Kit Carson is employed as Hunter to Bent's Fort--His Career
for Eight Years--Messrs. Bent and St. Vrain--The commencement
of his Acquaintance with John C. Fremont on a Steamboat--Is
employed as a Guide by the Great Explorer--The
Journey--Arrival at Fort Laramie--Indian Difficulties--The
business of the Expedition completed--Return to Fort
Laramie--Kit Carson goes to Taos and is married--He is
employed as Hunter to a Train of Wagons bound for the
States--Meeting with Captain Cook and four companies of U.S.
Dragoons on Walnut Creek--Mexicans in Trouble--Kit Carson
carries a Letter for them to Santa Fé--Indians on the
Route--His safe Arrival--Amijos' advance Guard massacred by
the Texians--The one Survivor--The Retreat--Kit Carson returns
to Bent's Fort--His Adventures with the Utahs and narrow
escape from Death--The Texians disarmed--The Express Ride
performed.
It has already appeared that Kit Carson was now at Bent's Fort. Also,
that his occupation as a trapper of beaver had become unprofitable.
His services were however immediately put into requisition by Messrs.
Bent and St. Vrain, the proprietors of what was called Bent's Fort,
which was a trading-post kept by those gentlemen. The position which
he accepted was that of Hunter to the Fort. This office he filled from
that time with the most undeviating fidelity and promptitude for eight
consecutive years. During all of this long period not a single word
of disagreement passed between him and his employers, which fact
shows better than mere words, that his duty was faithfully and
satisfactorily performed. It is but seldom that such a fact can be
stated of any employee, no matter what the service. Here, however, was
an example in which, the nature of the employment would of itself, at
times, present cause for discord, such as scarcity of game, bad luck,
and men hungry in consequence. But Kit Carson was too skillful in his
profession to allow such reasons to mar his fortunes. With the effort
the game always was at hand; for, it was not his custom to return from
his hunts empty handed.
Of course Kit Carson's duties were to supply the traders and their
men with all the animal food they wanted, an easy task when game was
plenty; but, it would often happen that bands of Indians, which were
always loitering about the trading post, would precede him in the
chase, thereby rendering his labors oftentimes very difficult. From
sunrise to sunset and not unfrequently during the night, he wandered
over the prairies and mountains within his range in search of food for
the maintenance, sometimes of forty men who composed the garrison of
the Fort and who were dependent on the skill of their hunter; but,
rarely did he fail them. He knew, for hundreds of miles about him, the
most eligible places to seek for game. During the eight years referred
to, thousands of buffalo, elk, antelope and deer fell at the crack of
Kit Carson's rifle. Each day so added to his reputation that it is not
to be wondered at, considering the practice of his previous life, that
he became unrivalled as a hunter. His name spread rapidly over the
Western Continent until, with the rifle, he was the acknowledged
"Monarch of the Prairies." The wild Indians, accustomed to measure a
man's greatness by the deeds which he is capable of performing with
powder and lead, were completely carried away in their admiration of
the man. Among the Arrapahoes, Cheyennes, Kiowas and Camanches, Kit
Carson was always an honored guest whenever he chose to visit their
lodges; and, many a night, while seated at their watch-fires, he has
narrated to them the exciting scenes of the day's adventures, to which
they have listened with eager attention and unrestrained delight. When
arrayed in his rough hunting costume and mounted upon his favorite
charger Apache, a splendid animal, Kit Carson was a picture to behold.
The buffalo were his favorite game, and well were they worthy of
such a noble adversary. In the eyes of a sportsman, the buffalo is a
glorious prey. To hunt them is oftentimes attended with great danger;
and, while thus engaged, many a skillful man has yielded up his life
for his temerity.
The American bison or buffalo seems to demand at our hands a short
episode from the narrative of Kit Carson's life. This animal has
several traits of character peculiarly his own. If alarmed, he starts
off almost instantly and always runs against the wind, his sense
of smell appearing to be better than his eyesight. What is a most
remarkable fact, a herd of buffalo, when grazing, always post and
maintain a line of sentinels to warn the main body of the approach of
danger. When a strange object comes within sight or smelling distance,
these sentinels immediately give the alarm by tossing up their heads
and tails and bellowing furiously. The whole herd instantly heed the
warning and are soon in motion. Buffalo run with forelegs stiff, which
fact, together with their ugly-looking humps and the lowness of their
heads, gives a rocking swing to their gait. If a herd, when in full
motion, have to cross a road on which wagons are traveling, they
change their course but little; and, it sometimes happens, that large
bands will pass within a stone's throw of a caravan. At night they are
quite systematic in forming their camps. In the centre are placed the
cows and calves; while, to guard against the wolves, large numbers
of which always follow them, they station on their outposts, the old
bulls. The age to which a buffalo may attain is not known; but, it is
certain that they are generally long-lived when not prematurely cut
off. When their powers of life begin to fade, they fall an easy prey
to the small, carnivorous animals of the plains. The attempt has been
made to domesticate and render them useful for agricultural purposes.
Hitherto such efforts have invariably failed. When restrained of their
freedom, they are reduced to mere objects of curiosity.
In hunting buffalo the most important matter for the attention of the
hunter is to provide himself with a suitable horse. The best that can
be selected is a trained Mexican or Indian pony. Their familiarity
with the game and the prairies, over which the hunter must ride at
full speed, renders these horses quite safe. On the other hand a green
horse is sure to be terribly frightened when called upon to face these
ugly-looking animals, and the rider will find he has his hands full
to manage him without thinking of his game. One great danger to be
apprehended is the being led into a prairie-dog town. Here a horse
needs experience to carry his rider through with safety. Upon
reaching the herd, the hunter dashes in at the cows, which, are easily
recognized by the fineness of their robes and their smaller forms. The
white man hunter, of all weapons, prefers a revolver; but, the red man
uses the lance, and bow and arrows, which he handles with remarkable
dexterity. The place of election to make the deadly wound is just
behind the fore shoulder where the long, shaggy mane of the hump
is intersected by the short hair of the body. The death-wound being
given, the blood gushes out in torrents and the victim, after a few
bounds, falls on her knees with her head bunting into the ground. If,
by chance, a vital organ is not reached, the pain of the wound makes
the stricken animal desperately courageous. She turns upon her pursuer
with terrible earnestness ready to destroy him. It is now that the
horse is to be depended upon. If well trained, he will instantly wheel
and place himself and rider out of harm's way; but, woe to both horse
and hunter if this is not done. The lives of both are in imminent
danger. In case the buffalo is killed, the hunter rides up, dismounts
and makes his lariet fast to the horns of his game. He next proceeds
to cut up the meat and prepare it for his pack animals which he should
have near by. By their aid he easily carries it into camp.
It would doubtless afford many a page of exciting interest could we
carry the reader through all the varied scenes of the chase in which
Kit Carson has been the principal actor. To transmit to our narrative
a choice fight with the fierce old grizzly bear; or, perchance, a fine
old buffalo bull turning on his destroyer with savage ferocity; or, a
wounded panther, with its inevitable accompaniment in the shape of a
hand-to-hand encounter for dear life, each of such could not fail in
giving interest to the general reader. We are forced, against our
own conviction of the duty we owe the public as Kit Carson's chosen
Biographer, to pass by all such acts of his personal daring
and triumph because of his own unwillingness to relate them for
publication. Notwithstanding our urgent requests, backed up by the
advice and interference of friends, Kit Carson is inflexibly opposed
to relating such acts of himself. He is even more willing to speak of
his failures, though such are few, rather than of his victories in
the chase. While the description of these adventures could not fail
to furnish useful and interesting data, most unfortunately, Kit Carson
considers that they are uninteresting minutiæ which have pertained to
the every-day business of his life and no persuasion can induce him to
enter upon their relation. Not so when he is entertaining some of the
brave chiefs of the Indian nations whose friendship he has won by his
brave deeds. If they are his guests, or he himself theirs, then their
delight to hear kindles a pride in his breast to relate. He knows that
he will not, by them, be called a boaster.
Before quitting the mountains, Kit Carson married an Indian girl to
whom he was most devotedly attached. By this wife he had one child,
a daughter. Soon after the birth of this child, his wife died. His
daughter, he watched over with the greatest solicitude. When she
reached a suitable age, he sent her to St. Louis for the purpose of
giving her the advantages of a liberal education. Indeed most of Kit
Carson's hard earnings, gained while he was a hunter on the Arkansas,
were devoted to the advancement of his child. On arriving at maturity
she married and with her husband settled in California.
The libertine custom of indulging in a plurality of wives, as adopted
by many of the mountaineers, never received the sanction, in thought,
word or action, of Kit Carson. His moral character may well be held up
as an example to men whose pretensions to virtuous life are greater.
Although he was continually surrounded by licentiousness he proved
true to her who had first gained his affections. For this honoring of
virtue he is indebted in a measure to the present sway which he holds
over the western Indian races. While their chiefs are seldom men of
virtuous act or intent, they are high in their appreciation of, and
just in their rewards to those whose lives are patterns of honor
and chastity. The Indian woman, concerning whom no truthful tale of
dereliction can be told, when she arrives at the requisite age, is
invested with great power in her tribe. One of their ancient customs,
well authenticated, was to honor the virtuous women of their tribe
with sacred titles, investing them, in their blind belief, with power
to call down the favor, in behalf of the people, of their Manitou, or
Great Spirit. But every woman who aspired to this honor, was required
upon a certain day in the year, to run the gauntlet of braves. This
was sometimes a terrible scene. All the warriors of the tribe, arrayed
in their fiercest war costume and armed at every point with lance, bow
and arrow, knife, tomahawk, etc., were drawn up under command of the
principal chief, in single line. At the head of this line was placed
a kind of chaplet, or crown, the possession of which by any woman was
supposed to confer the power of necromancy or magic, rendering her
able to heal diseases and to foretell events. The line having been
formed, all of the young maidens of the tribe were drawn up in a body
at the further extremity and any of them who aspired to the possession
of the chaplet was at liberty, having first uncovered her back and
breast as far as her waist, to march before the line of warriors
within ten paces of their front and, if she lived to reach it, take
possession of the crown. On the other hand, it was the duty of any
warrior, who knew aught by word or deed against the virtue of the
advancing maiden, to kill her upon the spot. If one arrow was shot at
her, the whole band instantly poured a flight of arrows into her bare
and defenceless bosom until life was extinct. Again, it was the belief
of the untutored savage that whatever warrior failed to make his
knowledge apparent, if he possessed any, by sending his arrow at the
aspirant, would always be an object of revenge by the Great Spirit
both here and hereafter; and, that he would always live in the
hereafter, in sight of the Happy Hunting Grounds, but never be allowed
to enter them. This latter belief made it a rare thing for young girls
to brave the attempt; but, sometimes, the candidates were numerous
and the horrible butchery of the young girls which took place formed
a terrible exposé of their lewdness. To kill an innocent girl was
equally a matter which would be forever avenged by the Great Spirit.
The warm friendship which sprang up between Kit Carson and the
proprietors of Bent's Fort, under whom he held his situation
as Hunter, is a sufficient index of the gentlemanly conduct and
amiability of heart evinced towards him on their part. The names
of Bent and St. Vrain were known and respected far and near in the
mountains, for, in generosity, hospitality and native worth, they were
men of perfect model.
Mr. Bent was appointed, by the proper authority, the first Civil
Governor of New Mexico, after that large and valuable country
was ceded to and came under the jurisdiction of the United States
Government. He held this distinguished position however only a short
time; for, in the year 1847, he was most foully and treacherously
murdered by the Pueblo Indians and Mexicans. A revolution had broken
out among this turbulent people, and, in his endeavors to stem it,
Governor Bent was frustrated. At last, being driven to his own house,
he barricaded the doors and windows. The rascally rioters, after a
severe contest, succeeded in breaking open his doors; and, having
gained access to their victim, murdered him in cold blood in the
midst of his family. The only crime imputed by the mob against this
benevolent and just man was, that he was an American. His untimely
death, which was mourned by all the Americans who knew him, cast a
settled gloom over the community in which he resided. The Mexicans
were afterwards very penitent for the share they took in the committal
of this black crime. Although several of the guilty party are still
living, they have left the country; for, the mountaineers have not
forgotten the friend whom they esteemed and respected, and will avenge
his death if ever the opportunity offers.
Cerin St. Vrain, the surviving partner of this celebrated trading
firm was equally noted. Upon the declaration of war between the United
States and Mexico, St. Vrain took an active part on the side of his
country, and, from his extensive knowledge of the Mexican character,
was enabled to render important services. At the close of the war,
he became extensively engaged in mercantile pursuits within the New
Territory, and, by his untiring industry amassed a large fortune. He
was the first man who discovered and recognized the superior skill of
Kit Carson as a hunter; and, for his subsequent success in life,
Kit Carson is much indebted to him. St. Vrain is one of the oldest
mountaineers now living; and, as such, he is viewed by his old and new
associates in the light of a father.
As the reader can now easily compute, sixteen years had elapsed since
Kit Carson commenced his exploits in the Rocky Mountains. During this
long period, as frequently as once every year, he had sat down to a
meal consisting of bread, vegetables, meat, coffee, tea, and sugar.
When dining thus sumptuously, he considered himself as greatly favored
with luxuries of the rarest grade. Few men can say, with Kit Carson,
"During sixteen years, my rifle furnished nearly every particle of
food upon which I lived." Fewer can say with equal truth, that "For
many consecutive years, I never slept under the roof of a house, or
gazed upon the face of a white woman."
It was after such an experience as we have endeavored to paint by the
simple tale of his life thus far, that Kit Carson longed, once more,
to look upon and mingle with civilized people. For some time before
he determined to visit the United States, this desire had taken
possession of his mind and had been growing stronger. The traders of
the Fort were accustomed, yearly, to send into the States a train of
wagons, for the purpose of transporting their goods. The opportunity,
therefore, presented for Kit Carson to gratify his wish. In the spring
of 1842, one of these caravans started with which Kit Carson traveled
as a supernumerary. When it arrived within the boundary lines of the
State of Missouri, he parted from his _compagnons de voyage_ and went
in quest of his relatives and friends, whom, now, he had not seen for
over sixteen years. The scenes of his boyhood days, he found to be
magically changed. New faces met him on all sides. The old log-cabin
where his father and mother had resided was deserted and its
dilapidated walls were crumbling with decay. The once happy inmates
were scattered over the face of the earth while many of their voices
were hushed in death. Kit Carson felt himself a stranger in a strange
land--the strong man wept. His soul could not brook either the change
or the ways of the people. While he failed not to receive kindness and
hospitality, to which his name alone was a sufficient passport among
the noble-hearted Missourians, nevertheless, he had fully allayed his
curiosity, and, as soon as possible, bid adieu to these unpleasant
recollections. He bent his steps towards St. Louis. In this city he
remained ten days; and, as it was the first time since he had reached
manhood that he had viewed a town of any magnitude, he was greatly
interested. But, ten days of sight-seeing wearied him. He resolved
to return to his mountain home where he could breathe the pure air of
heaven and where manners and customs conformed to his wild life and
were more congenial to his tastes. He engaged passage upon the first
steamboat which was bound up the Missouri River.
We cannot resist the impulse which here struggles for utterance. Look
upon that little steamboat as it ascends the mighty Missouri bearing
in its bosom the man who was destined to point out the hidden paths of
the mighty West; to mount and record the height of the loftiest peak
of the American monster mountain chain; to unfold the riches of
the interior of a great and glorious empire to its possessors, and,
finally, to conquer with his good sword, preparing the way for its
annexation to his country, the richest soil and fairest land on earth,
thus adding one more glorious star to the original thirteen of 1776;
a star, too, of the very first magnitude, whose refulgent brightness
shines clear, sparkling and pure for the Truth of Sacred Writ and
American Liberty. On the deck of that little steamboat, the two men,
the one the master mind, the giant intellect, the man of research and
scholastic strength, the scientific engineer; the other, than whom
his superior as an American mountaineer was not living, stood,
uninterested spectators of each other; and, each, unconscious why they
had been permitted to enter the same cabin. The Christian student
of American history cannot pass by this simple circumstance without
seeing Heaven's wisdom in such a coincidence; namely, Kit Carson for
the first time in sixteen years bending his steps to his boyhood home
just as his sixteen years of mountaineer skill and experience were
required by one of the master workmen of American Engineering, about
to enter upon the exploration of inland North America.
Kit Carson wandered over the boat, studying its mechanism, admiring
the machinery, which, so like a thing of life, subserved the interests
of human life; watched with quiet reserve the faces and general
appearance of his fellow-passengers; occasionally, modestly addressed
an acquaintance, for some present were known to him; and, finally
singled out from among the strangers a man on whose face he thought
he discovered the marks of true courage, manhood and nobility of
character. The impression which Kit Carson had thus received,
was nothing fleeting. The eagle eye, the forehead, the form, the
movements, the general features, the smile, the quiet dignity of
the man, each and all of these attributes of his manhood had been
carefully noted by the wary and hardy mountaineer, and had not failed
to awaken in his breast a feeling of admiration and respect. While on
this boat Kit Carson learned the fact that the man, whom he had
thus studied, was Lieutenant John C. Fremont of the U.S. corps of
topographical engineers; also, that Lieutenant Fremont had been
earnestly seeking Captain Drips, an experienced mountaineer, but,
that he had been disappointed in finding him. Upon learning this, Kit
Carson fell into a deep reverie which lasted some little time, when,
having brought it to a conclusion, he approached Lieutenant Fremont
and modestly introducing himself, said:
"Sir! I have been some time in the mountains and think I can guide you
to any point there you wish to reach."
Lieutenant Fremont's answer indicated his satisfaction in making the
acquaintance which Kit Carson had offered him and that he would make
inquiries concerning his capabilities of performing the duty for which
he offered himself.
The inquiries which the then lieutenant instituted, or, at least, may
be supposed to have instituted, must have been favorable; for, soon
afterwards, Kit Carson was engaged by Colonel Fremont to act as guide
to his first exploring expedition at a salary of one hundred dollars
per month. Upon arriving in Kansas the party prepared for a long
and dangerous journey which lay before them. The objects of this
expedition was to survey the South Pass, and take the altitude of
the highest peaks of the Rocky Mountains, besides gathering all the
collateral information which they could. The party had been chiefly
collected in St. Louis. It consisted of twenty-two Creole and Canadian
voyageurs; Mr. Charles Preuss, a native of Germany, whose education
rendered him a master in the art of topographical sketching, and,
towards whom, Colonel Fremont has always extended high and just
encomium; Henry Brant, a son of Colonel J.H. Brant, of St. Louis,
nineteen years of age; young Randolph Benton, a son of Colonel Benton,
twelve years of age; Mr. L. Maxwell, a mountaineer engaged as the
hunter of the party; and finally, Kit Carson, as guide, making,
including the commander of the Expedition, twenty-eight souls. On the
10th day of June, 1842, the party commenced their march. The daily
routine usually observed on the march was as follows:
At daybreak the camp was aroused, the animals led out and turned loose
to graze; breakfast about six o'clock, immediately after which, the
line of march was resumed; at noon there was a halt of one or two
hours; the march was then again resumed and kept up until within an
hour or so of sunset, when the order was usually given to encamp; the
tents were then pitched, horses hobbled and turned loose to graze and
the cooks prepared supper. At night all the animals were brought in
and picketed, carts set for defence and guard mounted.
[Illustration: BUFFALO HUNT.--PAGE 161.]
The party had only accomplished a few miles of the march when they
fell in with the buffalo. Before we pursue the narrative of Kit
Carson's life we must redeem our promise and allow Col. Fremont to
describe his own impressions in his first Buffalo Hunt, in which Kit
Carson and Mr. L. Maxwell were his companions and guides. Col. Fremont
says:
"A few miles brought us into the midst of the buffalo, swarming in
immense numbers over the plains, where they had left scarcely a blade
of grass standing. Mr. Preuss, who was sketching at a little distance
in the rear, had at first noted them as large groves of timber. In the
sight of such a mass of life, the traveler feels a strange emotion of
grandeur. We had heard from a distance a dull and confused murmuring,
and, when we came in view of their dark masses, there was not one
among us who did not feel his heart beat quicker. It was the early
part of the day, when the herds are feeding; and everywhere they were
in motion. Here and there a huge old bull was rolling in the grass,
and clouds of dust rose in the air from various parts of the bands,
each the scene of some obstinate fight. Indians and buffalo make
the poetry and life of the prairie, and our camp was full of their
exhilaration. In place of the quiet monotony of the march, relieved
only by the cracking of the whip, and an '_avance donc! enfant de
garce!_' shouts and songs resounded from every part of the line,
and our evening camp was always the commencement of a feast, which
terminated only with our departure on the following morning. At
any time of the night might be seen pieces of the most delicate and
choicest meat, roasting _en appolas_, on sticks around the fire, and
the guard were never without company. With pleasant weather and
no enemy to fear, and abundance of the most excellent meat, and
no scarcity of bread or tobacco, they were enjoying the oasis of a
voyageur's life. Three cows were killed today. Kit Carson had shot
one, and was continuing the chase in the midst of another herd, when
his horse fell headlong, but sprang up and joined the flying band.
Though considerably hurt, he had the good fortune to break no bones;
and Maxwell, who was mounted on a fleet hunter, captured the runaway
after a hard chase. He was on the point of shooting him, to avoid the
loss of his bridle (a handsomely mounted Spanish one), when he found
that his horse was able to come up with him. Animals are frequently
lost in this way; and it is necessary to keep close watch over them,
in the vicinity of the buffalo, in the midst of which they scour off
to the plains, and are rarely retaken. One of our mules took a sudden
freak into his head, and joined a neighboring band to-day. As we are
not in a condition to lose horses, I sent several men in pursuit,
and remained in camp, in the hope of recovering him; but lost the
afternoon to no purpose, as we did not see him again. Astronomical
observations placed us in longitude 100° 05' 47", latitude 40° 49'
55".
"_July 1._--As we were riding quietly along the bank, a grand herd of
buffalo, some seven or eight hundred in number, came crowding up from
the river, where they had been to drink, and commenced crossing
the plain slowly, eating as they went. The wind was favorable; the
coolness of the morning invited to exercise; the ground was apparently
good, and the distance across the prairie (two or three miles) gave
us a fine opportunity to charge them before they could get among the
river hills. It was too fine a prospect for a chase to be lost; and,
halting for a few moments, the hunters were brought up and saddled,
and Kit Carson, Maxwell and I started together. They were now somewhat
less than half a mile distant, and we rode easily along until within
about three hundred yards, when a sudden agitation, a wavering in the
band, and a galloping to and fro of some which were scattered along
the skirts, gave us the intimation that we were discovered. We started
together at a hand gallop, riding steadily abreast of each other, and
here the interest of the chase became so engrossingly intense, that we
were sensible to nothing else. We were now closing upon them rapidly,
and the front of the mass was already in rapid motion for the hills,
and in a few seconds the movement had communicated itself to the whole
herd.
"A crowd of bulls, as usual, brought up the rear, and every now and
then some of them faced about, and then dashed on after the band a
short distance, and turned and looked again, as if more than half
inclined to stand and fight. In a few moments, however, during which
we had been quickening our pace, the rout was universal, and we were
going over the ground like a hurricane. When at about thirty yards,
we gave the usual shout (the hunter's battle cry) and broke into the
herd. We entered on the side, the mass giving way in every direction
in their heedless course. Many of the bulls, less active and less
fleet than the cows, paying no attention to the ground, and occupied
solely with the hunter were precipitated to the earth with great
force, rolling over and over with the violence of the shock, and
hardly distinguishable in the dust. We separated on entering, each
singling out his game.
"My horse was a trained hunter, famous in the west under the name of
Proveau, and, with his eyes flashing, and the foam flying from his
mouth, sprang on after the cow like a tiger. In a few moments he
brought me alongside of her, and, rising in the stirrups, I fired at
the distance of a yard, the ball entering at the termination of the
long hair, and passing near the heart. She fell headlong at the report
of the gun, and checking my horse, I looked around for my companions.
At a little distance, Kit was on the ground, engaged in tying his
horse to the horns of a cow which he was preparing to cut up. Among
the scattered bands, at some distance below, I caught a glimpse of
Maxwell; and while I was looking, a light wreath of white smoke
curled away from his gun, from which I was too far to hear the
report. Nearer, and between me and the hills, towards which they were
directing their course, was the body of the herd, and giving my horse
the rein, we dashed after them. A thick cloud of dust hung upon their
rear, which filled my mouth and eyes, and nearly smothered me. In
the midst of this I could see nothing, and the buffalo were not
distinguishable until within thirty feet. They crowded together more
densely still as I came upon them, and rushed along in such a compact
body, that I could not obtain an entrance--the horse almost leaping
upon them. In a few moments the mass divided to the right and left,
the horns clattering with a noise heard above everything else, and my
horse darted into the opening. Five or six bulls charged on us as we
dashed along the line, but were left far behind, and singling out a
cow, I gave her my fire, but struck too high. She gave a tremendous
leap, and scoured on swifter than before. I reined up my horse, and
the band swept on like a torrent, and left the place quiet and clear.
Our chase had led us into dangerous ground. A prairie-dog village, so
thickly settled that there were three or four holes in every twenty
yards square, occupied the whole bottom for nearly two miles in
length. Looking around, I saw only one of the hunters, nearly out of
sight, and the long dark line of our caravan crawling along, three or
four miles distant."
The trail which the party left behind them now forms the emigrant
road to California via Fort Laramie, Salt Lake, etc. On reaching Fort
Laramie, Fremont found a fearful state of affairs existing among the
Sioux Indians through whose country his route lay. An encounter had
recently taken place between a war-party belonging to the Sioux nation
and a party of trappers and Snake Indians. In the fight the Indians
had been worsted and several of their braves killed. To revenge
themselves the Sioux chieftains had collected their warriors; and,
while the nation was encamped to the number of one thousand lodges,
they had gone forth to seek and punish their enemies.
At Fort Laramie the exploring party met several trappers and friendly
Indians who used their utmost endeavors to dissuade Colonel Fremont
from venturing into such inevitable danger. There was but one opinion
expressed, viz.: that, as sure as he entered upon the journey,
the entire party would be massacred. To all these admonitions and
warnings, Colonel Fremont had but one reply. His government had
directed him to perform a certain duty. The obstacles which stood
in his way, it was his duty to use every means at his command
to surmount; therefore, in obedience to his instructions, he was
determined to continue his march. Finally, he said, that he would
accomplish the object or die in the attempt, being quite sure that if
the expedition failed by being cut to pieces, a terrible retribution
would be in store for the perpetrators of the act. Kit Carson, his
guide, openly avowed that the future looked dark and gloomy; but, he
was delighted to hear this expression from his commander. He now felt
that he had a man after his own heart to depend on, and should danger
or inevitable death be in store for them he was ready and willing
to face either with him. In order to be prepared for the worst, Kit
Carson felt it his duty, considering the dangers apprehended, to make
his will, thereby showing that if he had to fight he was ready to
count it his last battle. Colonel Fremont resumed his journey, and
very opportunely arrived at the South Pass of the Rocky Mountains
without, in any way, being annoyed with Indians, not even meeting any
on the route.
He had now reached the field where his chief labors were to commence.
Without loss of time he set earnestly about his work, making and
recording such observations as he deemed to be essential and examining
and exploring the country. Having finished this part of his labors,
the ascent of the highest peak of the mountains was commenced. The
length of the journey had jaded the animals. It was very difficult to
procure game. The men had undergone such severe hardships that their
spirits had become almost worn out. The daily fare now was dried
buffalo meat. This was about the consistency of a pine stick; and,
in taste, resembled a piece of dried bark. Besides these rather
uncomfortable prospects, the expedition stood in constant fear of an
attack by the Indians. It was now in the country of the Blackfeet;
and, only a short distance from the encampment, at the foot of the
mountain, there was one of their forts. In the face of all these
obstacles, sufficiently formidable to have deterred most commanders,
the mountain party was detailed, being fourteen in number including
Fremont. A man named Bernier was left in command of the camp which
had been made by felling forest trees in a space about forty feet in
diameter, using the trunks to form a breastwork. The camp was thus
concealed by the trees and their foliage. It was well calculated for
defence, and a few determined men could have maintained it against
almost any Indian force.
On the 12th day of August the mountain party left the camp. It was
fifteen in number. On the 14th of August some of the party reached an
elevation at which the barometer stood 19.401. On the 15th some of
the party were sent back. Kit Carson had command of this party. The
remainder consisted of Colonel Fremont, Mr. Preuss, Basil Lajeunesse,
Clement Lambert, Janesse, and Descoteaux. The day previous Kit Carson
had alone climbed one of the highest peaks of the main ridge from
which he had a full view of the highest peak, which rose about eight
or ten hundred feet above him. The arduous labors of the 14th August
had determined the commander to ascend no higher. Instead of carrying
out this intention, after Kit Carson with his party had set out,
Fremont made one more effort to climb the highest peak and succeeded.
His own words in describing this ascent are as follows:
"'At intervals, we reached places where a number of springs gushed
from the rocks, and about 1,800 feet above the lakes came to the
snow line. From this point our progress was uninterrupted climbing.
Hitherto, I had worn a pair of thick moccasins, with soles of
_parflêche_; but here I put on a light thin pair, which I had brought
for the purpose, as now the use of our toes became necessary to a
further advance. I availed myself of a sort of comb of the mountain,
which stood against the wall like a buttress, and which the wind and
the solar radiation, joined to the steepness of the smooth rock, had
kept almost entirely free from snow. Up this I made my way rapidly.
Our cautious method of advancing in the outset had spared my strength;
and, with the exception of a slight disposition to headache, I felt
no remains of yesterday's illness. In a few minutes we reached a point
where the buttress was overhanging, and there was no other way of
surmounting the difficulty than by passing around one side of it,
which was the face of a vertical precipice of several hundred feet.'
"_Parflêche_ is the name given to buffalo hide. The Indian women
prepare it by scraping and drying. It is exceedingly tough and hard,
and receives its name from the circumstance that it cannot be pierced
by arrows or spears. The entire dress of Fremont and his party, on
their ascent to the 'top of America,' consisted of a blue flannel
shirt, free and open at the neck, the collar turning down over a black
silk handkerchief tied loosely, blue cloth pantaloons, a slouched
broad-brimmed hat, and moccasins as above described. It was well
adapted to climbing--quite light, and at the same time warm, and every
way comfortable.
"'Putting hands and feet in the crevices between the blocks, I
succeeded in getting over it, and, when I reached the top, found my
companions in a small valley below. Descending to them, we continued
climbing, and in a short time reached the crest. I sprang upon the
summit, and another step would have precipitated me into an immense
snow-field five hundred feet below. To the edge of this field was a
sheer icy precipice; and then, with a gradual fall, the field sloped
off for about a mile, until it struck the foot of another lower
ridge. I stood on a narrow crest, about three feet in width, with
an inclination of about 20° N. 51° E. As soon as I had gratified the
first feelings of curiosity, I descended, and each man ascended in his
turn, for I would only allow one at a time to mount the unstable and
precarious slab, which it seemed a breath would hurl into the abyss
below. We mounted the barometer in the snow of the summit, and, fixing
a ramrod in a crevice, unfurled the national flag, to wave in the
breeze where never flag waved before. During our morning's ascent, we
met no sign of animal life, except a small bird having the appearance
of a sparrow. A stillness the most profound and a terrible solitude
forced themselves constantly on the mind as the great features of the
place. Here, on the summit, where the stillness was absolute, unbroken
by any sound, and the solitude complete, we thought ourselves beyond
the region of animated life; but while we were sitting on the rock,
a solitary bee (_bombus terrestris_, the humble bee) came winging his
flight from the eastern valley, and lit on the knee of one of the men.
"'Around us, the whole scene had one main striking feature, which was
that of terrible convulsion. Parallel to its length, the ridge was
split into chasms and fissures, between which rose the thin, lofty
walls, terminated with slender minarets and columns, which are
correctly represented in the view from the camp on Island Lake.
According to the barometer, the little crest of the wall on which
we stood was three thousand five hundred and seventy feet above that
place, and two thousand seven hundred and eighty above the little
lakes at the bottom, immediately at our feet. Our camp at the Two
Hills (an astronomical station) bore south 3° east, which, with a
bearing afterward obtained from a fixed position, enabled us to locate
the peak. The bearing of the _Trois Tetons_ was north 50° west, and
the direction of the central ridge of the Wind River Mountains south
39° east. The summit rock was gneiss, succeeded by sienitic gneiss.
Sienite and feldspar succeeded in our descent to the snow line, where
we found a feldspathic granite. I had remarked that the noise produced
by the explosion of our pistols had the usual degree of loudness,
but was not in the least prolonged, expiring almost instantaneously.
Having now made what observations our means afforded, we proceeded
to descend. We had accomplished an object of laudable ambition,
and beyond the strict order of our instructions. We had climbed the
loftiest peak of the Rocky Mountains, and looked down upon the snow
a thousand feet below, and, standing where never human foot had stood
before, felt the exultation of first explorers. It was about two
o'clock when we left the summit; and when we reached the bottom, the
sun had already sunk behind the wall, and the day was drawing to a
close. It would have been pleasant to have lingered here and on the
summit longer; but we hurried away as rapidly as the ground would
permit, for it was an object to regain our party as soon as possible,
not knowing what accident the next hour might bring forth.'"
This peak was found, by barometrical observation, to be _thirteen
thousand five hundred and seventy_ feet above the waters of the Gulf
of Mexico. It bears the name of the Great Explorer, being called
Fremont's Peak.
The return trip was now commenced, all of the objects of the
expedition having been successfully accomplished. The party again
reached Fort Laramie in the month of September, 1842. Kit Carson had
served in the double capacity as a hunter and guide. It is sufficient
to say of the manner in which he performed his duties that he won
the friendship of John C. Fremont, and has ever occupied since then a
prominent and permanent place in his esteem. At Laramie, Kit Carson's
labors were done. There he bid his commander good bye and set out
for New Mexico. Fremont returned to the United States in safety. Thus
terminated the first of his great explorations.
Kit Carson's Indian wife had long since been dead. In the month
of February, 1843, he married a Mexican lady by the name of Señora
Josepha Jarimilla. Of this lady it is sufficient to say that for her
many virtues and personal beauty she is justly esteemed by a large
circle of acquaintance. By this wife Kit Carson has three children, to
whom he is devotedly attached.
In the following April Kit Carson was employed as hunter to accompany
Bent and St. Vrain's train of wagons, while on their journey to the
United States. On arriving at Walnut Creek, which is about two-thirds
of the distance across the Plains from Santa Fé, Kit and his
companions came upon the encampment of Captain Cook, belonging to the
United States Army--who was in command of four companies of United
States Dragoons. Captain Cook informed Carson's party that in his rear
was traveling a train of wagons belonging to General Armijo, a wealthy
Mexican.
For the purpose of insuring protection to this richly-freighted
caravan while passing through an Indian country, the Mexican
wagon-master in charge, had hired one hundred men. There were rumors,
currently reported at that time and believed, that a large body of
Texians were waiting on the road to plunder and murder this wagon
party, and thus retaliate the treatment Armijo had been guilty of
in the case of the "famous Muir Prisoners;" but, in order that this
should not happen in Territory belonging to the United States, the
War Department had ordered Captain Cook and the dragoons to guard the
property as far as the fording of the Arkansas River, which was then
the boundary line between the two countries. The Mexicans had become
alarmed for fear they might be attacked on parting with the United
States soldiers; so, on meeting with Kit Carson, who was well known to
them, they offered three hundred dollars if he would carry a letter
to Armijo who was then Governor of New Mexico, and lived at Santa Fé.
This letter apprised the General of the danger to which his men and
property were exposed and asked for assistance to be immediately sent
to them. Carson accepted the offer, and in company with Owens, another
mountaineer, he set out on his express ride. In the course of a few
days he reached Bent's Fort, where his companion concluded not to
go on with him. At the Fort, Kit Carson was informed that the Utah
Indians, then hostile, were scattered along his intended route. He was
not, however, turned from his duty by this danger, but he resumed his
journey immediately. At this last-named place his friend, Mr. Bent,
kindly furnished him with a fleet and magnificent horse, which he led,
so that, should he find himself in peril, he might mount this fresh
animal and make his escape.
By watching for signs and being continually on the alert, Kit Carson
discovered the Indians and their village without exposing his own
person to view. He immediately secreted himself in an out-of-the-way
place and remained until the coming on of darkness; when, he passed
safely by the camp of the savages. In the course of a few days he
reached Taos and handed his dispatch to the _Alcalde_ of the town
to be forwarded to Santa Fé. As had been previously agreed upon, he
waited here for an answer with which he was to return. At Taos Carson
was informed that Armijo had already sent out one hundred Mexican
soldiers to seek his caravan and that the General himself, in command
of six hundred more, was soon to follow after. It was afterwards
learned that this unfortunate band of one hundred men went as far
as the Arkansas River, but could not find any traces of the train of
wagons, it not having completed that much of its journey; therefore,
they commenced to retrace their steps, but had proceeded only a few
miles, when they were suddenly attacked by the Texians, who succeeded
in massacring all but one man. This survivor had succeeded in
catching, in the heat of the battle, a fully equipped Texan horse
which was loose. Mounting him, he made off in the direction of Santa
Fé; and, at Cold Springs came upon the camp of Armijo, to whom he
reported proceedings. The narration of this sad story so dampened
the courage of the General and his men as to cause them to make a
precipitous retreat. The spot where this slaughter took place has
since gone by the name of the "battle ground" and many are the
bleached human bones that are still to be found there.
It was during Carson's stay of four days in Taos, that Armijo and
his small army had started out in quest of the enemy; but, before his
departure, he had received the letter and directed an answer to be
sent, thinking perhaps, that Kit Carson might reach the train even
if he himself did not. On the answer coming into Carson's hands, he
selected a Mexican boy to accompany him and was quickly on the road
again. They had left Taos two days' journey behind them and had
reached the River _Trinchera_ (for they were traveling via the
_Sangero de Christo_ Pass and Bent's Fort) when they unexpectedly
met four Indian warriors. Eat Carson immediately recognized them as
hostile Utahs. As yet the red men were some distance off; and, while
Kit and his companion stood meditating what was best to be done,
the latter spoke and said to the former: "I am a boy and perhaps the
Indians will spare my life. At any rate yours is much more valuable
than mine, therefore mount the horse you are leading, without delay,
and make your escape." Carson at first thought this advice to be good,
and was about acting on it, when it struck his equally generous heart,
how cowardly such a course would be--to desert a youth who had in the
hour of peril so manfully borne himself. Turning to the boy he thanked
him and added that "he could not and would not desert him." He said
"we must stand our ground together and if we have to die let us take
with us each his warrior." While this colloquy was going on, the
foremost of the Indians came up. He approached Carson with the air of
a man sure of an easy victory, and, with a bland smile, proffered one
hand in friendship, while, with the other, he grasped Kit's rifle.
A powerful blow from the fist of the latter released his hold and
instantly laid him sprawling upon the ground. The other Indians,
seeing the fate of their companion, hastened to his rescue. When they
reached talking distance, Kit, standing with his rifle brought to his
shoulder, informed them that, upon the first hostile demonstration
they made, he and his companion would fire. The Indians commenced
shaking their priming into the pans of their flint lock guns, and,
while doing so, talked loud and threatened to perform a great many
things. This was a mere ruse to intimidate Kit and his companion
and throw them off their guard. It was, however, well understood and
operated to make them only the more vigilant. This endeavor to draw
off Kit's attention was continued in various ways, but, finally seeing
the determined posture of their opponent, they grew weary of the game,
and, at last, departed.
The journey was now resumed. After five days of hard traveling, Kit
and his companion entered Bent's Fort, without further molestation.
Here Kit Carson learned that the Texians had been caught by Captain
Cook and his dragoons in United States Territory, and had been
disarmed. This had immediately relieved the conductors of the train
from all anxiety. They had, consequently, continued their route, not
thinking a stop at Bent's Fort necessary as had been anticipated. Gen.
Armijo's letter of instruction was, accordingly, left by Carson with
Mr. Bent who promised to forward it to Santa Fé by the first favorable
opportunity. To pursue and overtake the wagons would be nothing but
labor thrown away. All danger had disappeared.