To the traveler whose taste has led him to wander along the "Great back bones," or vertebræ, of the two hemispheres, preparing the mind to draw truthful contrast, his pleasantest reveries will find him drawing comparisons between them. He is never tired, for the subject he cannot exhaust. When, supposing that his conclusions are at last made and that the Alps have won the highest place in favor, some forgotten scene from America will assume the form and shape of a vivid recollection, rife with scenic grandeur and sublimity, restoring the Rocky chain to its counterpoise; then, an hour of peril and fearful toil will come to memory, and, until the same mental process shall bring them again to an equilibrium, the far-famed Alps will descend in the balance. Each have their attractions, each their grandeur, each their sublimity, each their wonderful, awful silence, each their long and glorious landscape views, while, to each, the general contour is the same. In the point of altitude, the Rocky chain, as is well known to science, has the advantage; but, in historical science and lore, the famous Alps stand preeminent. True, it is from ignorance that we are led to concede this, because no man can give to the world the reminiscences of the Rocky Mountains. Their history, since the first red man entered them, must forever rest in oblivion. In scenery these mountains of the Western Continent again carry off the palm; for, they strike the observer as being more bold, wild and picturesque than their formidable rivals. To the foot-worn traveler, who has journeyed thirty or forty days upon the level prairies, seeing nothing to break the monotony of a sea of earth, the dark outlines of the Rocky Mountains, gradually coming into the view, never fail to prove a refreshing sight both to the physical and mental eye. They appear as if descending from the heavens to the surface of the earth, perpendicularly, as though intended to present a perfect barrier over which no living thing should pass. This view never fails to engross the earnest attention of the traveler, and hours of gazing only serve to enwrap the mind in deeper and more fixed contemplation. Is there not here presented a field, such as no other part of this globe can furnish, in which the explorer, the geologist, the botanist may sow and reap a rich harvest for his enterprise? As yet scientific research, on questions concerning the Rocky Mountains, is comparatively speaking, dumb. But science will soon press forward in her heavenly ordained mission, borne upon the shoulders of some youthful hero, and once more the wise book-men of the gown and slipper, who, surrounded with their tomes on tomes of learned digests, are fast approaching the hour when they had better prepare their last wills and testaments, will again be distanced in the race and doomed to argue technicalities. To the hunter, the real lover of and dependent upon the chase, there can be no comparison between the mighty Alps and the huge Rocky Mountain Barrier of the American Prairies. The one is destitute of animal life while the other bears a teeming population of the choicest game known to the swift-leaden messenger of the white man's rifle. He who wishes to behold in the same gaze, beautiful valleys, highly cultivated by a romantic and interesting race, in rich contrast with wonderfully moulded masses of earth and stone, covered with a medley of green foliage and white snow, let him go to the Alps.
In the following spring Kit Carson, accompanied by only one trapper, started out to hunt the streams in the vicinity of Big Snake River. The Utah nation of Indians inhabit this country; and, with them, Kit Carson stood on a friendly footing. The business of trapping was therefore carried on without fear of molestation. The labors of the two were crowned with great success.
Loaded with a full cargo of fur they soon after set out for Robidoux's Fort, which they reached in safety, selling out their stock to good advantage.
Kit Carson made only a short stop at this Fort. As soon as his fur was disposed of, he immediately organized a small party consisting of five trappers and made a journey to Grand River. After thoroughly trapping this river, he established himself at Brown's Hole on Green River for the winter. Early in the spring he returned with the same party to the country of the Utahs and hunted there for some time. He then went to the New Park, where they finished their trapping operations and returned to Robidoux's Fort. Here Kit again found a purchaser for his furs; but, the prices at which he was obliged to sell them, did not at all please him. Within a few years, the value of beaver fur had greatly deteriorated. This was caused by the slow demand which had gradually ruled at the great emporiums of Europe and America. The skill of the manufacturer had substituted a material for the making of hats which, while it was cheaper, pleased the great race of hat-wearers. The beaver itself was becoming scarce, owing to their being so diligently hunted. It was evident to Kit Carson and many of his mountaineer companions that their occupation was gradually becoming less profitable and that it would soon drive them into other employments. Acting upon this impression Kit Carson, accompanied by "Old Bill Williams,"[14] William New, Mitchell and Fredericks, a Frenchman, started for Bent's Fort, which was then located on the Arkansas River near a large forest of cotton wood trees, and which is, even at this day, known as the "Big Timbers." The party struck the river at a point about one hundred miles above the Fort, where, in later years, was built a settlement called St. Charles.[15]
On reaching the river, two of the party, Mitchell and New, concluded to tarry awhile in order to gratify their humor for hunting. But Kit Carson, with the remainder of the mountaineers, continued on their course, and, in three days time, were safely lodged within the walls of the Fort. One week subsequently, Mitchell and New followed their companions to the Fort, but in a sad plight. They had not suspected danger, and, consequently, had failed to guard against it. They had been surrounded by Indians and deprived of everything they possessed except their naked bodies. In this denuded state they arrived at the Fort. They were kindly received and provided for by its noble-hearted proprietors; and, for some time enjoyed a respite from all their troubles.
This mountaineer Mitchell, full of eccentricities of character, has seen the ups and downs of a frontiersman during a long and eventful life. He once joined the Camanche nation and became one of their braves.[16]
In this capacity he won great renown by the efficient and active part he took in several engagements between the tribe of his adoption and their enemies. His real object in turning Indian was to discover the locality of a gold mine which was said to have an existence in some of the mountains of northern Texas. Having convinced himself that the story of the gold mine, like many of the tales and traditions which gain currency in Indian countries, was entirely without foundation, Mitchell, with some plausible excuse, bid his red friends good bye and sought out his old comrades, the trappers, to whom he ever afterwards proved faithful. About two years since, Mitchell paid a trading visit to the States. On his route, it became necessary that he should pass over the Kansas Territory, just at a time when political difficulties there were exciting the people to the highest pitch of anxiety. The consequence was, that his views upon the all-absorbing questions at issue were frequently asked for by members of both parties. To all these queries he invariably replied, professing his ignorance of everything that appertained thereto. This caused him to be regarded as a dangerous man, and one not to be trusted. He was accordingly treated with indifference and silent reserve. This to a mountaineer, who, during a long period of years, had met every "pale face" as a brother, was insupportable usage. In all haste he finished his business, relinquished his contemplated journey through the States, and started to return to his home in New Mexico. While upon the road, he accidentally fell in with a friend; and, in reply to the question, where have you been? said:
"After a lapse of many years, I thought I should like to see the whites again; so, I was going to the States. But the sample I've seen in Kansas is enough to disgust a man with their character. They do nothing but get up war parties against one another; and, I would much rather be in an Indian country than in civilized Kansas." Mitchell is full of dry humor and commands the faculty of telling a good story, which makes him a pleasant traveling companion.
Since the time when Kit Carson first joined a trapping expedition, up to the time of his arrival at Bent's Fort, a period of eight long years, he had known no rest from arduous toil. Not even when, to the reader, he was apparently idle, buried in the deep snows of the Rocky Mountains and awaiting the return of Spring, has he rested from toil. Even then his daily life has been given up to bodily fatigue and danger, frequently in scenes which, although of thrilling interest, are too lengthy for this narrative. It has been our purpose thus far to present Kit Carson undergoing his novitiate. We regard, and we think a world will eventually regard, this extraordinary man as one raised up by Providence to fulfill a destiny of His all-wise decree. It is premature for us, at this stage of our work, to advance the argument upon which this conclusion, so irresistibly to our mind, is deduced. We have yet before us an array of historical fact and incident to relate, without parallel in the history of nations, and in which Kit Carson plays no insignificant part. For these eight years of stirring practical life, Kit Carson, relying upon his beloved rifle for his sustenance and protection, had penetrated every part of the interior of the North American Continent, setting his traps upon every river of note which rises within this interior, and tracing them from the little springs which originate them to the wide mouths from which they pour their surcharged waters into the mighty viaducts or drains of the vast prairies, and the mighty leviathan ranges of the Rocky Mountains. In this time he had wandered over a wild territory equal in its dimensions to nearly all of the empires, kingdoms and principalities of Europe combined. His journeys, as it has already appeared, were made sometimes on foot and sometimes on horseback. By themselves, his travels will be called no trivial undertakings. Each fresh adventure led him into regions where but seldom, and more frequently never, had a white man trod the soil. He was, therefore, now an explorer in every sense of that distinguishing word, with the single exception that he had not produced the results which the early culture and advantages of a scientific and classical education might have brought about. But the history of the world furnishes few examples, if indeed any, where the physical training, practical skill and knowledge of a country, as possessed by Kit Carson, have been united with scholastic lore. At all events, in the wisdom of that special Providence which was intending the gold mines of California to be consecrated to the advancement of American civilization, with its religious freedom, personal liberties and sacred literature, the novitiate of Kit Carson was decreed to be wholly of a practical nature. But while Kit Carson, with his rifle, was thus reared up in character, courage and experience, the same All-wise hand was directing the pathway of a mind, equal to accomplish His call, through all the labyrinths of Science, History and the Arts, endowing that mind with a keenness of intellectual grasp in strange contrast with the practical skill of its future guide. Those who see no God in nature, no God in events, may batter away at this proposition. The record of Kit Carson's future tasks will prove it to be an invincible stronghold of theory.