The Life and Adventures of Kit Carson, the Nestor of the Rocky Mountains, from Facts Narrated by Himself

by De Witt C. Peters

The following day the expectations of the trappers were realized. The Indians, at the first dawn of day, approached the breastwork, eager for the battle. They were, evidently, very much astonished at beholding the invincibility of the trappers' position. It was what they had not calculated upon and seemed to cast a perfect damper upon their courage. After firing a few shots which did no harm, and seeing that nothing could be accomplished except by a charge, they commenced a retreat. The trappers, though only sixty strong, were filled with disappointment and chagrin at the course taken by their wary foes. They began to shout to their enemies in derisive terms, hoping the taunts would exasperate and draw them into an attack. Nothing, however, would tempt them to face the danger, for they withdrew to a spot about one mile from the little fort and sat down in council. The speeches appeared to be generally opposed to risking an assault; for, after the council was dissolved, the Indians divided into two nearly equal parties and immediately marched off. One band took the direction of the Crow country and the other shaped their course in the direction from whence they came.

The trappers remained at their little fort during the winter and were not again disturbed by the Indians. Early in the following spring, they set their traps on one of the tributaries of the Missouri River and finished the hunt on the head of Lewis' Fork. They then departed for the rendezvous which was held on Green River near the mouth of Horse Creek, remaining there until the month of August and until the meeting was dissolved.

Kit Carson, on the breaking up of the camp at the rendezvous, accompanied by five other trappers, went to Fort Hall and joined a party attached to the "Northwest Fur Company." With this band he trapped to the head of Salmon River. Thence they went to Malade River, trapping down it to where it empties into the Big Snake River. They continued on up this latter river, and then, after trapping on Goose Creek and Raft River, returned to Fort Hall. Their stock of fur was quite extensive on their arrival here and, an opportunity offering to dispose of it, they sold out at a fair valuation. After recruiting their strength at the Fort for one month, Kit Carson, accompanied by most of the trappers, set out to join Bridger, who was still in the country of the Blackfeet Indians. Upon striking the Missouri River, signs of trappers were discovered, indicating that, whoever the party, or parties might be, they were now above the place where Kit and his party then were. With fourteen companions Kit started in advance of the main party to overtake, and report who these men were. Towards evening of the same day, the advance party came up with the trappers and found that they were under the charge of Joseph Gale and in the employ of Captain Wyatt.

Gale informed Carson that his command had recently been engaged in a closely contested fight with the Blackfeet Indians; that several of his party had been wounded, and one, by the name of Richard Owens, was at first thought to be mortally so; but, eventually, he had begun to recover and now was doing well.

Kit and his men remained one night with Gale. On the following day his party commenced setting their traps, intending to proceed up the river at a slow pace in order to allow the main party to overtake them. The men sent out to set their traps had not gone from the camp over two miles before they were fired upon by a party of Blackfeet Indians and compelled to retreat. They did so, succeeding in joining their comrades without the loss of a single man. The pursuit had been close and well sustained by the savages; hence, it became necessary to take instant measures in order to insure the safety of the advance. Kit Carson, who was the commander of the party, after quietly surveying the scene, gave orders for the men, with their animals, to conceal themselves, as best they could in the brush. His orders had been issued but just in time, for the concealment was barely attained, when the Indians were upon them. They were received with a well-directed volley from the rifles of the little party, which brought down several of the fierce assailants. They recoiled and retreated for a moment. The moment was golden to the few white men. Like men who were fighting for their lives but who were cool in danger, they made no mistakes in reloading their rifles. They were but just ready, however, for the second charge. This time the savages came on with unearthly yells and desperate courage, seemingly well satisfied that before them stood the men whose faithful rifle-talk they had heard before. Kit warned his men to keep cool and fire as if shooting game, a warning which was entirely unnecessary, for the result was that the savages were again driven back with a brave bleeding or dying for nearly every shot fired. It was very fortunate that Kit had chosen this position, for the engagement lasted nearly the entire day. The loss on the part of the Indians was very severe. They did everything in their power to force Kit and his party from their cover, but without avail. Every time they attempted to charge into the thicket the same deadly volley was poured in with never-failing aim, which invariably caused the savages to beat a hasty retreat. Before the next attack the trappers were ready for them with reloaded rifles. At last, as if driven to desperation, the Indians set the thicket on fire, hoping to burn out their foes. Most providentially, in this also they were foiled. After consuming the outer shrubbery, the fire died out. This was the last act attempted by the savages. Seeing the ill-success of their effort to dislodge the trappers by fire, they departed. They may have been hurried in this leave-taking somewhat by news brought in by their spies of the near approach of the main body of the trappers, which had arrived at a point about six miles distant from the battle ground. They had been prevented from hearing the reports of fire-arms by adverse winds, and knew nothing of the fight until informed by the trappers engaged in it. When sufficient time had elapsed for the Indians to be well out of sight, Kit Carson and his companions left their cover and soon found their way into the camp of their friends.

Gale was so continually annoyed by these Indians that he joined the other trappers and together they concluded to leave their country. Their combined forces, though able to cope with them so far as defensive measures were necessary, was utterly powerless to overawe them. This made it next to an impossibility for them to continue in their country with a hope of success in business. For the purpose of getting rid of them, they moved off, some distance, to a small creek where beaver were plenty. Trouble followed them, however. The first day of their arrival, one of the party was killed by the Blackfeet Indians within a short distance, only, of the camp. During the remainder of the stay made by the party on this stream, the rascals hovered around and worried them to such a degree that a trapper could not leave the camp without falling into an ambuscade and being forced to fight his way back again.

It became evident to all interested that so long as such a state of affairs existed they could not employ their time with just hope of advantage. After a short council, it was decided to abandon this region of the country and go to the North Fork of the Missouri. They soon accomplished their journey and began the business of trapping. Proceeding up the river, on the fourth day, they came, suddenly, upon a large village of Flathead and Pondrai Indians who were encamped upon its banks. These Indians were friendly to the whites. A chief of the Flatheads and several of his people joined the trappers and went with them to the Big Snake River where they established their winter quarters. The winter passed away so quietly that not a single incident occurred beyond the usual routine which the imagination of the reader can easily supply. It was quite cold that season, and the snow fell to a great depth. Everything however was arranged as best conduced to comfort, and the trappers found a pleasant and congenial exercise in hunting to supply their daily wants.

The winter seasons in the Rocky Mountains are usually fearful and severe. There, snow storms form mountains for themselves, filling up the passes for weeks, even those which are low being impracticable either for man or beast. As a set-off to all this, the scenery is most grand provided the beholder is well housed. If the case is otherwise and he be doomed to combat these terrible storms, his situation is most critical. During the summer months the lofty peaks of this mighty chain of mountains, like those of the Alps, are covered with white caps of snow. As time, the bright sun and the south wind wear out these old-lady head-gearings, no matter what be the part of the year, whether the cold days of January, or the hot days of August, the snow storms are faithful in replenishing them. It affords a contrast of the elements of the grandest conception to stand in the shade of some wavy verdure of the valley wiping off the unbidden perspiration from the brow, and, at the same instant, look upon a darkly threatening storm-cloud powdering the heads of the hoary monster mountains from its freight of flaky snow. So far these American giant mountains are unsurpassed by their Alpine neighbors of Europe. Not so in the glaciers. Throughout the great range, there are none of those beautiful glaciers to be found that can compare with those possessed by their compeers in Europe.