Kit Carson and two Companions plan a Hunt for themselves--The
Great Success met with--Return to Taos--Sale of the Beaver
Fur--Kit Carson joins Captain Lee and goes on a Trading
Expedition--Winter Quarters--Kit Carson is sent in Pursuit
of a Thief--Overtakes and is obliged to shoot the
Runaway--Property recovered--The Return to Camp--The Sale
of Goods--Kit Carson joins Fitzpatrick and Party--Kit Carson
organizes a Hunting Party--His Encounter with two Grizzly
Bears--The Summer Rendezvous--Kit Carson joins fifty Trappers
and goes to the Country of the Blackfeet Indians--Annoyances
received from these Indians--Winter Quarters in 1832--Horses
Stolen--Kit Carson and eleven Men in Pursuit--A Parley--A
Fight--Kit Carson severely wounded--His great Sufferings
and Fortitude--His Convalescence--The Retreat--A New
Expedition--Braggadocio--Kit Carson Fights a Duel and Wounds
his man--Duels in the Rocky Mountains in Olden Times.
The fortunes of Gaunt's party in not finding game continued to grow
darker and darker as they traveled from stream to stream. The men
began to grow disheartened at this succession of failures. Kit Carson,
finally, became so tired of going empty handed, that he resolved to
try a hunt upon his own account. On stating his intentions to the
party, two of his old companions offered to join him. These were
gladly accepted by Kit; and, had they not been deterred by the
consideration that their dangers would be greatly augmented if they
worked with so small a party, others would most willingly have joined
his company. With the good wishes, therefore, of Gaunt and his entire
band, Kit and his two brave comrades boldly and confidently commenced
their march.
The plan Kit adopted was to confine his operations exclusively to the
mountain streams and not to venture out upon the Prairie. By taking
this course he hoped to avoid much of the danger to be apprehended
from Indians.[5]
[Footnote 5: The mountain Indians, during the Summer season generally
come down from their secure retreats and are engaged either in hunting
buffalo, or marching on the war-path. When they are at peace with the
Indians of the Plains, which is rarely the case, they join them, and,
together, with their united strength and skill, they make piratical
excursions into the Settlements of the Mexicans. While out on this
business, they leave their families in some secluded spot for abundant
caution, placing them under the guardianship of the old men, assisted
by some of the younger members of the tribe.]
For several months they followed the business of trapping without
being in any way annoyed by the Indians. Their success was abundant.
At the end of the season they had gathered together a splendid stock
of beaver fur and began to think of a homeward trip. Having made
everything ready, they finally started for Taos. True, their party
was small and the risks they ran of attacks from hostile and covetous
Indians were imminent; but, fortune, or Providence favored them and
there was finally a satisfactory end to their anxieties; for, after a
quick march over the plains, they arrived safely at Taos. Beaver fur
was, at the time of their arrival, in great demand and prices ruled
correspondingly high. Kit and his comrades obtained the benefit of
this state of the market and disposed of their fine stock to great
advantage.
The money realized, so far as Kit's two comrades were concerned, was
soon expended in fleeting pleasures and a new outfit for the next
trapping expedition which might offer. Kit's former experience had
been sufficient on this score, and he had become impressed with the
highly important fact that there existed a much wiser course to be
pursued. With his characteristic consistency, Kit acted upon this
conviction and wisely saved his hard earnings.
While remaining at Taos, Kit Carson met with Captain Lee, formerly of
the United States Army; but, at this time, a partner of Bent and
St. Vrain, two names as familiarly known to the mountaineers as the
household words of their boyhood days.
Captain Lee was purchasing goods for the purpose of trading with
and supplying the trappers. He desired Kit Carson to join in his
enterprise and made him an offer which was accepted.
In the latter part of October 1832, with their goods well packed
and properly fitted for the rough transportation which they must
necessarily be subjected to, they set out to find the trappers. They
traveled for some distance on a route well known as the "Old Spanish
Trail." This is nothing more than a mule path which leads from New
Mexico to California.
Having arrived safely at White River, they continued their march down
stream, following the windings of the river until they came to Green
River. Green River, they forded and then struck across the country for
the Winty River which is a branch of the Green River.
Here they found Mr. Robidoux who had a party of twenty men in his
employ and who was engaged both in trapping and trading according as
opportunity presented itself. Soon after these parties met, snow
began to fall, indicating the approach of the cold season. A mutual
understanding having been arrived at, the two parties joined together
and began to establish Winter Quarters suitable for the whole.
They selected a site for their permanent camp on the Winty River, at
its mouth, where the men made themselves as comfortable as possible
under such circumstances. They were provided with skin lodges, so
common among the Indians of America, and which according to Kit's
mountaineer experience are very comfortable substitutes for houses.
During the winter Mr. Robidoux lost six of his most valuable and
high-priced horses, in the following manner. Attached to the camp
there was a California Indian who was employed by Mr. Robidoux, a keen
and shrewd savage: and one, whose acquaintance with the trappers had
enabled him to gain the confidence of Mr. Robidoux. He was also an
expert with the rifle and possessed undoubted courage with great
bodily strength and activity. These qualifications made him a
troublesome customer in a skirmish.
This Indian's education on the score of property rights had not been
as well attended to as the methods of attack and defence in the chase
and on the war path. By some, not strange, personal argument, he
concluded to appropriate the six valuable horses above mentioned, in
the law wordy vocabulary of civilization, "to his own, use, benefit
and behoof, without asking the consent, good-will, approbation,
permission and personal, directions of the said owner, to wit Mr.
Robidoux."
As these horses were worth, even at that remote spot on the great
American Continent, the just and full sum of two hundred dollars each,
making a round sum total of twelve hundred dollars, Mr. Robidoux was
not content to pocket the loss; or, much less, to allow the rascal to
enjoy ill-gotten wealth on the principle that "stolen fruit is sweet."
He determined, if possible to show him that some stolen fruit is
bitter.
Knowing Kit Carson's reputation for skill and his fearless
disposition, as soon as he had discovered his loss, he came and
requested him to pursue the Indian. Kit Carson is a man who never
works without orders except when he is leader. He therefore informed
Captain Lee of Mr. Robidoux's request and asked permission to serve
his friend. This, as a matter of course, was readily granted by
Captain Lee; when, Kit instantly made his preparations for the
adventure. He was very soon on horseback, well armed and well prepared
for hard and close work.
There chanced, near by to the camp, to be an Indian village belonging
to the Utah Tribe. The whites were on friendly terms with the
inhabitants of this village, which determined Carson to seek out, from
among their warriors, one active and intelligent brave, and get him to
join in the chase. This was the more easily accomplished as Carson's
reputation for skill, courage and experience was already well known in
this tribe. He, himself, had made a large circle of acquaintance among
the braves, and many of them had become strongly attached to him. Some
of these attachments have existed for years and are still maintained;
for, a fact well known, the American Indian warrior, as a general
rule, is true and unchangeable in his friendships. With this object
in view, Carson, putting his horse to his speed, started for the Utah
village. On making his errand known to such of the braves as enjoyed
his confidence, he found no difficulty in engaging a well-known
warrior, and one on whom he knew he could rely, to accompany him. The
wily savage was soon ready for the march, when Kit gave the word to
start. Both men were splendidly mounted. Their pace was that of no
sluggard. The high-conditioned animals which they rode seemed to
catch the eager spirit of their masters, and entering into it, bent
themselves to their work with determination accordingly. To discover
the trail of the deserter and to study its various characteristics,
a science of no mean or useless order in the matter of a woodman's
education, required the two men to slacken their pace for a short
time. The tracks made by the stolen animals, however, were well
marked; and, to such practised eyes, afforded a certain indication
as to their route. Again putting their horses to their speed, with
compressed lips and eyes directed to the trail before them, Carson and
the Indian warrior dashed on, feeling confident, that, if the rascal
escaped with his ill-gotten booty, the sin would not be laid upon
their shoulders. The trail led down the Green River. This fact made
Carson conclude that California was the destination aimed at in the
deserter's calculations. Kit and his Indian brave had accomplished
about one hundred miles, having, not once, lost sight of the trail,
when, most unfortunately for Kit, the horse of the Indian was suddenly
taken sick and his strength gave out completely. The Indian could go
no further except on foot, and this mode of travel he was unwilling to
adopt, refusing absolutely Carson's request made to him to do so. This
was an unpleasant predicament, especially as the rascal, who formed
the chase, was a dangerous antagonist even to an experienced fighter
and in an honest cause. Goaded on by the fear of punishment for theft,
Carson well knew that he would require all of his own address to
purchase success; for, the rascal would not fail to make a most
desperate resistance. But Kit Carson's courage arose, as the
difficulties of the adventure seemed to multiply. With a farewell word
to his Indian companion, he put spurs to his horse and entered boldly
upon the trail alone, being determined to run every hazard, which the
unhappy accident to the Indian's horse seemed to require at his hands.
The spectacle here presented to the reader, is one which exhibits Kit
Carson in his true character both as a faithful and earnest friend,
and a determined and dangerous adversary. Such is his character. A
life of most singular events has never yet found him false to his
friend or his manhood. While he is not rash in judgment, he is
consummately skillful, quick and brave. Onward he dashed, never for an
instant taking his eagle eye from the tracks which formed his compass.
Think not that such tracks are easily traced. None but a practised and
ready eye can follow them to any advantageous end. To trace them even
at a snail's pace, for an unpractised eye, is like the child putting
pen and ink to paper through his first copy-book of penmanship. Many
and many an awful blot and horribly crooked line will doubtless carry
the simile fully and strikingly to the mind. But the result which
crowned Kit's effort showed conclusively that, notwithstanding he had
followed the trail for over one hundred and thirty miles, he had made
no blots or crooked lines. At the distance of thirty miles from the
place where he parted with his Indian companion, Kit discovered the
chase. His pace now became tremendous. The wily savage had descried
him almost at the same instant that he was discovered by Kit, and
instantly prepared for a desperate encounter. With this object in
view, the savage turned to seek a cover from whence he could fire upon
his adversary and reload long before he should himself become exposed
to a shot. The rascal's plan was good enough, but he was too slow in
its execution to overcome Kit's activity. Kit had unslung his rifle as
soon as he saw his enemy. Anticipating the object of the savage, he,
instantly, covered him with his rifle. His horse was now at full speed
and he was rapidly nearing the Indian. At the moment he discovered
that the Indian had reached his cover and before he could take
advantage of it, without relaxing his horse's speed, he fired. The
ball from Carson's rifle was so well directed that the Indian, as it
struck him, gave one bound and then fell dead in his tracks. At the
same instant the rascal's rifle went off with a sharp report, sending
a bullet whizzing at some distance from the line of Carson's approach.
The fact of the Indian's rifle being fired at all is a sufficient
explanation of what was his intent, had his career not been so
suddenly cut short, thereby preventing its fulfillment.
The words of an old trapper are here very much to the point. The
author was, on a fitting occasion, questioning him in regard to Kit
Carson's capabilities with the rifle. Said he: "If a man has a serious
quarrel with Kit Carson, he had better not let him get the _first
sight over his rifle_; for, if he succeeds in this, his adversary is
as good as dead."
An intimate acquaintance and tried friendship with Kit Carson has,
since then, repeatedly furnished occasions which have confirmed this
trapper's statement; although, in the first instance, a person will
find it no easy task to render an altercation necessary, for Kit
Carson holds his passions fully under control; and, besides, they are
of a very conciliatory type. No man will sooner shun a difficulty when
justice, honor and necessity do not warrant strife.
The work of collecting the horses was soon accomplished, when Carson
immediately commenced his journey back to the camp. This he reached
in safety, after overcoming a few minor difficulties caused by his
charge; and, had the satisfaction of returning the six horses to Mr.
Robidoux in as good condition as they were the night on which they
were stolen; and, also, of informing him that there was one rascal
less in the world to prey upon honest people.
This event served to interrupt the monotony and routine of winter camp
duty, affording a basis for many a long yarn during the evening
hours around the camp fires. These trappers, especially whenever a
green-eyed bundle of curiosity chances to seek their company, can spin
yarns most wondrous. The habits of the beaver and their remarkable
instinct, form a fit subject for their active imagination. It would
doubtless add very much to the interest of these pages if we could set
down a few of these anecdotes and tales for the general reader; but,
the task would be hopeless as to its accomplishment. To give them
life and reality, they require all the surroundings of time, place and
occasion; there should be the dark night; the wild whistling wind; the
shaking tent with its covering of skins; the roasted venison, bear's
meat, or horse flesh; the rifles standing in the corners; the lamp of
bear's grease; in fine, all the similitude of camp life. Then the wild
stories of bear fightings, beaver intelligence, Indian deviltry, and
hairbreadth escapes, become intensely real. The auditor hangs upon
each word which falls from the lips of the supposed sage orator with
eager earnestness, while curiosity never becomes satisfied.
"Ah! Jones, that is a whopper."
"Sure as I live, but the beaver slept every night with the trapper,
and in the day time, if he left the tent, the beaver would fall to
work and make a dam across the floor of the tent, using the chist,
skins, arms and everything."
"Oh! Jones!"
"But, I tell you it is true. Tame a beaver once, and you'll find I'se
tellin' a plain statement as true as ever a Padre made."
"Padre! who'd believe a Mexican priest? Mr. Jones, that tame beaver
of your'n must have been born in the States, where he hadn't trees and
mud to build dams with, and had to resort to furnitur."
"That beaver," responded Jones, "was as near like a human bein' as any
man present."
"How do you make that out, Mr. Jones?"
"Why, one day his master died. Well, they tried all they could to
console the beaver, but it 'twant no use. He wouldn't be consoled.
All he did was to git an ole shoe belonging to his master, an' if he
didn't haul that ere shoe around day after day wherever he went. Well,
the beaver 'gan to grow thin, and one night they found he was a dyin',
jest from starvin' himself to death and a huggin' the ole shoe."
"Oh! Jones," said the greenhorn, "you don't expect I'll swallow all
that yarn?"
But Mr. Jones and all of the other trappers present preserved an
imperturbable dignity of mien, as if the very reference to the animal
mentioned demanded from them all due reverence.
"Well, but that was not doing as a human being would do. I never seen
a man carry an old shoe around till he died from starvin'."
"That is neither here nor there," continued Mr. Jones. "It was when
the trapper first made the beaver's acquaintance that he showed he
knew as much as a human critter. At that time he had one wife and
lived with her all alone in a hole, side o' the dam. They had two sons
and a darter. The darter the old beaver had married to a fine lookin'
young beaver who lived t'other side the dam."
The whistle which the neophyte here gave seemed to give great
dissatisfaction to all of the trappers present. One of them quietly
asked him--
"Is that the way, youngster, you'se bin eddicated in perliteniss of
manners? If it is, I know a beaver who kin larn you sumthin'. In the
fust place, if a young beaver ever kums inter the presence of the ole
uns, especially if she's, that is the ole uns, a female beaver, the
young un 'mediately fetches his right fore paw up to his forehead,
jest 'hind the right eyebrow, an' makes a reverintial bow of cerimony
in salute. I'se seen that ar' oftener than you've put one leg ahead of
t'other yit, young un."
The trappers present all confirmed the truth of this statement by
a solemn nod of assent to the query, "Ain't that true, gentlemen?"
which, at least, served to prevent unceremonious whistling.
It is thus that we might go on and fill page after page with this
picture-talk of the trappers. Some of their yarns are pretty tightly
strained, but most of them contain a capital hit and are usually
founded on the facts. It is a well authenticated fact that the beaver
has but one mate; and, that they live together a loving couple, as if
husband and wife. As to their _liaisons_, coquetry, flirting and so
forth, doubtless the society in some parts of the human family will
bear a faithful resemblance in these respects also. As an example of
industry the world will look in vain for a better one than is afforded
by the little beaver of the Western Rivers. Look at them patiently
felling the tallest trees; and, so nicely adjusting their fall and
calculating their height, that they strike the opposite bank of their
stream gaining a fixed and permanent lodgment. It is thus that these
wonderful little creatures will often erect dams across wide rivers
and effectually stop the rushing torrents.
As has appeared, after collecting the six horses, Kit Carson returned
with them safely into camp. A few days subsequent to this occurrence,
a band of trappers belonging to another party _en route_, entered the
camp. These men reported that Fitzpatrick and Bridger were encamped
on Snake River distant about fifteen days' journey. This was too good
news for Captain Lee and Kit to warrant their remaining any longer
idle. They doubted not but that they should be able to dispose of
their goods to these parties. With this object in view, they prepared
for the march and started. Their journey, although perilous and
laborious, was successfully accomplished. Messrs. Fitzpatrick and
Bridger received and entertained them very hospitably, and purchased
their entire stock, paying therefor in beaver fur. Kit Carson then
joined Fitzpatrick's band, but remained with it only one month.
His reason for separating from it was, that there were too many men
congregated together either to accomplish much, or to make the general
result profitable in the distribution. He, accordingly, arranged
an enterprise upon his own account; and, from his well-established
reputation, found more men than he wanted ready to join him. From
those who applied, he selected but three. These were men of the best
material; and, no man could judge a trapper's qualifications better
than Kit Carson.
With his three men he immediately set out for the Laramie River. On
this stream and its tributaries, he spent the summer. Perhaps our
readers will look for a full description of the course which the
American trapper pursues in order to catch beaver. It is very simple
in its detail but difficult and tedious in its application. The trap
is the common steel trap made in the usual form; if there is any
difference, it is larger and more powerful. It is set in the haunts
of the beaver with a particular kind of bait[6] known chiefly among
trappers. It is a singular fact that, frequently, old beavers will be
discovered springing the traps, by the aid of a stick. If discovered
at his work, he seems to enjoy hugely the vexation of the trappers
which they sometimes exhibit. An old trapper, however, especially if
he be a Frenchman or Mexican, feels so much pride in the matter, that
he will cover up his vexation under assumed politeness, as if the
beaver could understand and appreciate his language.
[Footnote 6: Animalium patris testiculum.]
But to escape from these pleasing digressions, Kit Carson and his men
concluded their summer's work with unusual success. Their exertions
had been crowned with rewards which surpassed their fondest
anticipations. As the wintry months were again fast coming on, Kit and
his men determined to rejoin Bridger's' command. The return trip,
was therefore commenced and duly prosecuted. Late one afternoon,
just after the little party had gone into camp, Kit, having lingered
somewhat behind, suddenly rode into the camp ground and leaped from
his horse, giving it in care of one of the men. With his rifle, he
then started in pursuit of game for supper. He walked on about one
mile from the camp and there came upon the fresh tracks of some elk.
Following up the trail he discovered the game grazing on the side of
a hill. In the neighborhood of the animals there were some low and
craggy pine trees. Moving along with great care, he finally gained the
cover of the trees, which brought him in close proximity to the
elk, and within certain range of his rifle. This care was the more
necessary as his party had been without meat diet for some time and
began to be greatly in need thereof. These ever wary animals saw, or
scented him; or, at any rate, became conscious of approaching danger
from some cause, before he could reach the spot from which he desired
to take his aim. They had commenced moving; and, in another instant,
would have bounded away, out of all reach of his rifle. His eye and
piece, however, were too quick for them; for, bringing his piece into
position and without dwelling upon his aim, he sped a bullet after the
largest and the fattest of the noble game before him. He had wisely
allowed for the first leap, for his shot caught the nimble animal in
mid air and brought him to the earth, writhing in his death agony with
a fearful wound through the heart and lungs, from which there was
no escape. One quiver ran through the frame of the beautiful animal,
when, he breathed his last. The echoing sound of the rifle shot had
hardly died away, to which the true hunter ever listens with unfeigned
pleasure as the sweetest of music on his ear, whenever he has seen
that his game is surely within his grasp, the last faint melody was
broken in upon and completely lost in a terrific roar from the woods
directly behind him. Instantly turning his head to note the source
of this sound, the meaning and cause of which he well knew by his
experienced woodman's ear, educated until its nicety was truly
wonderful, he saw two huge and terribly angry grizzly bears. As his
eye first rested upon these unwelcome guests, they were bounding
towards him, their eyes flashing fiery passion, their pearly teeth
glittering with eagerness to mangle his flesh, and their monstrous
fore-arms, hung with sharp, bony claws, ready and anxious to hug his
body in a close and most loving embrace. There was not much time for
Kit to scratch his head and cogitate. In fact, one instant spent in
thought then would have proved his death warrant without hope of
a reprieve. Messrs. Bruin evidently considered their domain most
unjustly intruded upon. The gentle elk and deer mayhap were their
dancing boys and girls; and, like many a petty king in savage land,
they may have dined late and were now enjoying a scenic treat of
their ballet troupe. At all events Kit required no second thought to
perceive that the monarchs of the American forest were unappeasably
angry and were fast nearing him with mighty stride. Dropping his
rifle, the little leaden bullet of which would now have been worth
to him its weight in gold if it could by some magic wand have been
transferred from the heart of the elk back into its breech, he bounded
from his position in close imitation of the elk, but with better
success. The trees! he hoped and prayed, as he fairly flew over the
ground with the bears hot in chase, for one quick grasp at a sturdy
sapling. By good fortune, or special Providence, his hope, or prayer,
was answered. Grasping a lower limb he swung his body up into the
first tier of branches just as passing Bruin brushed against one of
his legs. Bears climb trees and Kit Carson was not ignorant of the
fact. Instantly drawing his keen-edged hunting knife, he cut away for
dear life at a thick short branch. The knife and his energy conquered
the cutting just as Messrs. Bruin had gathered themselves up for an
ascent, a proceeding on their part to which Mr. Carson would not give
assent. Mr. Carson was well acquainted with the Messrs. Bruin's pride
in, and extreme consideration for, their noses. A few sharp raps made
with the severed branch upon the noses of the ascending bears, while
they fairly made them to howl with pain and rage, caused them hastily
to beat a retreat. This scene of ascending, getting their noses
tickled and again descending howling with pain and rage now kept
Mr. Carson and Messrs. Bruin actively busy for some time. The huge
monsters and monarchs of the mountains were determined not to give it
up so. Such a full and fair chase and to be beaten by a simple
white man on their own domain! This evidently galled their sensitive
natures. It is true the roaring of the bears in his rear had
stimulated Mr. Carson in the race, so much so, that he undoubtedly
ran at the top of his speed; and, being naturally, as well as by long
practice, very fleet of foot, he had managed to outstrip his pursuers
in the race. It is true he had made short work of climbing the tree
and here again had very innocently beaten the bears at their own game
and one in which they took great pride. It is more than probable that
the bears were in too good condition to run well. Had it been early
spring time they would doubtless have been much lower in flesh. That
was their own fault too; they should have known that racing time
cannot be made on high condition. After leaving their hibernating
quarters they should have been less given to a sumptuous habit at the
table.
[Illustration: Two huge and terribly angry grizzly bears were bounding
towards him, their eyes flashing fiery passion, their pearly teeth
glittering with eagerness to mangle his flesh, and their monstrous
forearms, hung with sharp, bony claws, ready and anxious to hug his
body in a close and most loving embrace.--PAGE 83.]
Affairs were, however, by no manner of means settled. They had the
daring trespasser on their domain treed, and almost within their
reach; and, indeed, to keep out of the way of their uncomely claws,
Kit was obliged to gather himself up in the smallest possible space
and cling to the topmost boughs. The bears now allowed themselves
a short respite for breathing, during which they gave vent to their
wrath by many shrill screeches. Then they renewed their endeavors to
force the hunter from his resting place. Mounted on their hind paws
they would reach for him; but, the blows with the stick, applied
freely to their noses, would make them desist. In vain did they
exhaust every means to force the man to descend; he was not to be
driven or coaxed. The hard knocks they had sustained upon their
noses had now aroused them almost to madness. Together they made one
desperate effort to tear Kit from the tree. As in all their previous
attempts, they were foiled, and their ardor dampened and cooled by the
drumming operations upon their noses, which this time was so freely
and strongly applied upon one of them as to make him lachrymate and
cry out with pain. One at a time they departed; but, it was not
until they had been out of sight and hearing for some time that Kit
considered it safe to venture down from the tree; when, he hastened to
regain and immediately to reload his rifle.
Thus ended an adventure in which Kit Carson considers that he failed
to lose life and limb by the narrowest miss that ever occurred to him.
Although he has killed much more than his _quantum_ of this kind of
game, and has gained what is a practical advantage to every western
hunter, to wit: a knowledge of all their abilities with which they
enforce sway, Kit Carson regards this adventure in the light of a
warning. It is a warning too which he never allows himself to forget;
consequently, whenever he has hunted since, he watches as closely
for signs of Mr. Bruin as he does for the game he seeks; it would,
therefore, be a difficult matter for the bears again to surprise him.
Some of the most desperate battles on record between hunters and wild
animals are narrated of encounters with the bear tribe.
Several years ago, a Mexican by the name of Armador Sanchez, still
well known in the Rocky Mountains as a brave and skillful hunter, had
a fight with a bear which lasted several hours. This terrible battle
ended by both the combatants being laid prostrate upon the ground, so
completely exhausted as to be utterly unable to reach each other from
the want of physical strength. In this condition they spent one night;
and, on the following morning, when the brave Mexican hunter had
recovered sufficiently to be able to creep to his antagonist, he found
him dead. This close conflict grew out of the hunter's noble daring
in endeavoring to save the life of a Mexican boy, whom, at the instant
the hunter attacked the beast, the bear was about to tear into pieces.
At one time the bear had the youth in his terrible clutches in such
a manner that it was impossible for him to plant a shot in any vital
organ. But nothing daunted, with his rifle and revolver, he lodged
several bullets in other parts of the fierce monster. Still the
savage animal clung to the unfortunate boy, endeavoring to tear him to
pieces, and horribly mangling him in every part of his body. The noble
hunter could resist no longer, and dropping his pistols and rifle, he
drew his sheath-knife and slung shot, and, after winding his blanket
around his left arm to protects it, rushed in and compelled the animal
to turn upon him. Wounds were freely given and returned; but, the wary
Mexican fought with such dexterity and determination, that the bear
finally became so mad with pain and rage that by a tremendous effort,
with one blow of his powerful paw, he knocked the brave hunter
headlong upon the ground, where he lay some time before recovering his
breath. Instead of following up this advantage, the brute, doubtless
being deceived because the man did not move, commenced examining and
licking his own bleeding wounds. But the brave hunter had now got his
spirit so completely up, that he determined to conquer his antagonist
or die. Early in the fight, by a blow from his slung-shot, he had
succeeded in breaking the bear's lower jaw. This had greatly disabled
the animal and undoubtedly was the successful wound which eventually
gave Sanchez the victory. When he felt himself sufficiently rested,
he renewed the fight; and, by adopting various manoeuvres, in which he
was greatly assisted by some adjacent trees, succeeded in putting in
several telling blows with his knife. Again the animal became aroused
to madness unendurable, and, gathering himself up for a final effort,
succeeded in planting a terrible blow on the hunter's head, which once
more brought him to the ground. From this blow and the previous loss
of blood, the brave man fainted entirely away. How long he remained
in this state he could not tell; but, on becoming again conscious,
he found that the victory was on his side, for the bear had already
breathed his last. The poor boy, notwithstanding his wounds, as soon
as the battle was decided; and, as he supposed, at the cost of his
friend's life, started for a neighboring fort, and, reaching it the
following morning, reported the affair. A party of men well armed
immediately marched to the rescue. They found the brave hunter in a
most pitiful condition, with his flesh terribly mangled, his clothes
torn into ribbons, and his back and shoulders one mass of lacerated
wounds. His reason had already become unseated. In his native language
he would call out to his now visionary foe, "If you are a brave man,
come on." Although the most delicate care and assistance was rendered
to Sanchez, it was many weeks before he was able to resume his
occupation; and, even then, he owed his life to the wonderful
recuperative powers of his healthy and iron constitution. Had the
fact been otherwise, he could not have survived his injuries. One more
brave heart must have yielded its last drop of heroic blood in defence
of youthful weakness. This picture, because it does not exaggerate the
facts, we leave with regret; for, it is a pleasure to contemplate
such nobility of character, whatever be the name which declares the
governmental allegiance of the hero.
It is not going beyond the bounds of truth to assert that the grizzly
bear of the Rocky Mountains is as formidable an enemy as the hunter
is called upon to meet, wherever the hunting-ground and whatever the
animal which opponents to our assertion may set up. When caught out on
the open prairie, where he can be attacked on horseback and lassoed,
the chances are against the bear; but, in a broken country, woe to his
assailants, unless life is saved by some trick; or, happy fortune; a
lucky shot; a telling blow, like Sanchez's with his slung-shot;
or, the fanciful drumming, such as was Kit's, on the noses of
his antagonists; or, some other equally singular and unlooked-for
expedient. The weight of one of these monsters often runs as high as
fifteen hundred pounds; and, their fore paws, which they can manage
with the greatest dexterity, frequently measure fourteen inches. The
courage, sagacity and skill invariably evinced by this species of
bear, when engaged in a fight, is not equaled by any other wild animal
on the face of the globe, not excepting the lion.
We take pleasure in here giving further publicity to the careful
research and plain truths which have emanated from the pen of that
distinguished and successful traveler Dr. Livingston. The new ideas
which appear in his pages in regard to the courage of the "King of
Beasts," have served, in a measure, to correct the general impression,
and to bring down from its high-stilted hyperbole the courage,
sagacity and terrible power of the lion, which, he states, are
overrated. We do not desire to contradict published statements any
farther than our own personal knowledge extends; hence, we give
our authority for our statements in regard to the lion, very well
satisfied ourself with Dr. Livingstone's love of truth and earnest
candor. So much for the lion. Our statements in regard to the Rocky
Mountain grizzly bear rest upon our own knowledge and investigation,
gathered in his own haunts and on his own wild domain; and, as such,
are given upon our own responsibility. Because brave American woodsmen
can readily conquer the monarch of the American forest; and because
the chicken-hearted Afric son, or dweller, trembles before the steady
glare of the Afric King of Beasts, _ergo_ his bearship must in popular
opinion, play subordinate to his lionship. For the sake of truth,
we should like to see the Spanish arena once open for a fighting
encounter between a Rocky Mountain bear and an African lion, full and
native grown specimens of each. The bull-fights all good men abhor;
but, such a battle would serve to set at rest a fast-growing doubt
among naturalists; and, so far, would prove available to science and
the cause of truth. We would readily stake a purse on the bear.
With the Indians of the West, who live mostly by hunting, among whom,
nine out of ten would, single handed, readily face a score of native
lion spearsmen and, we verily believe, put them to flight; a man is
considered a great brave who, alone, will undertake to kill a grizzly
bear. If he succeeds, which is very rarely the case, his fortune in
his tribe is made, once and for all. The reputation he gains will
cling to and follow him into his grave and form one of the chief
burdens of the tradition which bears his name to posterity. The
Indians usually hunt and attack him in large parties; and, when the
contest becomes really earnest, it requires a most immoderate amount
of yelling, and fierce cry for the onset, to keep their bravery up in
fighting trim. The victory is seldom gained without the sacrifice
of several lives. The mounted hunter almost invariably finds it a
difficult task to bring his charger even within shooting range of this
kind of game. On an untrained or young horse the accomplishment of
this feat is next to an impossibility; for, instinct seems to teach
them the true character of the game even though they approach it for
the first time.[7]
[Footnote 7: The author once saw thirty brave and determined men in
pursuit of an old grizzly bear and her two cubs near the head waters
of the Arkansas River. In vain they urged their horses to the chase.
Not a single steed in the entire band could be induced to run for the
game. The old bear was quite thin and her young nearly half grown and
were very fleet of foot. The chase lasted for about three miles, but
not a man present was able to obtain a shot, because their riding
animals were so completely frightened as to be almost unmanageable;
consequently, the bears made good their escape. The last that was seen
of them was their dim outlines as they traveled leisurely up a deep
ravine.]
Darkness closed in about Kit Carson before he could reach his camp;
and, indeed, the sky was so cloudy that it was with great difficulty
he found his way to it. The idea of sending out a pack animal for
the elk was out of the question; therefore, the whole party went,
supperless, to bed. In the morning they breakfasted upon a beaver
found in one of their traps; for, they well knew that, long before
daylight, the prowling wolves had feasted upon the elk; hence, they
resigned it without a visit. The flavor of the meat of the beaver is
not very palatable and the trappers rarely use it; never when they can
do better. Not so with its tail. To this they are very partial; and,
when properly boiled, it is, indeed, a great delicacy.
Believing that Bridger would visit this place, Kit ordered his men
to make a permanent camp. Kit's sagacity was not at fault in this
hypothesis; for, in fifteen days, this famous old mountaineer made his
appearance accompanied by his whole band. The two parties once
more consolidated and started for the summer rendezvous, which was
appointed to be held on the Green River.
Upon their arrival at this place, they found congregated, all the
principal trappers of the Rocky Mountains. They were divided into two
camps, and numbered about two hundred men. The objects which brought
them thus together were, the disposal of their fur and the purchase of
supplies.
When all the parties had reported their arrival, the trading commenced
and was conducted upon a basis which gave general satisfaction. The
most exorbitant and fabulous prices ruled for such articles as the
mountaineers required. Sugar and coffee brought two dollars the pint;
powder, the same; and ordinary blankets were sold at fifteen and
twenty-five dollars each.
Coffee, sugar, and even flour, were luxuries not every day indulged in
by the hardy mountaineers. They seldom partook of such dainties; not
more frequently than two or three times in the year, and then, merely
as rare treats. Their standard food was game and wild vegetables when
in their season.
This meeting of the trappers continued in progress during two months.
It was then dissolved; and, once more the bold mountaineers formed
into bands of a size convenient for trapping, and started out to
engage in the fall hunt. Kit Carson joined a party of fifty men which
was bound for the country occupied by the Blackfeet Indians, and which
lies on and adjacent to the head waters of the Missouri River. The
party met with very poor success in catching beaver, but had their
fill of annoyances from the tribe of savages already referred to.
Finally the state of affairs between the trappers and the Indians
became so desperate, that a white man could not leave his camp and
go a distance of a single mile alone without being fired upon, so
completely and untiringly was their camp surrounded and watched by
this wily and dangerous tribe of Indians.
This state of affairs led them to the determination to quit the
country, as the trapping season was far advanced. With this line of
policy they began the march; and, in the month of November, 1832,
arrived on the banks of the Big Snake River where they established
winter quarters and remained until the subsequent February.
During these winter months, the quiet monotony of their life was
unexpectedly broken in upon by a band of their old enemies, the
Blackfeet Indians. Taking advantage of an unusually dark night they
entered the camp and succeeded in running off eighteen of their
horses. In consideration of their leniency displayed towards them when
they were engaged trapping in their own country, then merely acting
on the defensive, this act on the part of the savages appeared to the
trappers to be more than they ought peaceably to bear. Such appeared
to be the general opinion, and it was determined that a party should
be sent out to recover the property and inflict a chastisement upon
the hostile savages which they would not soon forget. Kit Carson with
eleven men to accompany him was selected for this delicate but highly
important service. Having prepared everything for the route, the party
started and after fifty miles of sharp riding through the snow,
came up with the savages. The progress of the Indians had been,
fortunately, considerably retarded by the necessity of breaking a
path through the deep snow, which had but very recently fallen. The
trappers instantly made an attempt to recover their animals which were
found grazing on the side of a hill, the Indians having previously
come to a halt. In doing this, shots were exchanged by both parties
without effect. The savages had on snow shoes which gave them
considerable advantage over the trappers. After some manoeuvering, the
Indians asked for a parley which was granted. On these occasions, it
is customary for one man from each party to advance to a spot about
halfway between the contending parties and there have a talk. The
rascals, through their representative, informed the trappers through
their representative, that they had supposed that they had been
committing a robbery upon the Snake Indians; and, that they did not
desire to steal from the white men.
The trappers, believing these tales to be false, considered this a
mere ruse on the part of the Indians to make them unwary of passing
events. However, they put the very natural query to them, why, if they
were so friendly disposed, they did not follow out their usual custom;
and, on seeing them approach, lay down their arms and advance to meet
their white brothers, so that they might have a smoke together and
talk over their difficulties and thus amicably settle matters.
Their replies to this query contained nothing but evasions. Finally,
however, it having been mutually agreed upon, both parties disarmed
and marched to the place where their representatives were talking. The
Calumet was then prepared, lighted and handed around to each person
present, it being puffed once or twice by every one of the savages
and every one of the whites. The council then commenced. The head
men among the savages led off by making several lengthy and unmeaning
speeches. In their replies, the trappers came directly to the point,
and said they could hear no overtures for peace, until their property
was restored to them. The Indians, upon hearing this demand several
times repeated, began to presume upon their strength, assuming an
overbearing demeanor. After considerable talk among themselves, they
sent out and brought in five of the poorest horses, declaring that
it was the only number they could return. The trappers, upon hearing
this, ran for their arms; when, the Indians instantly started for
theirs. The fight was now renewed by both parties. Kit Carson, in the
rush made for the rifles, and one of his companions named Markhead,
succeeded in getting hold of their weapons first; and consequently,
they formed the advance in the return to the contest. They selected
for their antagonists, two Indians who were close together; but, who
were partially concealed behind separate trees. As Kit was on the
point of raising his rifle to fire he saw by a quick side glance at
Markhead, that he was working at the lock of his gun without paying
attention to his adversary who was aiming at him with, almost, a
certainty of killing him. Kit instantly changed the direction of his
rifle and fired, sending a bullet through the heart of Markhead's
adversary; but, in thus saving the life of his friend, he was obliged,
for the instant, to neglect his own adversary. A quick glance showed
him the fellow sighting over his rifle and that the mouth of the
Indian's gun covered his breast. Upon the instant he endeavored to
dodge the bullet, but he was unsuccessful in doing so completely. It
struck him in such a way that, first cutting the skin of his neck and
glancing, it passed through his left shoulder. The head of the bone,
of the arm in the shoulder was shattered; but, fortunately, the
main artery of the arm escaped injury. Notwithstanding his wound Kit
immediately endeavored to reload his rifle. In this effort he was
unsuccessful, for his left arm hung powerless by his side. He was
obliged, therefore, to remain a mere spectator during the remainder
of the fight; when, being overcome by the loss of blood and the
consequent fast increasing weakness, he threw himself upon the ground.
The fight continued to be hotly contested by both the trappers and
Indians until, gradually, the firing ceased, when the trappers drew
off and went into camp. They did not dare to light any fires, as they
would inevitably bring the Indians upon them. With nothing but their
saddle-blankets to protect them from the bitter cold, even the safe
and sound members of the party suffered severely. Kit's condition
failed not to arouse the heartfelt sympathy of his friends, for there
was not one among them who would not have readily risked life and limb
to save Kit's. But his condition was most critical; at the least, he
was in a most unenviable condition. His wounds bled profusely,
and, the blood, as it oozed out, froze to the rude dressings. This,
undoubtedly, in the final result, was beneficial to him, as the cold
acted as a partial check upon the hemorrhage. It was, however, none
the less painful to endure. He bore his agonizing sufferings without
a single murmur, exhibiting in patient fortitude and resignation the
same brave spirit and dauntless courage which distinguished him in
every action. Not once did a single complaint escape from his lips.
Had he received this wound within the pales of civilization with its
concomitant constitution, he might never have recovered the use of
his arm. In the pure air, and with a constitution in the best possible
trim, after all danger from hemorrhage had passed, his chances to
recover were favorable; and, finally, resulted in giving him once
more, the full use of his arm.
That night the trappers held a council. It was decided, that, although
the result of the fight had been that they had given the Indians a
sound thrashing, there having been several braves killed while they
had suffered only in one wounded, they were, nevertheless, not then
strong enough to pursue the savages farther. They adopted therefore
the policy of returning to the camp and reporting their progress.
On their arrival, a council was immediately called and their
adventures duly rehearsed. The result was that a second party was
immediately organized comprising thirty men. Under the command of
Bridger, this party followed the trail for some days, but returned to
camp without finding the savages. They, after their late engagement,
had made their way as fast as possible into distant parts. A short
time after this, the weather moderated and it was time for the spring
hunt.
This was now commenced and continued quite active for several weeks on
the Green and Snake Rivers. The success of the trappers was far beyond
their most sanguine expectations. Beaver fur seemed absolutely to
rain down upon them. The season having passed, they went into summer
rendezvous on the banks of the Green River. This was brought about
by the arrival of the traders with their supplies. The whole force of
trappers, therefore, again rested until the first week of September;
when, they again broke up their camp for the fall hunt.
Some time previous to this last named event Kit Carson, having
recovered from the effects of his wounds, was very reluctantly drawn
into an "affair of honor." The circumstances of this occurrence we
give in detail for two reasons. It was an event in Carson's life,
and therefore is required at our hands; but, it serves to exhibit the
manner of the duello among these western mountaineers which throws
around the circumstance the importance of an example in their manners
and customs. By itself, so far as Kit Carson was concerned, it was of
very little importance, serving but little, in his opinion, to adorn
the story of his life.
Among the men congregated at the rendezvous, there was a Captain
Shunan, a powerful Frenchman. The Captain was exceedingly overbearing
in his intercourse with all around him. Upon the slightest pretext, he
was sure to endeavor to involve some of the trappers in a quarrel.
The result was that he was heartily despised by all, although, for the
sake of peace, he was allowed to go unmolested. One day his conduct
was particularly offensive to the entire command; for, after having
had two fist fights with a couple of weak and inoffensive men,
he commenced boasting that he could easily flog all the Frenchmen
present; and, as to the Americans, he said that "he could cut a stick
and switch them." Such actions and manners, at last, attracted Kit
Carson's notice and caused him to be greatly annoyed. He thought the
matter over and concluded that if Captain Shunan was allowed to gather
many more such detestable laurels, he would soon become even more bold
and troublesome. As no other member of the company seemed disposed to
put a check upon such unmanly behavior, he quietly determined to make
the affair his own.
An opportunity soon presented itself. A number of the company had
congregated together and were engaged in conversation, when Captain
Shunan began anew his bullying language; this time a little more
boisterous than usual. Kit Carson advancing into the centre of the
company and placing himself in front of the Captain thus addressed
him:
"Shunan, before you stands the humblest specimen of an American in
this band of trappers, among whom, there are, to my certain knowledge,
men who could easily chastise you; but, being peaceably disposed,
they keep aloof from you. At any rate, I assume the responsibility of
ordering you to cease your threats, or I will be under the necessity
of killing you."
To this Captain Shunan did not reply; but, immediately after Kit
Carson had closed his remarks, he turned upon his heel and walked
directly for his lodge.
Kit Carson was too well versed in trapper rules not to read the
meaning of this action. He, therefore, walked off also; but, in
the direction of his own lodge. In a brief space of time, both men
appeared before the camp, each mounted on their respective horses. The
affair had drawn together the whole band, and they were now, quietly,
so many witnesses of the facts here recorded.
Captain Shunan was armed with his rifle. Kit Carson had taken merely
a single-barrel dragoon pistol which happened to be the first weapon
that had fallen in his way, because of his hurry to be on the ground.
The two men now rode rapidly towards one another, until their horses'
heads almost touched, when both horsemen reined up, and Kit Carson
addressed Captain Shunan as follows:
"Am I the person you are looking for?"
Captain Shunan replied, "No!"
It was apparent that this reply of Captain Shunan was a falsehood;
for, while giving it utterance, he raised his rifle in the act of
shooting, bringing it to his shoulder and covering his antagonist.
Before, however, Captain Shunan could discharge his gun, the ball from
Kit Carson's pistol shattered his forearm, causing the rifle to tilt
upwards, which changed the direction of its contents in such a
way that Kit Carson received a wound in his scalp while the powder
severely burnt his face.
[Illustration: Before, however, Captain Shunan could discharge his
gun, the ball from Kit Carson's pistol shattered his forearm.--PAGE
100.]
It was the universal opinion of the spectators of this unhappy scene
that both parties fired nearly at the same instant. The facts of the
case show very plainly, first, that Captain Shunan's intent was to
kill his antagonist. Why did he aim at Kit Carson's breast? Second,
that Kit Carson's shot was delivered perhaps a second or two in
advance of Captain Shunan's; third, that Kit Carson did not desire to
kill his antagonist, but merely to save his own life, by disabling
his adversary. The fact that his shot struck first and hit Captain
Shunan's right arm is sufficient proof of this. When Kit Carson's
well-known and indisputable skill with all kinds of fire-arms is taken
into the account; and that, notwithstanding this skill, he hit his
adversary in one of only two places (his right or left arms) which
would have rendered his aim with the rifle uncertain, the statement
that Kit Carson did not intend to kill his adversary becomes an
incontrovertible fact. Last, had Kit Carson not gained a second in
advance in the firing, he would have lost his own life, inevitably;
and, the emphatic "No!" the lie of his antagonist, would have been
crowned with success. Such plain deception seldom is allowed to
triumph by an all-wise Providence.
In judging Kit Carson in this matter, the reader will commit an
ungenerous error if he fails to allow to be placed, in the balance of
judgment, the stirring deeds and daily hair-breadth risks Kit Carson,
during so many years of his eventful life, was constantly called upon
to take a part in and undergo. We take leave of this unfortunate scene
in his life, feeling confident a just public opinion will see in it no
cause to pluck from the brow of Kit Carson any of the laurels which it
has been called upon to place there. As a man of truth, honor, virtue,
and reverence for the laws of his country, Kit Carson has few equals
and no superior among Americans. It needed not this incident to
establish his courage; that had long been proven to be undoubted. Nor
did the result elate his feelings in the least. He met his companions
without a smile, and invariably expressed his regrets that he felt it
to be his duty, for the good order and peace of the camp, to interfere
in the matter. On the other hand, when he espoused the cause of the
majority in maintaining the right, he was not a man to be easily
thwarted. When the affair was ended, Kit was congratulated and
received the thanks of nearly every individual present; for, each felt
that a load of most vexatious and troublesome responsibility had been
taken from his shoulders. The good fellowship immediately introduced
into the camp was also a circumstance of mark.
The wounded man was carried to his quarters and every attention shown
him in the power of his companions. His punishment had the effect
completely to subdue him.
These duels among the old trappers of the Rocky Mountains were not
very unfrequent occurrences. Men, situated as they were, beyond the
reach of the mighty arm of the law, find it absolutely necessary to
legislate for themselves. It is not within our province to advocate
either the right or wrong of duelling; for, with the best of
reasoning, there will always exist a difference of opinion on the
subject. In the case of these mountaineers, when any serious offence
was given, the man receiving the injury to body or fame held the right
of demanding satisfaction. The interests of the entire band required
an immediate settlement of difficulties, so that their future plans
could be carried out in concert. In their dealings with each other
they were strictly honorable; and when by any mischance a rogue crept
into their ranks, if detected in any rascality, he was summarily and
severely dealt with. Their duels were serious events; for, oftentimes
both men were killed. In fact, the case could hardly be otherwise.
They were men of unflinching courage, and their weapons were generally
rifles, which, from long practice, they held with a certain and deadly
aim. We cannot better close this passage in the life of Kit Carson
than to quote the language held in 1846 by the Biographer[8] of the
great explorer, JOHN CHARLES FREMONT:
"He" (Christopher Carson) "is a remarkably peaceable and quiet man,
temperate in his habits, and strictly moral in his deportment. In a
letter written from California, in 1847, introducing Carson as the
bearer of dispatches to the government, Col. Fremont says: 'with me,
Carson and truth mean the same thing. He is always the same--gallant
and disinterested.' He is kind-hearted, and averse to all quarrelsome
and turbulent scenes, and has never been engaged in any mere personal
broils or encounters, except on one single occasion, which he
sometimes modestly describes to his friends. The narrative is fully
confirmed by an eye-witness, of whose presence at the time he was not
aware, and whose account he has probably never seen or heard of. I
shall tell the story as it is gathered from them both.[9]
[Footnote 8: Charles Wentworth Upham.]
[Footnote 9: The reader will easily correct the few discrepancies
of facts contained in this statement, by the narrative which is from
Carson himself, and given with a view to publication.]
"In the year 1835, the Rev. Samuel Parker made an exploring and
missionary tour, under the auspices of the American Board of
Commissioners for Foreign Missions, beyond the Rocky Mountains, and as
far as the settlements on the Columbia River. In his printed journal
he gives an account of the incident to which I am referring; it
occurred on the 12th of August, at a point on the borders of Green
River, beyond the South Pass, on the occasion of a 'rendezvous,' that
is, on a spot selected for Indians, trappers, and hunters to bring to
market their peltries, and obtain supplies from the agents of the Fur
Companies. There was a large concourse of savage tribes, and all the
various denizens of the wilderness. There were Frenchmen, Spaniards,
Dutchmen, Canadians, and Western backwoodsmen. The Rev. Mr. Parker
happened to be there, to witness the strange gathering. Of course
there were some rude characters, and not a little irregularity and
disorder. Conflicts were liable to arise between quarrelsome persons,
growing out of the feuds among the tribes, and animosities between the
representatives of different nations, all actuated by pride of race or
country.
"A hunter, named Shunan, a Frenchman, who was well known by the title
of the 'big bully of the mountains,' mounted his horse with a loaded
rifle, and dashing defiantly around, challenged any person, of any
nationality, to meet him in single combat. He boasted of his
exploits, and used the most insulting and irritating language, and was
particularly insolent and abusive towards Americans, whom he described
as only worth being whipped with switches. Kit Carson was in the
crowd, and his patriotic spirit kindled at the taunt. He at once
stepped forward and said, 'I am an American, the most trifling one
among them, but if you wish to die, I will accept your challenge.'
Shunan defied him. Carson at once leaped upon his horse, with a loaded
pistol, and both dashed into close conflict. They fired, almost at the
same moment, but Carson an instant the quickest. Their horses' heads
touched. Shunan's ball just grazed Carson's cheek, near the left eye,
and cut off some locks of his hair. Carson's ball entered Shunan's
hand, came out at the wrist, and passed through his arm above the
elbow. The bully begged his life, and it was spared.
"This put an effectual stop to all such insolent proceedings, and
Americans were insulted no longer. Carson is still living, being yet,
indeed, in his prime. His faithful commander has recorded his name
on the geography of the continent, by calling after him a river and a
lake, in the great basin they explored together."