While encamped on the head of this collection of water, news came to the party that war had been declared between the United States and Mexico. This intelligence had been sent to Fremont through Lieutenant Gillespie, of the United States marines, who had with him six men as an escort. After traveling three hundred miles over bad trails at a rapid pace, his animals began to succumb to fatigue. The lieutenant saw he would fail to accomplish his ends with the whole party together, therefore he selected two of his most reliable men, mounted them on his fleetest horses, and sent them on ahead to bear the dispatches, while he himself would jog on slowly. The expressmen overhauled the exploring party after several days of hard travel and handed to Fremont the communications. As soon as he had read his letters, Fremont made inquiries in regard to Gillespie, and found that he was in rather a precarious position; for, should the Tlamath Indians take the notion, they would murder him and his men just by the way of pastime. Fremont at once determined to return with all haste and succor Gillespie from the imminent peril that surrounded him. With this purpose in view, he selected ten picked men, leaving orders for the rest of the party to follow on his trail, and set out. He had traveled about sixty miles when he met the officer he was in search of coming on. The meeting was very gratifying to both, but especially so to Fremont, who was fully alive to the dangers through which Gillespie had passed; for, the lieutenant was not sufficiently aware how black-hearted in their villainy and treachery this tribe, through whose country he was passing, were, as he had heretofore never dealt with them. A camp was selected near by, and all hands were not long in being snugly seated in it around a good fire, listening to the important news fresh from the civilized world.

[Footnote 19: Blunt projecting mountains.]

Fremont sat up until about one o'clock reading his letters from the United States. Kit Carson and Owens, wrapped in their saddle blankets, had picked out their beds near the fire, as the night was cold. On concluding the reading of his correspondence, Fremont turned in and was soon sound asleep. All was quiet for awhile, when Kit Carson heard a noise that awaked him; the sound was like the stroke of an axe. Rising to his feet, he discovered Indians in the camp. While in the act of reaching for his rifle, he gave the alarm, to his slumbering companions; but, two of them were already sleeping their last sleep, for the fatal tomahawk had been buried in their brains. One of these victims was the brave Lajeunesse, while the other was a full-blooded Delaware Indian. As Kit Carson left the fire, where he was too conspicuous an object, he saw several warriors approaching towards it. There lay near to it four other Delawares, who, on hearing the alarm, sprang to their feet. One of them by the name of Crane, seized hold of a rifle which, unfortunately, was not his own, and was not loaded. The poor fellow was not aware of this important fact. He kept trying to fire it while he stood erect, and manfully received five arrows, all of which penetrated his left breast, and either one of which was sufficient to cause his death. At last, he fell. On grasping his gun, Kit Carson remembered that the evening before, he had discharged it for the purpose of cleaning it, and while doing so had accidentally broken its cap tube, and consequently he had not reloaded it. As this flashed across his mind, he threw the rifle down and drew from his belt a single-barrelled pistol, with which he made at the warrior who was so safely throwing his arrows into his companion. When sufficiently near, Kit Carson fired, but as the fellow kept dodging about, he only succeeded in cutting the string that held the tomahawk to its red owner's arm. Maxwell now shot at this same brave and hit him in the fleshy part of one leg; and, as he was turning to run, which was the case with most of the Indians by this time, a bullet from the rifle of a mountaineer passed through his heart and arrested his progress. The whites were now fully awakened to their danger, and about ready to commence the fight; but the enemy had scattered. If all the savages had shown the same quickness and coolness as did their foremost warrior, the probability is that the most, if not the whole of the party would have been massacred. As it was, the attack was well planned, but poorly carried out.

The result of the affair was, that Fremont lost three brave men, and had one other wounded slightly. It now became evident that the party had fallen into a snare which was intended for Lieutenant Gillespie and his small force, but the coming up of Fremont had caused the assassins to find they had caught a Tartar.

Fremont and his party apprehended no danger that night; consequently, they did not post a guard, and as the men were very tired they slept very soundly. Before lying down, several of them had fired off their rifles, and, after cleaning them, they had neglected to reload them. This was the first and last time they were guilty of such a mistake while in an Indian country.

Of the three men killed, the one by the name of Lajeunesse was the most regretted, for he had been with Fremont on his previous expeditions, and had won the admiration and confidence of his commander and companions. In a small company of men, such as these expeditions were composed of, where every member becomes intimately known and admired by his companions, the loss of one would be greatly felt; but, when three such were thus suddenly taken, it caused a gloom to be cast over the remainder, not easily to be dispelled. The only consolation left to the living was, that they had been instrumental in saving Lieutenant Gillespie and his four companions; therefore, in sacrificing their comrades, they had saved more lives than had been lost.

There were no more thoughts of sleep in this camp for that eventful night; but instead, the men selected positions behind neighboring trees and fallen logs, and were ready to receive the enemy should they see fit to visit them again.

The Indians, however, as Kit Carson predicted, had come to the wise conclusion not to attempt so unsatisfactory a business as another attack, for the grey light of the following day came without their reappearance. Before the sun had fairly risen, Fremont had broken up this camp, which had become odious to the men from its unpleasant associations. With their packs, and with the bodies of their dead companions, the party started to find their rear guard. They had proceeded about ten miles on their journey, when, by unanimous consent, they resolved to halt and inter the remains, which they had wished to carry until they united their forces, so that all could participate in the funeral rites; but, the woods through which they were traveling were very thick, and already the bodies had become greatly disfigured, on account of their frequently striking against the trees, as they were fastened on the backs of three animals.

Slowly and sadly, in that dense forest, hundreds of miles from their nearest countrymen, was this funeral procession formed. A spot was selected on one side of the main trail, at a distance of about one half mile, where a rude grave was dug, and, wrapped in their blankets, in the same common house, were deposited all that remained of these three brave men. An observer of these obsequies, would have seen the lips of daring men, now and then, giving spasmodic twitchings; eyes swimming in tears, and a silence and solemnity that bespoke the truest kind of grief. Among that party, such a one would have been sure to have marked out the countenance of Kit Carson; for, engraven on it were the throes which were troubling his kind heart on being thus obliged to separate from old friends. Not a man left that grave, but who resolved, secretly and silently, to make these dastardly Indians suffer for the lives they had thus wantonly taken. In fact, they felt it an imperative duty they yet owed to their departed comrades; who, if they but stood in their places, would have sworn to be avenged; hence, the reader must not judge them harshly if they nourished these feelings.

That very day the two parties met and went into camp together. Plans were concocted to chastise the red men soundly. The next day, on quitting this last resting-place, a squad of fifteen men was left concealed in the neighborhood, in order to watch and act against any Indians who, by chance, might be following them from one camp to another, in hopes of finding something. The main command then moved on slowly, and had advanced but a few miles when they were overtaken by their friends, who came up with two scalps. These were the sum total of their morning's work. The two warriors to whom they had belonged were caught following the trail as scouts of their main body. The unerring rifles of the party in ambush had performed their fearful duty.



CHAPTER X.

Fremont en route for California—His men are anxious to punish the Tlamath Indians—Kit Carson, in command of ten Men, is sent on ahead to reconnoitre—He discovers the main Village of these Indians—The Attack and the Victory—Beautiful Lodges—The Trophies mostly destroyed—Fremont saves Kit Carson's Life—The Journey resumed—The Sacramento Valley—An Indian Ambuscade—One Savage defies the Party—Kit Carson shoots him—The Tlamath Indians still on the War Path—Another Lesson given to them—A Thief is shot—Arrival at Lawson's Trading Post—A period of Inactivity—A Detachment sent to capture Sonoma—Prisoners taken—The Mexicans come to punish the Americans—Their Courage deserts them—The Retreat—The Pursuit—Fremont goes to Sutter's Fort and establishes a Military Post—Monterey is taken by the American Squadron—Fremont marches there—Further Operations—The taking of Los Angelos.

The news of war having been declared between the United States and Mexico, determined Fremont to return to California; and, in doing so, he decided to enter that country by a new route of his own selection.

He commenced his journey by traveling around Lake Tlamath, and had not proceeded far in that direction, before he found himself encamped on a small stream which empties into the lake, nearly opposite to the place where his three men were killed. The distance of each day's progress had been carefully reckoned and noted by the party. Upon their minds there was still resting a sadness, which, their leader saw, was only to be effaced by a satisfactory revenge, and that they were eager to obtain it before quitting the country. Perhaps, also, their commanding officer thought it best, while the opportunity offered, for the benefit of his countrymen, whom he felt sure would some day possess this territory, to impress these savages with the power and bravery of the white men. Whatever was the object to be gained, it matters not in relating the particulars. The next morning he sent Kit Carson on ahead, with ten chosen men, giving him orders to the effect that if he discovered a large village of Indians, which was the general surmise, without being himself seen, he was to send back word; when he (Fremont) would hasten on with reinforcements, in order to make the assault. If it should happen that the Indians were the first to be apprised of his near approach, then, without delay, Carson was to engage them as he thought best. Acting under these instructions, Kit Carson, with his detail of men, set out, and fortunately soon found a fresh trail that led directly to where the savages had established their village. This Indian village numbered fifty lodges; and, to each wigwam, the mountaineers estimated three braves, as this is the complement of men who live in one of these huts on the prairies and in the Rocky Mountains; thus making the force of the Indians to be in the neighborhood of one hundred and fifty. From the commotion noticed in the village, it was evident to all present that the tribe had become aware of danger, and that there was no time to be lost in sending back the desired information. Kit Carson, notwithstanding the strength of his enemies, determined to hazard an attack; and, after a brief consultation with his companions, he decided to take advantage of the confusion that was existing among the red men by charging right in among them. If ever there is a time when Indians will stand their ground, it is when defending their families; therefore, on this occasion, the white men were warmly received; but, they fought with such a degree of desperation, as they themselves had never done before. The result was, that the savages became panic stricken, and soon afterwards fled, leaving everything they possessed behind them. The victors, after pursuing the Indians for some distance, and adding a few more to the list of killed, returned to the village, which they found to be rich in booty. The lodges here taken, Kit Carson describes as being the most tasty pieces of handiwork that Indian skill could devise, and surpassed anything of the kind that he had previously looked upon. They were made of the broad leaves of the swamp flag, which were beautifully and intricately woven together. Within the wigwams, the party found a very large amount of fish in different stages of preservation for future use. Wishing to do these people as much harm as possible, and thus be even with them for their recent savage cruelties on their own party, Kit Carson gave the order to collect everything in the lodges and arrange the articles in such manner that fire would either destroy, or completely damage them. Having accomplished this work, the lighted tinder was applied, when the flames leaped high up in the air, forming a fit funeral pyre for their slain companions. Fremont saw the reflection of the fire, and also the smoke, and at once knew that Kit Carson was engaged with the Indians; consequently, he pushed on at a very rapid pace to assist him. He arrived too late for what the men called the sport; but instead, heard the report of his lieutenant and guide, Kit Carson, whose words, to use his (Fremont's) own language, "are synonymous with truth." The gloom which had prevailed over the party, while the men recounted to their friends the details of the fight was temporarily dispelled; and, while thus engaged, the command moved on about two miles from the Indian village. Having here selected a site, they went into camp. After comfortably stowing themselves away in this resting-place, another "war talk" was called, and what was best to be done was canvassed over. After the adjournment of the council, Fremont decided to send back twenty men, under Richard Owens, to the neighborhood of the ruins of the village, there to conceal themselves and await the return of the Indians; who, it was thought, might come back to look after their dead. He did so; and Owens had not been secreted a great while before about fifty savages returned, and, by the moon's light, were quite visible. As had been previously agreed upon, word was sent by a trusty messenger to Fremont, who, with six companions, Kit Carson being of the number, hastened on horseback to join his outpost. For fear of being discovered, Fremont chose a different route from the one taken by Owens, which was quite direct, while that of the former was circuitous. On approaching the smouldering remains of the village, Kit Carson discovered only one Indian wandering about on the ground. As soon almost as he was seen by the party, they made a dash at him. Kit Carson was in the advance, and on arriving within about ten feet of the warrior, he drew up his horse and brought his rifle to his shoulder to fire, but the gun only snapped, and left its owner in a very precarious situation, as the red man had already drawn the string of his bow to plant an arrow in the body of his adversary. A moment more and, in all probability, Kit Carson would have been breathing his last. Fremont saw the danger his friend was in, although Kit had tried to avoid the arrow by throwing himself on one side of his horse. With much forethought, as well as personal exposure, he plunged the rowels of his spurs deep into his riding animal. The noble horse, obeying the impetus thus given by his rider, made a few extra strides, until he reached, knocked down and passed over the Indian, thereby causing his arrow to fly in a different direction from the one intended. Before the savage could regain his feet, a ball from one of the rifles belonging to the party had sent him to his last resting-place. Fremont now learned from Owens, that while the messenger was absent, the rest of the Indians had decamped, and as he had received orders from him to await his coming in case he found the enemy, therefore, he was obliged to let the rascals quietly depart without firing into them, which was much to his own and his men's displeasure.



It was now necessary to return without delay to their own camp, and thus anticipate the movements of the Indians, as they might conclude to make an attack in that quarter; but, on arriving there, they found everything safe; nor were they, during that night, in any way disturbed. Kit Carson was, and is still, very grateful to Fremont for thus interposing between him and almost certain death; for it would have been the work of an instant for the Indian warrior, at ten feet distance, to have sent an arrow into some vital organ. It was such noble generosity, bravery, and disinterested exposure in the hour of peril, in order to serve his men, that strongly cemented Fremont to them. Indeed, in all of his expeditions, he had such command over his employees, that little or no trouble ever occurred among them while on their marches, although they had privations and dangers to undergo that would often try men of the most even temper.

On the day following the one on which his party had encountered and chastised the Tlamath Indians, Fremont started for the Valley of the Sacramento. The expedition was progressing well, and was four days out from this last camp; when, as two of the men, whose names were Maxwell and Archambeau, were out hunting at a distance of about three miles on one side of their friends, they were surprised at seeing one Indian, on foot, approaching towards them.

The hunters, in order to do away with all suspicion, at once halted and laid down their arms, to show the warrior that they were friendly disposed. They thought it was best to have a "talk" with him, and question him in regard to the country they were then in. As he showed no symptoms of fear, but kept coming on, they supposed that he had understood their actions; therefore, they paid but little attention to him, until they saw him stop. Their curiosity was now excited to know his intentions; and, as they watched his movements, they saw him take some young crows from his quiver, and, after untying the string that held them, he concealed them to his satisfaction in the grass, and again moved forward; but, while doing so, he was busy arranging his weapons for immediate use. The white men were not astonished at this, for they concluded that he was only preparing himself against danger. The Indian slowly advanced to a spot that was within fifteen yards of the hunters, when he again stopped, and commenced shooting his arrows at them. At first they dodged about, and made signs for him to desist, as they were friends; but, to their admonitions he paid not the least attention. Several of the missiles had come near causing them bodily injury. After a time, forbearance ceased to be a virtue. Raising his rifle, one of the men fired; when, to use mountaineer parlance, the Indian "went under."

What could have been the foolhardy ideas of this warrior that compelled him to take such a course as he did, not one of the party, when they were informed of the adventure, could conjecture; but, a fact it is, that he lost his life and his scalp by his indiscretion. In due time the command reached the Sacramento River, and were proceeding on the trail down that stream, when they came to a point, not far from a deep canon, the sides of which were almost perpendicular and composed of cragged rocks. Fremont decided not to pass through this deep gorge, but instead, to travel around it; and he did so by crossing the river. It proved afterwards to be a very fortunate change; for, their old enemies, the Tlamath Indians, had concealed themselves there, thinking, as a matter of course, that the white men would keep the trail. Seeing that the white men were not coming into the ambuscade laid for them, the Indians became so disappointed that they boldly ventured forth from their hiding-places. A few, more daring than the rest, advanced into open ground, when Carson, Godey, and another member of the party, made a dash at them. They all ran except one warrior, and as the charging party were mounted on mules, they made but poor progress in overtaking them. The one Indian who, apparently, had resolved to make war on his own account, concealed himself behind a rock, strung his bow, putting several arrows in his mouth, and thus awaited the advance of his foes. Kit Carson and Godey soon came within shooting distance, when he began to let fly his arrows, and kept it up so briskly, that the men dodged about, without being able to do anything else for some moments. At last, wearying of this dangerous sport, Kit Carson dismounted, and crept around until he obtained a good sight at the Indian; when, he drew up his rifle, fired, and sent a bullet through his heart. From this dead brave, Kit Carson took a beautifully wrought bow and quiver, which still contained a large number of arrows, and which he presented, on rejoining the party, to Lieutenant Gillespie. It is a pity that such a brave man as this savage was, should have met with such an inglorious death; but, it was his own seeking, for he had attacked the wrong persons. Another twenty-four hours now passed by without any further annoyance from the Indians; who, notwithstanding the late forcible instruction they had received, still continued to hover around, and follow after the exploring party. On encamping the next evening, after Kit Carson had killed the Indian, as above described, the party found themselves entirely destitute of anything to eat, although they were very hungry. Game had, all at once, become very scarce, as the hunters whose turn it was to be out that day, had returned unsuccessful. Two more men were then sent out, in hopes that by perseverance they might find something. They had not proceeded far before they discovered an Indian watching their camp, as if awaiting a favorable opportunity to make a descent on the animals. Step (one of these hunters) crept unperceived by the red man until he was within range of his rifle, when he fired, and killed the would-be thief. No other game could be found, so the hunters returned, and the whole party retired to rest supperless, and arose the next morning to fast again. That day, however, they found and killed some game, and for the time being, their appetites were once more appeased. Fremont was now on his way to Peter Lawson's Fort, where he arrived safely, after several days of hard traveling. At this place the party rested for about one week; but the desire to have an active share in the approaching hostilities, caused Fremont to delay no longer than was absolutely necessary; hence, he started and went to a point lower down on the Sacramento, known to the mountaineers under the name of the Buttes. Here, a camp was made, and here Fremont had decided to wait positive orders concerning the war; and, until these instructions should arrive, he employed his men in hunting. After several days spent in this way, he began to weary of inactivity. He thought that, in all probability, war had commenced; and, finally, he decided to take the responsibility of sending a part of his force to surprise Sonoma—a Mexican military post that had but a weak garrison. This the party accomplished to the entire satisfaction of their commander. They captured and made prisoners of war at this fort, one general and two captains, besides taking several cannon and quite a quantity of small arms. It was about this time that news reached Fremont which convinced him that hostilities had already commenced, and that both countries were taking active measures to carry the war on with vigor. He set out immediately, on the receipt of this information, and joined his detail of men at Sonoma. During his stay at this fort, General Castro sent one of his captains, with a large force of Mexicans, from San Francisco, with orders to drive the Americans out of the country. This command came, and accidentally fell upon and butchered two men whom Fremont had sent out as messengers to inform all American settlers that Sonoma had been taken by him, and that thither they could fly for safety. The gallant Mexican captain, on seeing and hearing that Fremont's forces were anxious to meet him, becoming disheartened, began to retreat, and was pursued by the exploring party. For six days they thus followed the retreating enemy, whose courage had evidently deserted them though they had triple the force of their pursuers. So hot was the chase, that the Mexicans deserted many of their animals, which, as a matter of course, fell into the hands of the Americans. Fremont, on finding that he could not overtake the enemy, returned to Sonoma. The captain, with his Mexican command, as was afterwards learned, did not remain at San Francisco. No doubt he did not like to trust himself within reach of Fremont, for he continued his march until he reached the Pueblo of Los Angelos, where he was rejoined by General Castro, who reorganized the forces and assumed the command himself. The exploring party had now become a military expedition, and around this nucleus the Americans, then in California, flocked to pour out their vengeance against their country's foes. Having quite a little army at his disposal, Fremont left a strong detachment at Sonoma, and departed with the rest of his command for Sutter's Fort. On arriving there, he placed the fort under military rule, and left his prisoners, General Vallejos and the two captains, who had been captured at Sonoma. Also an American by the name of Lace, who was a brother-in-law to General Vallejos, and whose predilections appeared to lean in favor of the Mexican side. With all his mountain men, including Kit Carson, Fremont then took up his line of march towards Monterey, for the purpose of attacking and taking possession of the town; but, this movement had been anticipated by Commodore Sloat and the American squadron. Soon after Fremont's arrival at Monterey (where he was very kindly received by the commodore and his officers), Commodore Sloat left the country, and the command devolved upon Commodore Stockton.