CHAPTER I.
Carson's Birthplace—His Emigration to Missouri—Early Prospects—Is an Apprentice—Stories of the Rocky Mountains—He Enlists to go there—Adventures on the Prairies—Broaders is Wounded—Carson's Nerve put to the Test—Rude Amputation—Safe Arrival at Santa Fé—Goes to Taos and learns the Spanish Language—Early Vicissitudes—Disappointment and Attempt to return to Missouri—Is employed as an Interpreter, Teamster, etc.
It is now a well-established fact, that no State in the American Union has given birth to so many distinguished pioneers and explorers of its boundless Territories, as the commonwealth of Kentucky. An Author, whose task is to tell of a Hero, his bravery, endurance, privations, integrity, self-denial and deeds of daring, carries the morale with which to gain at once for these characteristics the assent of the reader, by the simple assertion, "My Hero was born a Kentuckian." Indeed, in America, to be a native of the State of Kentucky, is to inherit all the attributes of a brave man, a safe counsellor and a true friend. It is, at least, certain that this State, whether the fact is due to its inland and salubrious climate, or to its habits of physical training, has added many a Hero unto humanity.
Christopher Carson, by his countrymen familiarly called "Kit Carson," was born in the County of Madison, State of Kentucky, on the 24th day of December, 1809. The Carson family were among the first settlers of Kentucky, and became owners of fine farms. Besides being an industrious and skillful farmer, the father of Kit Carson was a celebrated hunter. When the Indians of Kentucky became quieted down, putting an end to the calls upon his courage and skill as a woodsman, he settled into a simple, respectable farmer. This monotonous life did not suit his disposition; and, as the tide of emigration into the wilds of Missouri was then commencing, where both game and the red man still roamed, he resolved to migrate in that direction. It was only one year after the birth of his son Christopher, that Mr. Carson sold his estate in Kentucky and established himself, with his large family, in that part of the State of Missouri now known as Howard County. At this time Howard County, Missouri, was a wilderness, on the remote American frontier. At his new home, the father was in his element. His reputation of carrying an unerring rifle and always enacting the deeds of a brave man, was not long in following him into this wilderness. Mr. Carson's only assistant, on his first arrival in Howard County, was his eldest son, Moses Carson, who was afterwards settled in the State of California, where he resided twenty-five years before the great California gold discovery was made.
For two or three years after arriving at their new home, the Carson family, with a few neighbors, lived in a picketed log fort; and when they were engaged in agricultural pursuits, working their farms, and so forth, it was necessary to plough, sow and reap under guard, men being stationed at the sides and extremities of their fields to prevent the working party from being surprised and massacred by wild and hostile savages who infested the country. At this time the small pox, that disease which has proved such a terrible scourge to the Indian, had but seldom visited him.[1]
The incidents which enliven and add interest to the historic page, have proved of spontaneous and vigorous growth in the new settlements of America. Nearly every book which deals with the early planting and progress of the American colonists and pioneers, contains full, and frequently glowing, descriptions of exploits in the forest; strifes of the hunter; fights with the savages; fearful and terrible surprises of lurking warriors, as they arouse the brave settler and his family from their midnight dreams by the wild, death-announcing war-whoop; hair-breadth escapes from the larger kinds of game, boldly bearded in their lair; the manly courage which never yields, but surmounts every obstacle presented by the unbroken and boundless forest; all these are subjects and facts which have already so many counterparts in book-thought, accessible to the general reader, that their details may be safely omitted during the boyhood days of young Carson. It is better, therefore, to pass over the youthful period of his eventful life, until he began to ripen into manhood.
Kit Carson, at fifteen years of age, was no ordinary person. He had at this early age earned, and well earned, a reputation, on the basis of which the prediction was ventured in his behalf, that he would not fail to make and leave a mark upon the hearts of his countrymen. Those who knew him at the age of fifteen, hesitated not to say, "Kit Carson is the boy who will grow into a man of influence and renown."
The chief points of his character which elicited this prediction were thus early clearly marked. Some of his traits were kindness and good qualities of heart, determined perseverance, indomitable will, unflinching courage, great quickness and shrewdness of perception, and promptitude in execution. The predictions uttered by the hardy rangers of the forest concerning a boy like Carson are seldom at fault; and Kit was one who, by many a youthful feat worthy the muscle of riper years, had endeared himself to their honest love. It was among such men and for such reason, that Kit Carson thus early in life had won the influence and rewards of a general favorite.
His frame was slight, below the medium stature, closely knit together, and endowed with extraordinary elasticity. He had, even then, stood the test of much hard usage. What the body lacked in strength was more than compensated for by his indomitable will; consequently, at this early age, he was considered capable of performing a frontier man's work, both in tilling the soil and handling the rifle.
It was at this period of his eventful life that his father, acting partially under the advice of friends, determined that his son Kit should learn a trade. A few miles from Kit's forest home, there lived a Mr. David Workman, a saddler. To him he was apprenticed. With Mr. Workman young Carson remained two years, enjoying both the confidence and respect of his employer; but, mourning over the awl, the hide of new leather, the buckle and strap; for, the glorious shade of the mighty forest; the wild battle with buffalo and bear; the crack of the unerring rifle, pointed at the trembling deer. Saddlery is an honorable employment; but saddlery never made a greater mistake than when it strove to hitch to its traces the bold impulse, the wild yearning, the sinewy muscle of Kit Carson. Harness-making was so irksome to his ardent temperament and brave heart, that he resolved to take advantage of the first favorable opportunity and quit it forever. With him, to resolve has ever been followed by action. During the latter part of his stay with Mr. Workman, many stories of adventures in the Rocky Mountains reached the ear of the youthful Kentuckian in his Missouri home. The almost miraculous hyperbole which flavored the narratives were not long in awakening in his breast a strong desire to share in such stirring events. The venturesome mind at last became inspired. He determined to go; and, giving his restless spirit full sway, in 1826, joined a party bound for his boyish fancy-pictures of the Elysian Fields. The leader of this expedition required no second request from young Carson before enrolling his name on the company-list. The hardy woodsman saw stamped upon the frank and open countenance of the boy who stood before him those sterling qualities which have since made his name a household word. These formed a passport which, on the spot, awakened the respect and unlocked the hearts of those whose companionship he sought.
The work of preparation was now commenced by the different parties to the expedition. All of the arrangements having been finally completed, the bold and hardy band soon started upon their journey. Their route lay over the vast, and then unexplored territory, bounded by the Rocky Mountains on the one side, and the Missouri River on the other. Before them lay, stretched out in almost never-ending space, those great prairies, the half of which are still unknown to the white man. Crossing the plains in 1826 was an entirely different feat from what it is at this day. Where, then, were the published guides? Where were the charts indicating the eligible camping grounds with their springs of pure water? These oases of the American Sahara were not yet acquainted with the white man's foot. The herds of buffaloes, the droves of wild horses, knew not the crack of the white man's rifle. They had fled only at the approach of the native Indian warrior and the yearly fires of the prairie. It was a difficult task to find a man who had gazed on the lofty peaks of the mountain ranges which formed a serpentine division of the vast American Territories, or who had drank the waters at the camping places on the prairies. The traveller at that day was, in every force of meaning which the word extends, literally, an explorer, whose chosen object was the task of a hero. The Indians themselves could give no information of the route beyond the confined limits of their hunting ranges. The path which this pioneer party entered was existent only in the imagination of the book-making geographer, about as accurate and useful from its detail, as the route of Baron Munchausen to the icelands of the North Pole on the back of his eagle. The whole expanse of the rolling prairie, to those brave hearts, was one boundless uncertainty. This language may possibly be pronounced redundant. It may be in phrase; it is not in fact. The carpet-knight, the holiday ranger, the book-worm explorer, knows but little of the herculean work which has furnished for the world a practical knowledge of the western half of the North American continent. We shall see in the progress of this work whether the adventures of Kit Carson entitle him to a place in the heart of the American nation on the same shelf with his compeers.
In that day, the fierce red-man chief scoured the broad prairies, a petty king in his tribe, a ruler of his wild domain. Bold, haughty, cautious, wily, unrelenting, revengeful, he led his impassioned warriors in the chase and to battle. Even to-day, the lurking Indian foeman is no mean adversary to be laughed and brushed out of the way, notwithstanding disease, war, assassination and necessary chastisement have united rapidly to decimate his race, thereby gradually lessening its power. Thirty years ago the rolling plains were alive with them, and their numbers alone made them formidable. It is not strange that the untutored savages of the prairie, like those of their race who hailed with ungovernable curiosity the landing of the Pilgrims on Plymouth Rock, should have been attracted by the wonderful inventions of the white-man intruder. A very short period of time served to turn this ungovernable curiosity into troublesome thieving. Knowing no law but their wild traditionary rules, they wrested from the adventurous pioneer, his rifle, knife, axe, wagon, harness, horse, powder, ball, flint, watch, compass, cooking utensils, and so forth. The result was, sanguinary engagements ensued, which led to bitter hostility between the two races. Doubtless the opinion may be controverted, but it nevertheless shall be hazarded, that, until the weaker party shall be exterminated by the stronger, the wild war-whoop, with its keen-edged knife and death-dealing rifle accompaniments, will continue, from time to time, to palsy the nerve, and arouse the courage of the pioneer white man. The Indian, in his attack, no longer showers cloth-yard arrows upon his foe. He has learned to kill his adversary with the voice of thunder and the unseen bullet.
The bold traveller, whose pathway lies over those great highroads which lead to the Pacific, must still watch for the red man's ambush by day; and, by night, sleep under the protecting vigilance of the faithful, quick-sighted sentinel. The savage never forgives his own or his ancestor's foe. Every generation of them learns from tradition the trials and exploits of its tribe. From earliest boyhood these form the burden of their education in history; and, on performing the feat of courage or strength which admits them to the councils of the braves, their nation's wrongs are uppermost in their thoughts, causing them to thirst for a revenge which sooner or later gives them a grave, making themselves, in turn, an object of revenge.
It has already appeared that when Kit Carson entered upon his first expedition, game was to be had in abundance. His route lay across the western wilds to Santa Fé. All this distance the bulk of provisions, consisting of a small quantity of flour and bacon, had to be transported by himself and his companions. These articles were kept as a reserve, and were looked upon as luxuries; for, that man was estimated to be a very poor shot who could not obtain, with his rifle, all the animal food he required for his individual sustenance. These hunters, however, well understood the laws which govern and the advantages which follow division of labor. Everything was so arranged, both for this and subsequent expeditions, by which a regular hunter was appointed, and each man assigned some particular duty according to his capacity. These appointments were usually made by the leader of the party, whose supervision was acknowledged by general consent on account of his known experience and capability. This plan was the more necessary in order to avoid confusion.
The caravan had hardly launched out on its long and tedious tramp, when an accident occurred which came very near proving serious in its results. For several days the men had been greatly annoyed by wolves who appeared more than usually ravenous and bold.[2]
In order to frighten the wolves, the teamsters would occasionally shoot them. One of the members of the expedition was obliged to take a fresh rifle from a wagon. In taking the gun out, the hammer of the lock caught against some projecting object, which caused it to be partially set. Having become freed, however, before it was fully set, it came down and fired the gun. The contents of the barrel were sent through the man's arm. No member of the expedition was conversant with surgical knowledge. Here was an occasion to shake the nerves of any feeling man; and, beneath the rough exterior of the western ranger, there runs as deep a stream of true humanity as can be found anywhere on the American continent. Every suggestion was offered and every effort was put forth which heart feeling chained to anxiety and the terrible necessity, could offer. Every remedy which promised a good result was duly weighed; and, if pronounced worthy of trial, it was adopted. The sufferer had kind, though rough nurses; but, the absence of scientific skill, under such emergency, proved a sad want for the unfortunate man. Notwithstanding their united efforts, Broader's arm grew alarmingly worse. It soon became manifest to all that he must part with his arm, or lose his life; perhaps both. At this critical period, a consultation was held, in which the suffering patient joined. Due deliberation was extended to all the symptoms. The giving of advice in such a council by men who could only give judgment from an imaginary stand-point, must strike the heart of true sympathy as having been painful in no ordinary degree. After every possible argument had been offered in favor of saving the arm, the final decision of the council was that it must come off. The next difficulty which presented itself was quite as formidable as the expression of a correct judgment. Who should perform the office of surgeon, was the knotty question? Again the consultations became exciting and intensely painful. The members of the council, however, took it upon themselves to designate the persons, and chose Carson with two others. These immediately set at work to execute their sad but necessary task. The arrangements were all hastily, but carefully made, and the cutting begun. The instruments used were a razor, an old saw; and, to arrest the hemorrhage, the king bolt taken from one of the wagons was heated and applied to serve as an actual cautery. The operation, rudely performed, with rude instruments, by unpractised hands, excited to action only by the spur of absolute necessity, proved, nevertheless, entirely successful. Before the caravan arrived at Santa Fé the patient had so far recovered that he was able to take care of himself.
Besides this unfortunate affair, nothing worthy of note transpired, beyond the general record of their route, during the remainder of their journey. The latter would be too voluminous for the general reader, and has already served its purpose as an assistant to other exploring parties, both from published account and conversational directions. The party entered Santa Fé in the month of November. Very soon after, Kit Carson left his companions and proceeded to Fernandez de Taos, a Mexican town, which lies about eighty miles to the northeast of the capital of New Mexico. During the winter that followed his arrival in the territory of New Mexico, Kit lived with an old mountaineer by the name of Kin Cade, who very kindly offered him a home. It was at this period of his life that he commenced studying the Spanish language. His friend Kin Cade became his assistant in this task. At the same time Kit neglected no opportunity to learn all he could about the Rocky Mountains. He little thought, then, that these earth-formed giants were to become his future home, and so gloriously to herald his name throughout the entire civilized globe.
The pinching effects of want now attacked poor Kit. He could obtain no employment. His expectations in this respect, as well as his earnest efforts, received so little encouragement that he began, finally, to despond. Extreme poverty is a wet damper on the fires of the best genius; but, as was the case with Kit, it does not effectually put it out. Kit saw with sorrow that he must retrace his steps. To obtain means to carry out his ardent desires, in the spring of 1827 he started on a backward trip to Missouri. Every step he took in this direction was accompanied with such displeasure, that had it not been his best and surest policy, he would have mastered any difficulties of another and better course, had such offered. Four hundred and fifty miles from Santa Fé, being about one half the distance across the prairies, had been accomplished by the party Kit had joined for this homeward trip. The fording of the Arkansas River had been reached. Here Kit's party met with some traders bound for New Mexico. They offered him employment, which he gladly accepted; and, in their company, retraced his steps back to Santa Fé But when arrived at Santa Fé, Kit found himself again without money. He was afforded an opportunity to obtain a wardrobe, but to the mountaineer, such property would be entirely a superfluity. He feels nearly independent on the score of clothing, as he considers that he needs but little raiment, and that little he is always proud to owe to his beloved rifle. This brings to his hand buckskins in plenty, and his own ingenuity is the fashion-plate by which they are manufactured into wearable and comfortable vesture. There is one article of clothing, however, for which the frontiersman feels an ardent predilection. It is a woollen shirt. This article, Kit really needed; and, in equal pace with his necessity, ran his anxiety that something should offer by which to obtain one. The reader may smile at this; and, so does Kit at this day, as he recounts the fact in his own inimitable style. But Kit says that to obtain a woollen shirt then, was, to him, no laughing matter. At a moment when he almost despaired of gaining employment, he received an offer to go as a teamster with an expedition bound to El Paso. This opportunity was a chance for success not to be lost, and he closed with the proposition. After faithfully performing his engagement, he, however, returned to Santa Fé, where he made a short stay, and then proceeded to Taos. In this town Kit entered into the service of Mr. Ewing Young, who was a trader and trapper. The reader may prepare again for a smile, as he will now learn that Kit became a cook. Mr. Ewing Young has the satisfaction of boasting that the renowned Kit Carson once performed the responsible and arduous duties of a master cook in the culinary department of his establishment; and that, for these valuable services, labor, care and diligence, he gave to Kit, as a quid pro quo, his board. In this way Kit supported himself in his straitened circumstances until the following spring.
What was the bright thought which made the bold, the ardent, the energetic Kit Carson accept this menial office? Surely the brain metal which was so brightly polished when he set out from Howard county, Missouri, must have been sadly rusted. Not so! The hope which buoyed up his spirits while he attempted to rival French pastry and English beef with American venison and Buffalo meat on the table of Mr. Ewing Young, was that some trapper, or hunter, would come into Taos, their favorite place of resort; and, by being ready for an emergency, he would obtain an opportunity for gaining a permission to join them. His intention was certainly good, but it lacked the bright crown of good intention—success. In the spring of 1828, much chagrined with his, so far, continued bad luck, and no prospect of gaining his object appearing, he again joined a homeward-bound party and with it, sorrowfully, started for Missouri. But, as on the former trip homeward, he met on the route a party bound for Santa Fé. That indomitable ingredient in his composition, an iron will, caused him once more to turn his face westward. He joined this party and returned to Santa Fé, in order again to tempt fortune for an opportunity to reach the Rocky Mountains. But during all these changes and counterchanges Kit had not been idle. He had picked up considerable knowledge, and, to his other stock of accomplishments, had added the ability to speak the Spanish language.
On arriving once more at Santa Fé, he fell in with Col. Tramell, who was at that time a well-known trader. Col Tramell needed a Spanish interpreter. Kit obtained the post, and set out with him for Chihuahua, one of the Mexican States. Here again Kit made a change in his employment. In Chihuahua he fell in with Mr. Robert McKnight. To him he hired out as a teamster, and in this capacity went to the copper mines which are found near to the Rio Gila. Amid the weary necessities of this humble but honorable calling, Kit's heart was constantly alive with ambition to become a hunter and trapper. He knew that he was expert with the rifle, which had been his boyish toy, and felt confident that he could rely upon it as an assistant to gain an honest living. His constant thought at this time was, let him now be engaged in whatever calling chance offered and necessity caused him to accept, the final pursuit of his life would be as a hunter and trapper. Here, then, is presented a fair example of the strife, both inward and outward, through which a young man of courage and ambition must expect to pass before he can win position, influence, and the comforts of life, whatever the scene of his action, or whatever the choice of employment suitable to his talent and genius. Kit Carson was determined, no matter what might be the obstacles which presented themselves, to be a hunter and trapper.
The reader will have made a sad mistake if he has concluded, that during the time which has intervened since Kit started from Missouri, he has been roaming in a country where there was less danger than when he was in the picketed fort with his father. Such a supposition would be greatly at fault. The towns in New Mexico, at this early period, were almost entirely at the mercy of the Indians. The Mexicans were nearly destitute of means to defend themselves. Very few of the Anglo-Saxon race had entered this territory, and those who had were, in turn, exposed to the vacillating wills of the proverbially treacherous Mexicans. A man like Kit Carson, however, born and bred in danger, cared but little about this state of affairs. The dangers did not enter into his calculations of chance to overcome the difficulties which beset the pathway which the alluring hopes of his ambition had marked out. Not long afterward, he left the copper mines, and once more bent his steps to Taos, in company with a small party. At Taos, he found a band of trappers which had been sent out by Mr. Ewing Young. While en route for the river Colorado of the west, in pursuit of game, they had been attacked by a band of Indians. After fighting an entire day, they had been compelled to retreat, and returned to New Mexico.