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

by De Witt C. Peters

The general impression left upon the minds of the people who were familiar with the minutiæ of this affair was, that Fox was guilty. As he was known to be a finished villain, it was universally believed that, after murdering and plundering the two traders, he intended to grasp the "lion's share," and with his portion, to proceed to Texas, where, as he was there entirely unknown, he hoped to enjoy the rewards of his rascality.

This valuable service rendered to Messrs. Brevoort and Weatherhead, was most gracefully and handsomely rewarded by them. In the course of the following spring, they presented Kit with a pair of magnificent revolvers. Upon the silver mountings, there were engraved a very few, but expressive words, indicating the obligations which the donors considered themselves laboring under towards their deliverer. Such a testimonial to an unselfish heart like that which beats in the breast of Kit Carson, is a prize of greater value than any more substantial gift, which money could purchase. These beautiful weapons, Kit Carson prizes very highly; and, the donors may here learn the fact that, in the hands of their owner, they have since been duly initiated into active service, and found to perform their necessary duties most admirably.

After the task of the arrest of Fox was thus successfully undertaken and consummated, by his being securely lodged in jail and placed under suitable guard, Kit Carson returned to Rayado, where he spent the winter in a very quiet manner. We use the term quiet manner: it should be qualified with the phrase, quiet manner for him. He found plenty of employment in looking after his animals, besides spending a large share of his time in hunting. This, however, although always attended with paying practical results, he did as much for pleasure as from necessity. He always found a large number of hungry mouths ready to relieve him from any superabundance of game; and, as his hospitality to all classes is unbounded, he took especial delight in feeding and liberally bestowing his bounties upon his poor Mexican neighbors, to whom powder and lead were more of a desideratum than to himself, and with whom his experience and skill as a hunter, were a source of support which they could only wish for.

Early the next summer Kit Carson, in charge of a train of wagons belonging to himself and his friend Maxwell, set out for the United States. After an unusually pleasant journey, he reached the Missouri River, and proceeded down it, in a steamboat, to St. Louis. Here he purchased a large stock of goods. With this freight, he returned to Kansas, where he had left his caravan, into which, on his arrival, he transferred his merchandise. He then started on his return trip to New Mexico. In order that his animals might take advantage of the fine grass to be found there, he chose the route, known to all traders on the plains, as well as to the reader, as the road by Bent's Fort. He was progressing on his journey quite happily, when unfortunately, at a point that is located about fifteen miles above the fording of the Arkansas, he fell in with a village of Cheyenne Indians who were just at that time violently hostile towards the whites and were waiting an opportunity to wreak their vengeance on them. This state of feeling had been brought about only a few days previous, and was due to an officer who was attached to a command of recruits that some ten days before Kit Carson's arrival had passed by. He had flogged a warrior for some liberty which the fellow had taken while he was in the camp of the soldiers. These Cheyennes are very fond of dress and show; but, as a body, they are as noble and athletic looking men as tread this earth. Singular though the contrast may appear, a greater set of rascals never went unhung; yet, they are Indians, and, as such, they ought to command sympathy and forbearance.

The young men who belong to the Cheyenne nation, are fond of dress, and when arrayed in full costume one of them is a picture to look upon; when thus gilded no man could be prouder. These Indians wear their hair in a long cue à la Chinese style. They take great pleasure in ornamenting this cue with innumerable pieces of silver, which are made from half dollar pieces, and are beat out in the shape of small shields. With their blue, or red blankets, long ribbons of different colored flannel, fancy leggins and bead decorations, and finally (as I once saw one) with a red cotton umbrella, they represent the very Paris tip of Indian fashion. Their squaws do not possess as regular and fine features as the men; but, this may be said to be true of most of the wild tribes of savages in North America, for it requires an enormous stretch of the imagination to call them handsome, while many of the men are fine looking. Hard work spoils the beauty of the Indian women. To admire an Indian woman one must seclude himself from the society of other females; under such circumstances it may be that a person might be inclined to change his opinion and think the race lovely. The lazy brave considers it beneath his station to work; therefore all camp labor and the packing, saddling and looking after the ponies devolves upon the squaw. When there is a scanty supply of horses, she is obliged to give her lord the preference in taking his ease, and go herself on foot and carry her pappoose. In fact it is lowering to the Indian's pride to do else than hunt and fight. Owing to the scarcity of timber on the western prairies the Indians transport their lodge poles from camp to camp. This is done by attaching them to the sides of the pack animals while the free ends drag on the ground, and in time of war this constitutes one of the signs of the trail by which to follow when in pursuit of them.

The reason why the commanding officer of this party of recruits inflicted the summary punishment referred to, is not known to the writer; but, it surely does appear as if the person who ordered its execution or perhaps courageously performed it himself, might have reflected, that a savage, least of all men, allows a supposed injury done to him or his tribe to pass by unrevenged, and also that it is a matter of perfect indifference to him as to who the victim is, if he only gets the chance to strike a blow on the same nation. This revenge will quench his cruel thirst for blood quite as effectually as if he had the satisfaction of scalping the perpetrator of his real or supposed injury. It is a fact—alas too frequently true—that the parties who are strong in numbers, courage, and equipment, while crossing the plains, are prone to treat, in an overbearing and insolent manner, the bands of Indians with whom they chance to come into contact. For these insults and injuries weaker parties who travel upon the same road are held to a strict and revengeful account by being made to suffer even with their lives, as well as effects. Kit Carson and his small force, unfortunately, or rather, fortunately, so far as Kit himself was concerned, for no man could be better fitted to deal with such a crisis of trouble than he, were the first white men who came along after the flogging of their warrior had wrought up the temper of the Cheyenne nation to a degree which nearly bordered on frenzy.

As soon as the whites were discovered, the Indians went into council evidently to decide on the best mode of attacking and making away with them. Kit Carson, though he did not know that this tribe had declared war, and much less their reasons for so doing, when he first saw them, was not long in coming to a conclusion, from their actions, that there was a screw loose somewhere. He, therefore, began to act with more than usual sagacity and caution. He ordered his men to keep their wagons close together, to have their rifles in good trim and be ready for an instant fight. In this manner, with every man on the watch, he pushed on for a distance of twenty miles. Although he had left the Indians far behind, he did not relax his vigilance, being still impressed with the belief that a storm was brewing. His surmises began to be verified soon after, for the Indians, in parties of two, three, and four, appeared in sight, arrayed and painted in their full war costume. Having approached some of them to within a distance sufficiently near so to do, Kit Carson commenced talking to them in a conciliatory manner. They were inclined to heed his words; and, in order to make it appear that he was not intimidated by their actions, he went into camp, and invited these advance parties of the Indians to come in and have a talk and smoke with him. The savages accepted the invitation and were soon seated in a circle. After the pipe had passed from one to the other, until all present had had a puff or two from it, they began to talk loud among themselves.

At the time we now speak of, several years, as the reader can readily compute, had elapsed since Kit Carson was a hunter at Bent's Fort, and then well known to most of the Cheyenne nation; but, these few years had so altered him, together with his new style of dress, that it is no doubt that, at first, not one of the Indians remembered ever having seen him before.

Kit Carson remained quiet and allowed the Indians to open the talk, as he was watching to find out what had so suddenly aroused their anger, and he well knew, that if they supposed that he and his men did not understand what they were conversing about, they might refer to the cause of the trouble, and thus give him a clue whereby he might take advantage and form a line of conduct. It was clear to his mind that the Indians were resolved to have revenge on his party, and that there was time enough to let himself be known to them, which, in their present excited state, would serve him but little. The Indians had at first conversed in the Sioux tongue. The reason for this was, to conceal their own nationality and thus, if necessary, in the future, they could shield themselves by laying the massacre, which they were about to commit, on the shoulders of that tribe. This is a ruse often employed by the Indians; but, in this case, in their heated state they forgot their native cunning and commenced conversing in the language which was most familiar to them. A Frenchman, called in the mountains Pete, who spoke English fluently and who was with Carson during these trying scenes, informed the writer, on one occasion, that he never fully knew or appreciated Kit Carson until this occurrence. "Why," said he in his enthusiasm, "Kit knew just what was to be done and did it too. With any other man, we would have gone under[²²] The Indians were more afraid of him than all the rest of us put together. There were red fellows enough there to eat us up, and at one time I could almost feel my hair leaving my head. We had two women traveling with us and their crying made me feel so bad that I was sartin there was no fight in me. Women (he added) are poor plunder to have along when going out on a war party, but Kit talked to them and then to the Indians, and put them both finally on the right trail. Wah!! but them were ticklish times."