In San Francisco--The Return Homeward--The Mormon Delegate Gives Carson
Some Interesting Information--Carson's First Stirring Duties as Indian
Agent--The Affection of the Red Men for Father Kit.
Kit Carson's old friend, Maxwell, who had been his companion in so
many stirring adventures, joined him in San Francisco, whose marvellous
growth even at that remote day was a continual surprise and delight. As
the two veteran mountaineers made their way through the streets, where
but a few years before all was a wild, untrodden wilderness, they paused
and indulged in many wondering exclamations as though they were a couple
of countrymen visiting the metropolis for the first time in their lives.
The couple concluded to make their way home by the southern route,
passing in the neighborhood of the Gila; but the distance could be
shortened so much by taking the steamer to Los Angeles that Maxwell
decided to adopt that course. When he asked Carson to join him the
mountaineer shook his head.
"I got enough of that in 1846," he said, alluding to his brief voyage,
when serving under Fremont in California, at the beginning of the
Mexican war; "I never was so sick in all my life."
"You ain't likely to be sick again," plead Maxwell; "and, if you are,
it don't last long. You'll save two or three weeks in time and enjoy
yourself much more."
But it was no use: Carson said he never would venture upon salt water
again, and he would rather ride a thousand miles on the back of a mule
than to sail a hundred in a ship. Accordingly, the party separated for
the time and Maxwell took steamer to Los Angeles, where he arrived fully
two weeks in advance of Carson, who rode into the quaint old town on the
back of a somewhat antiquated mule.
They were soon ready for their long ride, when they struck a leisurely
pace and all went well until they reached the Gila. There they entered
a region which had been visited by one of those droughts which continue
sometimes for many months. The grass was so dry and parched that it
contained scarcely any nourishment, and the friendly Pimos told them
if they pushed on their animals were sure to die of starvation. It was
impossible to doubt these statements and Carson therefore proposed a
new route, which though very rough and difficult in some places, would
furnish all the forage that was required.
The course led them along the Gila to the mouth of the San Pedro, and
finally with little difficulty they reached the copper mines of
New Mexico. Shortly after Carson encountered the Mormon delegate to
Congress. During the exchange of courtesies, the gentleman conveyed the
interesting information that he--Carson--had been made Indian Agent for
New Mexico.
The news was a surprise and a great pleasure to the mountaineer. He had
no thought of any such honor and with all his modesty could not but feel
that he was eminently fitted for the performance of its duties. No
one had travelled so extensively through the west, and no one could
understand the nature of native Americans better than he. A hundred
tribes knew of "Father Kit," as he soon came to be called, and they
referred to him as a man who never spoke with a "double tongue," and who
was just toward them at all times. He had ventured among the hostiles
more than once where the bravest white man dared not follow him, and
had spent days and nights in their lodges without being offered the
slightest indignity. Kit Carson was brave, truthful, kind and honest.
Aside from the gratification which one naturally feels, when receiving
an appointment that is pleasant in every respect, and which he holds
thoroughly "in hand," as may be said, the honest mountaineer was
especially delighted over the thought that his government conferred it
without any solicitation on his part.
But the man who accepts the position of Indian Agent and conscientiously
attends to its duties has no sinecure on his hands. Many of them use
it as such while others do still worse, thereby sowing the seeds which
speedily develop into Indian outrages, massacres and wars.
When Carson reached Taos, he had his official bond made out, and sent
it with his thanks and acceptance of his appointment to the proper
authorities in Washington.
The Indian Agent for New Mexico had scarcely entered upon his new
duties, when trouble came. A branch of the Apaches became restless and
committed a number of outrages on citizens. Stern measures only would
answer and a force of dragoons were sent against them. They dealt them
a severe blow, killing one of their most famous chiefs, besides a
considerable number of warriors.
Instead of quieting the tribe, it rather intensified their anger, though
they remained quiescent for a time through fear. Not long after, Carson
was notified that a large party of the tribe were encamped in the
mountains, less than twenty miles from Taos. He decided at once to
supplement the work of the sword with the gentle arguments of peace.
This proceeding on the part of the Indian Agent is one deserving of
special notice, for it shows no less the bravery of Carson than it does
the philanthropic spirit which actuated him at all times in his dealings
with the red men. Alas, that so few of our officials today deem his
example worth their imitation.
The venture was so dangerous that Carson went alone, unwilling that any
one else should run the risk. When he arrived at their encampment,
he made his way without delay to the presence of the leaders, whom he
saluted in the usual elaborate fashion, and then proceeded to state the
important business that took him thither.
Nearly every warrior in camp recognized the short, thickset figure and
the broad, pleasant face when they presented themselves. They knew he
was one of the most terrible warriors that ever charged through a camp
of red men. He had met them many a time in fierce warfare, but he always
fought warriors and not papooses and squaws. He was the bravest of the
brave and therefore they respected him.
But he was a truthful and just man. He had never lied to them, as most
of the white men did, and he had shown his confidence in them by walking
alone and unattended into the very heart of their encampment. They were
eager to rend to shreds every pale face upon whom they could lay hands,
but "Father Kit" was safe within their lodges and wigwams.
Carson made an admirable speech. He at first caused every serpent-like
eye to sparkle, by his delicate flattery. Then he tried hard to convince
them that their hostility to the whites could result only in injury
to themselves, since the Great Father at Washington had hundreds and
thousands of warriors whom he would send to replace such as might lose
their lives. Then, when he made known that the same Great Father had
appointed him to see that justice was done them, they grinned with
delight and gathering around, overwhelmed him with congratulations.
The Agent insisted that they should prove their sincerity by pledging to
follow the line of conduct he had lain down, and they did so with such
readiness that a superficial observer would have declared the mission a
complete success.
But Kit Carson thought otherwise. He knew the inherent treachery of the
aboriginal nature, and his estimate of Apache loyalty was the true
one. The most that he was warranted in feeling was the hope that those
furious warriors would be less aggressive than had been their custom.
Though they had expressed a willingness to make any agreement which he
might propose, yet it was their very willingness to do so which caused
his distrust. Had they been more argumentative and more tenacious of
their rights, their sincerity might have been credited.
The Agent could have secured their consent almost to any agreement, but
the sagacious official asked as little as he could.
"And I don't believe they mean to keep even that agreement," he
muttered, as he bade the effusive sachems and warriors goodbye and made
his way back to Taos.