It was the universal opinion of the spectators of this unhappy scene that both parties fired nearly at the same instant. The facts of the case show very plainly, first, that Captain Shunan's intent was to kill his antagonist. Why did he aim at Kit Carson's breast? Second, that Kit Carson's shot was delivered perhaps a second or two in advance of Captain Shunan's; third, that Kit Carson did not desire to kill his antagonist, but merely to save his own life, by disabling his adversary. The fact that his shot struck first and hit Captain Shunan's right arm is sufficient proof of this. When Kit Carson's well-known and indisputable skill with all kinds of fire-arms is taken into the account; and that, notwithstanding this skill, he hit his adversary in one of only two places (his right or left arms) which would have rendered his aim with the rifle uncertain, the statement that Kit Carson did not intend to kill his adversary becomes an incontrovertible fact. Last, had Kit Carson not gained a second in advance in the firing, he would have lost his own life, inevitably; and, the emphatic "No!" the lie of his antagonist, would have been crowned with success. Such plain deception seldom is allowed to triumph by an all-wise Providence.

In judging Kit Carson in this matter, the reader will commit an ungenerous error if he fails to allow to be placed, in the balance of judgment, the stirring deeds and daily hair-breadth risks Kit Carson, during so many years of his eventful life, was constantly called upon to take a part in and undergo. We take leave of this unfortunate scene in his life, feeling confident a just public opinion will see in it no cause to pluck from the brow of Kit Carson any of the laurels which it has been called upon to place there. As a man of truth, honor, virtue, and reverence for the laws of his country, Kit Carson has few equals and no superior among Americans. It needed not this incident to establish his courage; that had long been proven to be undoubted. Nor did the result elate his feelings in the least. He met his companions without a smile, and invariably expressed his regrets that he felt it to be his duty, for the good order and peace of the camp, to interfere in the matter. On the other hand, when he espoused the cause of the majority in maintaining the right, he was not a man to be easily thwarted. When the affair was ended, Kit was congratulated and received the thanks of nearly every individual present; for, each felt that a load of most vexatious and troublesome responsibility had been taken from his shoulders. The good fellowship immediately introduced into the camp was also a circumstance of mark.

The wounded man was carried to his quarters and every attention shown him in the power of his companions. His punishment had the effect completely to subdue him.

These duels among the old trappers of the Rocky Mountains were not very unfrequent occurrences. Men, situated as they were, beyond the reach of the mighty arm of the law, find it absolutely necessary to legislate for themselves. It is not within our province to advocate either the right or wrong of duelling; for, with the best of reasoning, there will always exist a difference of opinion on the subject. In the case of these mountaineers, when any serious offence was given, the man receiving the injury to body or fame held the right of demanding satisfaction. The interests of the entire band required an immediate settlement of difficulties, so that their future plans could be carried out in concert. In their dealings with each other they were strictly honorable; and when by any mischance a rogue crept into their ranks, if detected in any rascality, he was summarily and severely dealt with. Their duels were serious events; for, oftentimes both men were killed. In fact, the case could hardly be otherwise. They were men of unflinching courage, and their weapons were generally rifles, which, from long practice, they held with a certain and deadly aim. We cannot better close this passage in the life of Kit Carson than to quote the language held in 1846 by the Biographer⁸ of the great explorer, JOHN CHARLES FREMONT:

"He" (Christopher Carson) "is a remarkably peaceable and quiet man, temperate in his habits, and strictly moral in his deportment. In a letter written from California, in 1847, introducing Carson as the bearer of dispatches to the government, Col. Fremont says: 'with me, Carson and truth mean the same thing. He is always the same—gallant and disinterested.' He is kind-hearted, and averse to all quarrelsome and turbulent scenes, and has never been engaged in any mere personal broils or encounters, except on one single occasion, which he sometimes modestly describes to his friends. The narrative is fully confirmed by an eye-witness, of whose presence at the time he was not aware, and whose account he has probably never seen or heard of. I shall tell the story as it is gathered from them both.⁹

"In the year 1835, the Rev. Samuel Parker made an exploring and missionary tour, under the auspices of the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions, beyond the Rocky Mountains, and as far as the settlements on the Columbia River. In his printed journal he gives an account of the incident to which I am referring; it occurred on the 12th of August, at a point on the borders of Green River, beyond the South Pass, on the occasion of a 'rendezvous,' that is, on a spot selected for Indians, trappers, and hunters to bring to market their peltries, and obtain supplies from the agents of the Fur Companies. There was a large concourse of savage tribes, and all the various denizens of the wilderness. There were Frenchmen, Spaniards, Dutchmen, Canadians, and Western backwoodsmen. The Rev. Mr. Parker happened to be there, to witness the strange gathering. Of course there were some rude characters, and not a little irregularity and disorder. Conflicts were liable to arise between quarrelsome persons, growing out of the feuds among the tribes, and animosities between the representatives of different nations, all actuated by pride of race or country.

"A hunter, named Shunan, a Frenchman, who was well known by the title of the 'big bully of the mountains,' mounted his horse with a loaded rifle, and dashing defiantly around, challenged any person, of any nationality, to meet him in single combat. He boasted of his exploits, and used the most insulting and irritating language, and was particularly insolent and abusive towards Americans, whom he described as only worth being whipped with switches. Kit Carson was in the crowd, and his patriotic spirit kindled at the taunt. He at once stepped forward and said, 'I am an American, the most trifling one among them, but if you wish to die, I will accept your challenge.' Shunan defied him. Carson at once leaped upon his horse, with a loaded pistol, and both dashed into close conflict. They fired, almost at the same moment, but Carson an instant the quickest. Their horses' heads touched. Shunan's ball just grazed Carson's cheek, near the left eye, and cut off some locks of his hair. Carson's ball entered Shunan's hand, came out at the wrist, and passed through his arm above the elbow. The bully begged his life, and it was spared.

"This put an effectual stop to all such insolent proceedings, and Americans were insulted no longer. Carson is still living, being yet, indeed, in his prime. His faithful commander has recorded his name on the geography of the continent, by calling after him a river and a lake, in the great basin they explored together."

CHAPTER V.

The Fall Hunt—McCoy of the Hudson's Bay Company organizes a Trapping Party which Kit Carson joins—The Hunt—Scarcity of Beaver on Humboldt River—The Party is divided—Kit Carson with a majority of the Men goes to Fort Hall—Hardships and Privations met with—Buffalo Hunt—All their Animals stolen in the Night by a Party of Blackfeet Indians—Arrival of McCoy from Fort Walla Walla—The Rendezvous—Kit Carson joins a strong Band—The Small Pox among the Blackfeet Indians—The Crow Indians on good terms with the Whites—Intense Cold—Immense Herds of Buffalo—Danger of their goring to death the Horses—The Spring Hunt—The Blackfeet Indian Village overtaken—A desperate Fight with these Indians—The Rendezvous—Sir William Stuart and a favorite Missionary—Kit Carson goes on a Trading Expedition to the Navajoe Indians—The Return—He accepts the post of Hunter of the Trading Post at Brown's Hole.

Arrangements for the fall hunt were now in active progress among the trappers. Though the reader may find some similarity of fact and idea as we progress in this part of the Life of Kit Carson, the interest which hangs about it, nevertheless, will not, or should not be dampened, because this pen-painting of his long and active experience is a better and more faithful exhibit of those qualifications, knowledge and skill which afterwards made him, first the guide and then the bosom friend of the illustrious Fremont, than any assertions whether authenticated by published record, whether rested upon statement on knowledge, information and belief of acquaintances and friends, or, whether facts taken from the thousand allusions to his exploits which have from time to time flooded the press of the United States.

The company of trappers which had been so fortunate as to secure the services of Kit Carson, for facts seem now to warrant us in employing this language of just praise, set out for the Yellow Stone River, which stream they safely reached, and on which they set their traps. Dame Fortune here seemed to be in unpleasant mood. Crossing the country from the Yellow Stone to the Big Horn River, they again courted the old lady's smile with stoical patience, but with no better results. They next extended their efforts to the three forks of the Missouri River; also, to the Big Snake River. The fickle old lady proved scornful on all these streams, and finally, on the latter stream and its tributaries they wintered.

In this section of the country they fell in with Mr. Thomas McCoy, a trader who was in the employ of the Hudson's Bay Company. In his trading operations Mr. McCoy had been unsuccessful and had concluded to organize a trapping expedition. The inducements which he held out led Kit Carson and five of his companions to become members of his party. With him they traveled to Mary's River,¹⁰ from whence reports had circulated that beaver existed in great abundance. The party struck upon this stream high up and slowly followed it down to where it is lost in the Great Basin. Their success here was not satisfactory; consequently, the party returned to the Big Snake River. By McCoy's direction the party tarried upon this river for some time when it was divided. McCoy and a small escort started for Fort Walla Walla. Kit Carson and the majority of the men took up their line of march for Fort Hall. While en route, the latter division was subjected to the greatest privations imaginable. Among the worst of these was hunger, as their trail led through a barren region of country. For a short time, they managed to subsist upon a small supply of nutritious roots which had been provided in advance. This source finally gave out, when their affairs assumed a most desperate attitude. To keep from starving, they bled their mules and drank the warm red blood with avidity, so acutely had the days of fasting sharpened their appetites. This operation, however could not be repeated without endangering the lives of their animals. These also were on a short allowance of food, for the grass was very poor and scanty. The whole party had become frightfully reduced in strength, and began to think it necessary to kill some of their animals, which at this time they could but ill spare. In this terrible condition they met with a band of Indians who proved to be of a friendly disposition. The party was then only about four days' journey from Fort Hall. Most unhappily, the Indians themselves possessed but a scanty supply of provisions, and no more than their immediate wants required. It was not without considerable manœuvering and talk, during which all the skill and Indian experience possessed by Kit Carson were brought into active requisition, that the savages were prevailed upon to trade with the trappers. By the trade the half famished men obtained a fat horse, which was immediately killed, and on which they regaled with as much relish as the epicure in the settlements enjoys his "joint of roast beef."

To a man not accustomed to this kind of meat, mule flesh and horse flesh would not be likely to prove over tempting or appropriate viands. Let him feel the pangs of hunger very sharply, and his ideas of lusciousness and propriety in respect to food will rapidly change. The civilized world has condemned the practice as belonging to barbarians. A mountaineer, not being quite so fastidious, scouts these ideas, considering them foolish prejudices of people who have never been forced by necessity to test the wisdom of their condemnation. Let the epicurean sages have their choice, eat horse flesh or starve, and, they confidently maintain, horse flesh would gradually grow to be considered a dainty, the rarer over beef, in proportion to its greater cost.

The trappers of the western prairies, who wander thousands of miles over barren as well as fertile lands, where game cannot exist from stern necessity, are compelled to submit to all kinds of vicissitudes; but, with buoyant spirits, they conquer results, which, a faint heart and yielding courage would behold almost in their grasp but fail to reach.

An emergency calls forth skill and great energies; and, in an unexplored country where, as in the case here recorded, everything living suddenly disappears, it is then that the wits of a trapper save his life when an ordinary traveler would lie down and die.

Kit Carson and his men, at last, succeeded in reaching Fort Hall. They were kindly received and amply provided for by the whites who then occupied it as a trading post. Here they rapidly recruited their strength, and in the course of a few days felt able to start out upon a buffalo hunt. Reports had come in that large numbers of buffalo existed in close proximity to the Fort. Kit Carson and his men were not the kind who live upon the bounty of others when game can be had in return for the necessary effort to find. They were also not the men to hoard their stock of provisions whenever they met parties in distress. The first query which different bands of trappers offer to each other on meeting in the wilderness, is, "Does game exist in plenty," or "is game plenty in such and such sections of country?" This takes precedence over the commonplace question, "What's the news?" Oftentimes, when venturing into distant and unexplored districts of territory they were obliged to take their chances of finding sustenance; but, they hardly ever neglected an opportunity to inform themselves on the subject: on the contrary, they often sacrificed both time and profits in order to secure correct details. Any other course would have been fool-hardy rashness, just fit for parties of over-bold inexperience to take the consequences of.

Hunting the buffalo is a manly and interesting sport; and, as Kit Carson on this occasion engaged in it with successful results, it might be interesting to the general reader, and, in this place the unity of the narrative seems to require, a complete and practical description of the manner of taking the buffalo. We have, however deferred this part of our duty to an occasion when Kit Carson had his friend John C. Fremont upon his first buffalo hunt. We shall then permit the bold Explorer to tell the story of a buffalo hunt in our behalf.¹¹

During their sojourn at Fort Hall, the hardy trappers were not idle. Besides the calls upon them by the hunt, they set to work with great industry repairing their saddles, clothing and moccasins. With the aid of a few buck-skins, usually procured from Indians, and a few rude tools, they soon accomplished wonders.

To give the reader an appropriate view of the genius to conquer obstacles displayed by the mountaineers, he must picture one of them just starting upon a long journey over the prairies and through the mountains. His wagon and harness trappings, if he chances to be possessed of worldly effects sufficient to warrant him in purchasing a first-class outfit, present a neat and trim appearance. Follow him to the point of his destination, and there the reader will discover, perhaps, a hundredth part of the original vehicle and trappings. While en route, the bold and self-reliant man has met with a hundred accidents. He has been repeatedly called upon to mend and patch both wagon and harness, besides his own clothing. Though he now presents a dilapidated appearance, he is none the less a man; and, if his name is known as a regular trapper and mountaineer, he is immediately a welcomed and honored guest. If the broadcloth of a prince covered his back, spotless, scientifically shaped and foreign woven, his reception would not be more heartfelt and sincerely cordial. It is amusing to see the raw-hide patches of harness, wagon and clothing, now become dry and hard as oak. To have dispensed with the use of buckskin on his route, would have been like cutting off the right arm of the gallant pioneer. Buckskin and the western wilds of America are almost synonymous terms; at least, the one suggests the other, and therefore they are of the same brotherhood. The traveler in these regions of this day fails not to learn and appreciate its value. It has not only furnished material for clothing, but has been used to repair almost every article in daily use. Even the camp and tea-kettle, as well as the frying, milk and saucepan, bedstead and hammock, chair and table, all have had their buckskin appendage, as fast as any of them have become injured or broken.

Everything being in readiness, Carson set out with his followers for their hunting-grounds. Their pace was one of so much rapidity, that after one day's march they discovered signs of the buffalo. On the following morning immense herds were in sight. A suitable place for a camp was soon selected, and everything which could impede their work well stowed away. The best marksmen were selected for hunters, and the remainder of the party detailed to take care of the meat as fast as the hunters should bring it in. Poles were planted on the open prairies, and from one to the other ropes of hide were stretched. Upon these ropes strips of the buffalo meat were hung for curing, which consists of merely drying it in the sun's rays. After it is sufficiently dried, it is taken down and bound up in bundles. During the time of hunting and curing, the trappers feasted upon the delicacies of the game, which consist of the tongue, liver and peculiar fat which is found along the back of the buffalo. Their past sufferings from hunger had made them so determined in the work of procuring game, that in a few days they possessed meat sufficient to load down all their pack animals. They now thought about returning to Fort Hall. Their pace, however, rendered so by their weighty game, was very slow. Their old enemies, the Blackfeet Indians, had discovered them while engaged in this hunt. They followed them on the march to the Fort, the trappers being wholly unaware of their presence; in fact, the idea of hostile Indians had not troubled their thoughts.

Two or three nights after they arrived at the Fort, taking advantage of a dark evening, the Indians deprived them of all their animals. This was the result of carelessness on the part of one of the men, which, under the circumstances, was excusable. The party had encamped just without the pickets of the Fort, but had taken the precaution to secure their horses and mules while they slept, by placing them in the corral¹² belonging to the station. A sentinel was put upon duty over the corral, in order to make everything doubly secure. In the latter part of the night, nearly at daybreak, the sentinel saw two persons advance and deliberately let down the bars leading into the yard and drive out the animals. He mistook these men for two of his companions who were authorized to take the herd out to graze. Concluding, therefore, without going to them, that he was relieved, he sought his resting-place and was soon fast asleep. In the morning, anxious inquiries were made for the horses and mules, when a very short investigation revealed the truth of matters. It was, undoubtedly, very fortunate for the sentinel that he fell into the error alluded to. It was very apparent that the two advanced Indians who let down the bars were backed up by a strong party. The signs of Indians, discovered afterwards, proved this beyond a doubt. Their reserve party were posted where the least resistance on the part of the sentinel would have been followed by his quick and certain death. This successful theft was, no doubt, considered by the Indians a cause for great rejoicing. It may have formed the basis of promoting the brave who planned and directed it, as the animals had been obtained without the loss of a man or even the receiving of a wound. The parties living at the Fort were equally as poorly off for horses and mules as were now the trappers. The same Indians had recently performed the same trick upon them. The loss was most severely felt by the trappers, inasmuch as they had not a single animal left upon which to give chase. Nothing remained for them to enact, except a stoical indifference over their loss and await the return of McCoy, who had agreed, after finishing his business at Fort Walla Walla, to rejoin, them at Fort Hall.

This tribe of Indians, the Blackfeet, whose meddlesome dispositions have so frequently brought them in contact with Kit Carson in such and dissimilar affairs, occupy the country on the Yellow Stone River and about the head waters of the Missouri. There are other tribes in close proximity, the most important of which is the tribe called the Crows. When Kit Carson first entered upon his wild career the Blackfeet Indians numbered nearly thirty thousand souls. They were greatly reduced in numbers within the next six or seven years, between 1832 and 1839. In the last-named year, in consequence of the ravages of the small pox, heretofore alluded to and which prevailed the year previous, they had lost at least fifty per cent. The Indian computations of 1850, according to Brownell, give their numbers at only about thirteen thousand. They are one of the finest races of the American Aborigines. Powerful in frame and development; well trained in horsemanship, although in this they are surpassed by the Camanches; capable of great endurance; and, usually well fitted as to arms, dress, horse trappings, et cætera, they generally prove knotty customers as enemies. We ought not to pass by this notice of the Blackfeet Indians without calling the attention of the inquisitive reader to a remarkable proof which is afforded by the whole intercourse of these western trappers with the Blackfeet Indians, as thus detailed by Kit Carson, of an assertion hazarded some years ago by Charles De Wolf Brownell, in his admirable work upon the Indian races of North and South America. On pages 465-6, Mr. Brownell comes to the defence of the Crow tribe of Indians, which, up to that time, had been characterized as a "lawless, thieving horde of savages." "But," says Mr. Brownell, "those best acquainted with their character and disposition, speak of them as honest and trustworthy." The adventures of Kit Carson among both the Crow and the Blackfeet Indians, we think, demonstrate pretty conclusively which of these contiguous tribes are the horse stealers. The Crows, it will be remembered, are more particularly inhabitants of the mountainous regions. The Blackfeet have ever been their sworn and implacable foes. Their burials of the hatchet have been few and far between, and never in deep soil. It is not, therefore, to be wondered at that the Blackfeet reputation should extend to the Crows; but, although circumstances exist which condemn the latter, they are few in number compared with the sins laid by the traders and trappers at the tent-doors of the former.

After the lapse of one month McCoy made his appearance and, most opportunely, brought an extra supply of animals. The camp was soon struck and the whole band started for the rendezvous, which had been appointed to convene at the mouth of Horse Creek on the Green River. They reached this place after several days of hard travel. As usual, trading operations did not commence until all the regular bands of trappers had arrived and reported. They were then commenced and continued through a period of twenty days. Here Kit Carson left the company under McCoy and joined a company under the management of a Mr. Fontenelle which numbered one hundred men. This party went to and trapped on the Yellow Stone River. On commencing operations the party was divided into fifty trappers and fifty keepers. The duties of the former were to take the beaver and provide game for food. The latter to guard their property and cook. The trappers were now in the midst of their sworn foes, the Blackfeet Indians. They felt themselves sufficiently strong and were desirous to pay off old scores. They therefore trapped where they pleased, being determined to dispute the right of possession to the country if attacked. They were not, however, molested. A good reason appeared for this, soon after, brought by some friendly Indians belonging to the Crow Tribe. They informed the whites that the small pox was making terrible havoc with the Blackfeet Indians. Thousands were dying and fears were entertained that the whole tribe would be cut off. In order to attend to their sick they had secluded themselves. The trapping season being nearly over, as the streams began to freeze, the party commenced looking out for a camping site.

In conjunction with the main body of the Crow nation they proceeded to a well protected valley and erected their lodges, making themselves as comfortable as possible under the circumstances. As the season advanced, the cold became more severe, until at last, it was more intense than ever before experienced by the trappers or Indians. Fuel, however, was abundant, and, excepting the inconvenience of keeping unusually large fires, they suffered but little. Not so with their animals. It was with the greatest difficulty that they preserved them from starvation. By the most unwearied exertions, however, they succeeded in obtaining food enough barely to keep them alive until the weather became more mild and auspicious. At one time the crisis was so imminent, that the trappers were compelled to resort to cottonwood trees, thawing the bark and small branches, after gathering them, by their fires. This bark was torn from the trees in shreds sufficiently small for the animals to masticate. The Indians of the Rocky Mountains, when suffering from hunger, are often driven to the extremity of eating this material. For miles, not unfrequently, the traveler discovers these trees denuded of their bark, after a party has passed through on their way to find the buffalo. The rough, outside cuticle is discarded, and the tender texture, next to the body of the tree, is the part selected for food. It will act in staying the appetite, but cannot, for any great length of time, support life. It is dangerous to allow starving animals to eat freely of it; the trappers, therefore, feed it to them but sparingly.

The intense cold operated to bring upon them another serious annoyance in the shape of immense herds of starving buffalo, which, goaded on by the pangs of hunger, would watch for an opportunity to gore the animals and steal their scanty allowance of provender. It was only by building large fires in the valleys and constantly standing guard that the trappers succeeded in keeping them off.

During the winter, to beguile the time, the whites vied with their Indian allies in many of their sports. As game existed in superabundance, always ready for a loaded rifle, both parties were contented and happy. Time flew away rapidly and soon brought again the sunshine of spring with the buds and blossoms, gay wild flowers, green herbage and forest verdure. For the purpose of procuring supplies, the trappers dispatched two messengers to Fort Laramie. They did not return and were never again heard from. The conclusion which gained belief was, that they had been murdered by the Sioux Indians. The party waited as long as they possibly could for the return of their two companions, but, finally, were compelled to commence the spring hunt without them. They trapped a short time on the Yellow Stone River and then went to the Twenty-Five-Yard River. From thence they proceeded to the head waters of the Missouri, and, on the most northern of its forks, remained some time, meeting with considerable success. Here they obtained news of the Blackfeet Indians, which showed that the ravages of the small pox had been greatly over estimated. They were still nearly as strong, and in character, had not at all become subdued. Upon drawing near to the source of this river, they discovered that the main village of these savages, their old foes, was in close proximity. This was pleasing intelligence to the trappers. They had suffered too many unprovoked insults at their hands not to desire the avenging of their wrongs and to punish them by way of retaliation. During the whole winter, and, in fact, from the time the party was first organized, they had anxiously abided their opportunity to meet and punish the rascally Blackfeet warriors. The old scores, or sores, had been festering too long, and here was a chance to probe them satisfactorily.

The party cautiously followed upon the trail which led to the Indian encampment until within one day's journey of it. Here they came to a halt. Kit Carson, with five men, was sent in advance to reconnoitre. Upon approaching the Indians, the reconnoitering party discovered them busily engaged driving in their animals to saddle and pack, and making such other preparations necessary to the effecting of a hurried decampment. Kit and his companions hastened back and reported the results of their observations. A council was immediately held which decided to send out forty-three picked men to give battle; and, for the commander of this party, Kit Carson was unanimously elected. The fifty-five men left behind under Mr. Fontenelle had the onerous duty of guarding the animals and equipage. It was a part of the programme, also, that the latter force should move on slowly and act as a reserve in case of need.

Kit Carson and his command were in fine spirits and lost no time in overhauling the village. In the first charge they killed ten of the bravest warriors. The savages quickly recovered from this blow and commenced retreating in good order. For three consecutive hours they heroically received a series of these furious and deadly assaults without offering much resistance. At the end of this time the firing of the mountaineers began to slacken, as their ammunition was running low. These experienced and brave, though rascally Indians, soon surmised the cause of this sudden change of affairs. Rallying their forces, they turned upon their assailants in right good earnest and a desperate hand-to-hand engagement ensued. The white men now had an opportunity to use their small arms, which told with such terrible effect upon their foes that they were soon driven back again. They, however, rallied once more and charged so manfully that the trappers were forced to retreat. In this latter engagement a horse belonging to a mountaineer by the name of Cotton, fell, throwing his rider and holding him on the ground by his weight. This happened as he was passing a point of rocks. Six of the warriors, seeing the accident, instantly hurried forward to take Cotton's scalp. But Kit Carson's eagle eye was watching every part of the battle-field and discovered, in time to be of service, the danger to which his friend was exposed. Although some distance off, Kit sprang from his saddle, and, with the leap of an antelope and the rallying cry for his men, was on the ground, ready to make a certain shot. His aim and the crack of his rifle almost belonged to the same instant of time. It was none the less sure. The foremost warrior, a powerful savage, whose fingers evidently itched for the scalp of the mountaineer, fell, shot through the heart. By this time others had followed the bold example of their leader, when the five remaining warriors, seeing the imminent danger which threatened them, turned to run back into their band. But two of them however reached a place of safety. The remainder, caught in their fleet career by the unerring and death-dealing bullets of the mountaineers, measured their lengths upon the battle-ground, stricken with wounds which demanded and received from them their last wild war-whoop.

When Kit Carson fired, his horse, being under no restraint, became frightened and dashed away, leaving his brave rider on foot. Kit however instantly comprehended his position. The fallen horseman had succeeded in extricating himself, but not without difficulty, for the ground was very uneven. He had received a few pretty severe contusions, but was, notwithstanding these, worth a dozen Indians yet, and failed not to show the fact. Seeing Cotton thus all right, Kit Carson made his way to one of his companions, and, as the fighting had, apparently by mutual consent, ceased for a few moments, mounted up behind him and thus rejoined the main body of his men. The runaway horse, after quite a chase, was soon captured by a trapper and returned to his captain. A period of inactivity now reigned over the battle-field, each party apparently waiting for the other to again open the ball. During this resting spell, the reserve division of the trappers came in sight, having been anxiously expected for some time. The Indians showed no fear at this addition to the number of their adversaries. On the contrary, being no doubt carried away by their recent success in making a stand, they commenced posting themselves among the rocks about one hundred and fifty yards distant from the position taken up by the trappers. The arrival of the reserve was a great relief to the advance, because, they were tired of fighting without ammunition. Having well filled their ammunition pouches they once more became eager for the affray. Everything being in readiness, with a cheer, they started on foot to attack and dislodge the enemy. In a few moments was commenced the severest skirmish of the day. It became so exciting that frequently a trapper would occupy one side, and a stalwart warrior the other, of some large rock, each intent upon the life of his adversary. In such cases it required the closest watchfulness and the utmost dexterity to kill or dislodge the bold savage. The power of powder in the hands of skillful men soon began to assert its superiority in the battle, and when once the Indians commenced to waver, it was all over with them. Their first wavering soon broke into a complete rout, when they ran for their lives. As they scattered in every direction, the pursuit which followed was short. In this battle the trappers considered that they had thoroughly settled all outstanding accounts with the Blackfeet Indians, for they had killed a large number of their warriors and wounded many more. On their side three men only were killed and a few severely wounded.

Fontenelle and his men camped for a few days in the vicinity of the scene of their late engagement, burying their dead and repairing damages. They then resumed the business of trapping, traversing the Blackfeet country whenever they chose without fear of molestation. The success in their late engagement seemed to follow them in their business, for their stock of fur accumulated rapidly.

While they were encamped upon Green River, an express rider, sent by the traders, came into camp and informed the party that the rendezvous would be held on Mud River. With a large stock of beaver, the party started for that place, arriving in eight days.

Besides the usual traders and trappers, the party met at this rendezvous some missionaries and a distinguished English nobleman, Sir William Stuart. Of this latter gentleman, Kit Carson says: "For the goodness of his heart and numerous rare qualities of mind, he will always be remembered by those of the mountaineers who had the honor of his acquaintance."

Among the missionaries was "Old Father De Smidt," as he afterwards came to be familiarly called. This gentleman is at present well known as being a leading literary and religious man at St. Louis, Missouri. Perhaps there never was a person in the wilds of America who became so universally beloved both by the white and red man. While in the mountains, he acted with untiring zeal for the good of all with whom he came into contact. Wherever duty called him, there he was sure to be found, no matter what the obstacles or dangers spread upon the path. He worked during a long series of years in these dangerous localities, and accomplished much good. When, at last, he returned to civilization, he left an indelible name behind him.

In twenty days after the camp at the rendezvous was formed, it broke up again into small parties. Kit Carson, with seven companions, went to Brown's Hole. This was a trading post. Here they found two traders who were contemplating getting up a business expedition to the Navajoe Indians. This tribe exhibits more traces of white blood than any other of the wild races in North America. They are brave and fond of owning large possessions. These consist chiefly of immense herds of fine horses and sheep. In this respect they are not unlike the ancient inhabitants of the earth, who "watched their roving store" on Syrian soil and the contiguous countries. The parties who desired to trade with them usually carried a stock of trinkets and articles of use, for which they received horses, mules, blankets and lariets.¹³

Navajoe blankets are very celebrated in the far west of America, and especially in old Mexico, where they are in great demand and command high prices. Many of these articles are really beautiful, and, from their fine texture, together with the great amount of labor spent in their manufacture, are expensive, even when purchased of the Indians. The art of weaving these blankets has been long known to the Navajoe Indians; and, all the female children belonging to the nation are taught the art during their earliest years. It is only after much practice, however, that they become expert.

Kit Carson joined the two traders, whose names were Thompson and Sinclair, and made the trip with them which they had planned. They realized very handsomely from it, bringing back a large drove of very fine mules. The animals were driven to the Fort on the South Fork of the Platte, where they were disposed of at fair prices. Having received his share of the profits, Kit returned again to Brown's Hole. The season was too far gone for him to think of joining another trapping expedition that fall. He therefore began to look about for some suitable employment for the winter. As soon as it became known that his services were open for an engagement, several offers were made him, all of which he rejected. The reader will doubtless see a contrast between the Kit Carson renowned as a trapper and hunter and the Kit Carson who, at Taos, only a few years before, was glad to hire out as a cook, in order to gain his daily sustenance. For some time, strong inducements of high wages had been held out to him by the occupants of the Fort, in order to prevail upon him to accept the responsible and arduous office of Hunter to the Fort. The task of supplying, by the aid of the rifle, all the flesh twenty men would naturally consume during an entire winter, formed the duty required and expected from this officer. The inducements were so tempting, the task so congenial with his feelings, and, withal, the urgent persuasions of the men so pressing, that Kit Carson finally accepted the offer and entered upon his duties. He soon showed the company that he knew his business, and could perform it with an ease and certainty which failed not to elicit universal esteem and commendation. When the time arrived for him to resign the office in the Spring, he left behind him golden opinions of his skill as a marksman.

CHAPTER VI.

Bridger and Carson trapping on the Black Hills—The Main Camp—The Rendezvous—Winter Quarters on the Yellow Stone—Carson with forty men in a desperate fight with the Blackfeet Indians—A Council—Sentinel posted—One Thousand Warriors come to punish the Trappers—The War Dance—The Courage of the Savages deserts them—Winter Quarters—The Spring Hunt—Another Fight with the Blackfeet—Continued Annoyances—The Trappers abandon the Country—The Rocky Mountains and Alps compared—Other Trapping Expeditions—Beaver becoming scarce—Prices of Fur reduced—Kit Carson and the Trappers give up their Vocation—The Journey to Bent's Fort—Mitchell the Mountaineer—His Eccentricities.

In the spring, Kit Carson joined Bridger. With four companions they went to the Black Hills to hunt. In the streams adjacent to that country, the beaver existed in large numbers and their success in trapping was excellent.

Soon after arriving, however, the party broke up. Kit Carson and a trapper named Owens made a hunt by themselves and were very fortunate in obtaining a large stock of the fur. After which they joined the main camp of the trappers on Green River. When the summer was pretty well advanced, the camp was broken up and all of its occupants started for the Rendezvous, this year held on the Popoayhi, a branch of the Wind River.

In the fall, most of the trappers went to the country which lies in the immediate neighborhood of the Yellow Stone River. Having trapped all the streams there, they went into winter quarters on that stream.

Nothing was heard of their sworn enemies, the Blackfeet Indians until about the middle of the winter. A party who were out hunting suddenly came upon some signs which, looking suspicious, attracted their attention. To these signs they gave a close investigation, and fully made up their minds that they were close to the stronghold of their foes. Without waiting to follow up the signs they immediately retraced their steps and informed their party in camp of their conviction that trouble was brewing. A command of forty men was instantly detailed to seek out the Indians and give them battle. Kit Carson was once more called upon to lead the brave trappers in this expedition, and everything was left to his direction and good judgment. Soon after commencing their march, the company fell in with a scouting party of the enemy in the vicinity of the spot where the fresh signs had been discovered. To this party the trappers gave chase, wisely concluding they would run for their main body. The result satisfied their anticipations. In a short time they found themselves opposed to a strong band of the Indians, when, a regular fight was instantly commenced. After quite a spirited contest, the Indians gave way and retreated, but in good order, to an island in the Yellow Stone River where they had previously erected strong barricades. Night put a stop to the scenes of the day and further action was deferred until the next morning. As soon as the light would again warrant it, the trappers plunged into the stream and made for the island, being determined to dislodge the Indians. To their great dismay the brave savages had already retreated having quietly given them the slip during the night.

The result of the battle the day before was now made apparent. It was evident that not much powder had been wasted in the action. The snow within the fortification was red with fresh blood, and from the place a bloody trail led to a hole in the ice of the stream where a large number of lifeless bodies had been sunk. There was nothing now to be done except to return to camp. Upon their arrival a council was convened to devise measures and plans for their future conduct. It was quite evident to all that the campaign had but just commenced. It was the general impression that the main village of the Blackfeet tribe had been located within a few miles. When therefore the news of their recent severe loss should be carried there by the survivors in the battle, active measures would be set on foot to seek revenge. It was the decision of the council that the trappers should act chiefly on the defensive. Measures were immediately set on foot to guard against surprise. To make everything doubly secure, none but the most trusty and well-tried men were detailed to perform sentinel duty. Near their camp there was a very lofty hill which commanded a fine view of the surrounding country. Upon this eminence they posted a sentinel throughout the day time. Their arrangements having been all determined upon and plans laid, the execution of them, to men so well skilled in frontier life, occupied but little time. Notwithstanding this celerity in their movements they had been none too quick. Soon after their preparations were fully made, the sentinel on the hill gave his signal indicating the approach of the Indians, showing that their precaution in this respect had been a wise one. The order was immediately given to erect strong breastworks. This task was so successfully accomplished, that, in a few hours, they had prepared a little fortress, which, covered with their unerring rifles, was impregnable against any force the Indians could bring against it. The advance party of the savages soon appeared in sight, but when they discovered the strength of the trappers, they halted and awaited, distant about half a mile from the breastwork, the arrival of the rest of the band. It was three days before the whole force of the Indians had arrived. They mustered about one thousand warriors. It was a sight which few white men of the American nation have looked upon. Arrayed in their fantastic war costume and bedaubed with paint, armed with lances, bows and arrows, rifles, tomahawks, knives, etc., some mounted and some on foot, they presented a wild and fearful scene of barbaric strength and fancy. Soon after their last company had reported, the frightful war-dance, peculiar to the American savages, was enacted in sight of the trappers' position. The battle songs and shouts which accompanied the dance reached the ears of the whites with fearful distinctness. Any other than hearts of oak with courage of steel would have quailed before this terrible display of savage enmity and ferocity. This dance, to men so well skilled in the ways of the Indian warrior, was a sure signal that the next day would be certain to have a fearful history for one party or the other and doubtless for both. The odds, most assuredly, were apparently greatly in favor of the savage host and against the little band of hardy mountaineers.