CHAPTER XII.

A Command of Six Hundred Men is sent against Los Angelos—The Mexican Army evacuates the Town—Its Capture—Rumors of an Attack to be made on Fremont's Command—The Mexicans surrender—The Winter Quarters—Kit Carson is ordered to carry Dispatches overland to Washington—Lieutenant Beale accompanies him—A Night Attack made by the Indians—Arrival in the United States—Kit Carson's Introduction to Col. Benton and Mrs. Fremont—Hospitality offered to him at Washington—Kit Carson receives the Appointment of Lieutenant in the Rifle Corps of the U.S. Army from President Polk—He is ordered to carry Dispatches to California—The Journey—A Brush with the Camanche Indians—Arrival at Santa Fé—More trouble with hostile Indians—Arrival at Los Angelos—Dispatches delivered—Kit Carson is assigned to do Duty with the Dragoons—Is ordered to Guard Tajon Pass—The Winter spent there—Is ordered again to carry Dispatches to Washington—The Journey and its Adventures—The return to New Mexico.

One month elapsed before the forces of the United States that were concentrated at San Diego were entirely recruited, and in fine trim for taking the field again. At the expiration of this time, a command of six hundred men was detailed for the purpose of capturing Los Angelos. The commanding officers of this force were General Kearney and Commodore Stockton. At Los Angelos was assembled the main strength of the Mexicans then in California; the number of their fighting men was about seven hundred. Towards this town the Americans took up their line of march, and, in the course of a few days, they arrived within fifteen miles of it. The Mexican forces had taken a strong position on a hill, near by where they had pitched their tents and strongly fortified their camp. Between the Americans' and the enemy's camp ran a small river. It was decided to postpone the attack until the following day. Early the next morning, General Kearney ordered two pieces of artillery to be brought to bear upon the Mexican position. The guns were so well and successfully served, that the Mexicans were forced to break up their camp. As soon as this state of things became apparent, General Kearney and Commodore Stockton crossed the river and marched on the town. On entering Los Angelos, they found that it had been evacuated by the Mexicans, and that only a few stragglers remained in or near the place. From some of these they learned that the retreating army had gone to attack Col. Fremont; who, with a force of four hundred Americans collected in Monterey, was also on the march for Los Angelos. It turned out afterwards that the Mexicans succeeded in finding Col. Fremont, but, for unknown reasons, failed to give him battle, as they had boasted they would; but instead, they gave him the preference over the other American commanders by surrendering to him. Col. Fremont continued his journey, and finally reached Los Angelos, where he and all the officers and men heretofore spoken of as engaged in this campaign, rested for the winter, and managed to pass the time very agreeably, considering their remote position. Carson, who had, for a great length of time, been rendering valuable services to Kearney, rejoined Fremont, when that officer arrived in town, and once more enrolled himself on his old commander's muster roll.

We have said that the cold and dreary winter days were passed at Los Angelos as agreeably and happily as the circumstances of the case would permit. This is only true to a certain extent. It was at Los Angelos, and during this winter, that the seeds of discord were first sown between the rival commanders, and the plot carefully laid, which finally led to Colonel Fremont's court martial. Rank, with its green-eyed monster, jealousy, which is ever watching with a restless and caustic determination to snatch from the subaltern his hard-earned laurels, was actively at work during these winter months. By the programme, cut and dried, the ambitious young soldier, who was nobly breasting the conflicts against the enemies of his country, was to be summarily put down, and his career quickly guillotined. These ungenerous plans had their birth and were carefully fostered at Los Angelos; but, the wise decrees of the American people, ever just in the cause of truth, although tardy, came at last to the rescue, and stamped the course with its approval and complete indorsement which had led the bold Explorer to unfurl the standard of his country over the modern El Dorado. In this view the course of the Mexican forces at Los Angelos in surrendering their swords to Colonel Fremont becomes significant. A brave though fallen enemy, seldom fails to admire a heroic, chivalrous and discreet victor. The choice here plainly indicated between Colonel Fremont and General Kearney, we repeat, is sufficiently significant. In Colonel Fremont the fallen chieftains of the brave Californian-Mexicans discerned all the qualities which make up true nobility of character. Many of the men under him were well known to the Mexicans as being upright, honorable and generous. For many years they had lived among them. Hence we discover the reason of their preference in laying down their arms in their presence.

Kit Carson took no active part in these unhappy differences, but, his simple action in leaving General Kearney's command and reenlisting under his old commander shows plainly to a discerning public, that he could not be alienated from his friend by acts of injustice. It also spoke more significantly than words that he adjudged his friend to have performed in behalf of his country, meritorious actions and a great service. Such was Kit Carson's view; and no man was capable of forming a better judgment in the premises than he. As an occupant of an inferior rank, he then kept his counsel to himself; the time has at last arrived when he should fully and appropriately express his opinion, though that opinion he is well aware has been rendered entirely unnecessary by the honorable mention since attached to the name of Fremont by the highest officer in the American service, by the recommendation to the President of the officers of the court to commute the sentence, and by the President of the United States in appointing, unsolicited, the court-martialed Conqueror of California to the high and important trust of commissioner to run the boundary line between the United States and Mexico, and finally, by the spontaneous outburst of enthusiasm which greeted the name of John C. Fremont, from around the firesides of the American people, when his name was placed at the head of one of the great political parties of the nation.

It is not for or against regulations that these remarks are directed. The transactions with which they deal have not been forgotten. They are recorded as historical facts, and, as such, are always open for investigation or deductions. In the month of March, 1847, Kit Carson was ordered to carry important dispatches to the war department at Washington. Lieutenant Beale, who was still a great invalid, was permitted to accompany him. In order to show the regard which Kit Carson entertained for this brave officer, and also to portray to the reader the goodness of heart which has ever been the actuating impulse in all of Kit Carson's actions, we will give his own words in relating this part of his adventures. He says: "Lieutenant Beale went with me as bearer of dispatches intended for the Navy Department. During the first twenty days of our journey, he was so weak that I had to lift him on and off of his riding animal. I did not think for some time that he could live; but, I bestowed as much care and attention on him as any one could have done under the circumstances. Before the fatiguing and dangerous part of our route was passed over, he had so far recovered as to be able to take care of himself. For my attention (which was only my duty) to my friend, I was doubly repaid by the kindness shown to me by his family while I staid in Washington, which was more than I had any reason for expecting, and which will never be forgotten by me." On the river Gila, Kit Carson's party was attacked by Indians during the night, while they were encamped. These savages threw a good round number of arrows into the midst of his men, which, however, did no damage, as, early in the commencement of the assault, he had directed them to hold up before them their pack-saddles, behind which they could pretty securely conceal themselves while lying upon the ground. He also directed the men not to talk, lest they should indicate their positions. It was very dark, and the Indians, from the above precautions being taken, were frustrated in their plans. His men lay very still; and, having previously received the order so to do, they awaited the near approach of the red men, when they were to use their rifles as clubs. The reason which made this latter command best was, because no man could see to shoot; hence, were they to fire at random, they would only expend their ammunition, a loss they were in no situation to sustain. However, the Indians became weary of their shooting after a few hours, and did not hazard a close attack, but went away to parts unknown.

Kit Carson and Lieutenant Beale arrived at Washington in the following June, having accomplished their journey overland, a distance of nearly 4,000 miles, in about three months, a record which shows that they had not been idle while on the route. With the exception of the Indian attack sustained on the Gila, they were not again annoyed by the red men, although, over the vast tract of wild territory which they had traversed, there roam thousands of savages who often, for the slightest pretext, and frequently without any reason whatever, will murder the unsuspecting traveler, as it chances to please them. Hence, to accomplish this journey, it was not only necessary to know the direction to shape their course, but also to be familiar with the haunts and habits of these various tribes, in order to avoid them. All of this knowledge, Kit Carson, the mainspring of this little party, was well possessed of, and, as a matter of business, guided himself and men in a direct and safe course.

The hardships and privations of this trip were trivial affairs when compared to most of Kit Carson's previous adventures, and not considered by him as worthy of mention. Indeed, Kit Carson appears so hardened in all kinds of vicissitudes, that a man, in his eyes, must have stood on the brink of death before he has seen much real suffering; but, probably, if the reader had been one of the members of this party, he would, unless equally experienced in Western frontier life, have considered that he had seen something of the world, and the rough side of it at that.

It requires no small amount of courage and determination to start out with but a handful of men to perform the difficult and dangerous task of threading the American continent from tide to tide, even at the present epoch; but, eleven years ago, there were few men living who had ever performed, or were able to perform the feat at all; much less with the certainty and speed which lay within the power and experience possessed by Kit Carson. In describing these trips, he now speaks of them as lightly as a man would after making a journey of a few hundred miles in a railroad car. He seems to have acted with the idea that this duty was expected of him, and it required but the official orders to send him bounding over the country, without regard to obstacles or dangers. His final object was his destination; which, on reaching, he was ready to quit at a moment's warning, with as much sang froid as a Russian courier possesses when doing his master's bidding. Yet so cautious is he when traveling, that, at first, to a new companion, he often appears to be wanting in courage. Not a bush, a tree, a rock, or any other hiding-place on his path, escapes his notice. Towards the heavens, in search of smoke ascending from, or crows, as they hover about Indian encampments which are deserted, or for ravens, and back again to the earth, on the look-out for moccasin or horse tracks, his eyes are continually turning. There is a nervous action about the man that shows he is ever alive to meet and be ready for any emergency. These traits are sure to instill confidence in his followers.

On starting from Los Angelos, Kit Carson took but a few rations of provisions with him, as he could not burden the few animals he had, too heavily; hence, he was compelled to depend on the rifle and the chances of meeting with game. This, of course, is always an uncertain mode of supporting life, and, consequently, it not unfrequently happened, that the party were out of food and went fasting; yet, not a murmur was heard. On they sped, in the hopes of reaching their homes and firesides, where kind friends were awaiting them, and where their cares and troubles would be buried in the past, and appear like dreams. In the breast of the leader of this expedition, there was throbbing a heart that was anxious to do its duty well, for he was approaching, not his family circle, but instead, the fireside of strangers to whom he was only known by name. Yet, in the common cause of his country's honor, he recognized in every American with whom he came in contact his true friend, and therefore he, also, was very happy as he neared Washington. There he looked confidently forward to hear the words: "Well done thou good and faithful servant." At St. Louis, Kit Carson had the honor of an introduction to the Hon. Thomas H. Benton, who was greatly interested in him, and who kindly invited him to make his house in Washington his home during his stay there. Of this invitation Kit Carson availed himself, and since considers that he was very fortunate in doing so, for the best of everything was heaped upon him, while he enjoyed the satisfaction of meeting and conversing with the great men of his country.

Mrs. John C. Fremont, daughter of Colonel Benton, and wife of the distinguished explorer, was in attendance at the railroad dépôt, when the train of cars in which Kit Carson was traveling arrived in Washington. It was quite late in the evening when he reached the terminus of his journey; yet, notwithstanding this, Kit had hardly landed on the platform of the dépôt, before he was addressed by a lady who said that she knew him from her husband's descriptions of him, and that he must accept the hospitalities of her father's house.

The distinguished father-in-law of John C. Fremont became, from the time of their first meeting in St. Louis, the warm friend and patron of Kit Carson; and, up to the time of his death, he had no cause to change his first impressions of him. There was not a friendly favor within his power which would not have been freely given, had it been asked. It is one thing to make a friend, but another to keep him; and those who knew the true character of Mr. Benton are cognizant of the fact, that he was not easily won; but, when gained, that he was true as steel, as is beautifully illustrated by the able and devoted manner in which he stood by General Andrew Jackson.

It is indeed a valuable possession to know that one has friends who cannot be bought by wealth or other sordid attractions; men, who can discern through the rough garb of the working, as well as thinking man, those noble qualities which place them on a par. This acquisition Kit Carson holds. He easily makes a friend, and never deserts him; hence, those, with whom he comes in contact, who are worthy of this name, are enrolled on his side; and he seldom has occasion to call a man his enemy. Kit Carson was so embarrassed and overcome by the expressions of kindness and hospitality which greeted his first arrival at Washington, that he could hardly essay a reply; and yet, he was almost too happy at the opportunity presented of accepting Mrs. Fremont's invitation. If there was anything wanted to cement Carson more firmly in his friendship and admiration for Colonel Fremont, it was thus to know his accomplished and gifted lady. The situation of Jessie Fremont has often been comparable with that of the noble-hearted Lady Franklin. Again and again has she been compelled to part from her husband when he started out to battle in the cause of science, and, in the words of the poet, she seemingly said:

Kit Carson remained some time in Washington; but had it not been for the many tokens of kindness which he there received, he would have grown weary of the restraints of civilization. As it was, he continually longed to be once more in the mountains and prairies. His desire, in time, was granted; for, having received the appointment of lieutenant in the rifle corps of the United States army from President Polk, he was ordered, as bearer of dispatches, to return across the continent from whence he had but recently come. Lieutenant Beale had intended to return with him, but did not eventually proceed any further than St. Louis. There he became too ill to continue on the journey. After arriving at Fort Leavenworth, Kit Carson was furnished with an escort of fifty men, who were volunteers in the war which was then being carried on against Mexico. With his usual promptness and dispatch, Kit Carson was soon under way crossing the plains. At Leavenworth he had learned that the Camanche Indians were at war with the whites. As he knew them to be a numerous and treacherous tribe, he had taken this strong escort in order to give them battle, if they should be anxious for it. However, he arrived at a place called the "Point of Rocks," which is not far from the Rocky Mountains, and on their east side, without discovering any signs of these Indians. At this place they made their appearance.

The "Point of Rocks" appears to be a favorite place of resort for the Indians of the plains. It is notorious as being one of the most dangerous places for the traveler in all the far West. It is a series of continuous hills, which project out on the prairies in bold relief. They end abruptly in a mass of rocks, out of which gushes a cold and refreshing spring, which is the main attraction about the place. The road winds about near this point, and therefore it is a chosen spot for the Indians to lurk, in order to catch the unwary pilgrim. Several encounters with the savages have taken place here, which has caused it to be pointed out as the scene of bloody tragedies, thereby making it quite historical. The Indians themselves have made this spot the stage on which has been enacted several desperate battles. In making the journey to Santa Fé, when these rocks are passed, the traveler counts his march as being drawn to a close. Government troops, on the look-out for Indians on the plains, rarely fail, when they come from New Mexico, to give this place a visit.

Kit Carson had arrived at the place with his escort, and was about establishing his camp. His men were under orders to keep a vigilant watch for Indians, while Kit Carson's restless eye was searching the country in every direction to discover their signs. About three hundred yards distant he discovered white men, and found there was encamped a company of United States volunteers, under the command of Lieutenant Mulony. With this company was a large train of wagons bound for New Mexico. Kit Carson ordered his men to go into camp. The night passed by without any signs of the Indians; but, early in the morning of the subsequent day, as Lieutenant Mulony's men were leading out their animals to picket them in fresh grass, the savages suddenly made their appearance and began an attack upon the picketing party, capturing all their cattle and twenty-six horses. Mulony's men had left their rifles in camp, and therefore, in order to escape being killed, they retreated to their wagons. The cattle, in the confusion which ensued, turned and came towards Kit Carson's camp. He and his men, who were instantly on the alert, made an unexpected charge upon the Indians and recaptured the oxen. During the skirmish which ensued, two of his men dismounted, in order to be more certain of a deliberate aim, but, in so doing, they accidentally let their own horses go loose, and lost them, as they ran away with those that were being stampeded by the red men.

In this affair three of the volunteers were wounded. With the two horses lost by Kit Carson's men, twenty-eight riding animals, belonging to the United States government, were stolen by this band of Camanches. But, had it not been for Kit Carson and his men, Lieutenant Mulony would have lost his cattle likewise.

Young oxen, when stampeded, are sometimes lost by the Indians. When not killed by wolves they usually join with the herds of buffalo and soon become wild. In this state, they are represented as being quite fleet of foot. More generally, they fall a prey to the wolves, and sometimes, again into the hands of the savages. A party was crossing the plains in the year 1854; the advance of the party sent back word that the first buffalo was in sight. Many amateur hunters eagerly volunteered for the chase, and soon, quite a squad of men were traveling at a good round gallop towards the supposed game. On approaching the game, it was found to be an old lame ox, which had been turned out by some caravan to die. The disappointment which prevailed in this crowd of neophyte hunters, on discovering this mistake, can be better imagined than described. The poor ox, apparently, had no idea of giving up the ghost quite yet. He was in good health and spirits, and showed signs of being pleased to see a white man again. The little birds of the prairies had used him as a perch. This office he appeared quite accustomed to perform, for he did not disturb the flock that was then occupying his back. How he had escaped the wolves is a miracle.

From signs discovered after the Indians had decamped, it became evident that several of the thieves had been mortally wounded; but, being tied on their horses, they were carried out of sight before they died. This is a fair sample of many of the Indian fights which have occurred, and are yet not unfrequent, on the prairies; the object of the savages is to plunder; therefore, an unguarded moment is selected for their attacks. In this instance, by the time the whites had got their firearms and men ready to commence the contest, the Indians had perpetrated their intended assault and were off.

The Camanches are excelled by no men in the world in their horsemanship, not excepting the famous Cossacks of Europe. The level prairies are beautiful fields for them to act on. It is in a skirmish similar to the one we have endeavored to describe, that they put these qualifications to the test. The arena where these scenes are enacted is a very undesirable place for a mere spectator. Kit Carson and party resumed their march the same day, and arrived safely at Santa Fé, without meeting with any other adventures. At this town he left his escort of fifty volunteers, and hired sixteen other men with which to perform the remainder of his journey. This was in obedience to the orders he had received at Fort Leavenworth. Pursuing his route on Muddy Creek, a tributary of Virgin River, he came upon a village of some three hundred Indians, so suddenly, as his route twisted about among the hills, that he had to make a bold matter of it, and go into camp, for the purpose of having a "talk." Kit Carson had learned some time before that these very red men had massacred seven Americans. For this reason he determined not to trust them, even if they professed friendship. The Indians wished to come into his camp, but this privilege he would by no means grant to them. He posted his men and selected a place so that he himself could talk, and at the same time let them see that if the least hostile demonstration was made by their side, it would be answered by a volley of bullets from the rifles of the white men. Kit Carson harangued them and informed them that he knew of the murders they had committed on his people during the past year. He told them that they bore a treacherous character and could not be treated as friends, and wound up his discourse by adding, that he would not allow himself to be deceived, for he knew that their only object in gaining admission into his camp was to repeat their bloody acts. He now gave them a limited period of time in which to be off, at the expiration of which, several lounged about, apparently doubting his words. He now gave the order to fire. In consequence, a few shots were aimed at them, which killed one and wounded three or four others. This had the tendency to hurry the movements of the remainder, who retired from the dangerous proximity to his camp. This was a case which required some nerve and great experience in the commander of the little party. Nothing but the personal courage and promptness of Kit Carson saved his command. The success of fifteen men against three hundred Indians in this manner, is chiefly due to their commander.

The party proceeded on their journey, but soon were troubled for food. Having used up all the game they could find, they were obliged to kill two mules, on which they lived until they arrived at Los Angelos. Kit Carson, finding that the officers to whom he was ordered to deliver his dispatches were at Monterey, journeyed thither, and having reached that town in safety, gave the documents to Col. Mason, then of the First Regiment of United States dragoons, who was in command. Obeying orders, Kit Carson, now an acting lieutenant in the United States army, returned to Los Angelos and was assigned to do duty in the company of United States dragoons commanded by Captain Smith. Kit was allowed little time to recruit, but his restless disposition did not ask, nor his habits require it; consequently, he remained at Los Angelos only a short period. With a command of twenty-five dragoons, he was ordered to proceed to Tajon Pass, the main outlet through which hostile Indians went out of California, bearing the proceeds of their incursions, such as cattle, horses, sheep and captives. Kit Carson's duty in this place was to intercept the Indians and examine their papers and cargoes. He spent the winter in doing much good in this service. In the spring, he was again ordered to proceed overland to Washington, with dispatches. An escort being furnished him, he was soon under way, and had reached Grand River without encountering any serious difficulty. At this place an accident happened to his party while crossing the river on rafts.

During the early part of summer, the fording of streams which have their source in the Rocky Mountains is no safe or easy task. When the sun and the warm south winds begin to melt the immense piles of snow and ice in the mountains, the water comes tumbling down in torrents; and, having overflowed the rivers' banks, floods the adjacent country. By this means, new gullies and ravines are continually forming, which, when the melting process ceases, are converted into dry beds. With this rush of angry water, large rocks and masses of earth are swept from their natural seat, leaving a wreck behind that is fearfully grand to behold. The roaring of these torrents as they come leaping past and over every obstacle, resembles a low, rumbling thunder, which is reechoed through the deep forests and cañons. Sometimes travelers are compelled to wait weeks before these rivers fall sufficiently to allow a safe transit. Heavy rains have the same effect to enlarge them; and, in one instance, a body of soldiers, while crossing the plains, were overtaken by these rains, which fell with such rapidity and in such quantity as to make the level prairies almost one sheet of water, while every ravine was converted into a river, swift and deep. To cross these, the men were obliged to use their best exertions with very poor means to guard against loss; and, even with the best care, one man was drowned, while several mules shared the same fate. In the prospective construction of bridges for highroads and railroad tracks across the continent, in certain seasons of the year, this sudden accumulation and explosion of water may cause trouble by sweeping them suddenly away.

This accident crippled the resources of Kit Carson's party very much and caused them afterwards great suffering. The accident occurred something after the following manner. One division of the men, with their leader as a companion, had constructed a float of logs, on which they had crossed the stream in safety; but the second branch of the party, under charge of Lieutenant Brewerton, then of the United States army, and who was traveling in company with Kit Carson, were not so successful with their raft; for, no sooner did they get it into the swift current than it became unmanageable, and finally precipitated its contents, among which were included several of the men and their luggage, into the water. The wrecked men with great difficulty saved their lives by swimming to the shore from which they had started. The day was far spent and no attempt to succor them could be made that evening; so, in their semi-state of nudity, and without the means of making a fire, they passed a miserably cold night; but, early the next morning, one of their friends recrossed and carried them an axe, by the aid of which a new raft was made, on which they embarked a second time and were soon safe with their companions. Among the very useful articles that were lost by this mishap there were several saddles and six valuable rifles. What made this loss peculiarly unpleasant was, that they could not be replaced until the party could reach the settlements. The owners of the saddles were now in a sad plight; for, neither to the rider or his horse is it a very pleasant prospect to make a long journey without these useful articles. After repairing their damages as best they could, they struck out afresh. Setting aside hunger and the suffering experienced from exposure to cold, they were not again incommoded in any way until they had come to the vicinity of the Mexican towns. Here they met several hundred Utah and Apache Indians. These red skins showed some warlike symptoms which Kit Carson did not in the least fancy; but, to make the best of his situation, he ordered his men to post themselves in a neighboring thicket and be ready to act on the defensive. Kit Carson then informed the Indians that they must keep at a proper distance, or otherwise he would direct his men to fire into them. He told them that if they were disposed to be friendly, which they professed to be, towards the white men, they could show it by leaving and not annoying his party, who, being nearly naked and in a destitute condition, could give them nothing. Evidently the savages saw this was true, and so did not hazard a fight, but departed. Kit Carson traveled that night ten miles further. It was late in the day when he again ventured on the trail, but this distance was all that his animals could accomplish without food and rest, for they were fatigued and poor. His object in thus resuming his march, was to separate himself and men as far as he could from the Indians, fearing that they might change their minds and conclude to attack him. Being too weak, his party was in no condition for an engagement. At the end of this distance he fortunately met with a party of volunteers, who had been out in search of these very savages, in order that they might punish them for some rascality they had been recently guilty of. The next day Kit Carson reached Taos, where he allowed himself a short respite for the purpose of recruiting, and also to have the pleasure of a visit to his family and friends. These were privileges which, during his life in the mountains, had been seldom granted to him, though his feelings of attachment for relatives and intimate acquaintances are not exceeded by those of any living man. Indeed, his love for his children is unbounded. We have several times heard him assert, that if there was any one thing that could make him a coward, it would be the thoughts of his little ones. When his party was sufficiently recruited, Kit Carson left Taos and proceeded to Santa Fé. At this time Colonel Newby, of the Illinois Volunteers, was in command of the United States forces stationed there. This gentleman informed Kit Carson that his appointment as lieutenant, made by President Polk, was not confirmed by the United States Senate. Many of Kit's friends, on hearing this, came to him and advised him not to carry the dispatches any further; but, instead, they counseled him to deliver them to the commanding officer of the post he was at, advising him that he was doing duty as an officer in the army and yet was not recognized by government. The language used by Kit Carson on this occasion, in reply to his friends, is so much to his credit and is so like the man, that every American citizen ought to know it. It was as follows: "I was intrusted with these dispatches, having been chosen in California, from whence I come, as the most competent person to take them through safely. I would try to fulfill this duty even if I knew it would cost me my life. It matters not to me, while I am performing this service for my country, whether I hold the rank of a lieutenant in the United States army, or am known merely as an experienced mountaineer. I have gained some little honor and credit for the manner in which I have always conducted myself when detailed on any special and important business, and I would on no account now wish to forfeit the good opinion formed of me by a majority of my countrymen because the United States Senate did not deem it proper to confer on me an appointment which I never solicited, and one which, had I been confirmed, I would have resigned at the termination of the war."

The reasons why the wishes of the President were not carried out by Congress in this instance, we know not; but, certain it is, that the lucky aspirant who eventually received this office at the hands of the same United States, had no credentials to present that could, as far as merit was concerned, compare with those held by Christopher Carson. It is fair to infer, that Kit Carson had but few friends at court, though it cannot for one moment be supposed that his name was not well known at Washington, when for five long years he had been the right-hand man of John C. Fremont in his explorations. The privates and the hardships which that commander and his guide willingly submitted to during those years, it is impossible to describe through reports. The whole newspaper press of the United States, together with several volumes of well-written books, have attempted it, but all have failed in giving a true picture of the reality. These things availed nothing when brought in contact with political moves; and Kit Carson was doomed to go by the board. He had, however, met, during his eventful life, with too many disappointments to be much chagrined at this, and we find him, soon afterwards, making inquiries in relation to the state of feeling among the Indians who inhabited the country through which he had to pass.

The appointment of civilians to the responsible duties of a command in the United States army has, of late years, become, in many instances, very unfortunate. Perhaps it is this that has taught our legislators a lesson. But there is a truth which lies above this difficulty. The severe ordeal necessary to be gone through with at West Point, in order to make military men of the proper standard, has very naturally raised a jealousy between these two classes of men. This is very healthy for the country, as it stimulates each to noble exertions. In order to make the army less secluded, it is necessary to appoint a certain per-centage of men from the walks of private life, and therefore the most meritorious should be selected. West Point men, as a body, are a great credit to our country; and, as a scientific corps, they cannot be surpassed; but, the fact is incontrovertible, that many, if not most of the leading officers of the United States army, are self-educated, and have risen to their exalted positions by untiring industry and distinguished services. For frontier work, men, to be capable of taking command, are required to have great experience in Indian strategy, and to become accustomed to endure privations and vicissitudes. These cannot be taught by schools or books. For these positions those are best fitted who have been trained to the mountains from earliest boyhood, and where is the man in North America who has battled in this service longer or more successfully than Christopher Carson? But Kit Carson could see no reason why the votes of the United States Senators, refusing to confirm the President's effort to reward him for his services to his country, should cause him for one moment to swerve from his duty. He pocketed at once his disappointment, and went to work. Colonel Newby informed him that the Camanches had of late been very hostile, and that they were then roaming in war parties, numbering from two to three hundred, scattered along the old Santa Fé road, on which their depredations had, so far, been mostly committed. On learning this, Kit Carson determined to make a trail of his own, and endeavor thus to avoid them. He reduced the number of his escort to ten trusty followers. With them, he returned to Taos, and after a halt there of two days, once more was on the march. At first, he traveled to the northward, until he reached a tract of country which these Indians seldom visited; then, changing his route by compass, he struck the Bijoux River, which is a tributary of the Platte River, and followed it down stream. At about twenty-five miles from the mouth of the Bijoux, he quit that stream, and struck out diagonally across the prairies, and soon reached the Platte itself, down which he journeyed to Fort Kearney. Here he again changed his course for the Republican Fork. On leaving this last-named stream, he traveled direct to Fort Leavenworth, finally reaching that post with his men and animals in fine condition, for the journey had been as pleasant as could have been expected. Here he left his escort, and set out alone for Washington. After reaching the land of railroads and steamboats, he was but a few days in bringing the latter part of his journey to an end. Handing his dispatches to the proper authorities, Kit Carson turned right about and made his way to New Mexico, where he arrived in the month of October, 1848.

It will be seen by following on a map the route which Kit Carson planned on this occasion, that it was very circuitous, and led him a great distance out of his way. Indeed he was, at times, far beyond the roaming grounds of the Camanches, but this was necessary. He was not, however, free from danger; but was obliged to be on the lookout for their allies, the Kiowas, who are usually at war whenever the Camanche nation is. His trail led him through a country which is celebrated as abounding in game, and also in being well watered, and last, but not least, the desideratum of finding grass of a good quality, whenever he desired it, was proved a valuable assistant on the march. It may be well to mention here, that one of the most curious of the phenomena of the plains, to the inexperienced traveler, are those mirages which, on every clear day, are sure to meet and delude his eyes. So wonderful are these deceptions, that often the vision leads one to believe he is beholding, in the distance, a beautiful city which is located on the banks of some attractive lake. The outlines of the palaces, spires of cathedrals, and even the lesser buildings themselves, all surrounded with trees, bearing luxuriant and green foliage, together, form an imaginary picture which throws into the background any of the realities which are the work of man. The shading is oftentimes very captivating, and on it the traveler can be entertained for hours, until a change in the rays of light or intervening clouds, or else by approaching the delusion itself, the magic scene fades away. A mirage and a prairie on fire, seen by night, the one a delusion, the other a fearful reality, are two of the grandest sights to be seen in the far West; we might add, on the American continent.

CHAPTER XIII.

Kit Carson at his Home—The Apache Indians become hostile—An Expedition sent against them—It is not successful—Another is organized, with which, Kit Carson goes as Guide—Two Indian Chiefs captured—Other Incidents of the Trip—Colonel Beall attempts to force the Indians to give up Mexican Captives—Two thousand Savages on the Arkansas River—The Visit to them—Kit Carson emigrates and builds a Ranche at Rayado—Description of the Valley—The Massacre of a Santa Fé Merchant—His Wife is made Prisoner—The Expedition sent to rescue her—The Indians overtaken—Bad Counsel and Management—The commanding Officer wounded—Mrs. White's Body found—Severe Snow Storm on the Plains—One Man frozen to Death—Kit Carson returns to Rayado—The occupation of a Farmer resumed—The Apaches steal from the Settlers nearly all their Animals—Kit Carson with thirteen others in the Pursuit—The Surprise—A running Fight—The Animals recovered—A gallant Sergeant and his Fate—Kit Carson and Goodel go on a Trading Expedition to meet California Emigrants at Fort Laramie—Humorous Adventures—The Dangers that beset the Road to New Mexico—Hair-breadth Escape—Arrival at Taos.

Being comfortably housed in his own pleasant home at Taos, Kit Carson made up his mind to treat himself to a more lengthy stay there than he had for some time enjoyed. While he was quietly enjoying the pleasures of home, active operations were transpiring about him, for the neighboring Indians had dug up the tomahawk and buried the calumet, and were holding in defiance the United States forces, which had been stationed in New Mexico to protect its inhabitants. Colonel Beall was at that time commanding officer of the district, and had established his head-quarters at Taos. The colonel, soon after assuming the command, being a resolute man, saw that there was but one way to deal with these Indians, and that was to bring them to a strict account, and make them amenable for their many crimes. This tribe of Apaches has given the government of the United States almost as much trouble as have the Seminoles in Florida, and I hesitate not in saying, that before they are exterminated, which is the only sure plan of making a peace with them, they will have surpassed their red brethren of the swamps of the South in the number and enormity of their crimes. Before New Mexico came under the jurisdiction of the United States, the Apaches, for many years, had committed all kinds of heinous offences against the Mexicans; and, for a period of ten years after that event, these same savages were continually on the war path, notwithstanding military expeditions, one after another, were organized and sent out against them. Their mountain retreats are almost inaccessible to white men, while the Indians, apparently, play about in them like rabbits. The amount of physical endurance and the length of the journeys these red men can make, appear very astonishing to one not accustomed to them. The Apaches, as an Indian race, are not wanting in bravery, the best evidence of which statement is, that nearly all their warriors die in battle. Their country is the healthiest in America. Besides waging war against the whites and Mexicans, they have their differences to settle with their neighboring tribes, with whom they are punctilious in vindicating their national honor. Colonel Beall commenced his operations against these Indians by dispatching a junior officer, backed by a strong force, with orders to pursue, overtake, and chastise them. This expedition started; but, on coming to the mountains, the guides reported that there was too much snow on them for the command to pass through in safety; so the undertaking was given up, and the men were marched back to Taos.

The most famous war chief of the Apaches, during these troubles, was called by the Mexicans Chico Velasques, and his name, for many years, was a terror to the surrounding country. His savage brutality knew no bounds, and he was truly in his element, only when he was tearing the bloody scalp from his half-lifeless victim. He was the sworn enemy of the Americans and Mexicans, and his hunting-knife was rarely clean of human blood, until his cruel life, by the wise decrees of an all-seeing Providence, was suddenly cut short. He fought against his disease (small pox) with that rashness that had been his ruling spirit through life, and thus ingloriously terminated his days. The pride of this man was to strut through the Mexican towns and gloat over his many crimes. To the gazing crowd, he would point out the trophies of his murders, which he never failed to have about him. To his fringed leggins were attached the phalanges (or finger bones) of those victims whom he had killed with his own hands. On the one side, he proclaimed to his auditors, were the fingers of the Mexicans, while on the other, were the same tokens from the Americans; and it gave him great delight, ironically, to dwell upon the latter name. With whip in hand, he struck out right and left when anything displeased him. He met one day more than his match in the person of the famous Mexican hunter, Armador Sanchez, of whom we have previously spoken. The circumstances of this rencounter were as follows: The bold Indian, with but few followers, was on a visit of pleasure to the Mexican town of Culebro. He had agreed to a temporary peace, to suit his convenience and ends; and, taking advantage of it, he made his appearance in the settlements, to lord it over the peaceable inhabitants. After indulging in a little fire-water, his wicked propensities could be controlled no longer, and broke forth in minor cruelties. At last he found himself in the house belonging to Sanchez, who was quietly conversing with his aged father, for whom he had great veneration, and also with his son. The Indian peremptorily demanded that some whisky should be given him. He was informed by Sanchez that he did not keep the article. A second demand was now made, with the threat that if it was not forthcoming immediately, he would whip the person who refused him. This had the effect of bringing Sanchez to his feet, when the following colloquy, in Spanish, between him and the Indian transpired: "Chico Velasques, you have long been accustomed to treat our people almost as you please. You have robbed and murdered us at your will, notwithstanding we have given you no cause thus to act. Had you asked for bread, I would have given it to you, for the door of my house is always open to the friendly red man; but, as for whisky, you can have none from my hands. Raise that whip but once to strike me, and I will dash your brains out with this mass of lead." Suiting his actions to his words, Sanchez drew forth from the pocket of his hunting-shirt a slung shot that weighed nearly four ounces, which he always carried to dispatch his game with when it was in the last agonies of death. With uplifted hand, the Indian hesitated; for, he knew the character of the man who stood before him, as they had hunted together during many moons gone by, on the same mountains and on the same trail. At last, using his own savage dialect, in order that his words could not be understood by others about him, the savage answered the Mexican hunter by saying, "that by chance they might some day meet again;" a threat which fell harmless at the feet of Sanchez. As he took his departure, the chief added, in Spanish, "I will tell these things to my father,²⁰ Kit Carson," as if further attempting to intimidate the hunter; but Sanchez knew that his own and Carson's opinions were the same in regard to this man; therefore, he smiled at the rascal's knavery. Chico Velasques was followed in his chieftainship by Blanco, who did his utmost to walk in the footsteps of his illustrious predecessor; but, he was not so cunning, and was less successful in his encounters with the Americans and Mexicans, and therefore had not that influence with his tribe which the former possessed. Still, he performed his quantum of mischief, and yet lives to play his part in the great drama of Indian life. An Apache Indian is rather small in stature, but everything about him denotes symmetry and strength. His limbs are almost straight, and their muscles are as hard as iron. The elasticity of his movements, when in the least excited, shows a high degree of physical training. His coal-black eye exhibits an amount of treachery rarely seen elsewhere, proving the truth of the Chinese adage, that "the tongue may deceive, but the eye can never play the rogue."

But to return to the narrative. The commanding officer of the party sent out against these Indians, on arriving again at Taos, reported to Col. Beall that the reason he had returned was because, at the present time, it was impracticable to cross the mountains. That brave and experienced officer replied, "that there was no such word as impracticable in the soldier's vocabulary, and that nothing ought to be impossible for the 1st regiment of United States dragoons to accomplish." Suiting his actions to his words, Col. Beall reorganized the command, took charge of it himself, and employed Kit Carson as his guide. When everything was in proper trim, this expedition set out, and after surmounting many obstacles and privations, finally accomplished the feat of crossing the snow-clad mountains, and after a long and fruitless search for the Indians, the men were obliged to turn about, because their stock of provisions was running low. As the command emerged through the "Sangre de Christo Pass," on their return route, they came suddenly into view of a village of Apaches. As soon as the Indians were discovered the charge was sounded, but the animals of the dragoons were too much jaded to obey the summons with the celerity wished for by their riders; the result was that, besides a considerable amount of plunder, only two persons were taken, but they, fortunately, proved to be no less than two important chiefs. In order to impress these Indians with the fairness and liberality which his government wished to show to the red men, after a long talk, in which the colonel exacted promises of good behavior, he let the prisoners go. They departed, to forget as quickly as possible all their vows and promises; for, seemingly, they will act in no other way than as their own savage instinct teaches. After this affair, Col. Beall made a direct march for Taos, where he remained for some time, attending to the ordinary duties of his garrison.

In the treaty between the United States and New Mexico, entered into at the close of the Mexican War, a clause was inserted binding the former to turn over to the latter all the Mexican captives then held by the Indians who inhabited territory belonging to the first named government. The carrying out of this provision of the treaty involved the United States government in a large and constant bill of expense. This was, undoubtedly, unavoidable, for even had the clause not been inserted in the treaty, the maintenance of about the same frontier military forces would have been necessary. It would have proved a difficult matter to carry out this treaty to the letter.

If it had been so carried out to the letter, the Camanches would have been great sufferers, for at least one third of the blood that now runs in their veins is Mexican. During the last half century, and perhaps longer, they have been accustomed to make annual visits into the Mexican settlements of Old Mexico. The object of these hostile incursions has ever been to load themselves with plunder. They steal all the horses that fall in their way, and also take for captives as many young children as they can lay hands on. The latter are brought up in true Indian style, and, having cast off all remembrance of their former habits and friends, they gradually become the wild men of the plains. The female captives, on arriving at the suitable age, are married to the young warriors of the tribe, and thus the true Indian stock, becoming amalgamated with the Mexico-Spanish blood, is fast becoming degenerated. The reason, therefore, why the fulfillment of this treaty would have militated strongly against the Camanche Indians especially, is clearly apparent.

In the following February, Col. Beall learned that on the Arkansas River there were congregated a large body of Indians, who had quite a number of Mexicans in bondage. He felt it to be his duty to visit these savages and endeavor to have them deliver up all such captives, using peaceable means to accomplish this result in the first instance; and, should they fail, he made up his mind to resort to more forcible and potent arguments. With this determination, and with two companies of dragoons to back him and Kit Carson as his guide, he set out on his mission. In due time he reached the Arkansas, and there found congregated four tribes of Indians who numbered in the vicinity of two thousand souls. Their object in thus coming together was to have a grand council and lay out plans for the future, and also to meet their agent. This agent, who was an experienced mountaineer, informed the colonel that, considering the present state of ill feeling existing among these Indians towards the whites, it would be useless to make the demand for the prisoners; and as to using force, it would almost certainly prove a failure, when such a large number of well armed warriors were arrayed against him. It required a great deal of persuasion to bring the colonel around to this mode of thinking; but, at last he yielded to the advice of his friends and concluded to make no demonstration against the Indians at the present time, concluding, as his anger cooled, that it was the wisest policy to await a more favorable opportunity, when a treaty could be made with them, in which there could be an article inserted that would stipulate for the restoration of the captives.

In parting with these red men without accomplishing the main object for which they came, both officers and men felt that their labors had not been entirely thrown away. Their presence must have left lasting impressions on the minds of the savages, in showing them that they no longer had poorly clad and poorly armed Mexican soldiers to deal with.

On arriving again in Taos, Kit Carson returned to his home to ruminate over what was best for him to take up as a business for the future. He revolved in his thoughts his past career, and, in the end, finished the mental study by resolving to give up his roaming life, as he rightly considered that now was the time, if ever, that he should be making a substantial home for himself and family, before old age crept upon and disabled him from the undertaking. About the time that he was in this frame of mind, his old mountaineer friend, Maxwell, was about going to a pretty little valley called by the Mexicans Rayado. Maxwell proposed to Kit Carson to join him in the enterprise of building a ranche on the site which he had selected. This offer the latter gladly accepted. Rayado would have, long before, been settled by the Mexicans, had they not been deterred by its exposure, and consequent inviting position for Indian depredations. The valley is about fifty miles east from Taos; and, for its scenery, cannot be surpassed by anything of the kind in America. Standing at the head of it on a blunt bluff, you look down and out on the prairies, and nothing can be more enchanting than the view that is thus presented. On each side there are lofty hills, which, when green with grass and foliage, add a magic beauty to the scene. Through the valley, as if it had been intended for its dividing line, runs a broad mountain stream, the banks of which are now metamorphosed into beautiful fields.

We stop here to undeceive the reading public concerning an idea which has gained currency by the extraordinary imaginative writings of novelists. These trashy fictions represent the western plains, or prairies, as flower-beds. In this a great mistake has become prevalent. A traveler often pursues his way over them for many days without seeing anything to interrupt the continuity of green grass except it be the beautiful road over which he is journeying. Near the slopes of the mountains and on the river banks the remark will apply. There, fields of wild flowers are often found growing in great luxuriance.

The settlement was soon after commenced by Kit Carson and Maxwell, and, as now completed, is really a beautiful spot. It is located about midway down the valley. Among its several houses, there are two which are more conspicuous than the rest. In the finest of these two, the owner of which has taken great pains and spent much valuable time with its construction, lives Maxwell, whose honest pride is the being master of a model farm. In the residence next most to be admired in Rayado, Kit Carson sometimes sojourns.

The mansion which belongs to Maxwell would be an ornament to any country. At one time, it was used as a garrison for American troops, and on it, the soldiers made many improvements. It is built one story high, in the shape of a hollow square, and has the size of an ordinary block in a city. Around the whole runs a fine veranda. With its lofty ceilings, large and airy rooms, and its fine yard in the centre of the square, which is well stored with its fowls, pigeons, and other pet animals, with appropriate kennels; with antlers of noble buck and elk; hams of venison, buffalo meat, wild turkeys, etc., and near by a fine vegetable garden; altogether, it presents a picture of sumptuous living rarely seen within the pale of civilization. Maxwell counts his steeds and cattle by hundreds, while his flocks of sheep are enumerated by thousands. Near by stands Kit Carson's ranche, which, though more modest, yet, when the hunter occupies it, in dead game and comfort, it fully rivals its compeer. Around these two hunters live a handful of Mexican friends, who are either engaged in agricultural pursuits for themselves, or else in the employ of the "lords of the manor," Carson and Maxwell.

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

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

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

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