Kit Carson and his command were in fine spirits and lost no time in overhauling the village. In the first charge they killed ten of the bravest warriors. The savages quickly recovered from this blow and commenced retreating in good order. For three consecutive hours they heroically received a series of these furious and deadly assaults without offering much resistance. At the end of this time the firing of the mountaineers began to slacken, as their ammunition was running low. These experienced and brave, though rascally Indians, soon surmised the cause of this sudden change of affairs. Rallying their forces, they turned upon their assailants in right good earnest and a desperate hand-to-hand engagement ensued. The white men now had an opportunity to use their small arms, which told with such terrible effect upon their foes that they were soon driven back again. They, however, rallied once more and charged so manfully that the trappers were forced to retreat. In this latter engagement a horse belonging to a mountaineer by the name of Cotton, fell, throwing his rider and holding him on the ground by his weight. This happened as he was passing a point of rocks. Six of the warriors, seeing the accident, instantly hurried forward to take Cotton's scalp. But Kit Carson's eagle eye was watching every part of the battle-field and discovered, in time to be of service, the danger to which his friend was exposed. Although some distance off, Kit sprang from his saddle, and, with the leap of an antelope and the rallying cry for his men, was on the ground, ready to make a certain shot. His aim and the crack of his rifle almost belonged to the same instant of time. It was none the less sure. The foremost warrior, a powerful savage, whose fingers evidently itched for the scalp of the mountaineer, fell, shot through the heart. By this time others had followed the bold example of their leader, when the five remaining warriors, seeing the imminent danger which threatened them, turned to run back into their band. But two of them however reached a place of safety. The remainder, caught in their fleet career by the unerring and death-dealing bullets of the mountaineers, measured their lengths upon the battle-ground, stricken with wounds which demanded and received from them their last wild war-whoop.
Kit Carson's eagle eye was watching every part of the battle-field and discovered, in time to be of service, the danger to which his friend was exposed. Although some distance off, Kit sprang from his saddle, and, with the leap of an antelope and the rallying cry for his men, was on the ground ready to make a certain shot.—Page 120.
When Kit Carson fired, his horse, being under no restraint, became frightened and dashed away, leaving his brave rider on foot. Kit however instantly comprehended his position. The fallen horseman had succeeded in extricating himself, but not without difficulty, for the ground was very uneven. He had received a few pretty severe contusions, but was, notwithstanding these, worth a dozen Indians yet, and failed not to show the fact. Seeing Cotton thus all right, Kit Carson made his way to one of his companions, and, as the fighting had, apparently by mutual consent, ceased for a few moments, mounted up behind him and thus rejoined the main body of his men. The runaway horse, after quite a chase, was soon captured by a trapper and returned to his captain. A period of inactivity now reigned over the battle-field, each party apparently waiting for the other to again open the ball. During this resting spell, the reserve division of the trappers came in sight, having been anxiously expected for some time. The Indians showed no fear at this addition to the number of their adversaries. On the contrary, being no doubt carried away by their recent success in making a stand, they commenced posting themselves among the rocks about one hundred and fifty yards distant from the position taken up by the trappers. The arrival of the reserve was a great relief to the advance, because, they were tired of fighting without ammunition. Having well filled their ammunition pouches they once more became eager for the affray. Everything being in readiness, with a cheer, they started on foot to attack and dislodge the enemy. In a few moments was commenced the severest skirmish of the day. It became so exciting that frequently a trapper would occupy one side, and a stalwart warrior the other, of some large rock, each intent upon the life of his adversary. In such cases it required the closest watchfulness and the utmost dexterity to kill or dislodge the bold savage. The power of powder in the hands of skillful men soon began to assert its superiority in the battle, and when once the Indians commenced to waver, it was all over with them. Their first wavering soon broke into a complete rout, when they ran for their lives. As they scattered in every direction, the pursuit which followed was short. In this battle the trappers considered that they had thoroughly settled all outstanding accounts with the Blackfeet Indians, for they had killed a large number of their warriors and wounded many more. On their side three men only were killed and a few severely wounded.
Fontenelle and his men camped for a few days in the vicinity of the scene of their late engagement, burying their dead and repairing damages. They then resumed the business of trapping, traversing the Blackfeet country whenever they chose without fear of molestation. The success in their late engagement seemed to follow them in their business, for their stock of fur accumulated rapidly.
While they were encamped upon Green River, an express rider, sent by the traders, came into camp and informed the party that the rendezvous would be held on Mud River. With a large stock of beaver, the party started for that place, arriving in eight days.
Besides the usual traders and trappers, the party met at this rendezvous some missionaries and a distinguished English nobleman, Sir William Stuart. Of this latter gentleman, Kit Carson says: "For the goodness of his heart and numerous rare qualities of mind, he will always be remembered by those of the mountaineers who had the honor of his acquaintance."
Among the missionaries was "Old Father De Smidt," as he afterwards came to be familiarly called. This gentleman is at present well known as being a leading literary and religious man at St. Louis, Missouri. Perhaps there never was a person in the wilds of America who became so universally beloved both by the white and red man. While in the mountains, he acted with untiring zeal for the good of all with whom he came into contact. Wherever duty called him, there he was sure to be found, no matter what the obstacles or dangers spread upon the path. He worked during a long series of years in these dangerous localities, and accomplished much good. When, at last, he returned to civilization, he left an indelible name behind him.
In twenty days after the camp at the rendezvous was formed, it broke up again into small parties. Kit Carson, with seven companions, went to Brown's Hole. This was a trading post. Here they found two traders who were contemplating getting up a business expedition to the Navajoe Indians. This tribe exhibits more traces of white blood than any other of the wild races in North America. They are brave and fond of owning large possessions. These consist chiefly of immense herds of fine horses and sheep. In this respect they are not unlike the ancient inhabitants of the earth, who "watched their roving store" on Syrian soil and the contiguous countries. The parties who desired to trade with them usually carried a stock of trinkets and articles of use, for which they received horses, mules, blankets and lariets.[13]
Navajoe blankets are very celebrated in the far west of America, and especially in old Mexico, where they are in great demand and command high prices. Many of these articles are really beautiful, and, from their fine texture, together with the great amount of labor spent in their manufacture, are expensive, even when purchased of the Indians. The art of weaving these blankets has been long known to the Navajoe Indians; and, all the female children belonging to the nation are taught the art during their earliest years. It is only after much practice, however, that they become expert.