[Illustration: “‘Here I am, Kit! Don’t shoot!’”]
Every Boy’s Library—Boy Scout Edition
SCOUTING WITH KIT CARSON
BY
EVERETT T. TOMLINSON
AUTHOR OF
SCOUTING WITH DANIEL BOONE, Etc.
ILLUSTRATED BY
JOHN FROST
NEW YORK
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS
Copyright, 1916, by
Doubleday, Page & Company
All rights reserved, including that of
translation into foreign languages,
including the Scandinavian
PREFACE
Perhaps it is unnecessary to explain that the purpose of the author
primarily has been to write a story, not a biography. And yet behind
the story stands the romantic character of the great trapper, scout,
guide, messenger, and soldier—Kit Carson. In every way the aim has been
to portray him in a manner that should be true to his unique
personality and his adventurous life. There is a basis of truth for the
incidents incorporated in the tale. Although exact chronology has been
impossible, still an attempt has been made in a general way, to present
in order, various phases of Kit Carson’s stirring life. The courage and
truthfulness of the famous scout, his modesty and determination, as
well as his fidelity and his friendliness are qualities of life never
more in demand than to-day. Where can our boys and girls learn of their
value better than in becoming familiar with a life which, whatever its
limitations may have been, surely possessed these valuable qualities.
Is it not high time, too, for young Americans to be taught that in the
romance and adventure of the early days of our own country there are
heroes as deserving of recognition as the semi-fabulous characters in
the early life of nations across the sea? Whatever may be taught of the
latter, surely American boys and girls ought not to be ignorant of the
early heroes of their own land.
Everett T. Tomlinson.
Elizabeth, New Jersey.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I—THE CAMP ON THE PLAINS
CHAPTER II—IN PURSUIT OF A HERD
CHAPTER III—THREE CHEYENNES
CHAPTER IV—RAT TRUE
CHAPTER V—THE FAME OF THE TRAPPER
CHAPTER VI—ALONE
CHAPTER VII—MOUNTAIN TROUT
CHAPTER VIII—AN UNEXPECTED MEETING
CHAPTER IX—WOLF’S CLOTHING
CHAPTER X—ATTACKED
CHAPTER XI—A TRYING EXPERIENCE
CHAPTER XII—A PUZZLING MESSENGER
CHAPTER XIII—PURSUIT
CHAPTER XIV—CAPTURED
CHAPTER XV—A LONELY RIDE
CHAPTER XVI—A MOUNTAIN LION
CHAPTER XVII—THE COMING OF RAT
CHAPTER XVIII—A FIGHT
CHAPTER XIX—TRAPPED
CHAPTER XX—WILD HORSES
CHAPTER XXI—THE CHASE OF THE LEADER
CHAPTER XXII—A WHITE MAN IN THE INDIAN VILLAGE
CHAPTER XXIII—BAFFLED
CHAPTER XXIV—A FRESH ATTEMPT
CHAPTER XXV—THE CAPTIVE LEADER
CHAPTER XXVI—THE RETURN OF RAT
CHAPTER XXVII—THE THEFT
CHAPTER XXVIII—THE RETURN
CHAPTER XXIX—THE GREAT SCOUT AND THE GREAT EXPLORER
CHAPTER XXX—CONCLUSION
ILLUSTRATIONS
“‘Here I am, Kit! Don’t shoot!’”
“Several Indians seated themselves before the mouth of the cave”
“The trembling boy was able to see the scout as he drew his knife”
“Instantly Kit Carson struck the treacherous redskin a blow between his
eyes with his fist”
SCOUTING WITH KIT CARSON
CHAPTER I—THE CAMP ON THE PLAINS
“I am glad we are going to stop here.”
“It ees so. The boy ees mooch tired?”
“Yes, I am tired,” responded Reuben Benton. “I have been in the saddle
since before sun-up. Sometimes it seems to me as if I had been riding
forever and a day.”
The conversation ceased, and both men, leaping from the backs of their
tired horses, first stretched themselves and then danced about in a
manner not in the least suggestive of weariness. The action, however,
was not so much to express their pleasure as to give relief to the
cramped muscles of their backs and legs that now were almost numb.
The ponies manifestly, too, were glad of the respite. It was a long
trail from St. Louis, or Pain Court, as the trading post frequently was
called ninety years before this story was written, to the foothills of
the Rocky Mountains. For many days the two weary travellers had
steadily ridden across the arid plains. In certain places they had
forded rivers or had crossed on boats or rafts, that now were left far
behind them. Here and there along the uncertain trail they had camped
near the springs that occasionally were to be found. It was a spring
which now had caused the two men to halt and to prepare their camp for
the night.
For a brief moment both men turned and looked sharply all about them.
Not far away, although they were much farther than they appeared to be,
the towering Rocky Mountains lifted their summits high in the air. Some
of the peaks still were covered with snow, although nearly all of them
at this time in the summer were bare and bleak. Gorges and cañons were
plainly visible, and the keen look which each of the riders gave them
indicated that they were aware that these great defiles among the giant
hills might be the hiding-places of savage beasts or of no less savage
Indians. Indeed, the latter were much more to be feared, for recently
there had been an increasing hatred of the whites manifested by all the
tribes of the prairies and the mountains beyond. Not that many white
men as yet had ventured into the wilderness, but the few that had done
so had aroused feelings of fear and anger lest the pale-faced men might
be merely scouts for a larger body that was following them. Rumours of
battles fought farther east between the Indians and the settlers had
made their way somehow even across the plains. Many of the actions, as
well as the activities, of certain of the trappers and hunters, in
their occasional visits among the tribes, also had not tended to soothe
the fears or allay the feelings of the suspicious redmen.
Although thoughts of such perils were in the minds of the two men who
had halted for the night, neither referred to them, nor was there any
unusual anxiety betrayed by either. The horses now were hobbled,
blankets were spread on the sandy soil, and a few cooking utensils were
taken from the backs of the pack-horses, and all things were made ready
speedily for the night that was fast approaching.
The horse of Jean Badeau, the elder of the two men, would have been
noticed even by a passing stranger. Even after the long ride of the day
was ended, there still was a flash in the eyes of Proveau, as Jean
called his horse, and splotches of foam were still flying from his
mouth when he proudly tossed his head.
The horse of Reuben Benton, though its coat was not quite as sleek and
its eyes betokened a greater weariness than those of his companion’s
mount, still was manifestly fleet and strong. Four other ponies also
were in the little caravan, and it was not long before the burdens they
carried were removed from their backs and placed together on the
ground.
As soon as the contents of the packs were seen it was evident that the
men were engaged in what was a not infrequent occupation in these early
days: both men were trappers. Indeed, numerous traps tied together were
seen among the burdens carried by the patient animals. Powder and lead,
two or three blankets, a few cooking utensils, and a scanty store of
provisions comprised most of the outfit of the little train.
Of the two trappers, Jean Badeau was a man of medium height, with dark
hair, and eyes piercing and black as midnight. His swarthy skin as well
as his manner of shrugging his shoulders indicated that he was French.
Whether he had come from St. Louis or Montreal, or even from France
itself, he had not explained to his companion. It was in St. Louis,
however, that Reuben first had met him, and there he had agreed to
accompany Jean on his long journey to the Rockies, where they were to
trap until late in the fall or early winter.
Their first plan had been to go to the upper waters of the Missouri
River. When, however, they learned that several large trapping parties
were also planning to go to the same country, Jean decided that their
opportunities would be better and their chances of success much more if
they should leave their companions, and set their traps among the hills
or mountains farther south, where some of the smaller streams had their
rise.
Jean was about thirty-eight or forty years of age. The muscles of his
neck and shoulders indicated his great physical strength. His heavy
chest and long arms were silent witnesses to the power of the
Frenchman.
Nor was Reuben Benton a weakling. Slightly taller than his companion,
he, too, had dark hair and black eyes, but the tint of his skin
indicated that it was due more to the sun and winds he had encountered
on his long journey from St. Louis than to its original colouring. His
eyes were expressive of the kindness of his heart, and it was clear
that Reuben was not one that easily lost his temper or self-possession.
Perhaps it was for this reason that Jean, whose success as a hunter and
trapper was well known, had urged the lad to accompany him. He himself
was the possessor of neither of these two virtues. Indeed, Reuben had
told him that “he was not so much a man who had a temper as he was a
man whose temper had him.”
The difficulties confronting the two men were many. The food they had
brought was not sufficient to provide for their wants more than a few
days, and for the greater part they must depend for supplies upon their
own skill with their rifles. However, as game was plentiful in the
region, neither was anxious concerning the outlook for their immediate
future. They were much more fearful of the red-skinned Indians among
the defiles of the mountains and of possible rivals whom they might
encounter in their visits to their traps.
Of all the trappers that had gone forth that year they were the only
ones who had ventured to start with only two in the party. Whether or
not they were wise in their undertaking will be better understood as
the story of their adventures is unfolded.
In a brief time after they had arrived at the spring their camp had
been made, brush had been gathered for a fire, the horses had been
hobbled, and Jean had taken his flint and tinder and after two quick
attempts had started a fire in the dry brush. The sun was still well
above the tops of the mountains, but darkness, when it fell, would come
suddenly.
“I’m telling you,” said Jean, “that we start on Friday. That is ver’
mooch onlucky.”
“Why is it unlucky?” laughed Reuben, who was not greatly moved by the
superstitious fears of his companion. “Do you think we shall have
trouble or that we shan’t get any skins?”
“I fear ver’ mooch the both things.”
While Jean had been talking he had been preparing their simple supper.
So engrossed was he in his occupation, as well as in the steady stream
of talk he maintained, whether Reuben heeded his words or not, that he
was unaware of what was occurring in the vicinity of the camp. It was
plain that he had entrusted to his younger companion the guardianship
of the camp, while he himself prepared their simple evening meal.
“Look out! Look out!” suddenly shouted Reuben.
At the words of his companion Jean leaped to his feet, grasped his
rifle, which he had left upon the sand nearby, and hastily turned in
the direction indicated by Reuben. In a brief time the sight which had
aroused the younger trapper also stirred the older man.
Not far away a buffalo calf was running directly toward the camp,
evidently exerting itself to the utmost of its strength. Behind it in
swift pursuit were following two long, gaunt wolves.
“It is so scared,” Reuben suggested, “that it probably has taken us for
a herd of buffaloes.”
The calf by this time had in all likelihood discovered its mistake, but
with undiminished speed it was continuing on its way directly through
the camp.
The wolves, however, swiftly moved in a circuit outside the camp, so
that the fugitive secured a slight gain on its enemies, and in a moment
was straining every nerve to reach a large herd which now could be seen
at the foot of the hills not more than two miles away.
“Why didn’t you shoot, Jean?” inquired Reuben.
The trapper shook his head as he replied, “No waste powder.”
“It isn’t wasting powder to shoot one of those wolves!” replied Reuben.
“It’s one of the best pieces of work you can do! Look yonder! It almost
seems as if they had come up out of the ground. There’s one, two,
three, four, five more now that have joined the two already there.”
In silence the two trappers watched the pursuit, and in a brief time
they saw that the number of wolves had increased to twenty or more.
Indeed, the helpless victim was overtaken long before it could find a
refuge among its fellows. The little animal fell an easy prey to its
savage pursuers and was half devoured even before it was dead.
“I wish I had shot heem,” muttered Jean.
“If one of our horses had been saddled I would have helped out the
little beggar. I wonder why it is that one always feels that he wants
the weaker side to win?” inquired Reuben.
Jean shrugged his shoulders, but made no reply, and once more resumed
his task over the fire. Silence rested over the region, for Reuben was
caring for the horses while his friend was busy with his labours.
“I no think they fight mooch,” said Jean in a low voice.
Reuben hastily glanced up at the words of his friend, as for a moment
the flight of the buffalo calf had been forgotten. Looking in the
direction indicated by Jean, he saw that four or five buffaloes had
advanced from the herd, keeping well together, and were moving toward
the pack of wolves that still were busy over what remained of the
unfortunate calf.
“Perhaps they won’t,” responded Reuben, “but they are going to do
something which is almost as bad.”
Both men stood silent as they watched the herd. Although the animals
were two miles distant, as has been said, in the clear air they seemed
to be much nearer, and the entire herd was advancing in a body. Out
from the ravine was coming a steadily increasing number of buffaloes.
Soon the great herd, forming as if some one had been giving directions
which they understood, began to move in such a manner that for a moment
it appeared as if the prowling wolves would be surrounded. In a brief
time, however, the savage animals were aware of the threatening danger,
and with incredible speed fled from the region. The advancing
buffaloes, however, did not halt when they saw their enemies disperse.
Their speed steadily increased. The earth rumbled beneath the heavy
tread of the myriad feet, producing a sound not unlike that of distant
thunder.
An exclamation of dismay or fear from Jean caused Reuben to glance
hastily at his companion; and it was plain that Jean was anxious or
alarmed. Not many minutes elapsed, however, before Reuben understood
the source of his friend’s excitement and was sharing in his feeling of
fear.
The great herd, moving now as if it was controlled by one motive, with
steadily increasing speed was directly approaching the very place which
the trappers had selected for their camping-place.