Books: The Life of Kit Carson
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Edward S. Ellis >> The Life of Kit Carson
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Carson had been on his ranche but a short time, when news reached
him of a most atrocious murder by the Apaches. A wealthy merchant
was returning in his private carriage with his wife and child from
the United States to Santa Fe. He was accompanied by a small escort
and the wagon train carrying his goods. When he believed all danger
past, he hurried forward with his family, who were becoming tired
of the journey.
At a point where there was no suspicion of danger, the Apaches fired
upon the carriage, killing every one who accompanied it, including
the merchant himself. The wife and child were made prisoners and
carried away. Shortly after the little one was tomahawked and thrown
into the river.
When news of the outrage reached New Mexico, a party was hastily
organized and started out in the hope of saving the woman and
punishing the wretches who had committed the murders. When Carson
learned of what was contemplated, he offered his services. They
were accepted, but much to the surprise of his friends, he was
given an inferior position. It was characteristic of the splendid
scout that he did not show by word or look that he felt the slightest
resentment on account of the slight.
With a less skilful leader than himself, Carson galloped with
the company to the scene of the murder. The sight was frightfully
suggestive: pieces of harness, band boxes, trunks, strips of blood
stained clothing, and fragments of the carriage attested the untamable
ferocity of the Apaches who had swooped down on the doomed party
like a cyclone.
From that point the trail was taken and the infuriated mountaineers
urged their steeds to the utmost, knowing the value of every hour
and that in the case of a fight with the Indians a surprise is half
the battle.
Day after day the pursuit was maintained until nearly two weeks
had gone by, before the first glimpse of a warrior was obtained.
The trail was one of the worst imaginable, and, had the pursuers
been less skilful, they would have been baffled almost from the
first. At certain points, the Apaches would break up into parties
of two or three that would take different routes, reuniting at some
place many miles beyond where water was known to be. This was done
repeatedly, with a view of disconcerting any avengers who might take
their trail, and it is a tribute to the ability of the mountaineers
that the cunning artifice failed, so far as they were concerned,
of its purpose.
At last the Apaches were descried in the distance. Carson was the
first to discover them, he being some distance in advance. Knowing
how necessary it was to surprise them he shouted to his companions
to charge at once. Not doubting he would be followed, he dashed
ahead with his horse on a dead run, but looking over his shoulder
when he had gone part way, he saw to his consternation he was alone.
Angered and impatient, he rode back to learn what it meant. The
chief guide had directed the men to wait as there was no doubt the
Apaches desired to hold a parley. It meant the next moment in the
shape of a bullet from the Indians which struck the leader in the
breast and rendered him senseless. As soon as he recovered, he
ordered his men to make the attack and leave him to himself.
He was obeyed, but the delay was fatal. On charging into the camp
they were able to kill only one warrior. The body of the woman
was found still warm, showing that she had been slain only a brief
while before.
All those acquainted with the particulars of this sad affair agreed
that had the advice of Carson been followed the poor lady might
have been saved.
CHAPTER XXXII.
The Wounded Herder -- A Successful Pursuit -- An Atrocious Plot
-- How it was Frustrated -- Gratitude of the Gentlemen Whom Carson
was the Means of Saving From Death.
Carson returned to his ranche where he spent the winter. One day
in spring a wounded herder managed to reach the place with the news
that he and his companion, stationed a few miles away, had been
attacked by Apaches, who wounded both, and ran off all the horses
and mules.
A squad of ten dragoons and a sergeant were on guard near Carson's
ranche. They and three settlers, including Carson, started at once
in pursuit. It was so late in the day that when they came to the
place where the outrage had been committed, it was dark and they
went into camp; but they were astir at the earliest dawn, and soon
striking the trail of the thieves, put their animals to a keen
gallop. Some twenty miles further, the Apaches were described a
long distance away. As it was upon the open prairie the contest at
once resolved itself into an open chase.
It was no time to spare the animals, whose rapid gait was increased
until it became a killing pace. The pursuers were steadily gaining,
when four of their horses succumbed and their riders, much to
their chagrin, were shut out from the impending fray. The others
had no time to stop: they could simply shout goodbye to them and
spur their steeds to greater exertions. Fortunately the pursuers
were better mounted than the fugitives who numbered a full score.
With a bravery characteristic of their tribe, they clung to their
stolen property, preferring to be overtaken and forced into a fight
rather than abandon it.
As soon as the parties were within rifle range, the battle began
and became of the most exciting character. The Apaches were splendid
horsemen and displayed great skill. They threw themselves on the
far side of their steeds, firing from under the neck, and keeping
their bodies so well concealed that it was a difficult task to
bring them down.
But the white men were accustomed to that sort of work, and the
Apaches learned a lesson they never forgot. Five of their best
warriors were killed, several badly wounded and nearly all the
animals recaptured. Kit Carson directed every movement of his men
and to that fact their great success was due.
The mountaineer was favored with prosperous times on his ranche.
He and a companion drove fifty head of mules and horses to Fort
Laramie, where they were disposed of at a liberal profit. The round
journey of a thousand miles was attended with much danger, but it
was accomplished without mishap.
He reached home just in time to learn that the Apaches had visited
the little settlement and run off all the animals. But as enough
soldiers were within call, a pursuit was soon organized and very
nearly all the stock was recovered.
Some months later an officer of the United States Army in Taos learned
of a most atrocious plot that was on foot. Two wealthy gentlemen,
travelling leisurely through that section of the country, had engaged
an American named Fox to hire enough men to escort them across the
plains. This Fox was one of the most conscienceless wretches and
desperadoes that ever lived. He formed a scheme to murder the two
gentlemen at a certain point on the plains and to divide their money
among him and his companions. Those whom he secured were taken into
his confidence and agreed to the crime before hand.
Among those to whom he applied was a miscreant in Taos, who, for
some reason, refused to go with him. However, he kept the secret
until sure the entire party were so far out on the plains that
nothing could prevent the perpetration of the crime. He then told
it to several associates, one of whom made it known to the officer
of whom we have spoken.
This gentleman was horrified, and uncertain what could be done,
if indeed he could do anything, hastened to Kit Carson, to whom he
made known the story. The mountaineer listened eagerly, and, as
soon as he grasped the whole plot, declared there was reason to
believe it was not too late to frustrate it. With that wonderful
intuition which was such a marked characteristic of his nature, he
fixed upon the very place where it had been decided the crime was
to be committed. Knowing the entire route, it was easy to determine
the spot most likely to be selected, which was more than two
hundred miles distant. Instead, therefore, of following the trail,
he struck directly across the open prairie by the most direct course
to his destination.
Ten finely mounted dragoons accompanied, all ready for any deed
of daring. The route led through a country where the Indians were
very hostile, but they were avoided with little difficulty. The
second night out, they came upon the encampment of a detachment of
United States troops, whose captain volunteered to take twenty of
his soldiers and help bring the desperadoes to justice.
The expedition was a complete success. They overtook the party at
the very spot fixed upon, and Fox was arrested before he suspected
the business of the strangers in camp. When the overthrow of the
wretches was complete, the gentlemen were told the story. They were
speechless for a moment and could not believe it; but the proof
was complete, and they turned pale at the thought of the fate they
had escaped.
Their gratitude was unbounded. Taking the hand of Carson they begged
him to name some reward he would accept, but the mountaineer shook
his head.
"I am more than repaid in being able to help frustrate such a crime
as was contemplated; I cannot think of accepting anything of the
kind you name."
The gentlemen, however, could not forget that under heaven, they
owed their lives to Kit Carson. The following spring a couple of
splendid revolvers arrived at the mountaineer's ranche addressed to
him. Beautifully engraved on them were a few sentences expressive
of the feelings of the donors and the special occasion which called
forth the gift.
It is easy to understand how much more acceptable such an acknowledgement
was to Kit Carson than any sum of money could have been.
Fox was lodged in jail, but though there was no doubt of his guilt
in the minds of every one, yet the meditated crime was so difficult
to establish that ultimately he was set free.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
Carson Visits St. Louis on Business -- Encounter with Cheyenne on
his Return -- His Sagacity Does not Fail Him -- Carson's Last Beaver
Expedition -- His California Speculation.
Maxwell, the mountaineer and intimate friend of Carson, was quite
wealthy and was of great assistance in several schemes which they
undertook in partnership. One of their enterprises was that of sending
a train of wagons belonging to the two to the States. Carson took
charge, and, jogging along at a comfortable rate, they reached in
due time the Missouri, where he went by steamboat to St. Louis.
There he purchased a large amount of merchandise which was taken up
stream on the boat, transferred to his wagon train, and the faces
of all were then turned toward New Mexico.
Everything went well until they approached the fording of the
Arkansas, when they came upon a large village of Cheyenne Indians.
Unfortunately some days before, a company of recruits had shown such
cruelty toward several warriors belonging to that tribe, that they
were roused to the highest point of fury, and were only waiting an
opportunity to visit punishment on the first whites that came in
their way.
Carson knew nothing of the occurrence nor did he know of the bitter
hostility of the Cheyennes, but when they went into council, and
he overheard some expressions, he saw that something was wrong.
He warned his men to be ready for instant attack, never permitting
the Indians to catch them off their guard for a single moment.
The warriors fell behind, but after awhile, a number rode up
on horseback. They were in their war paint and there could be no
doubt of their hostility. Carson spoke in a conciliating manner and
invited them into his camp to have a smoke and talk. The invitation
was accepted. The hypocritical ceremony continued some time, when
the warriors began talking among themselves.
They spoke in Sioux at first, their purpose being to lay the
impending massacre against those people, but in their excitement,
they dropped back to their own tongue and the whole appalling truth
became speedily known to Carson and through him to his companions.
He sat on the ground with the furious warriors, and heard them
agree that at the moment the leader (as they recognized Carson to
be), laid down his arms to take the pipe in his mouth, they would
leap upon and kill him. They would then massacre all the rest.
Inasmuch as they were powerful enough to carry out this diabolical
plan, it will be admitted that Carson's nerves were pretty thoroughly
tested, when the pipe passing from one to the other was within a
few minutes of reaching him.
Most of the men with the mountaineer were Mexicans, very deficient
in courage and in a hand to hand encounter, the Cheyennes could
overcome the party in the space of a few minutes.
It was in such crises as these that the remarkable fertility of
resources possessed by Kit Carson displayed themselves. He seemed
to perceive by intuition the wisest course to adopt and that
perception came to him the instant the demand for it appeared.
Rising to his feet and grasping his weapons, he strode to the middle
of the group and astounded them by beginning his address in their
native tongue. He reminded them that that was proof he comprehended
every word uttered by them. He spoke as if grieved by their course,
for he insisted he had never wronged any one of their tribe, but
on the contrary had been their friend. He then commanded them to
leave the camp without delay or they would be riddled with bullets.
Carson's blue eyes flashed and his face was like a thunder cloud.
It was the Cheyennes who were surprised and they could but obey
orders, though from their manner, it was clear the trouble was not
yet ended. They withdrew and went into council, while Carson and
his friends pushed rapidly forward.
The peril in which this little command was placed could not be
overestimated. There were not twenty men all told and except two or
three, were Mexicans who in no respect were the superiors if indeed
they were the equals of the Cheyennes. Had Carson been absent
a score of warriors could have charged into camp and slain every
one. Instead of a score there were several hundred of them: if they
chose to make the attack he knew there was no escape.
The horses, therefore, were lashed to do their utmost. The train
pushed forward with all speed, while the apprehensive leader
continually glanced back over the prairie, almost certain of seeing
the Cheyennes galloping toward them. When night came, there was
little sleep in camp. Nearly every one stood on guard, but the
night and the following day passed without molestation.
Convinced beyond question that the attack would be made unless some
extraordinary means was taken to avert it, Carson took one of the
fleetest footed Mexican boys outside the camp, and, pointing in
the direction of the ranche of himself and Maxwell, nearly three
hundred miles away, told him he must make all speed thither, and
tell the soldiers that unless they hurried to his help he and all
his companions were doomed to certain death at the hands of an
overwhelming war party of Cheyennes. Everything depended on the
quickness with which the Mexican youth brought assistance. The latter
being promised a liberal reward, bounded away with the fleetness of
a deer, and quickly vanished in the gloom. He went on foot because
he could travel faster and last longer than could any animal in
camp that he might ride.
Carson went back to his friends and kept watch until morning. As
soon as it came to light, the animals were hitched to the wagons
and urged forward again to the fullest extent of their ability.
Some hours later, several Cheyenne horsemen were seen riding rapidly
toward them. When a hundred yards distant, Carson compelled them
to halt. Then he allowed them to come closer and told them he had
lost patience with their annoyances, and the night before had sent
an express to Rayado (where his ranche was built), asking the troops
to see that the persecution was stopped. Should it so happen that
the soldiers came and found the party massacred, they would take
the trail of the Cheyennes and punish them for what they had done.
The cunning Indians, before accepting the statement of the leader,
said they would examine the prairie for the trail of the messenger.
Carson assisted them in the search, and it did not take long to find
the moccasin tracks. A brief scrutiny also satisfied the warriors
he had started so many hours before, that it was useless to try to
overtake him.
The result was the attack and massacre were not made, and, though
the assistance which was asked was sent, yet it was not needed. One
of the two experienced mountaineers with Carson on that eventful
journey, declared afterward, that had any other living man than
he been at the head of the party not one would have escaped. The
achievement certainly ranks among the most extraordinary of the
many performed by a most extraordinary man.
It would be thought that after such an experience, Carson would be
content to settle down and give his entire attention to his ranche.
While it cannot be said that he neglected his duties as a farmer,
yet he loved the mountains and prairies too well ever to abandon
them altogether.
He and Maxwell, his old friend, determined on having one more old
fashioned beaver hunt, such as they were accustomed to a score of
years before. They did not mean it should be child's play and they
admitted no amateur hunters and trappers: all were veterans of
years' standing, and, when the party was fully made up, they numbered
about a score.
The expedition was a memorable one. They fixed upon one of the
longest and most dangerous routes, which included many Rocky Mountain
streams and involved every possible kind of danger.
In one respect, the party were pleasantly disappointed. Years before
the beavers had been so effectively cleaned out that they expected
to find very few if any; but because the business had been so little
followed for so long a time, the animals had increased very fast
and therefore the trappers met with great success.
They began operation on the South Fork of the Platte and finally
ended on the Arkansas. They were gone many weeks and when they
returned to their homes, nearly if not all felt that they had
engaged on their last trapping expedition.
Carson had not wrought very long on his ranche, when he learned
of the scarcity and high prices of sheep in California. He at once
set about collecting several thousand, hired a number of men and
drove the herd to Fort Laramie: thence he made his way by the old
emigrant trail to California where he disposed of the sheep at
prices which brought him a profit of several thousand dollars.
While in San Francisco, he visited a prominent restaurant where
he ordered a good substantial dinner for six persons. When it was
ready he surveyed it for a moment with satisfaction, and, seating
himself at the table, disposed of it all. His journey across the
plains had given him a somewhat vigorous appetite.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
In San Francisco -- The Return Homeward -- The Mormon Delegate
Gives Carson Some Interesting Information -- Carson's First Stirring
Duties as Indian Agent -- The Affection of the Red Men for Father
Kit.
Kit Carson's old friend, Maxwell, who had been his companion in
so many stirring adventures, joined him in San Francisco, whose
marvellous growth even at that remote day was a continual surprise
and delight. As the two veteran mountaineers made their way through
the streets, where but a few years before all was a wild, untrodden
wilderness, they paused and indulged in many wondering exclamations
as though they were a couple of countrymen visiting the metropolis
for the first time in their lives.
The couple concluded to make their way home by the southern route,
passing in the neighborhood of the Gila; but the distance could be
shortened so much by taking the steamer to Los Angeles that Maxwell
decided to adopt that course. When he asked Carson to join him the
mountaineer shook his head.
"I got enough of that in 1846," he said, alluding to his brief
voyage, when serving under Fremont in California, at the beginning
of the Mexican war; "I never was so sick in all my life."
"You ain't likely to be sick again," plead Maxwell; "and, if you
are, it don't last long. You'll save two or three weeks in time
and enjoy yourself much more."
But it was no use: Carson said he never would venture upon salt
water again, and he would rather ride a thousand miles on the back
of a mule than to sail a hundred in a ship. Accordingly, the party
separated for the time and Maxwell took steamer to Los Angeles,
where he arrived fully two weeks in advance of Carson, who rode
into the quaint old town on the back of a somewhat antiquated mule.
They were soon ready for their long ride, when they struck a leisurely
pace and all went well until they reached the Gila. There they
entered a region which had been visited by one of those droughts
which continue sometimes for many months. The grass was so dry and
parched that it contained scarcely any nourishment, and the friendly
Pimos told them if they pushed on their animals were sure to die of
starvation. It was impossible to doubt these statements and Carson
therefore proposed a new route, which though very rough and difficult
in some places, would furnish all the forage that was required.
The course led them along the Gila to the mouth of the San Pedro,
and finally with little difficulty they reached the copper mines
of New Mexico. Shortly after Carson encountered the Mormon delegate
to Congress. During the exchange of courtesies, the gentleman
conveyed the interesting information that he -- Carson -- had been
made Indian Agent for New Mexico.
The news was a surprise and a great pleasure to the mountaineer.
He had no thought of any such honor and with all his modesty could
not but feel that he was eminently fitted for the performance of
its duties. No one had travelled so extensively through the west,
and no one could understand the nature of native Americans better
than he. A hundred tribes knew of "Father Kit," as he soon came to
be called, and they referred to him as a man who never spoke with
a "double tongue," and who was just toward them at all times. He
had ventured among the hostiles more than once where the bravest
white man dared not follow him, and had spent days and nights in
their lodges without being offered the slightest indignity. Kit
Carson was brave, truthful, kind and honest.
Aside from the gratification which one naturally feels, when
receiving an appointment that is pleasant in every respect, and
which he holds thoroughly "in hand," as may be said, the honest
mountaineer was especially delighted over the thought that his
government conferred it without any solicitation on his part.
But the man who accepts the position of Indian Agent and conscientiously
attends to its duties has no sinecure on his hands. Many of them
use it as such while others do still worse, thereby sowing the seeds
which speedily develop into Indian outrages, massacres and wars.
When Carson reached Taos, he had his official bond made out, and
sent it with his thanks and acceptance of his appointment to the
proper authorities in Washington.
The Indian Agent for New Mexico had scarcely entered upon his new
duties, when trouble came. A branch of the Apaches became restless
and committed a number of outrages on citizens. Stern measures only
would answer and a force of dragoons were sent against them. They
dealt them a severe blow, killing one of their most famous chiefs,
besides a considerable number of warriors.
Instead of quieting the tribe, it rather intensified their anger,
though they remained quiescent for a time through fear. Not long
after, Carson was notified that a large party of the tribe were
encamped in the mountains, less than twenty miles from Taos. He
decided at once to supplement the work of the sword with the gentle
arguments of peace.
This proceeding on the part of the Indian Agent is one deserving
of special notice, for it shows no less the bravery of Carson than
it does the philanthropic spirit which actuated him at all times in
his dealings with the red men. Alas, that so few of our officials
today deem his example worth their imitation.
The venture was so dangerous that Carson went alone, unwilling
that any one else should run the risk. When he arrived at their
encampment, he made his way without delay to the presence of the
leaders, whom he saluted in the usual elaborate fashion, and then
proceeded to state the important business that took him thither.
Nearly every warrior in camp recognized the short, thickset figure
and the broad, pleasant face when they presented themselves. They
knew he was one of the most terrible warriors that ever charged
through a camp of red men. He had met them many a time in fierce
warfare, but he always fought warriors and not papooses and squaws.
He was the bravest of the brave and therefore they respected him.
But he was a truthful and just man. He had never lied to them,
as most of the white men did, and he had shown his confidence in
them by walking alone and unattended into the very heart of their
encampment. They were eager to rend to shreds every pale face upon
whom they could lay hands, but "Father Kit" was safe within their
lodges and wigwams.
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