CHAPTER VII.
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.
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.