Christopher Carson, Familiarly Known as Kit Carson

This they declined to do, saying that they were too old for such a journey.

Mr. Fremont then said to them, "You say that you love the whites. But you are unwilling to undergo a few days' ride to save our lives. We do not believe you. We will not listen to you. We are the soldiers of the great chief your father. He has told us to come here and see this country, and all the Indians. We shall not go back. We are few and you are many. You may kill us all. But do you think that our great chief will let his soldiers die and forget to cover their graves? Before the snows melt, his warriors will sweep away your villages as the fire does the prairie in the autumn. See! I have pulled down my white houses, and my people are ready. When the sun is ten paces higher, we shall be on the march."

They left the fort on the twenty-second of July, and followed up the north fork of the Platte for three weeks, encountering no molestation from the Indians, and meeting only with the ordinary hardships to be expected in travelling through the wilderness. They generally found a sufficiency of water, of grazing and of game. They at length found themselves among the wildest ravines of the Rocky mountains. Here they employed themselves day after day in astronomical and geological observations, and then commenced their return. All the objects of their expedition had been successfully accomplished. They reached Fort Laramie early in September. Kit Carson's labors were now ended. He had joined the expedition as hunter and guide. In neither of these offices were his services any longer required. He therefore remained at the fort, while the surveying party returned to St. Louis.

Mr. Carson's Indian wife had long been dead. Four months after this, in February, he married a Mexican lady, named Senora Josepha Jarimilla. This lady was highly esteemed by all who knew her for her many virtues, and was also endowed with much personal beauty. She subsequently became the mother of three children, for whom Mr. Carson has ever manifested the strongest attachment.

Two months after his marriage he engaged as a hunter to accompany an expedition of Messrs. Bent and Vrain's wagons to the United States. When about half-way across the plains, they struck the great Santa Fe trail. Here Carson and his companions came upon an encampment of Captain Cook, with four companies of U.S. Dragoons. They were escorting a train of Mexican wagons, as far as the boundary line between the United States and New Mexico. The region was infested with robber bands and it was deemed important that the richly freighted caravan should not encounter harm within the limits of the United States.

The Mexicans, were apprehensive that, as soon as they should separate from their American protectors, they should be attacked upon entering Texas, by a large body of Texan Rangers, who, it was reported, were waiting for them. They therefore offered Kit Carson, with whose energetic character they were well acquainted, three hundred dollars, if he would carry a letter to Armijo the governor of New Mexico, who resided at Santa Fe. This letter contained an application to the governor to send them an escort. To convey the letter required a journey of between three and four hundred miles through a wilderness, filled with hostile Indian bands.

Carson accepted the offer, and engaging another man, Owens, to accompany him, rode back to Fort Bent. Here he learned that the Indians, through whose territory he must pass, were all up in arms against the whites, and that the journey would be full of peril. Owens refused to go farther. Carson was not a man to turn from duty because of danger. He found no one at the fort who could be induced to share the peril with him. He therefore set out alone. In addition to the powerful horse which he rode, Colonel Bent furnished him with a magnificent and fleet steed, which he led as a reserve corps.

Very rapidly Carson pressed on his way, watching for Indian trails and carefully avoiding all their wandering bands. From every eminence he narrowly examined the wide and generally treeless expanse spread out before him, in search of any sign of the foe. One afternoon he saw, far away in the distance, an Indian encampment of many lodges, directly on his trail. He immediately sought an out of the way place, where he might effectually secrete himself until night. When darkness came on, he, by a circuitous route, passed the camp of the savages and pressed rapidly on his way. In a few days he reached Taos, much exhausted by his impetuous ride.

He immediately called upon the mayor of the town, to whom he delivered the dispatches, and he at once sent an agent with them, down south a distance of about thirty miles to the governor at Santa Fe. He waited at Taos the return of the messenger to recruit himself and horses in preparation for his ride back. The response was that Governor Armijo had sent a hundred Mexican dragoons to seek the caravan, and that he was about to follow with six hundred more. We may mention in passing, that this company of one hundred men, were attacked after a few days' march, by a large body of Texan rangers, and were all massacred except one, who escaped on a fleet horse.

Governor Armijo and his dragoons, as they were on their way, learned of this massacre, and hearing exaggerated reports of the strength of the Texan Rangers, retreated rapidly to their fortification at Santa Fe. The governor, in the meantime, entrusted dispatches to Carson, thinking that he, by riding express, could reach the caravan before the governmental troops could come to their aid.

Carson was a remarkable judge of character. He selected, as a companion for his return, a Mexican boy whose innate nobility was soon developed. When two days out from Taos, Carson and his young companion came suddenly upon four Indian warriors. There was no escape, for the warriors, though at a distance, had seen them, and were riding rapidly down upon them. This noble young Mexican promptly turned to Kit Carson and said, "I am but a boy and perhaps the Indians will spare my life. At any rate your life is much more valuable than mine. Therefore mount the horse you are leading without delay, and you can undoubtedly make your escape."

Kit Carson replied, "I cannot and I will not forsake you. We must stand our ground together. If we have to die, let us take each with us an Indian warrior."

At this time the Indians had come near and halted out of rifle range, as Carson and his companion were taking deliberate aim at them, thus forbidding a nearer approach. One of the savages then alighted, and leaving his arms behind him, came forward for a parley. He assumed to be very much at his ease, and approached with a careless, swaggering air and a smile, and offered his hand in token of friendship. Carson accepted the proffered hand. The moment it was released, the savage, a man of herculean frame, grasped his rifle endeavoring to wrench it from him, doubtless intending instantly to shoot him down, when the boy would easily become their captive. But Carson, with his clenched fist and sinewy arm, gave the Indian instantly such a blow between the eyes as rolled him prostrate upon the grass, with the blood spouting from his nostrils.

The Indian, apprehensive that the next moment a rifle ball would pierce his heart, sprang up and with the fleetness of an antelope rejoined his companions. They were on the open prairie. There was nothing to afford either party the slightest protection. The Indians slowly and cautiously advanced, until they came within speaking distance. Carson, who could speak their language, hailed them and ordered them to stop. He then assured them, that if they advanced any farther or made any hostile demonstration whatever, two of their number would certainly and instantly die.

The savages began to bluster, primed their guns, and boasted of what they intended to do. But even to their darkened minds it was manifest that two out of the four, in case of hostilities, must certainly fall before the rifles of the white man. And should the remaining two rush on before their opponents could reload, still the white men had their revolvers in hand, and it was not improbable that the other two might be shot. These were not the circumstances under which the Indians were willing to enter into battle. After a short delay and many defiant gestures, they departed.

Mr. Carson and his noble-hearted boy immediately resumed their journey, and after five days of hard riding reached Fort Bent. Here Mr. Carson learned that the Texan Rangers, having incautiously entered the territory of the United States, were all captured and disarmed. This relieved the conductors of the Mexican train from all anxiety. The dispatches which Mr. Carson had borne were left at the fort, from which place they were sent back to Santa Fe.

A few days before Mr. Carson arrived at Bent's Fort, from this expedition into New Mexico, Mr. Fremont had passed by, on a second expedition to the still far off west. Carson was anxious to see his old friend and comrade again. He mounted his horse and, following his trail, by rapid riding overtook him after a pursuit of seventy miles. Colonel Fremont manifested the greatest pleasure in again meeting Mr. Carson, and so urged him to join the expedition that he decided to do so. It had become manifest that the party needed more mules to assist them in their operations. In climbing wild mountains these hardy animals are far more valuable than horses.

Kit Carson was sent back to Fort Bent to procure the mules, and to rejoin the party at St. Vrain's Fort, on the south fork of the Platte. Here Major Fitzpatrick, with a reinforcement of forty men, was added to the expedition. On Mr. Carson's return with the mules, the exploring party was divided into two forces; the main body, under Major Fitzpatrick, following the eastern bank of the river to the site of the present city of Denver, and then west, through the passes of the mountains. They took with them nearly all the camp equipage.

Colonel Fremont, with Kit Carson as a guide, accompanied by fifteen men, in what may be called light marching order, followed along the Thompson river some miles, directly west, then struck north about thirty miles, to the Cache le Poudre river. This stream they followed up in a northwesterly direction some sixty miles, through a ravine in the mountains, till they reached the head waters of the Laramie river. They then pushed on in a still northwesterly direction, under the eastern brows of the Rocky mountains, through a somewhat broken, though prairie country, two hundred miles, to the Sweetwater river.

They then pressed on, two or three hundred miles directly west, through the south pass of the Rocky mountains, along the route now followed by the Central Pacific Railroad, to Soda Springs, on Bear river. From this point Kit Carson was sent, with one companion and a relay of mules, about forty miles in a northwesterly direction to Fort Hall, on Snake river, to obtain supplies. He was directed to meet the remaining party at the extreme end of the Great Salt Lake. As usual he successfully accomplished his mission and rejoined his companions.

The whole body then journeyed down the eastern shores of this immense inland sea, about twenty miles. They were delighted with the beauty of the scenery opening before them, and were very busy in taking observations and exploring the country through which they passed. Far out in the lake there was seen a very attractive and densely wooded island. Colonel Fremont had with him an india rubber boat, which, with inflated air chambers, was very buoyant. Improvidently the plates of the boat had been gummed together only, instead of being also sewed. Thus the boat was very frail and could not endure the strain of a heavy sea.

It was the latter part of August, 1843, when Colonel Fremont encamped on these shores. Though this was but thirty years ago, that now quite populous region, had then been visited only by trappers in search of beaver streams. Colonel Fremont decided to visit the island. He selected a pleasant spot for encampment, in a grove on one of the banks of Bear river, near its entrance into the lake. He felled timber so as to make a large pen for the animals. He then erected a rude fort, which would protect the company from any ordinary band of Indians. The boat was repaired with gum, and the air chambers inflated. Game was found to be scarce, and their provisions were about exhausted. He therefore sent back one half his party to Fort Hall for supplies.

Leaving two or three to guard the fort and the horses, Colonel Fremont, with Carson and three other men, set out on their expedition to explore the island. It was a very beautiful morning, the eighth of September. Slowly they floated down the romantic stream, frequently stopping to get a shot at the wild geese and ducks they met on their way. It was not until the edge of the evening that they reached the outlet of the river.

They encamped in a small willow grove, where they found an abundance of drift-wood for their camp fire. The game they had taken furnished their supper. They made for themselves soft beds of the tender willow twigs, and in a mild atmosphere, beneath a starlit sky, slept soundly till morning. The voices of millions of waterfowl, around them, did not disturb their slumbers.

CHAPTER XII.

Marches and Battles

Entering the Lake.—Dangerous Navigation.—The Return to Camp.—Feast upon Horse Flesh.—Meeting the Indians.—Joyful Meeting.—Return to Fort Hall.—Feasting at the Fort.—The Party Diminished.—The Journey down Snake River.—Crossing the Sierra Nevada.—Carson Rescues Fremont.—Fort Sutter.—Heroic Achievement of Carson.—Disbanding the Party.—The third Expedition.—Crossing the Desert.—Threatened by the Mexicans.—Fight with the Indians.—The Surprise.—Chastisement of the Indians.

The morning of the ninth of September dawned upon our voyagers remarkably serene and beautiful. They hurried through breakfast to make an early start. The water was found so shallow, at the mouth of the river, that it would not float the boat. They were compelled to take off their clothes and wade through the soft mud for the distance of a mile, dragging the boat, when they came to deep water. The whole wide marshy expanse seemed to be covered with waterfowl of every description, filling the air with their discordant voices. Though it was calm, there was quite a heavy swell upon the ocean-like lake. The waters were of crystal clearness, though so thoroughly saturated with salt that the spray left a saline crust upon the clothing.

They reached the island and ascended its loftiest peak, which was about eight hundred feet high. It is almost certain that never since the creation had a white man's foot trod that summit.

"As we looked," writes Colonel Fremont, "over the vast expanse of water spread out beneath us, and strained our eyes along the silent shore, over which hung so much doubt and uncertainty, I could hardly repress the desire to continue our exploration. But the lengthening snow on the mountains, spreading farther and farther, was a plain indication of the advancing season, and our frail linen boat appeared so insecure that I was unwilling to trust our lives to the uncertainties of the lake. I therefore unwillingly resolved to terminate our survey here and to remain satisfied for the present with what we had been able to add to the unknown geography of the region. We felt also pleasure in remembering that we were the first who, in the traditionary annals of the country, had visited the island and broken with the cheerful sound of human voices, the long solitude of the place.

"Out of the drift-wood on the beach, we made ourselves pleasant little lodges, open to the water, and, after having kindled large fires, to excite the wonder of any straggling savage on the lake shores, lay down, for the first time in a long journey, in perfect security, no one thinking about his arms. The evening was extremely bright and pleasant. But the wind rose during the night, and the waves began to break heavily, making our island tremble. I had not expected, in our inland journey, to hear the roar of an ocean surf. The strangeness of our situation, and the excitement we felt, in the associated interests of the place, made this one of the most interesting nights I remember during our long expedition."

The next morning they set out at an early hour, on their return to the main land, about nine miles distant. When they had rowed about three miles the clouds gathered, menacing a storm, and a strong wind rose, blowing directly against them. The heavy sea which they encountered caused a leakage in the air chambers of the boat, and they were in imminent danger of finding a grave in the bottom of the lake. It was with much difficulty that a man, stationed at the bellows, supplied the chamber with air as fast as it escaped.

At length they effected a landing on marshy ground, about nine miles from the encampment. Two men were immediately dispatched to the camp to bring horses to take back the boat and baggage.

"The rude looking shelter," writes Colonel Fremont, "we raised on the shore, our scattered baggage and boat lying on the beach made quite a picture. We called this the fisherman's camp."

The horses arrived in the afternoon. It was then blowing such a gale that a man could hardly stand against it. The water of the lake was rapidly rising, forced in by the wind. Very hurriedly they packed their baggage and had scarcely left the spot ere it was entirely submerged. They reached the camp in the edge of the evening, just in time to escape a thunder storm, which blackened the sky and deluged the earth with rain. The next day they remained at the camp, and boiled down five gallons of lake water which yielded fourteen pints of very fine white salt. The ensuing morning was calm and beautiful, as is almost invariably the case during the summer and autumnal months, throughout all that region.

They now commenced their return by the same route they had already traversed, ascending the valley of the Bear river towards the north. Day after day they journeyed on, without meeting much game, and their supply of food was nearly exhausted. All the party seemed low-spirited, and trudged along in silence. Scarcely a word was spoken. On the night of the fourteenth they encamped on the bank of a crystal stream. It was a lovely evening, serene and mild. But the company seemed very forlorn from hunger. Colonel Fremont therefore consented that a fat young horse, which he had purchased of the Indians, should be killed for food. As the company gathered around their brilliant camp-fires, feasted on the savory horse steak, the customary good-humor and gayety were restored.

The next day, as they were still ascending the valley, they came upon two families of Snake Indians who were gathering herbs and roots. The berries they were drying on buffalo robes. These two families had twelve or fifteen horses grazing around their encampment. Soon after this they encountered a solitary Indian, who had an antelope which he had killed. They purchased the antelope and encamped early to enjoy the rich feast. While they were protracting the pleasures of their repast, a messenger came galloping into their camp saying that Mr. Fitzpatrick was within a few miles of them, with an ample supply of provisions. They could scarcely sleep that night for joy. The next morning before sunrise they were on the move and soon rejoined their friends. Together they continued their journey to the northward, encountering several lodges of Snake Indians; of whom they purchased about a bushel of dried berries.

Leaving the valley of the Bear river they crossed over to Snake river, or as it is sometimes called, Lewis's Fork of the Columbia river. On their way they met an Indian family on horseback, who had been gathering what are called service berries. At night fires were seen burning all along the mountainsides, indicating numerous encampments of the Indians. But they were all friendly, and the weary voyagers slept with a very happy and grateful sense of security. On the eighteenth they entered the spacious valley of the Snake river, near its upper waters. The next morning the snow began to fall and it continued snowing all day.

They were now very near Fort Hall. They therefore encamped, and Colonel Fremont rode up to the fort and purchased several horses, and five fat oxen. The arrival of the oxen, giving promise of such good cheer, was received with shouts of joy. Though night came down upon the wanderers, cold and stormy, rousing fires and smoking steaks made all happy.

For several days the party remained in their encampment. They had journeyed from the frontier of Missouri, thirteen hundred and twenty-three miles. Though winter had come on thus early, and both game and forage were known to be scarce along the route they were about to travel, Colonel Fremont decided to continue his explorations, regardless of ice and cold. He thought it, however, expedient to diminish the number of his party. Accordingly he assembled the men, informed them of his intention, and of the great hardships to which they would doubtless be exposed. Thus he persuaded eleven men to withdraw from the expedition, and return to the States.

With the lessened party, about twenty in number, Colonel Fremont recommenced his journey, on the twenty-second of September, down the valley of the river towards the mouth of the Columbia. We have not space here to record the many interesting events of this journey. The Colonel bears constant and affectionate testimony to the services rendered by Kit Carson. After travelling six or seven hundred miles, they reached Fort Dalles, then passing directly south, through the very heart of the Oregon territory, they made a thorough exploration of Klamath Lake, to its extreme southern border.

Thence they started for California. It was necessary to cross a ridge of the Sierra Nevada mountains. The snow was six feet deep on a level. The toils and sufferings of the men were dreadful. There was neither game nor forage to be found. Many of the mules died of starvation. One incident, which occurred during this dreadful march, we give in the words of Colonel Fremont. Under date of February 23rd he writes:

"This was our most difficult day. We were forced off the ridges, by the quantity of snow among the timber, and obliged to take to the mountain sides, where occasionally rocks and a southern exposure afforded us a chance to scramble along. But these were steep, and slippery with snow and ice, and the tough evergreens of the mountain impeded our way, tore our skins, and exhausted our patience. Some of us had the misfortune to wear moccasins, with soles of buffalo hide, so slippery that we could not keep our feet, and generally we crawled along the snow beds. Axes and mauls were necessary to make a road through the snow.

"Going ahead with Carson, to reconnoitre the road, we reached, this afternoon, the river which made the outlet of the lake. Carson sprang over, clear across a place where the stream was compressed among the rocks. But the sole of my moccasin glanced from the icy rock, and precipitated me into the river. It was some few seconds before I could recover myself in the current, and Carson thinking me hurt, jumped in after me, and we both had an icy bath. We tried to search a while for my gun, which had been lost in the fall, but the cold drove us out. Making a large fire on the bank, after we had partially dried ourselves, we went back to meet the camp. We afterwards found that the gun had been slung under the ice which lined the shores of the creek."

Upon reaching the southern declivity of the mountains, Fremont and Carson, with six others, pushed ahead to Fort Sutter where, it will be remembered, the gold of California was first discovered. The whole party reached the fort on the sixth of March, 1844. These extraordinary men, in the depths of winter, had travelled from Fort Hall about two thousand miles. They remained at the Fort recruiting but a fortnight. A braver enterprise history does not record. Its successful accomplishment sent the name of John C. Fremont, its leader, on the wings of fame, throughout the civilized world. We have no space to record the vastly important results accomplished by this exploration.

Upon leaving the fort, on their return towards the States, they met a Mexican and a little boy, who were in great destitution and grief. They had been left with a band of six, among whom were the boy's father and mother, to watch their animals grazing in a fertile meadow. They were suddenly attacked by a party of thirty Indians, who either captured or killed all of the party except the man and the boy, who fortunately escaped. The Indians fled with their booty. The poor boy was overwhelmed with grief. He had every reason to fear that both of his parents were dead.