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

by De Witt C. Peters

The spies were not long in discovering a trail made by the Indians, to which they led the main portion of the command. This trail had been so frequently used of late by the Indians in driving stolen bands of sheep and cattle over it, that it was now a well-trodden road and therefore there was no difficulty in keeping on it at all hours of the day and night.

Being accustomed to perform his duty carefully, and, at the same time, to use dispatch, the Colonel, in the course of a few days, led his party to the entrance of the Saquachi Pass, which is the great natural opening in the mountains that bound, on the west, the valley of San Luis. As they approached the mouth of the pass, the men were traveling close under the hills, therefore, on coming to it, and in order to follow it up, it was necessary to turn off almost at a right angle. The spies, as was usual when the command was on the march, were considerably in the advance. They had hardly entered the pass and had just reached the summit of a knoll which lay in their path, and which had hitherto prevented their seeing up the valley, when, all at once, the long looked for Indians were presented to their view. They were but a short distance off, and as if surprised at thus so suddenly discovering each other, both parties halted. During this state of suspense, the white men noticed that the Indians were arrayed in their war costume, showing that they were bound on another plundering expedition. Everything went to show that the visit which the white men were making to their mountain haunts was unexpected by the red men.

The Indians quickly recovered from their astonishment and began to form in line of battle by spreading themselves out across the valley. They were evidently emboldened by the small force with which, apparently, they had to contend, and felt certain that a victory would be both easy and sure. Having taken their position, Blanco, their chief, was easily recognized by the red woolen shirt which he wore. He was busy, riding along in front of his warriors, occasionally stopping to give some command. As they were near enough so to do, the Indians opened a warfare of small talk, in the Spanish language. They charged their adversaries with being afraid to advance, or to use their expressive words, the Americans were as cowardly as squaws. To these taunts no reply was made; but to keep up the decoy, the few soldiers who were exposed to view, remained stationary, while word was passed to the rear of what was transpiring in the advance. Thus several minutes passed by; but they were not thrown away. During this time, most of the dragoons and volunteers were relieving themselves of such extra luggage as overcoats, blankets, etc.; saddle girths were tightened and weapons put in order for immediate use. The Indians were finely mounted, and about two hundred and fifty strong; and, as their wild career had gone so long unchecked, their bravery was aroused to its highest pitch. All things being in readiness, the bugles sounded the command to charge, when away dashed the gallant soldiers, eager for the affray, and each trying to be foremost in the fight. As they came bounding over the knoll before spoken of, the Indians began to see the delusion under which they had been laboring, and at once turned to fly, but not in time to escape, for the soldiers were soon among them and with their revolvers and small arms were fast thinning their ranks and sending many a brave to his final home. A running fight ensued, which was continued up the valley for about eight miles, when a majority of the Indians gained the mountains and made good their escape. The chase was a splendid affair to behold, and many feats of horsemanship were performed that would be difficult to excel. Among the foremost in this skirmish was, as the reader might readily imagine, Kit Carson. The pursuit was continued far into the mountains and was only given over when night came on. The soldiers then retired to their reserve-guard, who had established a camp on a small stream which runs through the centre of the pass, where their pack animals and stores could be easily guarded. During this exciting fight, several of the soldiers were slightly wounded. With this exception, the command came out of the skirmish unharmed. On the side of the Indians, affairs in this respect were quite different. Their blood had well sprinkled the battle-ground, and several of their swarthy forms were stretched out at full length, sleeping that sleep that knows no wakening, except it be at the final judgment day. Had it not been that most of the Indians, as is usually the case with them when in action, were tied on their horses, this number would have been augmented. The bloody trails that were afterwards found in the mountains, went to prove that many of the wounds given to the escaped Indians were mortal, and, while their horses were carrying them from the danger, they themselves were sinking from furious hemorrhage. Early in the pursuit, a fine warrior was thrown from his horse. As he had been crippled by a ball, he could not recover himself and make off. For some time he lay alone and neglected, but when the rear guard came along they noticed that he was playing a game by pretending to be dead; but he had closed his eyes too firmly for a man in that condition, and this fact attracted the notice of the passers-by. A Mexican raised his rifle and fired at the brave; but the bullet only served to cause another flesh wound. This so irritated the would-be dead, savage, that, seizing his lance which lay by his side, he attempted to reach and kill his adversary with it; but, others coming up, he was soon dispatched.

While this running fight was in progress, the author met with an adventure which came near costing him his life. It was my duty to follow the charging soldiers in order to be near at hand to render professional services to the wounded, should there be any. I was mounted on a mule, and when the dragoon horses started off, he became frightened and unmanageable. I soon found that this mule lacked the speed of the former animals, hence he was in a short time left far behind, but not until he had fallen and thrown me into a thrifty bed of prickly pears, the thorns of which did not, in the least, save me from being hurt. On regaining my feet, I found that my injuries were but slight, and that I still retained my bridle rein, therefore I quickly regained my seat in the saddle and started on again, remembering the old proverb, which says, "All is fair in war." While riding on, I was joined by a soldier whose horse had broken down in the charge. As we now advanced together, our route led us by some large sand hills, behind which several Indians had sought refuge, when hotly pursued. Seeing that they had been overlooked during the excitement of the moment, they remained quiet until we came along, when they made a dash at us and commenced firing their arrows in fine-style. We returned their volleys with our revolvers, but, whether we produced any result further than preventing their coming too near, it is difficult to say. Several of their arrows came in close proximity to our bodies, and one struck, the soldier's horse in the neck and wounded a main artery, which bled, for a time, furiously. As danger was thick about them, the Indians soon left us to effect their own escape; when, we halted and attended to the wounded horse, whose life we were so fortunate as to save, by putting a ligature about the bleeding vessel.

The night succeeding the day on which this fight occurred, with a single exception, passed by quietly. A soldier, who lay near the centre of the camp, had retired to rest, perhaps impressed with the belief that he and his comrades would be attacked by the Indians before morning; this train of thought had led him into dreams of war, and while reveling in them, he imagined that danger was at hand. Suddenly starting up, and seizing his rifle, he fired at random. His bullet came near striking a Mexican sentinel who was on duty, and who was making his rounds. The sentinel was very naturally startled by this unaccountable noise in the camp, and supposing that the Indians had, unobserved, crept within the lines, he returned the compliment by discharging his piece in the direction of the supposed danger. The report of these firearms had the effect of arousing the entire command. The men were quickly on their feet and ready for active service. In the confusion which ensued, several more rifles were fired, but fortunately no harm was done, and as soon as the cause of the trouble was explained, quietness and order was promptly established.

At the break of day, on the next morning, the soldiers were up and preparing for their march. The Indians had, on this morning, made fires, and even presented themselves to view on the mountains, but they were few in number, and it was well known that this was only a ruse to allure the white men to the wrong trail, while their families should have time to escape in the contrary direction; hence, but little notice was taken of these demonstrations.

Col. Fauntleroy here determined to relieve himself of all drawbacks which should in the least tend to prevent his now giving full chase to the Indians. Accordingly, he left his baggage and provision train under escort of the foot company and quartermaster men, the whole being placed under the command of Lieutenant Lloyd Beall, of the Second Regiment U.S. Artillery, with instructions to meet him at an appointed rendezvous in the Wet Mountain Valley. It required but a short search by his guide, Kit Carson, and his spies, to put him on the right trail taken by the main portion of the enemy. When it was found, the pursuit was resumed and kept up vigorously. Late and early, the soldiers followed on this trail, and although the Indians purposely led them over the worst conceivable routes, yet they gained nothing substantial by it. On one occasion, when the men were pushing on as fast as possible, their advance guard surprised three Indians, one of them a woman, while they were leisurely watering their ponies. These Indians attempted to fly, and succeeded in making a good run for about four miles, but, at the end of that distance, two of them were overtaken. A Mexican, who was mounted on a very swift horse, was the first to come up with the savages. He fired and brought the woman to the ground. Quickly dismounting, he made a trophy of her scalp. The other Indian, being arrested by a slight wound, was made a prisoner. On questioning him, it was found that they all belonged to one family. The man who had made his escape, was the husband of the woman who was killed, while the prisoner was her brother. These Indians had heard nothing of the recent fight in the Saquachi Pass, and, had the soldiers dropped down from the heavens, they could not have been more surprised at thus unceremoniously meeting them. It was very much regretted by those present that this Indian woman had lost her life; but, as she was dressed in the disguise of a man, her sex could not be recognized. There are many of our readers who will perhaps censure this Mexican for his barbarous action of scalping a human being, but it must be remembered that the education of his people is different from our own. The taking of Indian scalps for a long time has been authorized by the Mexican Government, as a means of lessening their savage enemies, and handsome premiums have been offered as an inducement to obtain them. In the case of this Mexican, there were extenuating circumstances which, if they did not warrant such a cruel act, yet they rendered him somewhat excusable. He had recently lost a near and dear relative by the hands of these same Indians, and the appearance of this mangled body was still fresh in his memory, making him to thirst for revenge. It must not be supposed for a moment that the commanding officer of this expedition had sanctioned such a mode of procedure, for, he had no knowledge of the matter until after it had been ended. It was not within his province to preach humanity to a people who had been so greatly outraged by savages. He came to punish and not to intercede for wild men who had long been a terror to the surrounding country, and upon whom, in order to reconcile them, every kind act had been expended in vain.

It may possibly be asked whether or no a man, who has simply lost his scalp, can recover. In reply we can safely say that without any other wound, and under favorable circumstances, with good care the sufferer stands a chance of being restored to health. There was a man who formerly was living and working at his trade as a blacksmith in Santa Fé, who, in a fight with the Camanches while crossing the plains, was wounded by a lance and then scalped. After a long period of suffering this person entirely recovered, although the cicatrix of the wound was ever afterwards a source of annoyance to him, compelling him continually to wear a skull-cap made of oiled silk. The size of the scalp, as usually taken off by the Indians, varies. Sometimes they remove only the back covering of the head. At other times they cut off the whole, running down even with the margin of the ear. When a man has died in a manner which the Indians style as "brave"—that is, desperately fighting for his life, and never for once showing fear, they take two scalps, one from either side of the head. The object of this is, to have scalp dances for each, as they consider such a man as deserving the fate of two ordinary men. These scalps are often stretched, dried, decorated and frequently kept for years as trophies. The more scalps a warrior takes, the greater favorite he becomes with his tribe; and finally, having obtained a given number, he is considered eligible to fill the office of War Chief, provided he has other qualifications, such as the power of quickly conceiving the right plan on which to act in case of emergency. When a party of Indians in the Rocky Mountains have been on a war trail, met the enemy and vanquished them, they appoint a brave who is honored as being the scalp-bearer. This warrior carries a long pole, to which, at suitable distances from each other, the scalps are attached. When the party returns to, and enters their own village, this brave is the observed of all observers. Eagerly, by the old men, women, and children, these bloody trophies are counted, for each of them offers an occasion for rejoicing, to be at separate intervals of time. They are, then, each synonymous with the phrase, a fête day, and the scalp-bearer is looked upon with the same jealous eye which greets the color-bearer of an army after having been engaged in some great battle which has proved successful to his standard. An Indian will not remove, as a general thing, a scalp which contains grey hairs. This he considers to be a business fit only for women. The scalp which is to cause a general jubilee, on an appointed evening, is attached to the top of a long pole, planted in the earth at a suitable place. The warriors who have been instrumental in tearing it from the head of its owner, form a circle around the pole, outside of which are arranged the spectators. By the aid of one drum-stick, the person who has been detailed for this duty, keeps up a beating motion on a sort of kettle-drum, the noise of which serves the purpose of marking time. The voices of the dancers make the music. At first the song is a mere humming sound, but after a time, it grows gradually louder, until the participants in the dance, being excited to the highest attainable pitch with interest in the ceremonies, it becomes terribly hideous. Almost naked, with tomahawk and hunting-knife in hand, the warriors imitate the process of dispatching and tearing off the scalps of their victims. So excited do the dancing savages sometimes become while reveling in these fantastical scenes, that they frequently are aroused to a pitch which borders on frenzy. The spectators of these sights get so deeply interested that it is not an extraordinary matter for them to appear as if almost deranged. Their excitement breaks out into exclamations of encouragement and applause, until at last they can control themselves no longer, and, on their own account, commence making bodily demonstrations of joy by jumping about. The scalp dance may last an entire night, or until, worn down with fatigue, the actors are willing to forego their pleasure and seek rest. The Mexicans on the frontiers have fallen into this Indian custom, and they can go into the spirit of the scalp dance with a relish which fully equals that exhibited by their savage neighbors. This is not true as a general rule; but, very many of their people really enjoy these ceremonies.

Colonel Fauntleroy and his men traveled at such a rapid pace, that, in the course of a very few days, they succeeded in once more overtaking the main village belonging to the enemy. The Indians took refuge in a steep and rocky mountain. A skirmishing fight immediately commenced, which lasted several hours. During this engagement, a large number of the savage warriors were killed, their band completely routed, and the inhabitants of the whole village made to scatter in every direction in order to save their lives. At first the braves attempted to make a stand, but they were driven from rock to rock, until they broke their ranks and fled. It was about the time of this crisis, and when they were most needed, that the dragoon horses began to break down and die.