[CHAPTER XXXIV.]
Eighteen years had elapsed, full of eventful history—especially the last ten—since Carson had renounced the business of trapping, and of late there had been an almost irrepressible longing once more to try his skill at his old employment, in company with others who had been, with himself, adepts at the business. Accordingly he and Maxwell, by a great effort, succeeded in collecting sixteen more of their old companions, and taking care to provide themselves abundantly with all the necessaries for such a service, and with such added articles of comfort as the pleasurable character of the excursion dictated, they started, with Carson at the head of the band, "any one of whom would have periled his life for any other, and having voted that the expedition should be one for hard work, as when they trapped for gain long ago," they dashed on across the plains, till they came to the South Platte, and upon its well remembered waters, formed their camp and set their traps, having first apprised themselves, by the "signs," that the beaver were abundant. Indeed, so long ago had trapping gone into disuse, that the hunt proved successful beyond their anticipations, and they worked down this stream, through the Laramie plains to the New Park, on to the Old Park, and upon a large number of the streams, their old resorts, and returned to Rayedo with a large stock of furs, having enlivened the time by the recital to each other of many of the numberless entertaining events which had crowded upon their lives while they had been separated.
Would not the reader like to have made this excursion with them, and witnessed the infinite zest with which these mature and experienced men entered again upon what seemed now to them the sport of their earlier years? They made it, as much as possible, a season of enjoyment. One of the party had lassoed a grizzly, but, finding it inconvenient to retain him, he had been shot, and bear steaks, again enjoyed together, had been a part of the Fourth of July treat they afforded their visitors, the Sioux Indians. As we have but little further opportunity, we will quote Fremont's description of the Mountain Parks, for the sake of giving the reader an idea of the locality of this last trapping enterprise of Kit Carson:
"Our course in the afternoon brought us to the main Platte River, here a handsome stream, with a uniform breadth of seventy yards, except where widened by frequent islands. It was apparently deep, with a moderate current, and wooded with groves of large willow.
"The valley narrowed as we ascended, and presently degenerated into a gorge, through which the river passed as through a gate. We entered it, and found ourselves in the New Park—a beautiful circular valley of thirty miles diameter, walled in all round with snowy mountains, rich with water and with grass, fringed with pine on the mountain sides below the snow line, and a paradise to all grazing animals. The Indian name for it signifies "cow lodge," of which our own may be considered a translation; the enclosure, the grass, the water, and the herds of buffalo roaming over it, naturally presenting the idea of a park, 7,720 feet above tide water.
"It is from this elevated cove, and from the gorges of the surrounding mountains, and some lakes within their bosoms, that the Great Platte River collects its first waters, and assumes its first form; and certainly no river has a more beautiful origin.
"Descending from the pass, we found ourselves again on the western waters; and halted to noon on the edge of another mountain valley, called the Old Park, in which is formed Grand River, one of the principal branches of the Colorado of California. We were now moving with some caution, as, from the trail, we found the Arapahoe village had also passed this way. As we were coming out of their enemy's country, and this was a war ground, we were desirous to avoid them. After a long afternoon's march, we halted at night on a small creek, tributary to a main fork of Grand River, which ran through this portion of the valley. The appearance of the country in the Old Park is interesting, though of a different character from the New; instead of being a comparative plain, it is more or less broken into hills, and surrounded by the high mountains, timbered on the lower parts with quaking asp and pines.
"We entered the Bayou Salade, (South Park,) and immediately below us was a green valley, through which ran a stream; and a short distance opposite rose snowy mountains, whose summits were formed into peaks of naked rock.