Fremont's Expedition.
Carson's Visit to his Childhood's Home.--On the
Steamer.--Introduction to Fremont.--Object of Fremont's
Expedition.--Joins the Expedition.--Organization of the
Party.--The Encampment.--Enchanting View.--Fording the
Kansas.--The Stormy Night.--The Boys on Guard.--The Alarm.--The
Returning Trappers.--The Homeless Adventurer.--Three Indians Join
the Party.--First Sight of the Buffaloes.--The Chase.
When the caravan, with which Kit Carson travelled as a passenger from Fort
Bent, arrived within the boundaries of Missouri, he left his companions
and, with his little daughter, turned aside to visit the home of his
childhood. He had, as we have mentioned, been absent from that home for
sixteen years. Time, death, and the progress of civilization had wrought,
in that region, what seemed to him fearful ravages. One of his biographers
writes:
"The scenes of his boyhood days he found to be magically changed. New
faces met him on all sides. The old log cabin where his father and mother
had resided, was deserted and its dilapidated walls were crumbling with
decay. The once happy inmates were scattered over the face of the earth,
while many of their voices were hushed in death. Kit Carson felt himself a
stranger in a strange land. The strong man wept. His soul could not brook
either the change or the ways of the people. While he failed not to
receive kindness and hospitality from the noble hearted Missourians,
nevertheless he had fully allayed his curiosity and, as soon as possible,
he bade adieu to these unpleasant recollections.
"He bent his steps towards St. Louis. In this city he remained ten days.
As it was the first time, since he had reached manhood, that he had viewed
a town of any magnitude, he was greatly interested. But ten days of
sight-seeing wearied him. He resolved to return to his mountain home,
where he could breathe the pure air of Heaven and where manners and
customs conformed to his wild life and were more congenial to his tastes.
He engaged a passage on the first steamboat which was bound up the
Missouri river."
Kit Carson was instinctively a student. In whatever situation he was
placed he was ever endeavoring to learn something new. He was also always
drawn, by constitutional taste and preference towards men of culture, and
high moral worth. On board the steamer, he found himself almost a perfect
stranger. Though a small man in frame, modest and unobtrusive, there was
something in his kindly handsome face and winning manners, which
invariably attracted attention. As he quietly wandered over the boat,
studying its machinery, the discipline of the crew and the faces of his
fellow passengers, he found himself irresistibly drawn towards one whose
countenance and dignified bearing indicated that he was decidedly above
most of those on board.
It is said that "the eagle eye, the forehead, the form, the movements, the
general features, the smile, the quiet dignity of the man, each and all
these attributes of his manhood had been carefully noted by the wary and
hardy mountaineer, and had not failed to awaken in his breast a feeling of
admiration and respect."
Kit Carson entered into conversation with this man. Immediately an
attachment sprang up between them, which grew increasingly strong through
many subsequent years. The new friend whom Carson had thus found was
Lieutenant John C. Fremont, of the United States corps of Topographical
Engineers. He had been commissioned by the Government to explore and
report upon the country between the frontiers of Missouri and the South
Pass in the Rocky mountains, on the line of the Kansas and Great Platte
rivers.
Lieutenant Fremont had left Washington, and arrived at St. Louis on the
twenty-second of May 1842. Here he engaged a party of twenty-one men,
principally Creole and Canadian boatmen, who were familiar with Indian
life, having been long engaged in the service of the various fur
companies. In addition to these boatmen, Lieutenant Fremont had under his
charge, Henry Brandt, nineteen years of age, son of Colonel J.B. Brant, of
St. Louis, and Randolph Benton, a lively boy of twelve years, son of the
distinguished U.S. Senator from Missouri. These young men accompanied the
expedition for that development of mind and body which their parents hoped
the tour would give them.
With this party, Lieutenant Fremont was ascending the river four hundred
miles, to the mouth of the Kansas, from which point he was to take his
departure through the unexplored wilderness. We say unexplored, though
many portions of it had been visited by wandering bands of unlettered
trappers and hunters. Lieutenant Fremont had been disappointed in
obtaining the guide he had expected. Upon learning this fact, Mr. Carson
retired to a secluded part of the boat, sat down, and for some time seemed
lost in reverie. Then rising and approaching Lieutenant Fremont he
modestly said to him,
"Sir, I have been for some time in the mountains, and think I can guide
you to any point there you may wish to reach."
The office of a guide, through thousands of miles of untroden wilderness,
was a very responsible position. Mr. Carson was an entire stranger to
Lieutenant Fremont. But there was something in his bearing which inspired
confidence. After making a few inquiries of others, Mr. Carson was engaged
to act as guide with a salary of one hundred dollars a month.
The expedition commenced its march from near the mouth of the Kansas on
the 10th of June 1842. It followed along the banks of that stream, in a
westerly direction. The whole party consisted of twenty-eight souls. They
were well armed and were well mounted with the exception of eight men, who
drove as many carts. These carts were each drawn by two mules and were
packed with the stores of the party, their baggage and their instruments.
There were a number of loose horses in the train to supply the place of
any, which might be disabled by the way. There were also four oxen, which
were added as a contribution to their stock of provisions, one may well
imagine that so numerous a cavalcade, winding its way over the undulating
and treeless prairie, would present a very imposing aspect.
An Indian guide conducted them for the first forty miles, along the river
banks, with which Mr. Carson was not familiar. He then left them and they
entered upon that vast ocean of prairie which extended, with scarcely any
interruption, to the base of the Rocky mountains.
The borders of nearly all these western streams are fringed with a narrow
belt of forest. Here where there was abundance of water, the richest of
soil, which needed but to be "tickled with a hoe to laugh with a harvest,"
and where there was an ample supply of timber for building and for fuel,
they found many good-looking Indian farms with Indians riding about in
their picturesque costumes.
At an early hour in the afternoon they encamped in a smooth and luxuriant
meadow, upon the banks of a small stream flowing into the Kansas. Nearly
all the party were experienced backwoodsmen. Speedily, and with almost
military precision, the camp was formed in the following manner: The eight
carts were so arranged as to present a sort of barricade, encircling an
area about eighty yards in diameter. The cloth tents, such as are used in
the army, were pitched inside the enclosure. The animals were all hobbled
and turned out to feed in the meadow. The company was divided into four
messes of seven men each. Each mess had its cook. They quickly prepared
the evening meal.
At nightfall all the animals, having been well fed on the abundant grass,
were driven within the enclosure for the night and picketed. A small
steel-shod picket was driven firmly into the ground, to which the animal
was fastened by a rope about twenty feet long. The carts were regularly
arranged for defending the camp. A guard was mounted at eight o'clock,
consisting of three men, who were relieved every two or three hours. At
daybreak the camp was roused. The hobbled animals were again turned loose
upon the meadow or prairie to obtain their breakfast. The breakfast of the
men was generally over between six and seven o'clock. The march was then
resumed. There was a halt at noon for about two hours. Such was the usual
order of the march day after day.
The second night, just as they were about to encamp, one of the loose
horses started upon the full gallop, on his return, and was followed by
several others. Several men were sent in pursuit. They did not return with
the fugitives until midnight. One man lost his way and passed the whole
night upon the open prairie. At midnight it began to rain violently. By
some strange oversight, the tents were of such thin cloth that the rain
soaked through, and those within them were thoroughly drenched. The
discomfort of the night, however, was forgotten as the dawn of the
morning ushered in another lovely summer day.
The journey through the beautiful and picturesque scenery was a delight.
In the serene close of the afternoon they encamped on one of the Kansas
bluffs. From this spot they had an enchanting view of the valley, about
four miles broad, interspersed with beautiful groves and prairies of the
richest verdure. This evening they killed one of their oxen for food. Thus
far their route had been along the southern bank of the Kansas. The next
day they reached what was called the ford of that river, a hundred miles
from its entrance into the Missouri.
But the recent rains had so swollen the stream that it was rushing by, a
swift and rapid torrent two hundred and thirty yards wide. The river could
not be forded. Several mounted men entered it to swim their horses across,
and thus to act as guides or leaders for the rest. The remaining animals
were driven in, and all got safely across excepting the three oxen, who
being more clumsy swimmers, were borne down by the current and again
landed on the right side. The next morning, however, they were got over in
safety.
Lieutenant Fremont had adopted the precaution of taking with him a
portable India rubber boat. It was twenty feet long and five feet broad.
It was placed in the water, and the carts and the baggage were carried
over piecemeal. Three men paddled the boat. Still the current was so
strong that one of the best swimmers took in his teeth the end of a rope
attached to the boat and swam ahead, that, reaching the shore, he might
assist in drawing her over. Six passages were successfully made and six
carts with most of their contents were transported across. Night was
approaching, and it was very desirable that everything should be upon the
other side before the darkness closed in.
"I put," says Lieutenant Fremont, "upon the boat the two remaining carts.
The man at the helm was timid on the water and, in his alarm, capsized the
boat. Carts, barrels, boxes and bales were, in a moment, floating down the
current. But all the men who were on the shore jumped into the water
without stopping to think if they could swim, and almost everything, even
heavy articles, was recovered. Two men came very near being drowned. All
the sugar belonging to one of the messes was dissolved in the water and
lost."
But the heaviest calamity of all was the loss of a bag containing the
coffee for the whole company. There is nothing so refreshing to a weary
mountaineer, as a cup of hot coffee. Often afterwards these travellers,
overcome with toil, mourned the loss of their favorite beverage.
Kit Carson had made such efforts in the water, that in the morning he was
found quite sick. Another of the party also was disabled. Lieutenant
Fremont, on their account, and also to repair damages, decided to remain
in camp for the day. Quite a number of the Kansas tribe of Indians visited
them in the most friendly manner. One of them had received quite a
thorough education at St. Louis, and could speak French as fluently and
correctly as any Frenchman. They brought vegetables of various kinds, and
butter. They seemed very glad to find a market for their productions.
The camping-ground of the party was on the open, sunny prairie, some
twenty feet above the water, where the animals enjoyed luxuriant
pasturage. The party was now fairly in the Indian country, and the chances
of the wilderness were opening before them.
About three weeks in advance of this party, there was a company of
emigrants bound to Oregon. There were sixteen or seventeen families, men,
women and children. Sixty-four of these were men. They had suffered
severely from illness, and there had been many deaths among them. One of
these emigrants, who had buried his child, and whose wife was very ill,
left the company under the guidance of a hunter, and returned to the
States. The hunter visited the Fremont camp, and took letters from them to
their friends.
Day after day the party thus journeyed on, without encountering anything
worthy of special notice. They had reached the Pawnee country. These
savages were noted horse-thieves. The route of the surveyors led along the
banks of a placid stream, about fifty feet wide and four or five feet
deep. The view up the valley, which was bordered by gracefully undulating
hills, was remarkably beautiful. The stream, as usual with these western
rivers, was fringed with willows, cottonwood, and oak. Large flocks of
wild turkeys tenanted these trees. Game, also, of a larger kind made its
appearance. Elk, antelope and deer bounded over the hills.
A heavy bank of black clouds in the west admonished them, at an early hour
in the afternoon, to prepare for a stormy night. Scarcely had they pitched
their tents ere a violent wind came down upon them, the rain fell in
torrents and incessant peals of thunder seemed to shake the very hills. It
so happened that the three who were to stand guard on that tempestuous
night, were Carson and the two young gentlemen Brandt and Benton.
"This was their first night on guard," writes Lieutenant Fremont "and
such an introduction did not augur very auspiciously of the pleasures of
the expedition. Many things conspired to render their situation
uncomfortable. Stories of desperate and bloody Indian fights were rife in
the camp. Our position was badly chosen, surrounded on all sides by
timbered hollows, and occupying an area of several hundred feet, so that
necessarily the guards were far apart. Now and then I could hear Randolph,
as if relieved by the sound of a voice in the darkness, calling out to the
sergeant of the guard, to direct his attention to some imaginary alarm.
But they stood it out, and took their turn regularly afterwards."
The next morning, as they were proceeding up the valley, several moving
objects were dimly discerned, far away upon the opposite hills; which
objects disappeared before a glass could be brought to bear upon them. One
of the company, who was in the rear, came spurring up, in great haste,
shouting "Indians." He affirmed that he had seen them distinctly, and had
counted twenty-seven. The party immediately halted. All examined their
arms, and prepared for battle, in case they should be attacked. Kit Carson
sprang upon one of the most fleet of the hunting horses, crossed the
river, and galloped off, over the prairie, towards the hills where the
objects had been seen.
"Mounted on a fine horse, without a saddle," writes Lieutenant Fremont,
"and scouring, bareheaded, over the prairies, Kit was one of the finest
pictures of a horseman I had ever seen. He soon returned quite leisurely,
and informed them that the party of twenty-seven Indians had resolved
itself into a herd of six elk who, having discovered us, had scampered off
at full speed."
The next day they reached a fork of the Blue river, where the road leaves
that tributary of the Kansas, and passes over to the great valley of the
Platte river. In their march, across the level prairie of this high
table-land, they encountered a squall of rain, with vivid lightning and
heavy peals of thunder. One blinding flash was accompanied by a bolt,
which struck the prairie but a few hundred feet from their line, sending
up a column of sand.
A march of about twenty-three miles brought them to the waters of the
majestic Platte river. Here they found a very delightful place of
encampment near Grand Island. They had now travelled three hundred and
twenty-eight miles from the mouth of the Kansas river. They had fixed the
latitude and longitude of all the important spots they had passed, and had
carefully examined the geological formation of the country.
They were working their way slowly up this beautiful valley, to a point
where it was only four miles wide. Here they halted to "noon." As they
were seated on the grass, quietly taking their dinner, they were alarmed
by the startling cry from the guard, of "All hands." In an instant
everybody was up, with his rifle in hand. The horses were immediately both
hobbled and picketed, while all eyes were directed to a wild-looking band
approaching in the distance. As they drew near they proved to be a party
of fourteen white men, returning on foot to the States. Their baggage was
strapped to their backs. It was indeed a forlorn and way-worn band. They
had, on a trapping excursion, encountered but a constant scene of
disasters and were now returning to St. Louis, utterly impoverished.
They brought the welcome intelligence that buffaloes were in abundance two
days' journey in advance. After a social hour, in which the two parties
feasted together, the surveyors mounted their horses, and the trappers
shouldered their packs, and the two parties separated in different
directions. Lieutenant Fremont mentions an incident illustrative of the
homeless life which many of these wanderers of the wilderness live:
"Among them," he writes, "I had found an old companion on a northern
prairie, a hardened and hardly-served veteran of the mountains, who had
been as much hacked and scarred as an old _moustache_ of Napoleon's Old
Guard. He flourished in the soubriquet of La Tulipe. His real name I never
knew. Finding that he was going to the States, only because his company
was bound in that direction, and that he was rather more than willing to
return with me, I took him again into my service."
The company made but seventeen miles that day. Just as they had gone into
camp, in the evening, three Indians were discovered approaching, two men
and a boy of thirteen. They belonged to the Cheyenne tribe, and had been
off, with quite a numerous band, on an unsuccessful horse-stealing raid
among the Pawnees. Upon a summit, they had caught a glimpse of the white
men, and had left their companions, confident of finding kind treatment at
the camp-fires of the pale faces.
They were invited to supper with Lieutenant Fremont's mess. Young Randolph
Benton, and the young Cheyenne, after eying each other suspiciously for
some time, soon became quite intimate friends. After supper one of the
Cheyennes drew, upon a sheet of paper, very rudely, but, as it afterwards
appeared, quite correctly, a map of the general character of the country
between the encampment and their villages, which were about three hundred
miles further west.
The two next days the party made about forty miles. "The air was keen,"
writes Lieutenant Fremont, "the next morning at sunrise, the thermometer
standing at 44 degrees. It was sufficiently cold to make overcoats very
comfortable. A few miles brought us into the midst of the buffalo,
swarming in immense numbers over the plains, where they had left scarcely
a blade of grass standing. Mr. Preuss, who was sketching at a little
distance in the rear, had at first noticed them as large groves of timber.
In the sight of such a mass of life, the traveller feels a strange emotion
of grandeur. We had heard, from a distance, a dull and confused murmuring,
and when we came in view of their dark masses, there was not one among us
who did not feel his heart beat quicker. It was the early part of the day
when the herds are feeding, and every where they are in motion. Here and
there a huge old bull was rolling in the grass, and clouds of dust rose in
the air from various parts of the bands.
"Shouts and songs resounded from every part of the line, and our evening
camp was always the commencement of a feast which terminated only with our
departure on the following morning. At any time of the night might be seen
pieces of the most delicate and choicest meat, roasting on sticks around
the fire. With pleasant weather, and no enemy to fear, an abundance of
the most excellent meat and no scarcity of bread or tobacco, they were
enjoying an oasis of a voyageur's life."
Three buffalo cows were killed to-day. Kit Carson had shot one, and was
continuing the chase in the midst of another herd, when his horse fell
headlong, but sprang up and joined the flying band. Though considerably
hurt, he had the good fortune to break no bones. Maxwell, who was mounted
on a fleet hunter, captured the runaway after a hard chase. He was on the
point of shooting him, to avoid the loss of his bridle, a handsomely
mounted Spanish one, when he found that his horse was able to come up with
him.
The next day was the first of July.
As our adventurers were riding joyfully along, over a beautiful prairie
country, on the right side of the river, a magnificent herd of buffalo
came up from the water over the bank, not less then seven or eight hundred
in number, and commenced slowly crossing the plain, grazing as they went.
The prairie was here about three miles broad. This gave the hunters a fine
opportunity to charge upon them before they could escape among the distant
hills. The fleet horses for hunting, were brought up and saddled.
Lieutenant Fremont, Kit Carson and L. Maxwell mounted for the chase.
Maxwell was a veteran pioneer, who had been engaged as hunter for the
expedition.
The herd were about half a mile distant from the company. The three
hunters rode quietly along, till within about three hundred yards of the
herd, before they seemed to be noticed by the buffaloes. Then a sudden
agitation and wavering of the herd was followed by precipitate and
thundering flight. The fleet horse can outstrip the buffalo in the race.
The three hunters plunged after them at a hard gallop. A crowd of bulls,
gallantly defending the cows, brought up the rear. Every now and then they
would stop, for an instant, and look back as if half disposed to show
fight.
"In a few moments," writes Lieutenant Fremont, "during which we had been
quickening our pace, we were going over the ground like a hurricane. When
at about thirty yards we gave the usual shout and broke into the herd. We
entered on the side, the mass giving away in every direction in their
heedless course. Many of the bulls, less fleet than the cows, paying no
heed to the ground, and occupied solely with the hunters, were
precipitated to the earth with great force, rolling over and over with the
violence of the shock, and hardly distinguishable in the dust. We
separated, on entering, each singling out his game.
"My horse was a trained hunter, famous in the west under the name of
Proveau, and with his eyes flashing and the foam flying from his mouth, he
sprang on after the cow, like a tiger. In a few moments he brought me
along side of her. Rising in the stirrups, I fired, at the distance of a
yard, the ball entering at the termination of the long hair, passing near
the heart. She fell headlong at the report of the gun. Checking my horse,
I looked around for my companions.
"At a little distance Kit was on the ground, engaged in tying his horse to
the horns of a cow, which he was preparing to cut up. Among the scattered
band, at some distance, I caught a glimpse of Maxwell. While I was
looking, a light wreath of white smoke curled away from his gun, from
which I was too far to hear the report. Nearer, and between me and the
hills, towards which they were directing their course, was the body of the
herd. Giving my horse the rein, we dashed after them. A thick cloud of
dust hung upon their rear, which filled my mouth and eyes and nearly
smothered me. In the midst of this I could see nothing, and the buffalo
were not distinguishable until within thirty feet. They crowded together
more densely still, as I came upon them, and rushed along in such a
compact body that I could not obtain an entrance, the horse almost
leaping upon them.
"In a few moments the mass divided to the right and left, the horns
clattering with a noise heard above everything else, and my horse darted
into the opening. Five or six bulls charged on us, as we dashed along the
line, but were left far behind. Singling out a cow I gave her my fire, but
struck too high. She gave a tremendous leap and scoured on swifter than
before. I reined up my horse, and the band swept on like a torrent, and
left the place quiet and clear. Our chase had led us into dangerous
ground. A prairie-dog village, so thickly settled that there were three or
four holes in twenty yards square, occupied the whole bottom for nearly
two miles in length."