In this his residence at Rayado, Kit Carson is only kept from spending his whole time by business for which his tastes are more suited. Soon after the commencement of the settlement, and while he was engaged in his vocation as farmer, news reached him that the Apaches had been committing a most wicked murder, the details of which are horrible in the extreme. A merchant by the name of White, who was engaged in business at Santa Fe, had been into the United States for the purpose of purchasing goods. With his train of wagons and his small escort of men, traveled his private carriage, in which there were, as passengers, his accomplished but unfortunate lady and her only child. On arriving at a point where he anticipated no further danger, Mr. White started on ahead of his caravan, in order that he might reach Santa Fe as soon as possible, and thus relieve his family from the privations of camp life. He had proceeded but a few miles when he was attacked by some Indians who had concealed themselves in the rocks on either side of the road. The savages, as the carriage neared their hiding-place, fired with such accuracy of aim that they killed, by their first volley, all of the men who were with the carriage before they were aware of the danger which surrounded them. Mrs. White and her child were reserved for a worse fate. They were carried off into captivity. The child proved to be a source of annoyance to the blood-thirsty savages, and its angel spirit was released from earth by their cruel ferocity. Before the eyes of its captive mother the fatal tomahawk was raised, and by one dastard blow its keen edge was made to mingle with its brains. The horrid work failed not to bring the bitter woes and anguish of despair to the breast of the unhappy mother. It was then thrown into Red River, which was the stream nearest to the scene of the bloody tragedy.

Red River and its great canon has always been to the Apache Indians a favorite haunt of refuge, either when pursued, or after the committal of some terrible crime. There are several streams in the West called by this name. The one here referred to is the Red River of the plains, and is one of the upper tributaries of the Arkansas River. In olden times it went by the name of the Canadian River. Several sharp conflicts have occurred on this stream between the Apache Indians and parties of United States troops. It has also formed the stage of many an Indian tragedy in conflicts between the mountain Indians and the Indians of the plains. Quite recently, attempts have been made by whites to use its banks for grazing purposes, but every enterprise which has been set on foot to establish ranches in its vicinity, have been warmly contested by the Camanches, who have killed several persons who have dared to essay such attempts.

The intelligence of this terrible butchery having been carried to New Mexico, a command was organized in hot haste, which had for its object the immediate rescue of Mrs. White from her bondage, worse than death. Two men went with this party as guides, named Leroux and Fisher. Watkins Leroux is an old and famous trapper and mountaineer, whose reputation and skill as a guide in the far West, is second only to Kit Carson's. A few of his warm partisans, who are ever very warm in their praise of their friend, at one time considered him superior even to Kit Carson; but, when the skill of the two men came to be tried in the same cause, the palm was yielded to Kit Carson. Leroux has guided several parties over new routes with meritorious success. His knowledge of Indian character is nearly equal to that possessed by Kit Carson, and he is endowed with a wonderful amount of forethought and prudence; but, in an Indian fight, or on any great emergency, his faculties appear to be less active, and his judgment less certain, than those exhibited by the great Nestor of the Rocky Mountains. It is a well well-understood maxim, that there are more or less narrow-minded persons who are ready and eager to pull down any and every rising man; and, for this purpose, such must choose a champion. Kit Carson's association with Colonel Fremont had won him so great renown, as a mountaineer and guide, that an opposition party was formed to detract from his merits and capabilities. Leroux, owing to his popularity, was chosen for the leader of this party, and whenever the name of Kit Carson was mentioned, the friends of Leroux always saw fit to compare the deeds of the two men together. This strife, of course, could not be lasting, and now it is almost forgotten. It is a just tribute of praise due to both of these brave men, to say that they do not sanction, by word or deed, either party to the controversy. They could but appreciate each other, and, as friends, ever felt elated, the one at the success of the other, and vice versa. They mutually considered that every fresh laurel of glory added a measure-full of honor and renown to their common brotherhood of mountaineers, among whom the good reputation of their cloth was as dear as it was among the knights attached to the orders of chivalry. Their ranches are located in the same valley, and in the same town; where, having lived together as fast friends in life, in all probability they will find their last resting-places in the same graveyard. Few men can say aught against the character of Watkins Leroux, but in this estimate of his actions, we are only reviving what has already been given to the public.

With Leroux and Fisher employed as guides, the expedition for the rescue of Mrs. White set out on its route, and, on its journey, passed by Rayado. Kit Carson immediately proffered his services for the expedition. They were accepted, but, much to the surprise of many of the party, instead of being at once placed in the position which his great experience demanded, he was assigned to an inferior position under the command of Leroux. Kit Carson, however, was too good a soldier to exhibit the conduct which the little buzzing talkers so anxiously looked for from their supposed kindling of his jealousy, and quietly took the post assigned him, eager to lend a helping hand, which might even thus be instrumental in saving a valuable life. It is proper, however, that we should add, that this slight upon his reputation and experience wounded his feelings. But, especially, as the life in jeopardy belonged to a woman, he would not, and did not, think of allowing his actions to partake of his feelings. We have reason to believe that this slight, at least on the part of the commanding officer of the expedition, was not intentional. That gentleman was an honorable man, and would not have committed an act which he considered would have resulted otherwise than for the best; and, in appointing Leroux his chief counsellor, he had selected a good man, but, one whom he afterwards learned, to his sorrow, was every way the subordinate of Kit Carson in managing Indian affairs.

A few years subsequent to the transpiring of this murder and the skirmish which succeeded it, we traveled near to the spot under the same officer who had the command of the above expedition. He reverted to the affair with much feeling, and from his actions and remarks, we could plainly see that his sympathies had been, perhaps, too greatly enlisted in behalf of his unfortunate countrywoman, and that his better judgment had been overcome by giving way to the urgent advice of others. If it had been a battle where either scientific attainments or manly courage could have succeeded, he would, doubtless, have been himself, and carried everything through with success. This is no mere assertion, for his long and well tried military career warrants us in this belief. We have the greatest respect for this gentleman, and consider him a very able man; but, as a biographer, we are called upon to narrate the facts as they come to us. If he had succeeded, everything would have been considered as well done; but he failed, and the cause of his failure is plain.

The party being thus constituted, and no delay having been occasioned by any unforeseen accident, the party arrived in good season at the place where the cold-blooded murder had been consummated. Around the spot, there was strewn, in great confusion, boxes, trunks, pieces of harness, and many other things, which had belonged to the unfortunate party, and which the villains did not fancy and carry away with them. The path taken by these Indians was soon found, and on it, the command traveled in full chase for twelve days, without seeing the outline of a savage. Carson describes this as being the most difficult trail to follow he remembers ever to have undertaken, for the rascally Apaches, on breaking up their camps, would divide into parties of two and three, and then scatter over the vast expanse of the prairies to meet again at some preconcerted place, where they knew water could be had. In several of these camps the pursuers found remnants of dress and other articles, that were known to have belonged to Mrs. White. By these signs, they were led to believe that she still lived. Although these things would be trifles on ordinary occasions, yet, at the present time, they were the cause of stimulating the white men to their utmost exertions; and, as they grew fresher, the excitement among the party increased. At last, the camp, and even the persons of the savages, became visible to the foremost of the pursuers; and, among the first to get a glimpse of them was Kit Carson. At the time the discovery was made, Kit Carson was considerably in advance of most of the men. Turning to those near him, he shouted to have the command come on as fast as possible, for he saw at once that there was no time to be lost in consultation as to the best mode of assaulting the Indians. They, already, were in commotion, and were making hurried preparations to decamp. Riding on at full speed for some distance, Kit Carson again turned his head and saw, to his dismay, that he was not followed; but instead, the command had halted. The cause of this curious order being given, at such a precarious moment, was, as he afterwards learned, brought about by the advice of the chief guide, who told the commanding officer that the Indians wished to have a parley. On seeing what was transpiring behind him, Kit Carson had no alternative but to rein up his horse also; for, to ride on alone into the midst of the savages, would have been unjustifiable rashness, and might, perhaps, have destroyed the plans his superior officers were concocting. So, he stood paralyzed and confounded at the inactivity of his companions. Just about this time, a bullet, fired from the Indian camp, struck the commanding officer in the breast, and bent him forward. Those around him, for a little while, supposed that he had received a mortal wound. Still, he retained his seat in the saddle, but could not speak. Thus again was precious time lost, as the party, during this time, were virtually without a leader, and did not seem to be inclined to make one. Fortunately for this officer, just before he received the shot, he had taken off his thick buckskin gauntlets and crowded them into a breast pocket. The ball had struck this bundle; and, as its force was somewhat expended by the distance it had come, it was unable to more than penetrate the mass and contuse the soft parts of the chest.

This accident assisted in preventing this well known military man from inflicting such a blow on these savages, that they would have been long in recovering from it. He had undoubtedly seen, soon after he had halted, that Kit Carson was right in recommending a charge; for, as quick as he recovered sufficiently from his injury to be able to speak, he commanded the men to make the attack, and leave him to himself. Unfortunately, the time had passed to accomplish the desired effect when this order was given, for, on arriving among the lodges, the men found only one warrior. He, as a matter of course, was slain. The body of Mrs. White was also found in the camp. Life was extinct, though her soul had but just flown to heaven. There was still warmth in the corpse when the men first discovered it. An arrow had pierced her breast. Evidently she had been conscious that friends were near, and was trying to make her escape when the missile of death produced the fatal wound.

Much has been written and said about this sad affair, and much unjust calumny has been heaped upon the head of the leader of the expedition; therefore, the opinion of Kit Carson in reference to the matter may not be out of place; hence, we give it word for word. "I am certain" says Kit Carson, "that if the Indians had been charged immediately on our arrival, Mrs. White would have been saved. At first, the savages were much confused at our approach, and I do not hesitate to say that she saw us as quick as any one of the redskins did, for it undoubtedly was the all absorbing topic of her mind that her rescue would be attempted by her friends and countrymen. On seeing us coming, she had attempted to run towards us, when she was shot down. Had she been liberated, she could not have long survived the brutality, hardships and vicissitudes she had experienced. Words cannot describe the bitter cup that she had been obliged to drink during her captivity. It was the will of Providence that, having suffered like a martyr on earth, she should be taken to himself before we arrived to where her remains lay; upon coming upon which, we shed tears at thus being defeated in what had been our cherished hopes even had it cost some of us our own lives."

By this language it can be readily seen that Kit Carson regretted the failure of this attempt made to rescue Mrs. White as deeply as any one, either in the expedition, or among her friends at the home from which she had so recently, in health and happiness, been torn. "Yet I cannot," says Kit Carson, "blame the commanding officer, or the other guide, for the action they took in the affair. They evidently did as they thought best, but I have no doubt that they now can see, that if my advice had been taken, the life of Mrs. White might have been spared for at least a short period." This expedition was far from being a failure, for the Indians lost all their provisions, camp equipage and a few animals. Many of these savages ran away leaving behind them everything they possessed in the world, except the scanty amount of clothing they had on.

For six miles they were pursued over the level prairies when another brave was killed, several wounded and three children taken prisoners. The horses belonging to the Expedition broke down, one by one, until at last, the chase had to be given over, after which the Indians made short work in getting out of sight. Among the trinkets and baggage found in the captured camp, there was a novel which described Kit Carson as a great hero who was able to slay Indians by scores. This book was shown to Kit and was the first of the kind he had ever seen. After glancing at it he made the remark, "that perhaps Mrs. White, to whom it belonged, knowing he lived not very far off, had prayed to have him make his appearance and assist in freeing her. He wished that it might have been so, but consoled himself by thinking that he had performed his duty." While on their route back to Taos, the command was overtaken by a terrible snow storm which was accompanied by a high wind; as there were no hills to break its force, it amounted almost to a tornado. The snow was driven with such force into the men's faces that they became nearly blind, and were bewildered as to the course they should travel. During its continuance, they wandered about on the prairies. Finally they were so fortunate that at last they reached a clump of timber in the neighborhood of Las Vegas in New Mexico; but, during the tramp, one man had been frozen to death and others had come near to perishing.

After arriving in the settlements; the party learned from some friendly Indians, that the Apaches had suffered severely by being exposed to this same storm, and the report was that many of them had since died in consequence thereof. From this, it would appear as if an all seeing power had protected the whites, while it had dealt out a fearful judgment upon these wicked savages, who have more than vague ideas of the sin of murdering, in cold blood, innocent people, sages and philanthropists far distant and safe in great cities to the contrary notwithstanding. There are no set of men in the world who can draw the line between right and wrong based on its first principle, and taught to them by the great lessons of nature, as can many tribes of Indians. Among themselves, and especially among their individual bands, in regard to all crimes, the Indian has his moral code of laws which, in many respects, is not surpassed by those of his pale-faced brother. They have their civil chief who is responsible for the peace and good order of the camp; and, before him, are tried, by the lawyers of the tribe, all cases worthy of notice. If the parties are found guilty, the offender or offenders are summarily dealt with—therefore, "with his untutored mind," in his intercourse with white men, the Indian is not altogether excusable in committing crime.

There are many people who believe that the Indians, as a race, have been greatly sinned against, and to sustain their views, have called in the assistance of flowery-written romances and the high-sounding language of prose and poetry. Much of this novelty and interest rubs off by coming in contact with the savage as he really exists. Admiration often changes, in this case, into distrust and even enmity. It is natural that this should be so, for mere book-education biases the mind always, either for or against, and therefore, it is not strange that in the far West, we should often meet with men who unhesitatingly declare that the red man, if capable, is unwilling to entertain in his character even one redeeming trait; but, on investigating their individual case, we find that they are but superficial observers who are prone to find fault with everything that does not exactly suit their tastes. It is necessary to spend a whole life with Indians, in order to judge them without prejudice. The Great Spirit has endowed his red children with reason, the same in quality as possessed by any other race, but their habits, mode of life and experience is of such a kind, that, when taken, as a whole, they are truly original. Looking upon this class of people, either in the light of an enthusiast or as a detractor, cannot be otherwise than wrong; for, as is usually the case, the truth lies between the extremes.

To be caught in one of these winter storms on the plains is a very serious affair; and one only needs to have been through a fearful gale on the seas to render him dubious of which to choose. To the faint heart, death seems inevitable in either case; and, to such a one, a choice between a watery grave or a bed of snow, when hunger and cold are his attendants while life is gradually ebbing out, is a question in which the contrast appears small. During many of the winter months, a life on the prairies becomes a necessity to the frontiersman and not a pleasure. The force and power of the winds on the level earth of the far West, are beyond human imagination. The snow storms there, at the proper period of the year, are terrific in their grandeur. The quantity of the snow that falls is not so much a matter of notice as the force with which it comes, being almost blinding in its effects and requiring all the physical powers of both man and beast to meet and contend against it. It but seldom happens, during one of these seasons, that the roads are so blocked up by snow that human ingenuity cannot overcome the obstacle; for the wind drifts the snow, rendering the path clear at intervals which vary in their area. The poor mail parties are the ones who experience this undesirable life; and, in their attempts to make their journeys, they are often driven near to death's door, although every precaution is taken to make the transit safe. The mules of these parties are well protected with india rubber coverings which are lined with blankets, and, so snugly are they made to fit every available part of the animal, that it seems almost impossible for cold to touch them. Corn and fodder, to a limited extent, is transported; but, even with these precautions, the mules now and then succumb to cold. The man covers his body with warm clothing and carries with him furs and robes enough to be seemingly able to defy the storms. He can provide himself only with a scanty amount of fuel, for his means of conveyance are very contracted. When overtaken by the storms, which may last several days, he is rendered almost powerless, and is at the tender mercies of the gale; for he cannot make fires,—and without them he may perish. This is not true of every trip made across the plains during the winter, for, like on the ocean, the passage may be frequently gone through with the encountering of but little real suffering. One thing in favor of making the journey in this season of the year is, the probability of not seeing an Indian. They, usually, during the cold months, stow themselves away in their, comparatively speaking, warm mountain retreats. In crossing the plains, small parties find the item of meeting Indians to be of considerable importance, as, even in the time of peace, they are very exacting and troublesome, demanding that provisions should be given them, by way of toll. To refuse is apt to bring down their ire, when they will usually help themselves to whatever suits their fancy. They are very partial to sugar, which, when they cannot say the word in English, they call "Shoog." If not understood, they make their wants known by the Indian sign of touching with the index finger the tip of the tongue, thereby indicating the sweetness of the article. Many of them come armed with a piece of paper, which testimonial of good behavior they have obtained from their agent or forced from some traveler. As they cannot read, it makes but little difference what is the sense of the writing so long as it is bona fide penmanship. I once saw one of these documents which the owner prized very highly, but, had he known the purport of his paper, he would have sighed for the scalp of his kind friend who wrote it. The language was as follows: "Crossing of the Arkansas," etc. "The bearer, Young Antelope, is a good Indian and will not take anything out of his reach. This is to warn traders and travelers to beware of his race, breed, seed, and generation." It was signed evidently with a fictitious name, and answered the purpose for which it was intended, which was, to get rid of an ugly customer and to put strangers on their guard against the man who carried it.

On arriving at Taos, Kit Carson left this party and proceeded to Rayado, where he was, soon after, actively engaged in farming pursuits.

During the subsequent winter, a detachment of ten dragoons under the command of sergeant Holbrook was stationed at Rayado to protect the little settlement. In order that their animals might have the benefit of the good grass which was to be found in the mountains at a place where but little snow fell, the settlers established there a herder's ranche, posting two men there to look after and guard the property. The cold months were passed in peace and quiet, but, in the spring the marauding Apaches came, and, after wounding both of the herders, stole all the gentle animals, including both horses and mules. One of the wounded men made his way to Rayado, notwithstanding his injuries, and gave information of what had happened to himself and companion. On learning these facts, Kit Carson, the dragoons and three of the settlers, immediately proceeded to the ranche. They arrived there just as the shades of night began to fall. Nothing could be attempted until the dawn of another day, consequently, a camp was ordered and duly arranged. As the first faint beam of light gilded anew the mountain tops, the party were up and moving. They soon found the trail made by the thieves and commenced a sharp pursuit. The pace at which they traveled became so rapid, that, at the distance of only twenty-five miles from the spot where they first struck the trail, the Indians were discovered moving on the prairie a long way in advance. There remained nothing but an open chase.

Orders were issued to accelerate even the hitherto rapid march. Each man resumed his exertions to put his horse to his best speed. The chase was growing intensely exciting when four of the animals belonging to the pursuers gave out, completely ridden down. Their riders were the most unhappy of any of the party at this circumstance, for it precluded even the chances of engaging in the expected affray. Leaving the four men behind, the remainder of the party pushed on in the pursuit, and every bound made by their horses brought them nearer to their foes. After several hours of this hard riding, they came near enough to the warriors to count their numbers. Their force consisted of twenty well armed and equipped Indians. They showed no fear of the party pursuing them, but clung to their stolen property with such pertinacity that they allowed themselves to be overtaken. A running fight was immediately commenced which became most exciting, as well as dangerous, to the participants; but, all the more exciting because thus dangerous. The Indians were all skillful horsemen and fought with great dexterity. Their animals being comparatively fresh, in this respect they had the advantage. Notwithstanding this fact, the pursuing party administered to them a severe lesson. Five of the rascally Indians were killed and several wounded, while all of the stolen animals, with the exception of four, were overtaken and recaptured. The whole of this pursuit and the running fight which terminated so successfully was accomplished under the advice of Kit Carson. Each man in the pursuing party felt that the simple fact that Kit Carson's eagle eye and experienced hand watched and guided their movements was a guaranty of certain and ample success. Hence, the labor of the long chase and the demands upon their personal skill, activity and courage made by the necessities of the fight, were all met with that kind of readiness and determination which seldom fails to make the soldier invincible. Every man in that party knew well that an Indian chase with Kit Carson for a leader, meant fight and win success or die.

In referring to this adventure Kit Carson, when speaking of the gallant men who accompanied him, said, "They all proved themselves to be men of the very best material."

Unfortunately, two of this gallant party have since fallen by the hands of these same Apache warriors. One of these was Sergeant Holbrook, a brave man, a skillful soldier and a noble friend. He was one who adorned his profession of arms and who was an honor to the country whose uniform he wore. He was killed at the well known battle of Ceneguilla while bravely fighting against overwhelming odds. This battle was fought in New Mexico in the year 1854. In it, a company of United States dragoons were worsted and cut to pieces by a greatly superior force of these Indians who succeeded in drawing them into an ambuscade.

The other person referred to as having been since killed by this tribe of Apaches was a brave and experienced trapper, well known throughout the range of Indian depredations as a fearless and dangerous adversary. His name was William New. He was literally murdered at Rayado by these Apaches. This occurred only a few months after he had formed one of the party to pursue and recover the animals stolen from their ranche. When he was attacked, New was engaged tilling the soil on his own farm. The rascally Indians surrounded him before he became aware of their presence. Having an empty rifle with him, he succeeded, for some time, in keeping his assailants at bay, by pretending that the piece was loaded and pointing it at the foremost warrior as if he intended to fire it. The savages, however, finally discovered the truth and immediately made a rush upon him. A most desperate fight ensued, for William New, even thus defenceless, was not one who would yield up his life without a struggle. He made almost superhuman efforts to effect his escape, using the rifle as a club; wound after wound was given him in rapid succession in return for the desperate blows which he dealt with the rifle. His efforts, however, proved futile. Gradually the red blood was gathered from his body and drank up by the soil to which he looked for the sustenance of himself and family, until finally, he sank upon the ground fainting from its loss, literally covered from head to foot with frightful wounds. Thus died one more of the sparse race of original mountaineers, now fast passing away, bravely meeting the fate that has hitherto usually awaited this band of fearless men.

We again turn to the adventures of Kit Carson. On the fifth day of May, 1850, accompanied by an old mountaineer named Timothy Goodel, he started with fifty head of mules and horses for Fort Laramie. This fort is distant from Rayado, over five hundred miles. The object which the two men had in view was to trade their animals with the emigrants who were, at that time, thronging the overland route to California. The journey was safely accomplished, Kit Carson and Goodel arriving at the fort, with their animals all in good condition, sometime in the following June. They remained here about one month disposing of their animals at good bargains.

A few rather amusing anecdotes have had their rise connected with this visit which Kit Carson made to Fort Laramie. Among several other incidents the following is somewhat laughable and seems to us worth relating. Among the line of emigrants then on the road, the report was circulated for some distance back that the famous Kit Carson was at the fort. The result was that every man, woman and child, as fast as they arrived at the fort, were eager to gratify their curiosity by a sight of the man whose name and exploits had already been the theme of many a conversation among them. If ever Yankee, or American, (which is the more appropriate term, we will not attempt to decide) inquisitiveness was exhibited, it certainly could be then seen at Fort Laramie. The large majority of those who were thus anxious to see the famous guide, were led astray by the descriptions which they had heard and read, and picked out some powerfully built trader who chanced to present himself, especially if the man was tastefully dressed in a hunting shirt, with buck-skin leggins, and whose appearance indicated ferocity. Of this kind of personages there were quite a number present at the fort. Usually they would accost the man whom they had thus selected. Sometimes, if their address was appropriate and the humor of the person accosted so inclined, they would get put right, but more frequently they were left to enjoy and cherish their mistake, or were made the subject of a joke. Among the rest there came along quite a rough looking individual fresh from the cane-brakes of Arkansas. He, also, was seeking to place his eyes upon Kit Carson. Accidentally, or intentionally, it matters not for the story, he was directed to the place where the bona fide Kit Carson stood. His powerful frame and determined looks, as he put his inquiries, made those inquired of, apparently, cautious how they perpetrated a joke upon the Arkansas man. At last, standing face to face with Kit Carson, he thus interrogated him. "I say, stranger, are you Kit Carson?" Being modestly answered in the affirmative, he stood a moment, apparently quite taken aback at beholding the short, compact and mild-looking man that stood before him. Evidently his beau ideal of the great mountaineer did not compare with the man whom he thus faced. This momentary hesitation resulted in the conviction that he was being deceived. The conviction, at last, took form in words. Rolling an immense quid of his beloved Indian weed from one cheek to its brother he said, "Look 'ere stranger, you can't come that over me any how. You ain't the kind of Kit Carson I am looking for."

This was too much for Kit Carson to hear without treating the person addressed to his beau ideal of Kit Carson, so suppressing a laugh, and assuming a very meek expression of countenance, as if he was afraid to impose upon the Arkansas man, he quietly pointed to a powerfully built trader, who chanced to be passing near by, dressed in true prairie style. The Arkansas emigrant followed around after the trader until, seemingly, he was perfectly satisfied, that he had, at last, found the famous person of whom he had heard so many wonderful stories narrated. After gazing at the man for some time, he departed, no doubt with one more perfect description of what sort of personage Kit Carson was.

From the time Kit Carson's name began to be heralded throughout the world up to the present date, impostors have presented themselves in various cities; and, acting on the credulity of the people, they have palmed themselves off as the individual of whom we write; but, from the perusal of this work, it can be seen how seldom the real Kit Carson has enjoyed the luxuries of civilized life. It is in this way, many persons have gathered wrong impressions concerning Kit Carson.

Within the past few years, a stranger one day presented himself in the quiet town of Taos, and, being a fellow of words, he soon let everybody there know his business, both past and present. In one of the principal stores of the town, there happened to be congregated a small party of friends, among whom was Kit Carson. They were talking of the important affairs of their section of country, when this strange individual entered. His familiarity with all things soon gave him an introduction; and, after a short conversation, a wag present was tempted, by the fellow's boasting, to quiz him. Addressing the traveler he asked, "What part of the world, pray sir, do you come from?"

The answer was prompt.

"I kum from the Cheyenne Nation. I've been living with them Injins fur several years. Indeed, I consider myself more of an Injin than a white man."

The conversation then turned upon other matters. The fellow made some remarks which led the party to believe that he was entirely unacquainted with the Cheyenne Indians, or any other Indians. When he was apparently off of his guard, the wag resumed his questioning.

"I presume, stranger, you accompany the Cheyennes when they go out on war parties, as you say that you have turned warrior."

The reply was:

"When they go out 'gainst t'other Injins, I do; but when they hunt white men's hair, I am allowed to stay behind. This was one of the stip'lations when I took a squaw and jined the tribe."

"Oh ho! that is the way you manage!" exclaimed the wag.

"Yes! and I've bin the means of saving some scalps for my race too, fur the Injins believe in me, they do," continued the fellow.

The wag resumed—

"Perhaps, stranger, you have heard of Kit Carson. It is said he is on the prairies somewhere, either dead or alive."

The fellow answered:

"You've got me! Know Kit Carson! I reckon I do. It is strange that you should ask me that, when Kit was the very last man I laid eyes on as I left our tribe."

Here the fellow lowered his voice and said, as if exemplifying sympathy.

"Poor Kit was in a very bad way one hour before we parted. The fact is, you know, he'd bin playin' the papers (meaning gambling) and had lost everything. However, I made him happy by giving him my gun and powder-horn. With them, you know, he will git along anywhere!"

All hands, except Kit Carson, joined in the laugh at the fellow's impudence. Kit Carson's patience was exhausted in listening to the barefaced falsehoods which the man was uttering; so, with some excuse, he left the party. The fellow was unapprised of the farce which he had been acting; and, shortly after, left the town, believing that he had acquitted himself as became a hero.

By way of episode, and while story-telling keeps its hold on our pen, we may as well relate a short anecdote, which, though it does not form any close connection with this part of the narrative, seems to illustrate the practical jokes which are sometimes played off by the western men upon those who have yet to undergo their novitiate.

A German accidentally wandered out to and located himself in company with others on or near the Greenhorn River, which is one of the tributaries of the Arkansas. Their business was trading with the Mormons, many of whom at that time traveled to Salt Lake, by what is known as the Arkansas River route. In so doing, they came near the vicinity of the site selected for trading purposes. In the commencement, the German was very inexperienced in matters that pertained to trading with these emigrants, and, as a matter of course, in an Indian country, met with many singular adventures. It so happened that this man was exceedingly afraid of rattlesnakes, and those he was associated with, by way of amusement, delighted in augmenting his fears by telling him wonderful stories of what feats the reptile had been known to perform. On the first trip which he made to the camp of some Mormons located about nine miles off, his ride took him through a perfect hot-bed of these snakes. Behind his saddle, on the horse's back which he rode, he had tied a bag of rice which he had intended to barter. The German, not being used to riding, was a poor horseman, while unfortunately, his steed was a spirited animal, and at once, on his mounting, started off on a trot. The string of the bag of rice became loosened by the severe jolting, and its contents came tumbling on the ground in great quantities, but afterwards as the stock on hand decreased, this was lessened. The German, who had his hands full to keep his seat in the saddle, heard the rattling noise behind him, but dared not look around, for fear of being thrown off from his horse. He supposed he was chased by a ferocious snake, and, at once, thought only of escape; therefore, seizing the mane of the horse, he gave him the spurs. He was soon going at a flying gait; still, the rattling noise pursued him as the increased speed sent the little grains of rice out of the sack in greater quantities. At last the sound died away, as the cause of the trouble was expended. The frightened rider now considered himself safe, and began to rein in his horse. After a while, he brought him to a stand-still, and turned to look for his retreating enemy, but instead, found the origin and cause of the mischief. His loss was irrecoverable, and he could only laugh at the ridiculous figure he must have cut. This adventure gave his friends much merriment, and served to open his eyes in reference to the much vaunted capabilities of this snake. He has since often told this story of himself, and considers it a capital joke.

The labor of settling up their business at Fort Laramie was soon over, when Kit Carson and Goodel took their departure. Goodel started for California, while Kit Carson commenced his tramp homeward. As a traveling companion, he took with him a Mexican. They pursued their journey quite pleasantly and safely enough, but, on their arrival at the Greenhorn River, the scene of the German's adventure with a rattle-snake, they were obliged to be very wary in their progress, for Kit had learned that the Apache Indians were out on the warpath, and were waylaying the road which, he intended to pursue with the avowed purpose of attacking, plundering and murdering whoever chanced to fall in their savage clutches. Kit Carson, therefore, halted for six days on the banks of the Greenhorn, and spent the time recruiting his animals. While here and thus engaged, a party of white men, whom he found encamped on the same river, formed the subject of his earnest attention. They had come thus far on their route to New Mexico, but, on learning the news of the hostile attitude of the Apache nation, their courage had entirely deserted them. They did not dare venture into New Mexico, and counselled the retracing of their steps. Kit Carson set himself to work, but found he had a difficult task to talk courage into these men. By dint of much argument, he succeeded in persuading one of them to accompany him. On the seventh day, with this one companion—for the Mexican had left him—he broke up his little camp on the Greenhorn, and set out upon his dangerous journey.

By taking a zigzag course, avoiding, in the mountains, all the usually traveled trails, he advanced on his route forty miles without seeing any very fresh Indian signs. As often as the moon was unclouded, the two men embraced the assistance of its pale light to make progress through the dangers that beset them; and, on the days which succeeded this night-work, they would conceal themselves and animals in some out of the way place, where they were not to be easily discovered. Kit Carson had not sufficient confidence in the quickness of perception of his companion to trust him as a sentinel, therefore, he had to take upon himself all of that important duty. While on the lookout, he usually posted himself in the top limbs of a tree and always took care to select one that commanded a good prospect of the surrounding country. After several days passed without having proper rest, Kit, in the monotony of his position as sentinel, would feel sleep stealing over him, until it was difficult to keep longer awake. He would close his eyes and commence to nod, but on these occasions he was sure to be quickly aroused on almost losing his balance, by which, however, he endangered his neck. One day, while thus employed, he was perched in the highest branches of a lofty old cotton-wood on the banks of the River Timchera and not far off from the "Spanish Peaks." Nearly ten hours had passed without anything special having attracted his attention, when, all at once, a band of straggling Apaches came into view not over one half mile distant. A single look was sufficient to convince him that, as yet, neither himself nor his companion had been discovered. No time was to be lost, so Kit, as quickly as possible, descended and ran to where his friend was, and informed him of their danger. The animals were soon saddled, and the two men mounting them, struck out in a direction just the opposite to that in which the Indians were traveling. Fortune favored them, as, soon after they had emerged from the timber into the open prairies, night set in, thus shutting them out from the view of the savages. Profiting by the darkness and the level country which lay before them, they reached, by the rising of the next morning's sun, the Mexican town of Red River, which was sixty-five miles distant from the place they had last started from. All dangers having been now surmounted, they made a sufficient stay at Red River to rest themselves and animals.

On resuming their journey, they jogged along over the now rough trail and, after a ride of thirty miles, came to Taos, where they were once more safe from the perils that had so recently surrounded them, and where they were well provided for by kind friends.

Rio Colorado, or Red River settlement, is, next to Taos, the oldest town in northern New Mexico. It is located on a small stream of the same name, which flows into the Rio Grande. The town itself contains some two or three hundred inhabitants, and occupies rather a pretty site, being built on a high bank, while between it and the river there is a large strip of bottom land, which is under cultivation. The scenery about is picturesque, embracing lofty and bold mountains, beautiful wood-land and open prairies. The external appearance of the village is that of abject poverty; and, on entering it, one readily sees that his eyesight has not deceived him, but that his first impressions are fully realized. It was here that Fremont and his men found a haven of safety after meeting their trying reverses on the fourth exploring expedition. To them, the sight of this town must have been hailed with delight. In Red River there live two old trappers, who have long since been weaned from the habits and manners of civilization. These two men are Canadians, one of them notorious for the "yarns" he can spin; but as they are many of them past belief, they are listened to by the traveler as a help to pass the time while he is obliged to tarry in the place. A young English nobleman who was on a visit of pleasure to the western country, once fell into this man's clutches, and, from the trapper's after boasting, we infer that he (the trapper) more than surpassed himself in story-telling. Among other things, he informed this nobleman that he had once mastered a grizzly bear in a hand-to-hand fight by cramming a stick that was sharpened at both ends into the bear's mouth in such a way that the monster could not close his jaws, because it fastened and kept them open. Being asked by the nobleman how large were the hare in that vicinity of country, his answer was, that he had seen them of such a magnitude that one would be a load for a man, and that when strung across the hunter's shoulder, one part was sure to be dragging on the ground. He then boasted that he had killed a grasshopper that, with his head cut off, weighed six ounces. Notwithstanding his love of talk, this old man had once been a brave and famous hunter; but no confidence could be placed in him, owing to his habituated want of regard for truth and honor; hence, he has long since been excluded from the companionship of the mountaineers. The English gentleman above spoken of was an experienced traveler, and therefore undoubtedly knew how to weigh the truth of his astonishing information.



CHAPTER XIV.

Kit Carson reaches Home—Himself and Neighbors robbed by the Apaches—Major Grier goes in Pursuit of, and recaptures the stolen Stock—A Plot organized by White Men to murder two Santa Fe Traders for their Money—The Disclosure—Kit Carson goes to the Rescue of the Traders—The Camp of United States Recruits—Captain Ewell with twenty Men joins Kit Carson and they two make the Arrest of Fox—Gratitude expressed by the Traders—Money offered but refused—The Prisoner taken to Taos and incarcerated—Kit Carson receives a magnificent Pair of Revolvers as a Present from the grateful Traders—The return to Rayado—A Trading Expedition to the United States—The return Journey—An Encounter with the Cheyenne Indians—A State of Suspense—The Deliverance from Danger by a Message sent by a Mexican Runner—The arrival at Rayado.

After finishing the pleasant visit which he was thus enabled to make, while recruiting himself among the good people of Taos, Kit Carson bent his way to his home at Rayado. He safely reached there and had but just dismounted at his own door, when he was informed of a recent calamity that had befallen himself and neighbors during his absence. It was the old story, viz. that the Indians had come in and boldly stole all the animals belonging to the settlement—At the time this depredation had been committed, there was a small detachment of United States troops stationed in the place, but the soldiers were too few in number to attempt a rescue of the property from the savages. The latter had visited the little town with a strong force on this occasion; the settlers, therefore, made application to the commanding officer of the territory, who promptly dispatched Major Grier with a command of dragoons to hunt up the guilty parties and punish them. This the major did and was so fortunate as to recover nearly all of the stolen stock which he had the satisfaction of returning to its owners.

Kit Carson remained through the following summer months at his ranche at Rayado, busying himself in efforts to improve his house and lands.

In his employment Kit Carson had several faithful Mexicans. His task was to superintend their labors, which occupied only a part of his time. When anything required it he lent a hand to assist them; but, these men had to be provided with provisions which, to purchase in those distant parts, would have entailed a great item of expense; indeed, more than equal to the profits arising from their labor. Therefore, a certain amount of time had to be set apart for hunting, which kind of employment he truly enjoyed. Mounted on a fine horse, with his faithful gun and dog, early each day, he would start out on the prairies to engage in the chase. In a few hours he would return on foot, with his noble hunter loaded down with choice game. Sometimes it would be antelope or elk; on another occasion, it would consist of black tailed deer, which are celebrated as being the largest and the finest species of venison that roam the forests of any country and are only to be found in the Rocky Mountains; on another, wild-turkeys; and then mountain grouse and prairie chickens helped to complete the load. When thus provided for, it is no wonder that Kit's workmen loved their employment and labored with good will. While thus engaged Kit Carson's weather eye was always open for Indian signs. His horses, cattle and sheep which he had bought since the last depredation were watched with great vigilance, as no one could foretell what the next hour would bring forth. In his mountain home Kit was often visited by Indian friends who came to smoke the pipe of peace with him and enjoy his hospitality. When thus surrounded by rival hunters worthy of his steel, who had sprung up, like oaks of the forest, he felt truly happy. This happiness was greatly enhanced and augmented by the thrifty appearance of everything that pertained to him.

He saw himself in the possession of fine lands, well watered and well timbered. Also plenty which was ready for the plow. It was almost a farm, made to order by the most perfect Workman. The soil, unsurpassed in richness and fertility, was a safe and sure depository for his seeds, telling him, in its silent, but unmistakable language, of the rich harvest in store for him. His stock was the best which heart could wish; and last, but with him not least, he was within a stone's throw of splendid hunting grounds, which, to his unerring rifle, as the reader has already seen, proved as safe an assistant, as would have been a Wall street bank with a large credit side to his account.

We have here a picture of Kit Carson enjoying the rewards of a home congenial to his taste and knowledge of life, while around him are gathered the objects which his manly soul had learned to love and live for. The painting is one which we find beautiful to the sight and which is rich in its lessons of life. But these deductions must be left for the sensitive and honest hearted imagination to draw. It is not fitting to add them to these pages, however truthful they may be, until the last sad rites which are measured out to all, shall have been performed for the brave man of whom we write, and his noble soul shall have winged its flight to the happier hunting grounds of eternity.

The duties of farming and hunting were only once interrupted during the summer which Kit Carson thus enjoyed with his family. The exploit which called him, on this occasion, from his home, was caused by an effort to save the lives of two well known traders. To accomplish this, he assumed the character and duties of a detective police officer. The circumstances of the case were as follows.

An American, by the name of Fox, had organized a party to accompany as a guard over the plains, and, while professedly engaged in this duty, to murder Messrs. Brevoort and Weatherhead, two gentlemen who were traveling into the United States, as the rascal and party supposed, with a large sum of money which they expected to expend in the purchase of goods to be used for trading purposes. Fox played his part so well that when he offered himself and men as an escort, the offer was accepted by the intended and unsuspicious victims, as if it had been a mark of particular favor. Before the route was entered upon, Fox visited Taos for the purpose of enlisting among his band of desperadoes, a fellow who resided in that town. He was a person who bore a very bad character, but for some reason, which has never transpired, he refused to go; yet, proving true as a wicked confidant, he waited until he thought his friend Fox was sufficiently advanced on the road to accomplish his hellish purposes without any chance of his being overtaken and arrested. He then saw fit to divulge the plot.

Every new country is the favorite place of resort for desperadoes and rascals of all grades, who cannot live in their native districts on account of their many crimes.

Until the machinery of law and order begins to work smoothly, these fellows, in their new homes, have every thing their own way unless they go to too great excesses, when their neighbors will rise for their own protection and treat them with summary and severe punishment. Often, by thus making an example of a few, large numbers are prevented from doing further mischief. In the early history of nearly every one of our western territories, escaped convicts, murderers, thieves and the worst sort of humanity, mingled in with good men, have commenced their nefarious practices on a grand scale. These things have brought such sections of our country into bad repute abroad. It needs but time for communities to ferret these human monsters out and visit upon them a just retribution. The inland position of New Mexico and the consequent difficulty of intercourse with the General Government of the United States, made it an inviting place, from time to time, for men of this stamp to visit; but, as they have met on most occasions with a reception from the friends of order, not in the least suited to their tastes, they have almost ceased their coming, thereby showing what a few resolute men can accomplish at the commencement of such trouble. The reforming work of mitigating the evil, which is sure to result among a mixed population under the best regulations, is slowly progressing, and the day is not far distant, when New Mexico, in this respect, will compare favorable with her sister (and older) territories.

The purport of this diabolical plot accidentally came to the ears of an officer in the army, who chanced to be in Taos at the time. This gentleman was one of the first to hear of it, and at once sought Kit Carson; but instead of directly telling him what he had just heard, from some strange reason of his own, he demanded of Kit whether he would be willing to pursue and apprehend Fox for debt. To this proposition Kit Carson replied in the negative.

On hearing Kit's indignant refusal to be employed in such a menial undertaking, the officer concluded to lay the true state of the case before him, who, he naturally enough thought, could, above all others in that territory, devise some plan that would result in rescuing Brevoort and Weatherhead from their impending fate. Here it may be proper for us to add that the officer who had thus indiscreetly acted, must have had previously a very slight acquaintance with Kit Carson, or he would not have selected him as a man ready and anxious for any dirty job which might offer, as it is entirely foreign to his true character. Kit Carson, on being apprised of the facts, became interested, and took the management of the affair, for the most part, into his own hands; and, on investigating it more thoroughly, he came to the conclusion that Fox and his companions contemplated committing the crime on the Cimaron River.

This river is nearly east from Taos; and the point at which Carson anticipated overhauling the party was between two and three hundred miles distant. At this time, the Mountain Indians were unusually hostile; but Kit Carson was always well informed of their movements—as much so as it was in the power of any one to be. With the little command under him he was willing, where so weighty a matter as saving the lives of two of his countrymen demanded his services, to march anywhere—even if he had to contest his way. One hour was sufficient time for him to make ready for the undertaking, but not so with the soldiers. They had to put their horses and themselves in trim, for it might be severe and taxing duty. The route taken by the party was a trail, which leads direct to Rayado, and on which, just before reaching the last-named place, there are many curious piles of stones, which are scattered over the side of a mountain, and have formed a puzzle to many an inquiring mind. By some they are supposed to be Indian graves; but, by others, they are thought to have been made as a sort of landmark by the older inhabitants of the plains, when they started into New Mexico on some marauding incursion. These latter persons believe that the Indians were unacquainted with the country they were invading, and had left these marks to assist them in making their way out again. Most likely the first hypothesis is true, and that the stones were thus heaped up to protect the corpses from being devoured by the wolves. On quitting Rayado Kit Carson struck out on the open prairies.

By making an expeditious march, Kit Carson felt that the traders could yet be saved. His party consisted of ten picked men of the dragoons, and it was splendidly mounted on horses furnished him to assist in the undertaking. The pace which Kit commanded and required was one which would try the nerves and courage of most good horsemen. Onward, over the level prairie, the party galloped—every man feeling proud of the guide, whose spirit they caught and imitated. The second night out from Taos they came upon the camp of a detachment of United States recruits who were under the command of Captain Ewell, and who were bound for New Mexico, where they were to reinforce the regiments of the army which were stationed in that territory.

It is customary to send out, each year, detachments of recruits to the different departments of the West. These men are enlisted and collected at the depots within the States; and, whenever a sufficient force is collected to fill up the requisitions, they are dispatched, at the proper seasons, to their respective regiments. Those intended for New Mexico set out during the summer months. They are rarely sent at the same time, or as the same command of men. These recruits are a hard set to manage, especially when traveling through the States, where they are exposed to temptation. On arriving at the commencement of their hardships, on the plains, it is usually found that many have deserted, and also that many might have done so with benefit to the government. Military service with recruits, and the same with old soldiers, are two different things. With the former, officers are obliged to command, threaten and punish, to accomplish in one day, what the latter would perform without much trouble in half the time. Recruits know little or nothing about marching or camp duty; and, in taking care of them, an officer has his hands full. Even the most minute items have to be looked to; for example, they are men rarely used to fire-arms, being, for the most part, foreigners by birth, and are just as apt to load a gun with the ball of the cartridge first down, as with the powder. Old soldiers look upon these new comers as verdant in the extreme, and the pranks they often play upon them are very humorous. With patient discipline, they become serviceable men, and are an honor to the standard which they carry; and, what appears to be the strangest fact of all, frequently the poorest looking recruit may make the best soldier. This is a fair picture of the men Capt. Ewell was commanding.

Kit Carson at once informed the captain of the duty he was on, when that distinguished officer, generously determined to assist in putting a damper on the wicked designs of the wretches. Taking with him twenty men, Captain Ewell joined Kit Carson, and together they proceeded in the pursuit. By using every precaution in their power, and forcing their marches, they entered into the camp of the traders, and arrested Fox before he had time even to suspect the business upon which the party had come. After Fox was secured, Messrs. Weatherhead and Brevoort, were informed of the dangers through which they had passed. These gentlemen, at first were astounded, but they soon became assured of the truth of what they heard. They then selected fifteen men whom they knew to be innocent, and ordered the remainder of their escort, numbering thirty-five souls, to leave their camp instanter, which command was promptly obeyed. To Kit Carson, they offered any sum of money that was in their power to bestow, in return for the invaluable service he had rendered them. Kit Carson replied, "that it was reward sufficient for him to have been instrumental in saving the lives of two worthy citizens, and that he could not think of receiving one cent of money."

A long colloquy was held that night around a good camp fire, that was freely fed with "buffalo chips."[21] At midnight, most of the party were asleep, and nothing could then be heard except the barking of wolves and the heavy tread of the guard, as they walked to and fro on their respective beats. On the first appearance of day-light, all hands were up and preparing to strike their tents. Soon after the parties separated, but, before doing so, the traders again expressed their thanks, and then resumed their journey. Fox was first taken to Captain Ewell's camp, then he was turned over to Kit Carson, who conveyed him to Taos, where he was imprisoned for some time; but was finally released, as nothing positive could be proved against him, chiefly because he had committed no overt act, but had only, thus far, engaged in plotting the double murder and robbery. This is always a difficult crime to establish. In this instance, the difficulty was greatly augmented from the fact that the witnesses in the case, as soon as they heard of Fox's capture, scattered and left for parts unknown. He was finally set at liberty.

[Footnote 21: Buffalo chips form the principal fuel of the plains. It is dry buffalo manure.]

At that day the keeping of a prisoner in close confinement in New Mexico, or of having him continually under the surveillance of the military was no ordinary, or easy matter. The only places which could be converted into jails, were the common adobe houses of the inhabitants. From these a wide awake and determined prisoner with the free use of his hands, and the assistance of the smallest kind of a tool, as a jack-knife or pair of scissors, could dig out of his dungeon in five or six hours. The large majority of the criminals who were thus incarcerated, managed to effect their escape. In the case of Fox, however, he had a man to deal with who was seldom thwarted in any of his undertakings. With so much convicting evidence of his wicked intentions, and with so much trouble to bring him to trial, it was greatly regretted, that he did not receive a suitable punishment. As soon as he was set free, Fox made his way out of the country; but his further history is not known.

The general impression left upon the minds of the people who were familiar with the minutiae of this affair was, that Fox was guilty. As he was known to be a finished villain, it was universally believed that, after murdering and plundering the two traders, he intended to grasp the "lion's share," and with his portion, to proceed to Texas, where, as he was there entirely unknown, he hoped to enjoy the rewards of his rascality.

This valuable service rendered to Messrs. Brevoort and Weatherhead, was most gracefully and handsomely rewarded by them. In the course of the following spring, they presented Kit with a pair of magnificent revolvers. Upon the silver mountings, there were engraved a very few, but expressive words, indicating the obligations which the donors considered themselves laboring under towards their deliverer. Such a testimonial to an unselfish heart like that which beats in the breast of Kit Carson, is a prize of greater value than any more substantial gift, which money could purchase. These beautiful weapons, Kit Carson prizes very highly; and, the donors may here learn the fact that, in the hands of their owner, they have since been duly initiated into active service, and found to perform their necessary duties most admirably.

After the task of the arrest of Fox was thus successfully undertaken and consummated, by his being securely lodged in jail and placed under suitable guard, Kit Carson returned to Rayado, where he spent the winter in a very quiet manner. We use the term quiet manner: it should be qualified with the phrase, quiet manner for him. He found plenty of employment in looking after his animals, besides spending a large share of his time in hunting. This, however, although always attended with paying practical results, he did as much for pleasure as from necessity. He always found a large number of hungry mouths ready to relieve him from any superabundance of game; and, as his hospitality to all classes is unbounded, he took especial delight in feeding and liberally bestowing his bounties upon his poor Mexican neighbors, to whom powder and lead were more of a desideratum than to himself, and with whom his experience and skill as a hunter, were a source of support which they could only wish for.

Early the next summer Kit Carson, in charge of a train of wagons belonging to himself and his friend Maxwell, set out for the United States. After an unusually pleasant journey, he reached the Missouri River, and proceeded down it, in a steamboat, to St. Louis. Here he purchased a large stock of goods. With this freight, he returned to Kansas, where he had left his caravan, into which, on his arrival, he transferred his merchandise. He then started on his return trip to New Mexico. In order that his animals might take advantage of the fine grass to be found there, he chose the route, known to all traders on the plains, as well as to the reader, as the road by Bent's Fort. He was progressing on his journey quite happily, when unfortunately, at a point that is located about fifteen miles above the fording of the Arkansas, he fell in with a village of Cheyenne Indians who were just at that time violently hostile towards the whites and were waiting an opportunity to wreak their vengeance on them. This state of feeling had been brought about only a few days previous, and was due to an officer who was attached to a command of recruits that some ten days before Kit Carson's arrival had passed by. He had flogged a warrior for some liberty which the fellow had taken while he was in the camp of the soldiers. These Cheyennes are very fond of dress and show; but, as a body, they are as noble and athletic looking men as tread this earth. Singular though the contrast may appear, a greater set of rascals never went unhung; yet, they are Indians, and, as such, they ought to command sympathy and forbearance.

The young men who belong to the Cheyenne nation, are fond of dress, and when arrayed in full costume one of them is a picture to look upon; when thus gilded no man could be prouder. These Indians wear their hair in a long cue a la Chinese style. They take great pleasure in ornamenting this cue with innumerable pieces of silver, which are made from half dollar pieces, and are beat out in the shape of small shields. With their blue, or red blankets, long ribbons of different colored flannel, fancy leggins and bead decorations, and finally (as I once saw one) with a red cotton umbrella, they represent the very Paris tip of Indian fashion. Their squaws do not possess as regular and fine features as the men; but, this may be said to be true of most of the wild tribes of savages in North America, for it requires an enormous stretch of the imagination to call them handsome, while many of the men are fine looking. Hard work spoils the beauty of the Indian women. To admire an Indian woman one must seclude himself from the society of other females; under such circumstances it may be that a person might be inclined to change his opinion and think the race lovely. The lazy brave considers it beneath his station to work; therefore all camp labor and the packing, saddling and looking after the ponies devolves upon the squaw. When there is a scanty supply of horses, she is obliged to give her lord the preference in taking his ease, and go herself on foot and carry her pappoose. In fact it is lowering to the Indian's pride to do else than hunt and fight. Owing to the scarcity of timber on the western prairies the Indians transport their lodge poles from camp to camp. This is done by attaching them to the sides of the pack animals while the free ends drag on the ground, and in time of war this constitutes one of the signs of the trail by which to follow when in pursuit of them.

The reason why the commanding officer of this party of recruits inflicted the summary punishment referred to, is not known to the writer; but, it surely does appear as if the person who ordered its execution or perhaps courageously performed it himself, might have reflected, that a savage, least of all men, allows a supposed injury done to him or his tribe to pass by unrevenged, and also that it is a matter of perfect indifference to him as to who the victim is, if he only gets the chance to strike a blow on the same nation. This revenge will quench his cruel thirst for blood quite as effectually as if he had the satisfaction of scalping the perpetrator of his real or supposed injury. It is a fact—alas too frequently true—that the parties who are strong in numbers, courage, and equipment, while crossing the plains, are prone to treat, in an overbearing and insolent manner, the bands of Indians with whom they chance to come into contact. For these insults and injuries weaker parties who travel upon the same road are held to a strict and revengeful account by being made to suffer even with their lives, as well as effects. Kit Carson and his small force, unfortunately, or rather, fortunately, so far as Kit himself was concerned, for no man could be better fitted to deal with such a crisis of trouble than he, were the first white men who came along after the flogging of their warrior had wrought up the temper of the Cheyenne nation to a degree which nearly bordered on frenzy.

As soon as the whites were discovered, the Indians went into council evidently to decide on the best mode of attacking and making away with them. Kit Carson, though he did not know that this tribe had declared war, and much less their reasons for so doing, when he first saw them, was not long in coming to a conclusion, from their actions, that there was a screw loose somewhere. He, therefore, began to act with more than usual sagacity and caution. He ordered his men to keep their wagons close together, to have their rifles in good trim and be ready for an instant fight. In this manner, with every man on the watch, he pushed on for a distance of twenty miles. Although he had left the Indians far behind, he did not relax his vigilance, being still impressed with the belief that a storm was brewing. His surmises began to be verified soon after, for the Indians, in parties of two, three, and four, appeared in sight, arrayed and painted in their full war costume. Having approached some of them to within a distance sufficiently near so to do, Kit Carson commenced talking to them in a conciliatory manner. They were inclined to heed his words; and, in order to make it appear that he was not intimidated by their actions, he went into camp, and invited these advance parties of the Indians to come in and have a talk and smoke with him. The savages accepted the invitation and were soon seated in a circle. After the pipe had passed from one to the other, until all present had had a puff or two from it, they began to talk loud among themselves.

At the time we now speak of, several years, as the reader can readily compute, had elapsed since Kit Carson was a hunter at Bent's Fort, and then well known to most of the Cheyenne nation; but, these few years had so altered him, together with his new style of dress, that it is no doubt that, at first, not one of the Indians remembered ever having seen him before.

Kit Carson remained quiet and allowed the Indians to open the talk, as he was watching to find out what had so suddenly aroused their anger, and he well knew, that if they supposed that he and his men did not understand what they were conversing about, they might refer to the cause of the trouble, and thus give him a clue whereby he might take advantage and form a line of conduct. It was clear to his mind that the Indians were resolved to have revenge on his party, and that there was time enough to let himself be known to them, which, in their present excited state, would serve him but little. The Indians had at first conversed in the Sioux tongue. The reason for this was, to conceal their own nationality and thus, if necessary, in the future, they could shield themselves by laying the massacre, which they were about to commit, on the shoulders of that tribe. This is a ruse often employed by the Indians; but, in this case, in their heated state they forgot their native cunning and commenced conversing in the language which was most familiar to them. A Frenchman, called in the mountains Pete, who spoke English fluently and who was with Carson during these trying scenes, informed the writer, on one occasion, that he never fully knew or appreciated Kit Carson until this occurrence. "Why," said he in his enthusiasm, "Kit knew just what was to be done and did it too. With any other man, we would have gone under[22] The Indians were more afraid of him than all the rest of us put together. There were red fellows enough there to eat us up, and at one time I could almost feel my hair leaving my head. We had two women traveling with us and their crying made me feel so bad that I was sartin there was no fight in me. Women (he added) are poor plunder to have along when going out on a war party, but Kit talked to them and then to the Indians, and put them both finally on the right trail. Wah!! but them were ticklish times."

[Footnote 22: A trapper phrase for being killed.]

As soon as the Indians, in their excitement, began to speak their own language, they became very violent, and so unguarded were they in expressing their individual sentiments that they treated Kit and his party with perfect indifference, and openly, though secretly as they thought, arranged for the massacre.

Little did they imagine that Kit Carson, whom they had at first sight selected as the leader of the company, understood every word that was said. Kit listened attentively to their plans and heard them decide that the time to kill him was, when he again took the pipe to smoke; for, in so doing, he would lay down his weapons. They could be instantly seized, and therefore he would be prevented from doing them any harm. As to the Mexicans who accompanied him, they said they could kill them as easily as they could buffalo. Already enough had passed among the Indians to arouse in Kit Carson's breast the greatest feeling of alarm as to what would be the result of the position in which he was placed. He had with him fifteen men, two only of which number, were men on whom he felt that he could rely. The other members of the party, who counted thirteen in all, were Mexicans of whom he had a poor opinion as to their bravery. Nothing daunted by such an accumulation of unfavorable circumstances, he at once saw that a bold face was to be put on in order to extricate himself from the grasp of the Indians. Springing to his feet with his weapons ready for immediate use, Kit Carson, as he advanced into the centre of the seated warriors, gave directions for his men to be ready to defend their lives. Then, turning to the Indians, who sat rooted to the earth, as it were, with astonishment at the suddenness of such actions and such coolness, he commenced addressing them. He informed them "that they might readily see from the fluency with which he spoke their language, that he had comprehended all that they had been talking about. What puzzled him most, however, was the cause of their wishing to have his scalp. Never," said he, "to his knowledge had he been guilty of any wrong to their tribe; that, on the contrary, there were braves among those present, who, if they turned to their memories, would recognize his face as that of an old friend in years gone by, and who could testify to the many acts of kindness which he had performed in their behalf." He reminded them "how that, even now, he had received them into his camp and treated them with all the hospitality in his power; and yet they persisted in repaying him by taking his life." In the end, he wound up his discourse by giving peremptory orders for them to leave his camp, and should any one refuse, he would be shot. The Indians were completely nonplused, and not feeling inclined to risk a fight without their usual accompaniment of a surprise, after saying something about returning, to which they were answered "that if they did they would be received by a volley of bullets," they departed to join their friends who were in swarms upon the neighboring hills. It is supposed that a grand council was called, in which the proceedings that had transpired in the camp of the white men were fully reported, and perchance, many of the braves, in refreshing their memories, began to recollect some of the daring deeds which Kit Carson had performed when he lived in their country. This, doubtless, led them to the conclusion that they had caught an experienced traveler; for, certain it was, that afterwards their actions became somewhat disconcerted and not so rash as they had been. No sooner had the savages retired from the camp, than Kit Carson ordered his men to harness their animals to the wagons so that they could resume their journey.

As the train moved on, the Indians were once more left behind, although they had, by no means, formed the idea of allowing the white men to depart in peace. They were busy concocting some scheme whereby they could accomplish their ends without loss to themselves. The muleteers, as they walked beside their teams, by order of Kit Carson held in one hand their rifles, while in the other were their whips, which, from time to time, they were obliged to apply freely to their animals in order to keep the caravan in compact order. Mounted on a fine horse, with his rifle and pistols so adjusted that he could lay his hands on them at a moment's notice, Kit Carson rode from one end of the line to the other, inspiring his men with his own courage. He felt that upon him was rested the responsibility of saving the lives of his companions, and that it was to him they all looked to be rescued from the perils that surrounded them. As he rode along, his eyes were busy scanning the prairies in every direction. Now and then he rested from this duty as his mind became somewhat relieved, when he could discover nothing except bands of antelope, or, here and there, a hungry wolf, who, with his white, canine looking teeth, seemingly, spoke volumes of the empty condition of his stomach. For the remainder of that day, the train traveled on in apparent safety. When the shades of evening had fairly set in, a camping-ground was selected on a small stream. The wagons were formed in a circle, in which were huddled the men and animals so that both could be protected by the weapons of the former. Grass was cut with the butcher knives belonging to the members of the party and was laid before the mules. In this dangerous locality, they could not be allowed to procure this food for themselves. As strong a guard as their forces would permit of was posted. The remainder of the party gathered some wood that had floated down the stream from the mountains and was sparingly scattered along the shores of the river near to the camp. This was brought in, when small fires were made over which their frugal meal was prepared, after which the men lay down to rest. Many persons there are who would think that after escaping such perils once, it would take very great inducements to make them thus expose themselves a second time. Nevertheless, there exist in our land hundreds upon hundreds of men who take delight in returning into the midst of these dangers.

A life on the prairies of the "Far West" has its good chances as well as its counter chances, and no man can be happier than the true mountaineer. At first, to one accustomed to luxuries and modern refinement, nothing can be more unpleasant than a journey over the plains; but each day thus spent, hardens the traveler until meals, that a beggar in our towns or cities would hardly deign to touch, are by him eaten with a relish to which he has long been a stranger. It is on these long tramps that the dyspeptic and melancholic man becomes the liveliest of the party; his sociability often increases to such a degree that he soon can spin a yarn in a true Baron Munchausen style.

Eat Carson, as he rode silently along all the following day, had been meditating over the scenes through which he had so recently passed, and also the most practicable means to be employed for the future. When the night had fully set in, without saying one word to the other members of the party, he called to a young Mexican whom he knew to be very fleet of foot and whose powers of endurance were wonderful. On his coming to him he led him one side, when, after he had depicted to the boy their fearful situation in its true colors, he told him that he held the power of saving the lives of the whole party.

The New Mexicans of the north are famous as being very fleet of foot, and the great distance which they can run in a short period of time is astonishing. As a general rule, they are very partial to horses, but, when they have no riding animal, they will start on a journey of hundreds of miles and accomplish it in an incredibly short time. A journey of forty or fifty miles in a day is an ordinary circumstance with them, even when the inducement for making it has in its behalf only a minor consideration. Owing to want of mail routes, it sometimes becomes necessary to dispatch them on express duty, such as carrying one, or several letters to some distant point. Their charge is wrapped up in a handkerchief and tied about their waists to prevent being lost. Then, on a jog trot, they will start out; and over mountains and broken country they will not alter the pace for many consecutive hours, and this for a reward of one or two dollars per diem. It is not uncommon to meet traveling companions where one is on horseback and the other on foot; but notwithstanding, they will keep together for an entire journey, and complete it as quickly as if the horseman had undertaken it alone. When, by chance, they come to and stop at a village where there is a fandango or other festive scene in full blast, they will, notwithstanding their long tramp, join in and dissipate as hard as any member present. Their healthy climate, coarse but plain diet, and the great amount of exercise which they take in the open air, make them capable of a wonderful amount of physical endurance, under which they seem never to grow weary. In this respect, the only successful rivals which they have, are the Indians. This was the kind of material Kit Carson had in the Mexican boy, whom he was now about to part with, having detailed him for a very important duty.