Several days elapsed before the young trapper obtained any definite
clue concerning his father. At that time, however, he was informed by
the woman with whom he was boarding that she also had been making
inquiries for him, as she had become greatly interested in her young
boarder. She had been informed by a woman who occasionally visited her
place with vegetables for sale that she had heard of a man named Benton
who was in the poorhouse in a nearby town.
Faint as the clue was, Reuben decided to follow it. When at last he was
admitted into the room in which the man who bore the same name as he
was found, he said quickly: “That’s not the man. He isn’t my father.”
“Better look again,” suggested the keeper of the place. “You say it has
been a good many years since you saw him.”
“Yes, it has been a long time,” replied Reuben slowly, as again he
looked keenly at the old and decrepit man before him. The man’s hair
was long, his clothing unkempt, but what appealed most strongly to
Reuben was the fact that the man was totally blind.
At the sound of his voice there had been a strange and sudden movement
on the part of the blind man. He turned his sightless face in the
direction from which Reuben’s voice had been heard and a change in his
expression quickly came over his countenance. There was a change, too,
in Reuben at the same moment, for in the face upon which he was looking
there now were certain features that somehow dimly reminded him of the
father he had known in the years long gone.
“Your voice sounds like the voice of a boy of mine,” suggested the old
man in trembling tones.
“What was his name?” inquired Reuben.
“Reuben Benton.”
“And what is your name?”
“My name is William Benton.”
“How long have you been here?” inquired the young trapper.
“I don’t know. It seems like many years.”
“Do you like it here?”
“Do I like it? I wish I was dead.”
Reuben’s face was glowing with a more tender expression than had been
seen upon it in many a day. “We’ll try to arrange it so that you won’t
have to stay here much longer,” he said.
“What do you mean?” demanded his father so eagerly that Reuben’s heart
smote him again.
“I mean that I am your son and that I have come here to make
arrangements to take you out of this place.”
Abruptly, and to Reuben’s intense surprise, his father suddenly buried
his face in his hands and cried and sobbed as a little child might have
done. It was long before Reuben could comfort him, but when at last the
sightless old man was convinced that Reuben had in reality returned and
that he was able to provide for his wants in his declining years, the
countenance of William Benton was lighter than it had been for many
days.
Nor was Reuben disappointed. In a brief time he was able to obtain the
release of his father and also to purchase a little house in which they
both might live. Reuben’s share in the furs which had been secured, as
we know, had brought him no small amount of money, and through the
influence of Kit Carson he had been able to save most of that which he
had received. Because of this he was now able to provide for his
father, and there was no hesitation on the part of the young trapper in
deciding to remain at Pain Court, or St. Louis, as the place now was
commonly called.
With Kit Carson, however, the case was radically different. He had not
found any trace of his own family, and when a few days had elapsed his
stay in St. Louis was ended. The strange sights of the life in the city
and the activities of the busy city people were all interesting, but as
Kit explained to Reuben, he wanted to be where there weren’t so many
others, where there wasn’t so much noise, where he could have all the
air he wanted to breathe and all the sky there was to be seen.
Accordingly on the first steamboat that departed westward on the
Missouri River, Kit Carson was a passenger.
Among those who were also on board was a man to whom Kit Carson felt
drawn almost instinctively when first he discovered him. It was not
long before he learned that the name of the stranger was Lieutenant
John C. Fremont, who at that time was conducting a band of men to
explore and survey certain regions of the great West.
When at last young Lieutenant Fremont found himself talking to the
famous scout he explained that the guide whom he had expected to meet
him had not appeared and that it was now necessary for him to find
another. Kit Carson, in his quiet manner and smiling as he spoke,
explained that he himself had had considerable experience in the
western country and that he would be willing to accompany the party as
its guide. Somewhat suspicious at first, Lieutenant Fremont’s fears
soon were allayed, and Kit Carson became the guide of the expedition.
As they proceeded on their way more and more the daring young
lieutenant became interested in the modest story which Kit Carson had
to tell of his experiences in the great West; more and more convinced
was Fremont that he had secured a man who was certain to be very
valuable in the perilous expedition in which he was engaged. At last
the party left the boat when it arrived at the mouth of the Kansas
River, and at once the explorers set forth on their pathless journey.
To the men it seemed as if the necessities of life which they were
taking with them had been reduced to the smallest possible number, but
the scout looked on their equipment with amazement. It had never been
his privilege to sleep under canvas tents or cross streams in rubber
boots. We may be sure, however, that simple as were the tastes of Kit
Carson, he found the conveniences which his new friends were carrying a
source of comfort before many days had elapsed.
Steadily the party pushed forward on its journey westward. All day long
the great stretches of level plains extended in every direction. The
herds of buffalo were so many that only the choice bits of those that
were shot were eaten. Indeed, some of the men saved for cooking only
the marrow-bones and the tongues of the buffalo.
Then came the first sight which many of the explorers had ever had of
the wonderful Rocky Mountains. And what a sight they were and are. Some
of them stood with their summits hidden above the clouds and with great
chasms cut into their sides. Some had heavy borders of trees as far up
their sloping sides as the timberline, and others had rushing, noisy,
clattering streams dashing down their sides from the fields of melting
snow near the summits.
And now Kit Carson’s experience became of steadily increasing value to
the young lieutenant. More and more the friendship between the two men
became close. Kit Carson, who knew all about the buffalo and the other
animals of the plains, who was modest in his manner and yet wonderfully
well informed concerning most of the points about which Fremont wished
to learn, his skill as a hunter and his knowledge and friendship of the
Indians, daily became of greater help to the explorers.
Indeed, it was not long after this time, when Kit Carson was carrying a
message to Santa Fe, that the great scout showed his fearlessness even
among the most hostile Indians. At that time all the tribes in the
vicinity were on the warpath, and Kit Carson was compelled to go alone
on his long ride to Santa Fé, because most of the white men were afraid
of the painted savages. The scout, however, selecting a different route
from that which he had followed before, confidently continued on his
way. Suddenly a band of braves were seen not far before him. Slipping
to one side of his horse and clinging by one arm and one leg to the
animal, which was running at its swiftest paces, he passed directly in
front of the band of warriors without exciting any suspicion that they
beheld anything more than a stray pony, which was fleeing in terror at
the sight of the red-skinned warriors.
When Kit Carson returned from his long journey, his friendship with the
daring explorer had become very strong. Fremont had come to value not
merely the immense fund of information which the scout possessed, but
also the traits of character which had endeared him to almost all his
acquaintances.
When the scout was returning, accompanied only by a young Mexican, they
met a party of four Indians. Although Kit Carson was suspicious of the
men, for he was aware of the discontent among the tribes, he
nevertheless disguised his feelings, and when one of the Indians
advanced toward him with outstretched hand Kit Carson approached him in
the same manner. When the brave was about to grasp his hand as a token
of friendship he suddenly changed his tactics and tried to seize and
obtain the gun which the scout was carrying.
Instantly Kit Carson struck the treacherous redskin a blow between his
eyes with his fist. The Indian fell to the ground, but he instantly
leaped to his feet and ran back to his friends as swiftly as he was
able. Immediately all four Indians turned and fled from the place. They
were not accustomed to that method of fighting.
When at last Carson and his young companion arrived at the place they
were seeking, it was to learn that Fremont already had gone on his
westward journey.
Determined to overtake him, the scout quickly set forth from the fort.
It was not difficult for him to rejoin the party which was moving in
advance of him, and plans were quickly made by which he was once more
to become the guide of the explorers. He explained, however, to Fremont
that he wished to return to Fort Bent to secure mules which would be
necessary to carry their burdens when they were journeying over the
mountains.
It was not long before Kit Carson had secured the animals for which he
had left his companions, and in a brief time he rejoined the men on
their march. After they had failed to find a better route for the
wagons through South Pass they decided to go to Salt Lake, of which
they all had heard but which none had seen.
[Illustration: “Instantly Kit Carson struck the treacherous redskin a
blow between his eyes with his fist”]
On that difficult journey across the plains it is impossible to
describe all the sufferings through which the men passed and the
hardships they were compelled to endure. Throughout them all, however,
it was Kit Carson who proved to the lieutenant that he was equal to
every emergency. When the men were near starvation it was his prowess
as a hunter that secured meat for them. When their horses nearly
dropped upon the sands through exhaustion and hunger again it was the
scout who discovered the place where grass was to be found. When the
leader one day fell into the depths of a rushing torrent it was Kit
Carson who saved him from drowning. When they were threatened by the
Indians, again the scout was the one upon whom all depended to obtain
their friendship and secure permission to pass through the country
without molestation.
Again Fremont decided to explore the region of the Oregon or the
Columbia River. When their work was ended the explorer decided to go
southward to California. This was a difficult journey and compelled the
band to cross the lofty range of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Snows
that were so deep that a man might be buried in them had to be crossed.
Paths for the mules and horses had to be made. Sometimes it was
necessary for the men to set fire to the fallen trees so that the snow
nearby would be melted and they might obtain places where their
blankets might be spread for the night.
The determination of the leaders was shared by their followers, and at
last they arrived at Fort Sutter, where, with an abundance of food and
other fresh supplies, they soon regained their strength and spirits.
While they were returning from this expedition Kit Carson, who had been
the life and inspiration of all the men, chanced to meet a Mexican and
his little boy, who apparently were in great sorrow. As Kit Carson
spoke Spanish fluently he entered into conversation with the man and
soon learned that the Indians had stolen his horses and carried away
his friends. Without stopping to consult Lieutenant Fremont, Kit Carson
succeeded in inducing one of the explorers to accompany him, and
together the two men set forth in their endeavour to regain the lost
horses for the Mexican.
There was swift riding that night for the two men. Nor did they stop
until the sun peered above the eastern horizon, and then they stopped
only because they had discovered not far before them the camp of the
Indians which they were seeking. Instantly Kit Carson and his companion
urged their tired horses forward, and yelling as loudly as their lungs
permitted, the riders dashed into the camp.
At that time the Indians were busy in their preparations for their
breakfast. Before they were fully aware of what was occurring the
Indian chief fell before the sure aim of Kit Carson. Without
retreating, although they were two against thirty or more, the two
hardy men seized their pistols and continued the attack.
The astonished redmen turned and fled from the place. Doubtless if they
had known how many were in the attacking party that would have been the
last we ever should have heard of Kit Carson and his deeds. As it was,
however, the redmen, without waiting to discover the numbers of their
enemies, fled from the spot, leaving behind them the horses which they
had stolen. These were secured by the scout, and with them he returned
to the camp and gave back to the heart-broken Mexican the ponies which
he had lost.