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 dépôts 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.

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 minutiæ 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 à 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 under²² 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."

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.

That youth had long been known by and had the full confidence of his employer. He was ready at his bidding to undertake anything. Therefore, on hearing the mission which Kit proposed sending him on, he promised to use every exertion in its accomplishment, and at once set about its execution. Having obtained a few rations of provisions, he soon rejoined Carson. They then proceeded outside of the camp, where he was to receive his final instructions. By the dim light of the moon, Kit pointed in the direction of Rayado, where he was to travel; and, after warning him of the dangerous places that lay in his route, and giving him the message that he was to deliver to the commanding officer at Rayado, he bid him good bye, with the words, "be sure and leave a good many miles between us, by to-morrow's sunrise." The distance to the settlement of Rayado, from Kit Carson's camp, was between two and three hundred miles, yet, this runner was capable of travelling it in as short a period of time, as could any ordinary horse. Kit now returned among his men, not to sleep, but to watch. This he did until the break of the following day, when he summoned all hands to hitch up the teams and proceed. Until twelve o'clock no Indians were visible; but, at about that hour, five of the savages were seen approaching. On they came, and when within speaking distance, Kit Carson ordered them to halt. They obeyed his command. On scanning them closer he bade them come nearer, when, he informed them, "that the night before he had sent an express to Rayado, for the purpose of letting the troops there know of the annoyances their tribe were causing him. Among the soldiers," he said, "he had many friends, who would be certain to come to his relief, and, if they should find that his party was massacred, which he let the Indians know could only be accomplished by his men being overpowered, they would be already informed by whom it was done, and would be sure to visit upon the perpetrators of the crime, a terrible retribution." The Indians said they would look for the moccasin tracks made by the messenger, and thus decide whether that which they had just heard was true, or not. Kit Carson hearing this, at once considered it as the turning point in favor of the safety of his party. The Indians immediately went to look for the trail. Shortly afterwards the entire Indian village passed within sight, and were evidently making the best of their time in seeking some safe hiding-place. The five warriors had, therefore, evidently found the expressman's trail, as they had been informed that they would, and that the boy had proceeded too far on his journey to think of pursuing him. On his way to Rayado, the messenger overtook the detachment of recruits to which was attached the officer who had caused the trouble. To the commander of these men, the young Mexican reported the position, as he left them, of his employer and companions, but that gentleman, for some unaccountable reason, would not then grant the desired aid; therefore, the boy pushed on to Rayado, where he found a warm-hearted and brave soldier in the person of Major Grier, who commanded the post. The major, on hearing the message sent by Kit Carson, immediately ordered Lieutenant R. Johnston, his subaltern officer, to take a squad of dragoons and proceed to the assistance of his countrymen. While on his march, Lieutenant Johnston met with the command of recruits of whom we have before spoken. In the course of the conversation which ensued, Johnston was asked, by the officer in charge of the recruits, what was the service he was engaged on? and, being informed, that gentleman probably gave the subject deeper thought, and it may have occurred to him, and such is the opinion of Kit Carson, that if the affair was properly managed, there might be some glory accruing from it. At any rate, he suddenly changed his mind, and ordered a detail of men to go with the lieutenant. The relief party, as thus reinforced, again started, and found Kit Carson and his train of wagons at a point that is some twenty-five miles below Bent's Fort. Under the escort of the soldiers, Kit and his men travelled in safety to Rayado, where he had the pleasure of thanking Major Grier for his praise worthy and prompt action, in succoring him and a few other American citizens who had thus been exposed to the barbarities of savages, made hostile by the overbearing conduct of a man whose double blunder was shielded by power. Although the fighting qualifications of the soldiers were not called into requisition, yet, they performed a meritorious service by coming. They might have been instrumental in saving lives while protecting commerce, and their frequent visits to remote Indian countries always leaves salutary impressions on the minds of the red men.

Kit Carson's thorough knowledge of Indian character and his established bravery and integrity ought, it appears to us, to have been a sufficient guaranty to this officer, that he was acting in good faith when he asked, through the proper channel, that protection to which he was certainly entitled while pursuing the necessary though hazardous business, connected with the commerce of the plains.

Never, throughout his eventful career, had Kit Carson refused to offer his services in the cause of a countryman who stood in need of them; and now, when the first time came that he felt it necessary to make the call for assistance, he could not understand why two valuable days were allowed to pass, by an officer who could have aided him, without some notice being taken of his urgent requisition. It is true that by some, especially those who are not acquainted with the character of Kit Carson, he is regarded as being ever anxious for an Indian fight; but, had this been the case, he would have long since paid the forfeit with his life. To contradict such a statement, we have but to appeal to the reader of this narrative, and ask him to bear testimony of the marked discretion that has so far coupled itself with Kit Carson's fame. An amusing incident which came under the eye of the writer is to the point.

In the early part of the so-called gold "fever" of California, when parties were organizing in the city of New York, to proceed overland to the Pacific, we chanced to be present at a meeting held by one of the companies. As most of those present were entirely unacquainted with the country to be passed over, and as they were anxious to place themselves in a safe position, some one proposed that Kit Carson should be employed as a guide, provided his services could be had. This was ruled out. The amusing part of this incident consists in the reason which governed this judgment. It was on account of the fear that he might lead them out of their way in order to engage in some bloody Indian fight, it being generally represented and believed that he was sanguinarily inclined. Cheap literature had so ferociously made the man, that he, of all men most experienced, could not be trusted, showing thereby how little had been known of the real Kit Carson.

CHAPTER XV.

Kit Carson's last Trapping Expedition—He embarks in a Speculation—His Trip to California with a large Flock of Sheep—The Method employed by Mexicans in driving Herds and their Dexterity—Kit Carson goes to San Francisco—Its wonderful Growth—Maxwell joins Kit Carson at Sacramento City—The Lucky Speculation—The Return Trip to New Mexico and its Adventures—The Mormon Delegate to Congress informs Kit Carson of his Appointment as Indian Agent—Kit Carson enters upon the Duties of his Office—Bell's Fight with the Apaches on Red River—Kit Carson's Interview with the same Indians—High-handed Measures on the Part of the Apaches—Davidson's desperate Fight with them—The Soldiers defeated with severe loss—Davidson's Bravery is unjustly questioned—Kit Carson's Opinion of it—The Apaches elated by their Victory—Their Imitations of the Actions of Military Men.

The expedition into the United States which terminated with the last chapter, proved to be valuable in its results so far as the parties engaged in it were concerned. Kit Carson was once more trying hard to keep quiet in his comfortable home at Rayado. But his restless spirit was not proof against this inactivity. His stay at home therefore was short. The memories of other days came upon him, and he longed once more to enjoy, in company with the "friends of his youth," the scenes, excitements and pleasures of his old life as a trapper. Throughout his eventful life, as the reader has been able clearly to see, Kit Carson seldom spent his time in idle thinking. His thoughts almost invariably take form in actions. This eager longing resulted, therefore, in the forming of a regular trapping expedition after the olden style, shape, etc, which he organized with great care and attention. The members of the party were selected by himself chiefly with great exclusiveness, and numbers who wished to join the party were refused, on account of their inexperience. After a good deal of inquiry, Kit succeeded in collecting eighteen of his old companions. No one among them was not entitled to be called a mountaineer. Kit looked upon this party of men with an eye of real affection. The meeting previous to the start was a scene to behold. Such a greeting of old friends, well tried and true, will not soon be again seen on the American continent. The day when men went trapping was "long time ago." Kit Carson, as he stood among this band of friends, the acknowledged leader of the party, every man of whom he knew would have periled his life for either one of the company, felt that, indeed, the days of his youth had returned unto him.

Everything preliminary was arranged in the most approved style. When all was complete, Kit Carson, mounted on his magnificent charger Apache, riding to the head of the line, gave the order to march. Kit had put it to vote and the result was unanimous, that the expedition should be no boy's play. On the contrary, the boldest and one of the longest of the routes, known to their experienced footsteps, was selected. It comprised many of the mighty rivers of the Rocky Mountains, every one of which was almost a hunting ground by itself. Onward, over the wild and broad plains, this band of stalwart men, brave and kindred spirits, dashed. They soon put many a mile between them and the comfortable firesides at Rayado. But these miles, Kit Carson has often said, were the shortest he ever traveled. The way was beguiled by many a recollection in which every man present could participate with a relish, keen as disuse alone can render the palate of enjoyment. In a short time the well-remembered waters of the South Fork of the River Platte were descried. Their practised eyes soon discovered the oft-noted "signs of the beaver." The camp was formed and the traps set. The beaver, so long left to mind their own business, had increased in great numbers. The hunt proved correspondingly successful. The party continued working down this stream through the plains of Laramie to the New Park; and from thence, on to the Old Park. We cannot follow them through this long and enlivening hunt. They trapped a large number of their old streams until, finally, the expedition was terminated on the Arkansas River. Throughout the whole course the hunt proved to be very successful. With a large stock of furs they returned in safety to Rayado, via the Raton Mountains, which are spurs of the great Rocky chain.

The fact that most of the old trappers had given up their vocation furnishes the reason why the beaver were found, along the entire route, to be so plentiful. We desire that the reader shall paint for himself the enjoyment which these men gathered in this renewal of a pursuit rendered congenial by the experience of long years of activity in following it. It has been our purpose to enable the reader to gather a spark of this same enjoyment by the endeavor to make of him an amateur trapper. He has followed Kit Carson throughout the trapping expeditions of his earlier life. It is to be supposed that with Kit he has acquired some experience. With Kit therefore he shall now receive his final polishing, and if he does not in the end catch a beaver, he shall at least learn how they are caught, and all the necessary minutiæ of toil which he must expect to encounter and undergo.

On striking any river, when on the hunt, the trappers are accustomed to keep a bright lookout for signs, often heretofore referred to. The word "signs" conveys but a vague idea of its all-important meaning, as it was received by the trappers. The news of the presence of "signs" sent a thrill of joy through the hunters of the olden time only equalled on board of whale-ships when the man at the lookout cries "there she blows". It rarely happens that this cunning, amphibious animal can be seen moving free, either on the river banks, or in the water; for nature has given him no powerful weapons with which to defend himself when surprised and attacked; but, what is better, she has endowed him with exceedingly sensitive eyesight and hearing, which enables him to detect the approach of danger in time to escape. The marks, however, which he leaves behind are, for a time, ineffaceable. These were only to be detected and used for his own purposes, by the superior intellect of man. The unequalled industry of gnawing down trees and cutting twigs, peeling off the tender cuticle of the willow bushes, digging away banks, and carrying on their shovel-shaped tails the earth, together with innumerable foot-prints and sometimes dams, were the items which filled up the catalogue of "signs" on which the trappers' vision was regaled after long and dangerous tramps in search of them. These "signs" were not always found together; but instead, they each could exist separately and thus would arouse the hunter's suspicions of the game near by. The little twig, as it floated down the stream, half denuded of its bark, would go unheeded by the casual observer, but, to the experienced trapper, it was a prize to be obtained; for, by its freshness, it indicated to his mind how near he was to the chance of obtaining and adding another pound or so of valuable fur to his stock on hand. To him, this small event, or one like it, as for instance, a fresh footprint, with its neatly defined claw-tracks, as moulded in the moistened earth or sand, was of a greater importance than the wonderful and striking workmanship exhibited in a dam; for, the latter might be old and deserted, whereas, the former was too recent to cause him to be deceived with such a sign; and in such a vicinity, he hesitated not to set his trap.

An idea prevails which ought to be exploded. It is boldly asserted that the beaver builds his dam for the purpose of having a nice swimming pond in the neighborhood of his residence, which is always located in the river's bank. This is not true; for, in every stream which he inhabits, if this was his sole object, he could select many natural places where the water is without a ripple and where it is both deep and broad. The animal has a wiser object in view; and, it consists in providing against the pinching wants of hunger during winter, when nearly everything green has lost its sap and nutrition, and is, as a body, without blood and animation. He therefore chooses a place favorable for obtaining food, and also where his labors will be assisted by natural formations or accidents in the river's course and construction. Having pitched upon the right section to build, he sets to work with his fellows and falls giant trees. In this he again exhibits his wonderful instinct; for, while one party is cutting with their sharp teeth the hard wood of one side of the tree, another division is actively employed on the other side, never forgetting to make, like unto the woodman, the lowest incision on the side the tree is to fall, which, to suit their purposes, is always directly into and across the stream. When a tree is thus fallen, it is attacked in its branches, which are so turned and woven together in the outline of the dam as to catch in their meshes any floating material, or receive the tail-loads of soil and rubbish which they carry to it. Another and another tree are then systematically fallen and arranged as is the first, until the work is finished as completely as if it had been planned and executed by a reasoning mind. The finishing stroke is the transporting of the mud and laying it. In this labor, they show themselves to be excellent masons. They now act in concert. A large gang marches in a line to the bank where they load each other's tails and swim with their cargoes elevated above and free from the water. When they arrive at an unfinished point of the dam they dump the mud and mould it in place. Their houses they have previously built in the river banks. These consist of holes which lead into large and airy subterranean rooms, and which are above the water-mark. In these houses they are said to sleep and live in pairs; and, if we could believe the story of the trapper related many pages back, they imitate human beings in managing their household and in keeping house. The main object they have in staying the progress of the current of the river is to afford a deep place where, having fallen numbers of trees, the deep water will preserve tender and fresh the limbs and shrubs on which to subsist during, not only time present, but also time to come. It is well known that fresh branches of trees and young willows, when placed in water, will keep up partial life for a considerable length of time. On this principle, the beaver acts in submerging his food deep in the water where it will retain its verdure and where the freezing process that is going on at the surface of the river will not bar his efforts in getting at his store of provisions during the winter season. It is said that the beaver goes so far as to bundle up small branches of trees and willows which he stows away in the muddy bottom of the river. The trapper, in his wondrous yarns, insists that there are grades of society among beavers the same as among men; and he will have it that they have their "head chiefs," and that often individuals among them roll in wealth and that they have slaves who stand ready to do their master's bidding at a moment's warning; for instance, to bring them a bundle of green twigs on which to feast. According to their imaginative stories, the life of a beaver cannot be rivaled in happiness; and if we could put full credence in their descriptions of the pastimes of the animal, his palaces and luxuries, we could only compare a beaver to a citizen of Venice in her most palmy days—the difference between the two being, that the former enjoyed himself more in the water than the latter did on it in his favorite gondola.

The beaver, when captured young, can be sufficiently domesticated to make him a pet; but their unattractive form is anything but an ornament to the house. With young children, they are very friendly, though their disposition is amiable to any one. They are very neat in their person and, when moved from their comrades and domiciled with human beings, nothing do they so much like as being allowed the daily privilege of taking a clean bath. When thus engaged, they are a curiosity to look at, as they are very agile and particular in removing every particle of dirt. We remember seeing one of these pets in the Mexican town of Culebro thus enjoying himself. His owner hesitated not in taking the animal to the river, which was close by, and giving him his freedom. On finishing his ablutions the beaver returned to where his owner was standing, without making an effort to escape, and by a look as much as said, "I am ready to return to your home."

The signs having been discovered, the trappers next select a suitable location for a camp, which they soon occupy. After the pack animals are unloaded, a part of the men start out to set the traps, while the remainder busy themselves in looking after their wants and in cooking and guarding their property, etc. The trap is very much like the same instrument used in different sections of the United States for catching foxes, wolves etc, excepting, that it is smaller and perhaps made with more skill. Old trappers were very superstitious in regard to the makers of their traps, for they entertained the idea that much of their good or bad fortune depended on the tools they worked with; hence, they always had their favorite makers, and would pay more for their traps than for those of any other maker. This is true also with their rifles. For many years a rifle was condemned at first sight if it did not have the name of Hawkins²³ stamped on it, and it was not uncommon for them, when boasting of the good qualities of their riding animals, if they considered them of the maximum degree of superiority, to style them "regular Hawkins horses", thereby showing how far, in this respect, their predilections grounded their opinions.

The setting of the trap required expertness and experience, or else it availed nothing; for the game to be caught is, as the reader can now readily conceive, very wary and his suspicions of there being anything wrong near at hand, had to be allayed by concealing as much as possible the instrument from view; yet it must not be far from the surface of the water; and then again it had to be firmly fixed in its position, by being made fast to something that was firm so as prevent its being dragged off. The trapper, while thus engaged, is in the water. About his waist there is a strap to which is attached a pouch in which is carried the bait. Everything being arranged, the trap is set and the bait applied, when the man notes the place where he has been at work so as to recognize it again, and then takes his departure to return early the following morning. The beaver, during this interim, is attracted by the peculiar scent of the bait, and, as a reward for his curiosity, he generally is caught by one of his paws and thus falls a prey to the hunter's pleasure. The traps, when visited, are relieved of the contents and then set again. The game is put out of its misery and carried to camp, where it is skinned, and where all of the pelts recently taken are stretched out, dried, cured, and packed in small bales, whenever a sufficient quantity is obtained so to do with it. The trapper, when in full dress for an expedition, and especially after having been on one with its concomitant hair-breadth escapes, Indian and bear fights, etc., cuts, to all appearances, a sorrowful figure. His wardrobe is meagre in the extreme, yet it answers all of his purposes and the man would have no other. When summed up, it would be found to consist usually of two pairs of moccasins, one (or two pair) of buckskin pantaloons, two woollen shirts, a loose, fringed buckskin coat and an old slouched hat (usually made of some kind of skin with the fur on). His baggage, limited to a very small bundle, comprises his blankets, a buffalo robe or two, a spare hide of dressed buckskin, his extra garments above spoken of, and a little tobacco (when it can be had). These, with his camp kettle and outfit of powder, lead, extra traps, scanty allowance of provisions, guns, pistols, horses, bridles,²⁴ saddles, etc. make up his traveling and working kit; it may be only for a few months or it may be for years. With them he was ready to penetrate the loftiest mountains and unexplored regions. This is but a true picture, in a brief space, of the appearance of Kit Carson and the resources of his earlier days, the tools he had to work with, the mode of doing his labor, and the habits of the animal he diligently hunted for several years in order that his fellow man might convert into a luxury the products of his toil; yet had he been allowed the choice, he would not have exchanged situations with the consumer of the commodity. In the company of his boon companions and enjoying the pure mountain air, he had often seen as happy hours as ever fell to the lot of any man. And now he was starting out on probably his last trapping expedition.

The party did not return to their homes until several months had expired, and, as much of the excitement that used to pertain to their former exploits had been worn off from the changes brought about by civilization, they decided that this, as far as they were concerned, should be their last trapping expedition; therefore, this visit to their old haunts was a sort of funeral service performed over their early adventures. On quitting each favorite river, the trappers felt that they were shaking hands with the streams and bidding them, one by one, a final good bye.

Kit Carson, after disposing of his beaver, occupied himself in attending to his ranche, and was thus employed when news was brought to New Mexico of the exorbitant prices which sheep were bringing in California. He made up his mind to embark in a speculation in those animals by collecting a herd and driving it to that territory. He set out for the valley of Rio Abajo, which lies to the south of Santa Fé, and there, to his satisfaction, made his purchases. In company with two friends, after employing a suitable number of shepherds, he commenced his journey and traveled northward to Fort Laramie, where he came to and followed the emigrant road that leads direct into California via Salt Lake, etc. In the month of August, 1853, after meeting with very trifling losses, as he traveled very slowly and understood thoroughly the business he was employed in, Kit Carson with his flock of sixty-five hundred sheep reached the point of his destination in California, where he found no difficulty in disposing of them at the rate of five dollars and fifty cents per head.

The making of these long journeys with such large herds of sheep, over a diversified country, sometimes abounding in water and grass, while on the other hand, and not unfrequently, for many miles, the earth is barren, is a difficult task. When broad, deep and swift rivers are to be forded, it requires dexterity and management to prevent heavy losses.

The trail which Kit Carson followed to Fort Laramie is now a well-beaten path. It runs almost due north from Taos, and abounds, in the proper season, in good grass and water. For about one hundred and twenty miles, it passes through a broken country, but when that distance is accomplished, the traveler is ushered on to the plains and keeps on them for most of the way close under the Rocky Mountains. The scenery on this route is most magnificent, and at times as grand perhaps as can be seen in any part of the world. The distance from Taos, Kit Carson's starting-point, to Laramie River, is counted by hundreds of miles; and in this great tract of country, there live several of the largest and most troublesome tribes of Indians in the far West. The names of these tribes are the Utahs, Apaches, Arrapahoes, Cheyennes and Sioux. A man with a large drove of sheep is so conspicuous an object that he is certain to attract their notice and bring them to him. Kit Carson, however, was well received by them and allowed to pass unmolested. They were pleased to find so formidable an enemy moving boldly into their country and bearing the olive branch of peace. He however forgot not to pay them toll by presenting them with a suitable number of the sheep. In this way he prevented them from being tempted to steal from him. This is a usual custom, and the Indians expect that this sort of attention will be shown them. They do not like, at all seasons of the year, to have these herds pass through their country. Being so large, they eat up much of their grass, which assists greatly to drive away the game. We remember on one occasion that an American, in charge of several thousand sheep, started on a journey from New Mexico to California. Everything went prosperously with the man until he left the Raton Mountains and entered the country inhabited by the Arrapahoes and Cheyennes. At first, he was received in a friendly manner by these Indians; but was commanded by them to rest where he was until they went ahead and killed their annual amount of buffalo. This, the man could not do; for the season was so far advanced that if he delayed, and then attempted to make California, he would be certainly overtaken by snow-storms which would bury him and his property in the mountains. In vain he used his best endeavors to impress this state of affairs on the minds of the Indians. They would not listen to him or sanction his going on, and threatened to punish him if he undertook to disobey them. Bidding defiance to these threats, this man started; but had only proceeded a few miles, when a band of one hundred squaws, mounted on horseback, overtook him and dashed into his herd, and with savage delight put to death one hundred and fifty of the sheep before their owner's eyes and without his being able to stop them. The carcasses of the slaughtered animals were left to rot on the ground, thereby showing that the Indians did not stand in need of food, but that they wished to teach the intruder a lesson which he would be apt to remember. These women had been sent out by their husbands, who no doubt were close by in case their services should be needed, to show to the white man the contempt they had of his power. The result was that the American was obliged to return to New Mexico from whence he came. When he set out again, he chose what is known as the Southern Route, which runs via the Rio Gila and strikes California in its lower section.

In the Rocky Mountains, the Indian women are rather small in stature, but, from their constant exercise they are physically very strong. They are naturally not wanting in modesty; but, being compelled to work and even engage in war, they soon become roughened and hardened. Their dresses consist principally of deer skins, and sometimes they are very tastefully arranged. They give birth to their children with great ease, and, as they have not become martyrs to fashions, or dress, they suffer but little inconvenience from this provision of nature. The children learn, during their earliest years, to look out for themselves, and soon become expert at it. The marriage ceremony amounts to little or nothing, and consists of a mere barter. The warrior is obliged to pay so many horses to the father for the bride. We remember, on one occasion, buying a superior pony from a trader, who said that he had obtained him from his Indian owner with great difficulty. The facts were as follows: This Indian was in love with a young maiden of his tribe. The young girl wished some silver ornaments which the trader had. The only thing the warrior had to exchange for these trinkets, was his prized pony. An old chief stood by with the trader and saw the warrior look and sigh at his horse. The chief gave the trader a wink, and said in a low tone of voice to him: "That man loves his horse and he loves his affianced bride, but the bride elect will conquer. Hold on and he will sacrifice the horse to please the girl. His love for her is the deepest feeling." Sure enough this came true, and we never regretted that it was so. The pony proved a valuable addition to our stock of animals.

Besides the many dangers to his flock which a person runs the risk of, both from the numerous accidents to which it is liable, and the unwelcome visits of the Indians when thus traveling, there are others which may occasionally happen to his own person. He may be, while standing guard, suddenly attacked and bitten by a mad wolf. On this event occurring, he is almost certain to be seized with that terrible, and we might as well add incurable disease, hydrophobia, which renders him a most pitiful object to behold. From a human being so recently respected and beloved by his companions, a person, thus unfortunate, is suddenly changed into an object most dreaded and detested. A party of Mexicans in charge of a large herd of sheep, a few years since, were bound to California. One night a large, ferocious wolf entered the camp, and bit a man in the leg. Symptoms of hydrophobia very soon set in, and in a short time the victim was a confirmed case of the disease. His comrades had no proper means of taking care of and transporting him, as they were hundreds of miles from the nearest house. They were superstitious, and believed that all would die if they kept the man's company any longer; accordingly, they drove a stake in the ground, to which they inhumanly secured him; and, after depositing a small allowance of provisions near by, they left him to die. Human bones were afterwards found near the identical spot where it was said this unfortunate incident happened, which afforded strong circumstantial evidence that the man had eked out a miserable existence soon after he was deserted by his so-called friends, and also, that the truth of this story rested upon strong probability.

When the Americans first obtained possession of New Mexico, sheep could be bought at the rate of twenty-five cents per head. The reason of this was, the want of a market and the ease with which they were raised. Cheapness of labor, also, assisted in reducing their value. The wool of these sheep was rather coarse, resembling hair more than wool. The only use in which it was employed, was for manufacturing blankets, rough carpet, and in filling mattresses. The valley of the Rio Grande is wonderful as a sheep growing country. The mountain districts also cannot be excelled in this respect. Their fitness for grazing is best exemplified by their abounding in the famous Rocky Mountain sheep. In many respects this animal resembles the chamois. They live on the tops of the highest peaks, eat the tenderest grass, and produce the finest flavored mutton in the world. One of their heads, with the horns, often weighs one hundred pounds. To shoot them, requires all of an experienced hunter's skill, and, when he has brought down one of these trophies, he feels he has done more than if he had killed ten deer. The sight of one of these mountain sheep, as perched on a high, rocky peak, is beautiful. The hostile Indians are the main drawback in New Mexico, to the successful raising of sheep.

The usual modus operandi employed by Mexican herders, who cannot be surpassed in their vocation, to which they appear to take intuitively, although many of them serve an apprenticeship at it, which begins with early life and ends only by death, is, to send a youth who leads a goat in advance of the flock. From some strange and unaccountable reason, the sheep will follow after him even to the crossing of rivers whose currents are deep and swift. The shepherds, with their dogs to assist them when necessary, allow the herd to scatter over a space varying in its size, but always allowing sufficient area so that the animals can move on at their ease and at the same time be able to feed. The danger above all others that is to be apprehended and guarded against, while thus travelling, is crowding; for, in this manner, when journeying through deep gorges in the mountains and over the precipitous banks of rivers, hundreds of sheep can be, and not unfrequently are, smothered. When this crowding commences, it is next to impossible to arrest it; a sort of panic prevails over the entire herd, and they rush on, one on top of another, until a mass of dead and dying is thus piled up and a barrier is made; or else, until, as most frequently happens, a bridge of carcasses is formed over which the survivors pass in safety. The Indians who inhabit the country on the various routes to California, have a strong predilection for mutton, which is a fact to bear in mind when migrating with this sort of property. Such accidents as having a few sheep bitten by rattlesnakes, and also a certain percentage becoming foot-sore and breaking down from fatigue, are common to every herd that crosses the Rocky Mountains. Economy in living is the great fundamental principle among the lower classes of the Mexicans; therefore, when a sheep is going to die from fatigue, or any simple disease, natural death is anticipated by the herders with the aid of the hunting-knife, and the meat, being dressed and cooked, is unhesitatingly eaten by them. Next to the Mexican shepherd, his dog, although he is not generally a handsome animal, is found to be ever faithful in guarding the flocks. The greatest enemy to the herds is the wolf; and in keeping them at bay, and preventing their inroads by night, the dog is capable of performing valuable service; hence, no band of sheep should cross the plains and mountains without a full complement of them. It was at one of the frontier towns of California that Kit Carson disposed of his flock. There having heard of the rapid and marvelous growth of San Francisco, he made up his mind to verify these reports with his own eyes, for he was well acquainted with its ancient aspect.

San Francisco had now had since the year 1848 to grow under the impulse of the gold fever. Kit Carson remembered it, a Spanish settlement as it existed in 1845—6—7, then containing not over two hundred inhabitants. In 1847, the first gold discovery was made at Sutter's Fort. In two months thereafter, about $250,000 in gold dust were carried into the town. The next two months $600,000 more. In February, 1849, the population of the town was two thousand. In the six months following, it increased to five thousand. In the early part of the year 1850, the population had increased to nearly twenty thousand. In 1852, according to the census, it was thirty-four thousand eight hundred and seventy. The first settlement made at San Francisco, was commenced in the year 1776. The place was then called Yerba Buena, or Good Herb, from the fact that an herb of that name, which was supposed to have great medicinal value, grew in rich luxuriance over the surrounding country. The houses were at first built of adobes, or sun dried bricks. It is now one of the most important cities on the western continent.

As Kit Carson neared this great emporium of California, possessed of some of the details of its astonishing growth, and remembering it as it existed when its inhabitants could be easily counted in an hour, he was perfectly astonished to behold the great changes which a few short years had produced.

Had it not been for the immovable landmarks about the city and the familiar scenery of the bay, he would have been entirely at a loss in considering that this was the spot, called San Francisco, which he had visited in former years. This metropolis, however, like all others, presented few attractions to Kit Carson's vision, further than its objects of curiosity, which were a source of interest and amusement to him. When he had finished sight seeing he was ready and anxious to be on his way to New Mexico. Previous to his setting out, he went on business to Sacramento City. While there, he received a message from his friend and partner, Maxwell, asking him to wait until the latter could come in with a herd of sheep from Carson River, when they could join forces and return home together.

Kit Carson's stay in California was shortened by the annoyance (as he considered it) of being made a lion. His society was constantly courted by men whom he had never seen; he was passed free on steamboats and to all places of public amusement; and, in fact, the people, in acknowledging his worth, treated him with marked distinction. He was pointed out wherever he went as a man who had done the State great service. This reward of his merit was indeed a just tribute to his worth. Kit felt himself highly honored and favored, but he did not expect or wish such attention. He felt himself to be a humble individual, who had honestly and faithfully performed his duty, as it had been assigned to him, and his modesty would not allow him to ask or be willing to receive any other than the unexpressed opinion of the people. There were some men (there always are such persons in every community) who sought his company expecting to hear him boast of his deeds and proclaim himself a hero such as had never before existed; but, what must have been their surprise on seeing his unassuming bearing, his disregard of notoriety, and his anxiety to escape that popularity which they themselves would have highly prized. Tired, by the anxiety and hard work of bringing his property over a long and dangerous journey to a good market, he had looked for rest and retirement; but instead, he was everywhere sought out and made conspicuous.

And here we pause to speak of the noble qualities of moral character and good judgment evinced by Kit Carson on this occasion of his eventful life. He found himself surrounded with the choice spirits of the new El Dorado; his name a prestige of strength and position, and his society courted by everybody. The siren voice of pleasure failed not to speak in his ear her most flattering invitations. Good-fellowship took him incessantly by the hand, desiring to lead him into the paths of dissipation. But the gay vortex, with all its brilliancy, had no attractions for him; the wine cup, with its sparkling arguments, failed to convince his calm earnestness of character, that his simple habits of life needed remodeling. To the storm, however, he was exposed; but, like a good ship during the gale, he weathered the fierce blast, and finally took his departure from the new city of a day, with his character untarnished, but nevertheless leaving behind him many golden opinions. With a hurried farewell and many kind remembrances of the good people of California, he left their great city to return to a home where he was certain to find a life better suited to his tastes. Money-getting had no charms for him. Had he chosen to accept some of the offers made him while then in San Francisco, he could easily have amassed an immense fortune. But his home had now the greater allurements, and a legitimate business gave him the certainty of comfort. The power merely which wealth assumes, Kit Carson never has desired to grasp.

The time had nearly arrived for the appearance of Maxwell. He finally joined Kit Carson, when the two immediately engaged in the very profitable work of disposing of their sheep. The market proved to be quite active—so much so that they disposed of their entire flock at high cash values without the least difficulty. The speculation thus proved to be highly satisfactory to all concerned. In a monetary point of view, the adventure proved to be the most fortunate in which Kit Carson had been engaged. Heretofore, money had been a second consideration with Kit Carson. He had directed his energies and attention to almost everything, or at least to many things besides its accumulation.

The sums which he had received for the important services rendered both to government officers and private individuals, had been expended on the wants of his family and on his suffering friends and countrymen. A trifling amount had always sufficed to satisfy his own immediate desires. The calls upon his purse, at the end of each year had left, therefore, but little which he could call his own. The snug sum now at his disposal, Kit Carson determined to lay by; and serving as a nucleus, around it, he has since accumulated enough amply to supply those comforts which will tend, in his old age, to make him happy. Maxwell and Carson decided to return to their homes by the southern route which runs through the country on and adjacent to the Rio Gila. Maxwell determined to take a steamer down the coast as far as Los Angelos, distant from San Francisco about three hundred and fifty miles, and used his best endeavors to persuade his friend Kit Carson to accompany him. In this however, he failed. Already one cruise over a part of the ocean route which Maxwell contemplated making, had been made by Kit Carson in 1846, and which had so sickened him of sea life, that he resolved never to travel on salt water again while it was in his power to obtain a mule to assist him in journeying by land. Maxwell, by his water conveyance, reached Los Angelos fifteen days in advance of Kit Carson, and employed himself in making the necessary preparations for their trip to New Mexico. When Kit rejoined his companion, everything was in readiness for them to proceed on their route, and, in a day or so afterwards, they started. Everything favored them until they reached a village belonging to some Pimo Indians, and located on the Rio Gila. Here the grass became suddenly very scarce. They learned from these Indians that the season had been unusually dry, and that, if they attempted to proceed on the regular trail, they would do so at the risk of losing their animals by starvation. While undecided as to which was the best course to pursue, Kit Carson informed the party that he could guide them over a new route which, though difficult and rough to travel, he felt confident would afford sufficient forage to answer all their purposes. At once the men agreed to be governed by their experienced friend's advice, and, having signified to him their willingness to do so, they resumed their march, following up the Rio Gila, until they came to the mouth of the San Pedro, when they struck out up the latter for three days, and then parted with it to risk the chances of reaching, at the end of each day, the small mountain creeks that lay on their contemplated route. After traveling in as direct a course as the nature of the country would admit, they arrived seasonably at the copper mines of New Mexico.

While pursuing this experimental journey, Kit Carson, who was well acquainted with the general outline of the country, but was not equally conversant with it in reference to the certainty of finding eligible camping-sites, where wood, water and grass presented themselves in abundance, was frequently made the subject of a tantalizing joke by the men of the party.

Occasionally his memory would not solve the question, what is the next course? He had neither map, chart, nor compass, and depended entirely upon old landmarks. Occasionally, the resemblance of different mountains, one to another, would serve to embarrass him. For a time, he would become doubtful as to the exact course to pursue. At such moments, the mischievous dispositions of the men would get the better of their judgment, and they would exert their lungs in shouting to him, as he spurred his riding animal to keep out of the sound of their raillery. He was not always successful in this, and occasionally a few sentences reached him like the following: