Bridger and Carson trapping on the Black Hills--The
Main Camp--The Rendezvous--Winter Quarters on the Yellow
Stone--Carson with forty men in a desperate fight with the
Blackfeet Indians--A Council--Sentinel posted--One Thousand
Warriors come to punish the Trappers--The War Dance--The
Courage of the Savages deserts them--Winter Quarters--The
Spring Hunt--Another Fight with the Blackfeet--Continued
Annoyances--The Trappers abandon the Country--The
Rocky Mountains and Alps compared--Other Trapping
Expeditions--Beaver becoming scarce--Prices of Fur
reduced--Kit Carson and the Trappers give up their
Vocation--The Journey to Bent's Fort--Mitchell the
Mountaineer--His Eccentricities.
In the spring, Kit Carson joined Bridger. With four companions they
went to the Black Hills to hunt. In the streams adjacent to that
country, the beaver existed in large numbers and their success in
trapping was excellent.
Soon after arriving, however, the party broke up. Kit Carson and a
trapper named Owens made a hunt by themselves and were very fortunate
in obtaining a large stock of the fur. After which they joined the
main camp of the trappers on Green River. When the summer was pretty
well advanced, the camp was broken up and all of its occupants started
for the Rendezvous, this year held on the Popoayhi, a branch of the
Wind River.
In the fall, most of the trappers went to the country which lies in
the immediate neighborhood of the Yellow Stone River. Having trapped
all the streams there, they went into winter quarters on that stream.
Nothing was heard of their sworn enemies, the Blackfeet Indians until
about the middle of the winter. A party who were out hunting suddenly
came upon some signs which, looking suspicious, attracted their
attention. To these signs they gave a close investigation, and fully
made up their minds that they were close to the stronghold of their
foes. Without waiting to follow up the signs they immediately retraced
their steps and informed their party in camp of their conviction that
trouble was brewing. A command of forty men was instantly detailed to
seek out the Indians and give them battle. Kit Carson was once
more called upon to lead the brave trappers in this expedition, and
everything was left to his direction and good judgment. Soon after
commencing their march, the company fell in with a scouting party of
the enemy in the vicinity of the spot where the fresh signs had been
discovered. To this party the trappers gave chase, wisely concluding
they would run for their main body. The result satisfied their
anticipations. In a short time they found themselves opposed to
a strong band of the Indians, when, a regular fight was instantly
commenced. After quite a spirited contest, the Indians gave way and
retreated, but in good order, to an island in the Yellow Stone River
where they had previously erected strong barricades. Night put a stop
to the scenes of the day and further action was deferred until
the next morning. As soon as the light would again warrant it, the
trappers plunged into the stream and made for the island, being
determined to dislodge the Indians. To their great dismay the brave
savages had already retreated having quietly given them the slip
during the night.
The result of the battle the day before was now made apparent. It was
evident that not much powder had been wasted in the action. The snow
within the fortification was red with fresh blood, and from the place
a bloody trail led to a hole in the ice of the stream where a large
number of lifeless bodies had been sunk. There was nothing now to
be done except to return to camp. Upon their arrival a council was
convened to devise measures and plans for their future conduct. It was
quite evident to all that the campaign had but just commenced. It was
the general impression that the main village of the Blackfeet tribe
had been located within a few miles. When therefore the news of their
recent severe loss should be carried there by the survivors in the
battle, active measures would be set on foot to seek revenge. It was
the decision of the council that the trappers should act chiefly on
the defensive. Measures were immediately set on foot to guard against
surprise. To make everything doubly secure, none but the most trusty
and well-tried men were detailed to perform sentinel duty. Near their
camp there was a very lofty hill which commanded a fine view of
the surrounding country. Upon this eminence they posted a sentinel
throughout the day time. Their arrangements having been all determined
upon and plans laid, the execution of them, to men so well skilled in
frontier life, occupied but little time. Notwithstanding this celerity
in their movements they had been none too quick. Soon after their
preparations were fully made, the sentinel on the hill gave his signal
indicating the approach of the Indians, showing that their precaution
in this respect had been a wise one. The order was immediately
given to erect strong breastworks. This task was so successfully
accomplished, that, in a few hours, they had prepared a little
fortress, which, covered with their unerring rifles, was impregnable
against any force the Indians could bring against it. The advance
party of the savages soon appeared in sight, but when they discovered
the strength of the trappers, they halted and awaited, distant about
half a mile from the breastwork, the arrival of the rest of the band.
It was three days before the whole force of the Indians had arrived.
They mustered about one thousand warriors. It was a sight which few
white men of the American nation have looked upon. Arrayed in their
fantastic war costume and bedaubed with paint, armed with lances, bows
and arrows, rifles, tomahawks, knives, etc., some mounted and some on
foot, they presented a wild and fearful scene of barbaric strength
and fancy. Soon after their last company had reported, the frightful
war-dance, peculiar to the American savages, was enacted in sight of
the trappers' position. The battle songs and shouts which accompanied
the dance reached the ears of the whites with fearful distinctness.
Any other than hearts of oak with courage of steel would have quailed
before this terrible display of savage enmity and ferocity. This
dance, to men so well skilled in the ways of the Indian warrior, was
a sure signal that the next day would be certain to have a fearful
history for one party or the other and doubtless for both. The odds,
most assuredly, were apparently greatly in favor of the savage host
and against the little band of hardy mountaineers.
The following day the expectations of the trappers were realized. The
Indians, at the first dawn of day, approached the breastwork,
eager for the battle. They were, evidently, very much astonished at
beholding the invincibility of the trappers' position. It was what
they had not calculated upon and seemed to cast a perfect damper upon
their courage. After firing a few shots which did no harm, and seeing
that nothing could be accomplished except by a charge, they commenced
a retreat. The trappers, though only sixty strong, were filled with
disappointment and chagrin at the course taken by their wary foes.
They began to shout to their enemies in derisive terms, hoping
the taunts would exasperate and draw them into an attack. Nothing,
however, would tempt them to face the danger, for they withdrew to a
spot about one mile from the little fort and sat down in council. The
speeches appeared to be generally opposed to risking an assault; for,
after the council was dissolved, the Indians divided into two nearly
equal parties and immediately marched off. One band took the direction
of the Crow country and the other shaped their course in the direction
from whence they came.
The trappers remained at their little fort during the winter and were
not again disturbed by the Indians. Early in the following spring,
they set their traps on one of the tributaries of the Missouri River
and finished the hunt on the head of Lewis' Fork. They then departed
for the rendezvous which was held on Green River near the mouth of
Horse Creek, remaining there until the month of August and until the
meeting was dissolved.
Kit Carson, on the breaking up of the camp at the rendezvous,
accompanied by five other trappers, went to Fort Hall and joined
a party attached to the "Northwest Fur Company." With this band he
trapped to the head of Salmon River. Thence they went to Malade River,
trapping down it to where it empties into the Big Snake River. They
continued on up this latter river, and then, after trapping on Goose
Creek and Raft River, returned to Fort Hall. Their stock of fur was
quite extensive on their arrival here and, an opportunity offering
to dispose of it, they sold out at a fair valuation. After recruiting
their strength at the Fort for one month, Kit Carson, accompanied by
most of the trappers, set out to join Bridger, who was still in the
country of the Blackfeet Indians. Upon striking the Missouri River,
signs of trappers were discovered, indicating that, whoever the party,
or parties might be, they were now above the place where Kit and his
party then were. With fourteen companions Kit started in advance of
the main party to overtake, and report who these men were. Towards
evening of the same day, the advance party came up with the trappers
and found that they were under the charge of Joseph Gale and in the
employ of Captain Wyatt.
Gale informed Carson that his command had recently been engaged in a
closely contested fight with the Blackfeet Indians; that several of
his party had been wounded, and one, by the name of Richard Owens, was
at first thought to be mortally so; but, eventually, he had begun to
recover and now was doing well.
Kit and his men remained one night with Gale. On the following day his
party commenced setting their traps, intending to proceed up the river
at a slow pace in order to allow the main party to overtake them. The
men sent out to set their traps had not gone from the camp over two
miles before they were fired upon by a party of Blackfeet Indians
and compelled to retreat. They did so, succeeding in joining their
comrades without the loss of a single man. The pursuit had been close
and well sustained by the savages; hence, it became necessary to take
instant measures in order to insure the safety of the advance. Kit
Carson, who was the commander of the party, after quietly surveying
the scene, gave orders for the men, with their animals, to conceal
themselves, as best they could in the brush. His orders had been
issued but just in time, for the concealment was barely attained, when
the Indians were upon them. They were received with a well-directed
volley from the rifles of the little party, which brought down several
of the fierce assailants. They recoiled and retreated for a moment.
The moment was golden to the few white men. Like men who were fighting
for their lives but who were cool in danger, they made no mistakes
in reloading their rifles. They were but just ready, however, for the
second charge. This time the savages came on with unearthly yells and
desperate courage, seemingly well satisfied that before them stood the
men whose faithful rifle-talk they had heard before. Kit warned his
men to keep cool and fire as if shooting game, a warning which was
entirely unnecessary, for the result was that the savages were again
driven back with a brave bleeding or dying for nearly every shot
fired. It was very fortunate that Kit had chosen this position, for
the engagement lasted nearly the entire day. The loss on the part of
the Indians was very severe. They did everything in their power to
force Kit and his party from their cover, but without avail. Every
time they attempted to charge into the thicket the same deadly volley
was poured in with never-failing aim, which invariably caused the
savages to beat a hasty retreat. Before the next attack the trappers
were ready for them with reloaded rifles. At last, as if driven to
desperation, the Indians set the thicket on fire, hoping to burn out
their foes. Most providentially, in this also they were foiled. After
consuming the outer shrubbery, the fire died out. This was the last
act attempted by the savages. Seeing the ill-success of their effort
to dislodge the trappers by fire, they departed. They may have been
hurried in this leave-taking somewhat by news brought in by their
spies of the near approach of the main body of the trappers, which
had arrived at a point about six miles distant from the battle ground.
They had been prevented from hearing the reports of fire-arms by
adverse winds, and knew nothing of the fight until informed by the
trappers engaged in it. When sufficient time had elapsed for the
Indians to be well out of sight, Kit Carson and his companions left
their cover and soon found their way into the camp of their friends.
Gale was so continually annoyed by these Indians that he joined the
other trappers and together they concluded to leave their country.
Their combined forces, though able to cope with them so far as
defensive measures were necessary, was utterly powerless to overawe
them. This made it next to an impossibility for them to continue in
their country with a hope of success in business. For the purpose of
getting rid of them, they moved off, some distance, to a small creek
where beaver were plenty. Trouble followed them, however. The first
day of their arrival, one of the party was killed by the Blackfeet
Indians within a short distance, only, of the camp. During the
remainder of the stay made by the party on this stream, the rascals
hovered around and worried them to such a degree that a trapper could
not leave the camp without falling into an ambuscade and being forced
to fight his way back again.
It became evident to all interested that so long as such a state of
affairs existed they could not employ their time with just hope of
advantage. After a short council, it was decided to abandon this
region of the country and go to the North Fork of the Missouri. They
soon accomplished their journey and began the business of trapping.
Proceeding up the river, on the fourth day, they came, suddenly, upon
a large village of Flathead and Pondrai Indians who were encamped upon
its banks. These Indians were friendly to the whites. A chief of the
Flatheads and several of his people joined the trappers and went
with them to the Big Snake River where they established their winter
quarters. The winter passed away so quietly that not a single incident
occurred beyond the usual routine which the imagination of the reader
can easily supply. It was quite cold that season, and the snow fell
to a great depth. Everything however was arranged as best conduced to
comfort, and the trappers found a pleasant and congenial exercise in
hunting to supply their daily wants.
The winter seasons in the Rocky Mountains are usually fearful and
severe. There, snow storms form mountains for themselves, filling up
the passes for weeks, even those which are low being impracticable
either for man or beast. As a set-off to all this, the scenery is most
grand provided the beholder is well housed. If the case is otherwise
and he be doomed to combat these terrible storms, his situation is
most critical. During the summer months the lofty peaks of this mighty
chain of mountains, like those of the Alps, are covered with white
caps of snow. As time, the bright sun and the south wind wear out
these old-lady head-gearings, no matter what be the part of the year,
whether the cold days of January, or the hot days of August, the snow
storms are faithful in replenishing them. It affords a contrast of the
elements of the grandest conception to stand in the shade of some wavy
verdure of the valley wiping off the unbidden perspiration from
the brow, and, at the same instant, look upon a darkly threatening
storm-cloud powdering the heads of the hoary monster mountains from
its freight of flaky snow. So far these American giant mountains
are unsurpassed by their Alpine neighbors of Europe. Not so in
the glaciers. Throughout the great range, there are none of those
beautiful glaciers to be found that can compare with those possessed
by their compeers in Europe.
To the traveler whose taste has led him to wander along the "Great
back bones," or vertebræ, of the two hemispheres, preparing the mind
to draw truthful contrast, his pleasantest reveries will find him
drawing comparisons between them. He is never tired, for the subject
he cannot exhaust. When, supposing that his conclusions are at last
made and that the Alps have won the highest place in favor, some
forgotten scene from America will assume the form and shape of a vivid
recollection, rife with scenic grandeur and sublimity, restoring the
Rocky chain to its counterpoise; then, an hour of peril and fearful
toil will come to memory, and, until the same mental process shall
bring them again to an equilibrium, the far-famed Alps will descend
in the balance. Each have their attractions, each their grandeur, each
their sublimity, each their wonderful, awful silence, each their long
and glorious landscape views, while, to each, the general contour is
the same. In the point of altitude, the Rocky chain, as is well known
to science, has the advantage; but, in historical science and lore,
the famous Alps stand preeminent. True, it is from ignorance that
we are led to concede this, because no man can give to the world the
reminiscences of the Rocky Mountains. Their history, since the first
red man entered them, must forever rest in oblivion. In scenery these
mountains of the Western Continent again carry off the palm; for,
they strike the observer as being more bold, wild and picturesque than
their formidable rivals. To the foot-worn traveler, who has journeyed
thirty or forty days upon the level prairies, seeing nothing to
break the monotony of a sea of earth, the dark outlines of the Rocky
Mountains, gradually coming into the view, never fail to prove a
refreshing sight both to the physical and mental eye. They appear
as if descending from the heavens to the surface of the earth,
perpendicularly, as though intended to present a perfect barrier over
which no living thing should pass. This view never fails to engross
the earnest attention of the traveler, and hours of gazing only serve
to enwrap the mind in deeper and more fixed contemplation. Is there
not here presented a field, such as no other part of this globe can
furnish, in which the explorer, the geologist, the botanist may
sow and reap a rich harvest for his enterprise? As yet scientific
research, on questions concerning the Rocky Mountains, is
comparatively speaking, dumb. But science will soon press forward
in her heavenly ordained mission, borne upon the shoulders of some
youthful hero, and once more the wise book-men of the gown and
slipper, who, surrounded with their tomes on tomes of learned digests,
are fast approaching the hour when they had better prepare their last
wills and testaments, will again be distanced in the race and
doomed to argue technicalities. To the hunter, the real lover of
and dependent upon the chase, there can be no comparison between
the mighty Alps and the huge Rocky Mountain Barrier of the American
Prairies. The one is destitute of animal life while the other bears
a teeming population of the choicest game known to the swift-leaden
messenger of the white man's rifle. He who wishes to behold in the
same gaze, beautiful valleys, highly cultivated by a romantic and
interesting race, in rich contrast with wonderfully moulded masses
of earth and stone, covered with a medley of green foliage and white
snow, let him go to the Alps.
In the following spring Kit Carson, accompanied by only one trapper,
started out to hunt the streams in the vicinity of Big Snake River.
The Utah nation of Indians inhabit this country; and, with them,
Kit Carson stood on a friendly footing. The business of trapping was
therefore carried on without fear of molestation. The labors of the
two were crowned with great success.
Loaded with a full cargo of fur they soon after set out for Robidoux's
Fort, which they reached in safety, selling out their stock to good
advantage.
Kit Carson made only a short stop at this Fort. As soon as his fur was
disposed of, he immediately organized a small party consisting of five
trappers and made a journey to Grand River. After thoroughly trapping
this river, he established himself at Brown's Hole on Green River for
the winter. Early in the spring he returned with the same party to the
country of the Utahs and hunted there for some time. He then went
to the New Park, where they finished their trapping operations and
returned to Robidoux's Fort. Here Kit again found a purchaser for his
furs; but, the prices at which he was obliged to sell them, did not
at all please him. Within a few years, the value of beaver fur had
greatly deteriorated. This was caused by the slow demand which had
gradually ruled at the great emporiums of Europe and America. The
skill of the manufacturer had substituted a material for the making
of hats which, while it was cheaper, pleased the great race of
hat-wearers. The beaver itself was becoming scarce, owing to their
being so diligently hunted. It was evident to Kit Carson and many
of his mountaineer companions that their occupation was gradually
becoming less profitable and that it would soon drive them into other
employments. Acting upon this impression Kit Carson, accompanied
by "Old Bill Williams,"[14] William New, Mitchell and Fredericks,
a Frenchman, started for Bent's Fort, which was then located on the
Arkansas River near a large forest of cotton wood trees, and which
is, even at this day, known as the "Big Timbers." The party struck
the river at a point about one hundred miles above the Fort, where, in
later years, was built a settlement called St. Charles.[15]
[Footnote 14: William Williams was a most celebrated character in the
Rocky Mountains, where he lived for many years. At one time he was
a Methodist preacher in the State of Missouri, which he frequently
boasted of in after life. Whenever relating this part of his eventful
career, he used to say that he was so well known in his circuit, that
the chickens recognized him as he came riding past the farmhouses.
The old chanticleers would crow "Here comes Parson Williams! One of us
must be made ready for dinner." Upon quitting the States, he traveled
extensively among the various tribes of wild Indians throughout the
far West and adopted their manners and customs. Whenever he grew weary
of one nation he would go to another. To the Missionaries, he was
often very useful. He possessed the faculty of easily acquiring
languages and could readily translate most of the Bible into several
Indian dialects. His own conduct, however, was frequently in strange
contrast with the precepts of that Holy Book. He next turns up as a
hunter and trapper; when, in this capacity, he became more celebrated
for his wild and daring adventures than before he had been for his
mild precepts. By many of his companions, he was looked upon as a man
who was partially insane. Williams proved to be a perfect enigma and
terror to the Mexicans, who thought him possessed of an evil spirit.
He once settled for a short time in their midst and became a trader.
Soon after he had established himself, he had a quarrel with some of
his customers about his charges. He appeared to be instantly disgusted
with the Mexicans, for he threw his small stock of goods into the
street of the town where he lived, seized his rifle and started again
for the mountains. His knowledge of the country over which he had
wandered was very extensive; but, when Colonel Fremont put it to the
test, he came very near sacrificing his life to his guidance. This
was probably owing to the failing of Williams' intellect; for, when
he joined the Great Explorer, he was past the meridian of life. After
bequeathing his name to several mountains, rivers and passes which
were undoubtedly discovered by him, he was slain by the red men while
trading with them.]
[Footnote 15: Five years ago this settlement contained, about thirty
inhabitants, mostly Mexicans. It was frequently subjected to various
kinds of annoyances from Indians. On one occasion it was attacked by
the hostile Utahs and Apaches, who killed and carried off as prisoners
a total of sixteen settlers. Among the slain was a Canadian who fought
so skillfully and desperately before he was dispatched, that he killed
three of his assailants. When his body was found, it was literally
pierced through and through with lance and arrow wounds, while the
hand, with which he had caught hold of some of these weapons, was
nearly cut to pieces. Around his corpse, there were a dozen horses'
tails which had been cut from the horses which were owned by the dead
warriors, and left there, as a sign of mourning, by the Indians.]
On reaching the river, two of the party, Mitchell and New, concluded
to tarry awhile in order to gratify their humor for hunting. But Kit
Carson, with the remainder of the mountaineers, continued on their
course, and, in three days time, were safely lodged within the walls
of the Fort. One week subsequently, Mitchell and New followed their
companions to the Fort, but in a sad plight. They had not suspected
danger, and, consequently, had failed to guard against it. They had
been surrounded by Indians and deprived of everything they possessed
except their naked bodies. In this denuded state they arrived at the
Fort. They were kindly received and provided for by its noble-hearted
proprietors; and, for some time enjoyed a respite from all their
troubles.
This mountaineer Mitchell, full of eccentricities of character, has
seen the ups and downs of a frontiersman during a long and eventful
life. He once joined the Camanche nation and became one of their
braves.[16]
[Footnote 16: White men have frequently enrolled themselves as
warriors among the American Indians; but they have rarely gained the
full confidence of the Indians, who, naturally very proud of their
birthright, view with a jealous eye all intruders.]
In this capacity he won great renown by the efficient and active part
he took in several engagements between the tribe of his adoption and
their enemies. His real object in turning Indian was to discover the
locality of a gold mine which was said to have an existence in some
of the mountains of northern Texas. Having convinced himself that the
story of the gold mine, like many of the tales and traditions which
gain currency in Indian countries, was entirely without foundation,
Mitchell, with some plausible excuse, bid his red friends good bye and
sought out his old comrades, the trappers, to whom he ever afterwards
proved faithful. About two years since, Mitchell paid a trading visit
to the States. On his route, it became necessary that he should pass
over the Kansas Territory, just at a time when political difficulties
there were exciting the people to the highest pitch of anxiety. The
consequence was, that his views upon the all-absorbing questions at
issue were frequently asked for by members of both parties. To all
these queries he invariably replied, professing his ignorance of
everything that appertained thereto. This caused him to be regarded as
a dangerous man, and one not to be trusted. He was accordingly treated
with indifference and silent reserve. This to a mountaineer, who,
during a long period of years, had met every "pale face" as a brother,
was insupportable usage. In all haste he finished his business,
relinquished his contemplated journey through the States, and
started to return to his home in New Mexico. While upon the road, he
accidentally fell in with a friend; and, in reply to the question,
where have you been? said:
"After a lapse of many years, I thought I should like to see the
_whites_ again; so, I was going to the States. But the sample I've
seen in Kansas is enough to disgust _a man_ with their character. They
do nothing but get up war parties against one another; and, I would
much rather be in an Indian country than in civilized Kansas."
Mitchell is full of dry humor and commands the faculty of telling a
good story, which makes him a pleasant traveling companion.
Since the time when Kit Carson first joined a trapping expedition,
up to the time of his arrival at Bent's Fort, a period of eight long
years, he had known no rest from arduous toil. Not even when, to the
reader, he was apparently idle, buried in the deep snows of the Rocky
Mountains and awaiting the return of Spring, has he rested from toil.
Even then his daily life has been given up to bodily fatigue and
danger, frequently in scenes which, although of thrilling interest,
are too lengthy for this narrative. It has been our purpose thus far
to present Kit Carson undergoing his novitiate. We regard, and we
think a world will eventually regard, this extraordinary man as one
raised up by Providence to fulfill a destiny of His all-wise decree.
It is premature for us, at this stage of our work, to advance the
argument upon which this conclusion, so irresistibly to our mind,
is deduced. We have yet before us an array of historical fact and
incident to relate, without parallel in the history of nations, and in
which Kit Carson plays no insignificant part. For these eight years
of stirring practical life, Kit Carson, relying upon his beloved rifle
for his sustenance and protection, had penetrated every part of the
interior of the North American Continent, setting his traps upon every
river of note which rises within this interior, and tracing them from
the little springs which originate them to the wide mouths from which
they pour their surcharged waters into the mighty viaducts or drains
of the vast prairies, and the mighty leviathan ranges of the Rocky
Mountains. In this time he had wandered over a wild territory equal
in its dimensions to nearly all of the empires, kingdoms and
principalities of Europe combined. His journeys, as it has already
appeared, were made sometimes on foot and sometimes on horseback. By
themselves, his travels will be called no trivial undertakings.
Each fresh adventure led him into regions where but seldom, and more
frequently never, had a white man trod the soil. He was, therefore,
now an explorer in every sense of that distinguishing word, with the
single exception that he had not produced the results which the early
culture and advantages of a scientific and classical education
might have brought about. But the history of the world furnishes few
examples, if indeed any, where the physical training, practical skill
and knowledge of a country, as possessed by Kit Carson, have been
united with scholastic lore. At all events, in the wisdom of that
special Providence which was intending the gold mines of California to
be consecrated to the advancement of American civilization, with
its religious freedom, personal liberties and sacred literature,
the novitiate of Kit Carson was decreed to be wholly of a practical
nature. But while Kit Carson, with his rifle, was thus reared up
in character, courage and experience, the same All-wise hand was
directing the pathway of a mind, equal to accomplish His call, through
all the labyrinths of Science, History and the Arts, endowing that
mind with a keenness of intellectual grasp in strange contrast with
the practical skill of its future guide. Those who see no God in
nature, no God in events, may batter away at this proposition. The
record of Kit Carson's future tasks will prove it to be an invincible
stronghold of theory.
Kit Carson's mind had now become well stored with facts and localities
which were destined to be made known to the world through his
connections with others. It is not detracting from the merits of
any one to assert that, without frontiers-men like Kit Carson, the
numerous scientific expeditions which have been sent out by the United
States Government to explore the far West would have returned but
sorry and meagre records for their employers. After reading some of
the many printed accounts which parties of a more recent date have
gathered from their experience while making their way overland to the
Pacific, and also the sad fate of some brave men with noble hearts
who have fallen a sacrifice upon the altar of science under the fatal
blows of hostile savages, attributable no doubt in some measure to
bad advice, we can thus more easily form a correct judgment of the
hardships which Kit Carson has been called upon to endure and the
wisdom or skill which he has displayed in surmounting every obstacle
on his wild and solitary pathway. The hardships which fell to the lot
of the "trappers of olden time" also stand out in bolder relief. Out
of the whole catalogue of labors, from which man, to gain an honest
livelihood has selected, there is not one profession which presents
so many formidable obstacles as that under consideration; yet, it was
with difficulty that the mountaineers could wean themselves from their
calling even when forced by stern necessity.