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

by De Witt C. Peters

"Poor Kit was in a very bad way one hour before we parted. The fact is, you know, he'd bin playin' the papers (meaning gambling) and had lost everything. However, I made him happy by giving him my gun and powder-horn. With them, you know, he will git along anywhere!"

All hands, except Kit Carson, joined in the laugh at the fellow's impudence. Kit Carson's patience was exhausted in listening to the barefaced falsehoods which the man was uttering; so, with some excuse, he left the party. The fellow was unapprised of the farce which he had been acting; and, shortly after, left the town, believing that he had acquitted himself as became a hero.

By way of episode, and while story-telling keeps its hold on our pen, we may as well relate a short anecdote, which, though it does not form any close connection with this part of the narrative, seems to illustrate the practical jokes which are sometimes played off by the western men upon those who have yet to undergo their novitiate.

A German accidentally wandered out to and located himself in company with others on or near the Greenhorn River, which is one of the tributaries of the Arkansas. Their business was trading with the Mormons, many of whom at that time traveled to Salt Lake, by what is known as the Arkansas River route. In so doing, they came near the vicinity of the site selected for trading purposes. In the commencement, the German was very inexperienced in matters that pertained to trading with these emigrants, and, as a matter of course, in an Indian country, met with many singular adventures. It so happened that this man was exceedingly afraid of rattlesnakes, and those he was associated with, by way of amusement, delighted in augmenting his fears by telling him wonderful stories of what feats the reptile had been known to perform. On the first trip which he made to the camp of some Mormons located about nine miles off, his ride took him through a perfect hot-bed of these snakes. Behind his saddle, on the horse's back which he rode, he had tied a bag of rice which he had intended to barter. The German, not being used to riding, was a poor horseman, while unfortunately, his steed was a spirited animal, and at once, on his mounting, started off on a trot. The string of the bag of rice became loosened by the severe jolting, and its contents came tumbling on the ground in great quantities, but afterwards as the stock on hand decreased, this was lessened. The German, who had his hands full to keep his seat in the saddle, heard the rattling noise behind him, but dared not look around, for fear of being thrown off from his horse. He supposed he was chased by a ferocious snake, and, at once, thought only of escape; therefore, seizing the mane of the horse, he gave him the spurs. He was soon going at a flying gait; still, the rattling noise pursued him as the increased speed sent the little grains of rice out of the sack in greater quantities. At last the sound died away, as the cause of the trouble was expended. The frightened rider now considered himself safe, and began to rein in his horse. After a while, he brought him to a stand-still, and turned to look for his retreating enemy, but instead, found the origin and cause of the mischief. His loss was irrecoverable, and he could only laugh at the ridiculous figure he must have cut. This adventure gave his friends much merriment, and served to open his eyes in reference to the much vaunted capabilities of this snake. He has since often told this story of himself, and considers it a capital joke.

The labor of settling up their business at Fort Laramie was soon over, when Kit Carson and Goodel took their departure. Goodel started for California, while Kit Carson commenced his tramp homeward. As a traveling companion, he took with him a Mexican. They pursued their journey quite pleasantly and safely enough, but, on their arrival at the Greenhorn River, the scene of the German's adventure with a rattle-snake, they were obliged to be very wary in their progress, for Kit had learned that the Apache Indians were out on the warpath, and were waylaying the road which, he intended to pursue with the avowed purpose of attacking, plundering and murdering whoever chanced to fall in their savage clutches. Kit Carson, therefore, halted for six days on the banks of the Greenhorn, and spent the time recruiting his animals. While here and thus engaged, a party of white men, whom he found encamped on the same river, formed the subject of his earnest attention. They had come thus far on their route to New Mexico, but, on learning the news of the hostile attitude of the Apache nation, their courage had entirely deserted them. They did not dare venture into New Mexico, and counselled the retracing of their steps. Kit Carson set himself to work, but found he had a difficult task to talk courage into these men. By dint of much argument, he succeeded in persuading one of them to accompany him. On the seventh day, with this one companion—for the Mexican had left him—he broke up his little camp on the Greenhorn, and set out upon his dangerous journey.

By taking a zigzag course, avoiding, in the mountains, all the usually traveled trails, he advanced on his route forty miles without seeing any very fresh Indian signs. As often as the moon was unclouded, the two men embraced the assistance of its pale light to make progress through the dangers that beset them; and, on the days which succeeded this night-work, they would conceal themselves and animals in some out of the way place, where they were not to be easily discovered. Kit Carson had not sufficient confidence in the quickness of perception of his companion to trust him as a sentinel, therefore, he had to take upon himself all of that important duty. While on the lookout, he usually posted himself in the top limbs of a tree and always took care to select one that commanded a good prospect of the surrounding country. After several days passed without having proper rest, Kit, in the monotony of his position as sentinel, would feel sleep stealing over him, until it was difficult to keep longer awake. He would close his eyes and commence to nod, but on these occasions he was sure to be quickly aroused on almost losing his balance, by which, however, he endangered his neck. One day, while thus employed, he was perched in the highest branches of a lofty old cotton-wood on the banks of the River Timchera and not far off from the "Spanish Peaks." Nearly ten hours had passed without anything special having attracted his attention, when, all at once, a band of straggling Apaches came into view not over one half mile distant. A single look was sufficient to convince him that, as yet, neither himself nor his companion had been discovered. No time was to be lost, so Kit, as quickly as possible, descended and ran to where his friend was, and informed him of their danger. The animals were soon saddled, and the two men mounting them, struck out in a direction just the opposite to that in which the Indians were traveling. Fortune favored them, as, soon after they had emerged from the timber into the open prairies, night set in, thus shutting them out from the view of the savages. Profiting by the darkness and the level country which lay before them, they reached, by the rising of the next morning's sun, the Mexican town of Red River, which was sixty-five miles distant from the place they had last started from. All dangers having been now surmounted, they made a sufficient stay at Red River to rest themselves and animals.

On resuming their journey, they jogged along over the now rough trail and, after a ride of thirty miles, came to Taos, where they were once more safe from the perils that had so recently surrounded them, and where they were well provided for by kind friends.

Rio Colorado, or Red River settlement, is, next to Taos, the oldest town in northern New Mexico. It is located on a small stream of the same name, which flows into the Rio Grande. The town itself contains some two or three hundred inhabitants, and occupies rather a pretty site, being built on a high bank, while between it and the river there is a large strip of bottom land, which is under cultivation. The scenery about is picturesque, embracing lofty and bold mountains, beautiful wood-land and open prairies. The external appearance of the village is that of abject poverty; and, on entering it, one readily sees that his eyesight has not deceived him, but that his first impressions are fully realized. It was here that Fremont and his men found a haven of safety after meeting their trying reverses on the fourth exploring expedition. To them, the sight of this town must have been hailed with delight. In Red River there live two old trappers, who have long since been weaned from the habits and manners of civilization. These two men are Canadians, one of them notorious for the "yarns" he can spin; but as they are many of them past belief, they are listened to by the traveler as a help to pass the time while he is obliged to tarry in the place. A young English nobleman who was on a visit of pleasure to the western country, once fell into this man's clutches, and, from the trapper's after boasting, we infer that he (the trapper) more than surpassed himself in story-telling. Among other things, he informed this nobleman that he had once mastered a grizzly bear in a hand-to-hand fight by cramming a stick that was sharpened at both ends into the bear's mouth in such a way that the monster could not close his jaws, because it fastened and kept them open. Being asked by the nobleman how large were the hare in that vicinity of country, his answer was, that he had seen them of such a magnitude that one would be a load for a man, and that when strung across the hunter's shoulder, one part was sure to be dragging on the ground. He then boasted that he had killed a grasshopper that, with his head cut off, weighed six ounces. Notwithstanding his love of talk, this old man had once been a brave and famous hunter; but no confidence could be placed in him, owing to his habituated want of regard for truth and honor; hence, he has long since been excluded from the companionship of the mountaineers. The English gentleman above spoken of was an experienced traveler, and therefore undoubtedly knew how to weigh the truth of his astonishing information.