Books: The Life of Kit Carson
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Edward S. Ellis >> The Life of Kit Carson
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Carson cocked his rifle and driving his spurs into the flanks of
his high spirited steed, charged at full speed for the same shelter.
Whoever should reach it first would be the master.
The Indian had much less distance to run, and was as fleet of foot
as a deer. He bounded forward with such tremendous strides, that
while the horseman was still some distance away, he plunged in among
the trees; but for the last few seconds the foes had approached each
other at a terrific pace, a result that was not only inevitable,
but desirable, to the pursuer.
The very second the savage arrived on the margin of the grove,
he made a leap for the nearest tree from behind which he meant to
shoot his enemy; but in the very act of doing so, he was smitten
by his bullet. Without checking his animal in the slightest, Carson
had aimed and fired.
The death screech of the savage rang out, as he leaped in the air
and tumbled prostrate to the earth, killed by the shot that was
unerring in its accuracy. The Indian himself was so near firing
his gun, that his piece was also discharged, the ball whizzing
harmlessly above the head of his pursuer. A couple of seconds delay
on the part of Carson must have proved fatal to him, for the savage
was a good marksman, and was standing still, with such a brief space
intervening, that he could not have missed. It is hard to conceive
of any escape more narrow than that of the daring mountaineer.
CHAPTER X.
Carson Returns with the Recovered Property -- Journey to Snake
River -- Starts on a Trapping Expedition with Three Companions --
Carson's Stirring Adventure with Two Grizzly Bears.
Carson gathered the horses together and set out on his return.
The distance was considerable and he was compelled to encamp more
than once on the road, while he was continually exposed to attack
from Indians, but with that remarkable skill and foresight which
distinguished him when a boy, he reached home without the slightest
mishap and turned over the recovered animals to their owner. Some
days later, several trappers entered camp with the statement that
a large body of hunters were on Snake River, a fortnight's journey
distant. Captain Lee at once set out with his men and found the
company who gave them a warm welcome. They purchased all the supplies
Captain Lee had for sale, and then, as Carson's engagement with
the Captain was ended, he attached himself to the other body. He
remained, however, only a few weeks, for he saw there were so many
that they could never take enough peltries to bring much money
to the individual members. He decided to do as he had done before
-- arrange an expedition of his own. He had but to make known his
intentions, when he had more applicants than he could accept. He
selected three, who it is needless to say had no superiors in the
whole party. The little company then turned the heads of their
horses toward Laramie River.
At that day, the section abounded with beaver, and although the
summer is not the time when their fur is in the best condition, the
party trapped on the stream and its tributaries until cold weather
set in. They met with far greater success than could have come to
them had they stayed with the principal company of trappers. But
they had no wish to spend the winter alone in the mountains and
gathering their stock together, they set out to rejoin their old
companions.
One day, after they had gone into camp, Carson, leaving his horse
in charge of his friends, set out on foot to hunt some game for
their evening meal. They had seen no signs of Indians, though they
never forgot to be on their guard against them. Game was not very
abundant and Carson was obliged to go a long ways before he caught
sight of some elk grazing on the side of a hill. Well aware of
the difficulty of getting within gunshot of the timid animals, the
hunter advanced by a circuitous course toward a clump of trees,
which would give him the needed shelter; but while creeping toward
the point he had fixed upon as the one from which to fire, the
creatures scented danger and began moving off. This compelled him
to fire at long range, but he was successful and brought down the
finest of the group.
The smoke was curling upward from the rifle of Carson, when he was
startled by a tremendous crashing beside him, and, turning his
head, he saw two enormous grizzly bears making for him at full
speed. They were infuriated at this invasion of their home, and
were evidently resolved on teaching the hunter better manners by
making their supper upon him.
Carson had no time to reload his gun: had it been given him he
would have made short work of one of the brutes at least, but as
it was, he was deprived of even that privilege. Fortunate indeed
would he be if he could escape their fury.
The grizzly bear is the most dreaded animal found on this continent. He
does not seem to feel the slightest fear of the hunter, no matter
whether armed or not, and, while other beasts are disposed to give
man a wide berth, old "Ephraim," as the frontiersmen call him, always
seems eager to attack him. His tenacity of life is extraordinary.
Unless pierced in the head or heart, he will continue his struggles
after a dozen or score of rifle balls have been buried in his body.
So terrible is the grizzly bear, that an Indian can be given no
higher honor than the privilege of wearing a necklace made from his
claws -- that distinction being permitted only to those who have
slain one of the animals in single handed combat.
No one understood the nature of these beasts better than Kit Carson
and he knew that if either of the animals once got his claws upon
him, there would not be the faintest chance of escape. The only
thing therefore that could be done was to run.
There were not wanting men who were fleeter of foot than Carson,
but few could have overtaken him when he made for the trees on which
all his hopes depended. Like the blockade runner, closely pursued
by the man of war, he threw overboard all the cargo that could
impede his speed. His long, heavy rifle was flung aside, and the
short legs of the trapper doubled under him with amazing quickness
as he strove as never before to reach the grove.
Fortunately the latter was not far off, and, though the fierce
beasts gained rapidly upon him, Carson arrived among the timber a
few steps in advance. He had no time even to select the tree, else
he would have chosen a different one, but making a flying leap,
he grasped the lowermost limb and swung upward, at the moment the
foremost grizzly was beneath him. So close in truth was his pursuer
that the hunter distinctly felt the sweeping blow of his paw aimed
at the leg which whisked beyond his reach just in the nick of time.
But the danger was not over by any means. The enthusiastic style
in which the bears entered into the proceedings proved they did
not mean that any trifles should stop them. They were able to climb
the tree which supported Carson, and he did not lose sight of the
fact. Whipping out his hunting knife, he hurriedly cut off a short
thick branch and trimmed it into a shape that would have made a
most excellent shillelagh for a native of the Green Isle.
He had hardly done so, when the heads of the bruins were thrust
upward almost against his feet. Carson grasped the club with both
hands and raising it above his shoulders brought it down with all
his might upon the nose of the foremost. The brute sniffed with
pain, threw up his head and drew back a few inches -- just enough
to place the other nose in front. At that instant, a resounding
whack landed on the rubber snout and the second bear must have felt
a twinge all through his body.
Though each blow caused the recipient to recoil, yet he instantly
returned, so that Carson was kept busy pounding the noses as if he
was an old fashioned farmer threshing wheat with a flail.
It was a question with Carson which would last the longer -- the
club or the snouts, but in the hope of getting beyond their reach,
he climbed to the topmost bough, where he crouched into the smallest
possible space. It was idle, however, to hope they would overlook
him, for they pushed on up the tree which swayed with their weight.
The nose of the grizzly bear is one of the most sensitive portions
of his body, and the vigorous thumps which the hunter brought down
upon them, brought tears of pain to their eyes. But while they
suffered, they were roused to fury by the repeated rebuffs, and
seemed all the more set on crunching the flesh and bones of the
insignificant creature who defied them.
It must have been exasperating beyond imagination to the gigantic
beasts, who feared neither man nor animal to find themselves
repeatedly baffled by a miserable being whom they could rend to
pieces with one blow of their paws, provided they could approach
nigh enough to reach him.
They came up again and again; they would draw back so as to avoid
those stinging strokes, sniff, growl and push upward, more eager
than ever to clutch the poor fellow, who was compressing himself
between the limb and the trunk, and raining his blows with the
persistency of a pugilist.
They were finally forced to desist for a few minutes in order to
give their snouts time to regain their tone. The bulky creatures
looked at each other and seemed to say, "That's a mighty queer
customer up there; he doesn't fight fairly, but we'll fetch him
yet."
Once more and for the last time, they returned to the charge, but
the plucky scout was awaiting them, and his club whizzed through
the air like the piston rod of a steam engine. The grizzlies found
it more than they could stand, and tumbling back to solid earth
they gave up the contract in disgust. Carson tarried where he was
until they were beyond sight, when he descended and hastily caught
up and reloaded his rifle, having escaped, as he always declared,
by the narrowest chance of all his life.
CHAPTER XI.
On the Green River -- In the Blackfoot Country -- The Blackfeet
-- An Unwelcome Visit -- The Pursuit and Parley -- Dissolution of
the Peace Congress.
The day was drawing to a close when Carson set out for camp, which
was not reached until after dark. His companions did not feel any
special alarm over his continued absence, for the good reason that
they were confident he could take care of himself no matter in what
labyrinth of peril he might become involved.
It was too late to send for the carcass of the elk and more than
likely it had already been devoured by wolves. So the trappers made
their breakfast on one of the beavers found in their traps, and
went into camp to await the arrival of the main body of trappers,
which Carson was confident would come that way. Some days later
they put in an appearance, and the company proceeded to the general
rendezvous on Green River, where were found assembled the principal
trappers of the Rocky Mountains. There were fully two hundred
divided into two camps. What a history could have been written from
the thrilling experiences of such a body of men!
They had gathered at the rendezvous to buy what supplies they needed
and to dispose of their peltries. It was several weeks before the
negotiations were over, when the assemblage broke up into smaller
companies which started for their destinations hundreds of miles
apart.
Carson joined a party numbering about fifty who intended to trap
near the headwaters of the Missouri. Hundreds of beavers had been
taken in that section, but poor success went with the large band
of which Carson was a member. That was bad enough, but they were
in a neighborhood which, it may be said, was the very heart of the
Blackfoot country, and those hostiles were never more active and
vigilant in their warfare against the invaders.
The Blackfeet or Satsika today, are the most westerly tribe of the
Algonquin family of Indians, extending from the Hudson Bay to the
Missouri and Yellowstone. They number over 12,000 warriors about
equally divided between Montana and British America. They have
always been a daring and warlike people, and the early explorers
of the Far West probably met with more trouble from them than from
any other tribe on the continent.
Carson and his companions ran in difficulty at once. The Blackfeet
seemed to swarm through the woods, and sent in their treacherous
shots from the most unexpected quarters. Whoever made the round
of the traps in the morning was almost certain to be fired upon.
Matters became so bad that after a time the trappers decided to
leave the country. Accordingly they made their way to the Big Snake
River where they went into quarters for the winter. Even there they
were not safe from molestation at the hands of their old enemies
the Blackfeet.
One night, when there was no moon or stars, a band of warriors
stole into camp and ran off about twenty of the best horses. This
outrage touched the hunters in the most sensitive part of their
nature, and the truth no sooner became known than they unanimously
agreed that the animals not only should be recovered but the
audacious aggressors should be chastised.
Twelve men were selected for the most difficult and dangerous task
and need we give the name of the youth who was made the leader?
With his usual promptness, Carson took the trail which was followed
without trouble over the snow. The Blackfeet had reason to fear
some such demonstration, and they hurried off with such speed that
they were not overtaken until fifty miles from camp.
The situation was a novel one. The Indians had come to a halt and
the horses were grazing on the side of a hill where the wind had
blown away the snow. The Blackfeet had on snowshoes which gave
them an advantage over the trappers. The latter galloped in the
direction of their horses, the moment they caught sight of them. The
Blackfeet fired at the trappers, who returned a scattering volley
but no one was hurt on either side. Then followed skirmishing and
manoeuvering for several minutes, without either party gaining
advantage. Finally the Blackfeet asked for a parley to which the
trappers assented.
In accordance with the usual custom, one of the Indians advanced
to a point midway between the two parties and halted. At the same
time, one of the trappers went forward, the rest of the whites and
red men keeping their distance and watching them.
The Blackfoot opened business by what might be termed an apology
which was no more genuine than many made by his civilized brethren
under somewhat similar circumstances. He expressed great surprise to
learn that the horses belonged to their good friends the trappers.
They had supposed all along that they were the property of the Snake
Indians whom the Blackfeet considered it their duty to despoil on
every suitable occasion.
This glaring misrepresentation did not deceive the man who was
acting as spokesman for his side. By way of reply, he asked that
if such was the case, why had not the Blackfeet come forward on
discovering their mistake, greeted their white brothers as friends
and returned their property to them.
The replies were evasive and the hunters became convinced that the
Indians were seeking to gain time for some sinister purpose; but a
full parley having been agreed upon, both parties left their guns
behind and advanced to where their representatives were holding
their interview.
The Blackfeet still professed the most ardent friendship, and as an
emphatic token of the same, produced the calumet and began smoking
the pipe of peace. The tobacco having been lit, each took several
whiffs and then passed it to his neighbor, who did the same until
the round was completed. This solemn pledge of good will having
been exchanged, the convention or peace congress was opened as may
be said, in due and ancient form.
Carson and his companions were distrustful from the start, though
it was hard for them to decide the meaning of the prolonged
negotiations, since no one could see what the Blackfeet were to
gain by such a course. They may have hoped to deceive the hunters
and throw them off their guard, but, if such was the case, they
failed.
First of all, the leading warriors indulged in several long speeches
which were without point, but what was said in reply could admit of
no doubt as to its meaning. The trappers understood the Blackfoot
tongue well enough to make their responses models in the way of
brevity and force. They said that it was idle to talk of friendship
or peace until the stolen property was returned to its owners. The
Indians still attempted to postpone or evade, but the complainants
were in no mood for trifling and they repeated their declaration
more positively than before.
The Blackfeet were much more numerous than the whites, and confident
of their strength, began to bluster and to assert that whatever
they did would be dictated by their own wishes and not by any fear
of their visitors. Whether they desired to avoid a fight or not
can only be conjectured, but they finally sent back to where the
horses were tethered and caused five of the worst to be picked out
and brought forward.
When the trappers inquired the meaning of this proceeding, the
Indians said that it was the best they could do and the hunters
must be content.
This last insult was the spark which exploded the magazine. Instantly
every white man ran for his gun, and the Blackfeet did the same. A
few seconds after they wheeled about and the sanguinary fight began.
Kit Carson and a companion were the first to obtain their guns and
as a consequence they led the advance. Each selected a warrior who
was partially hidden by the trunk of a tree. Carson was in the act
of firing, when he observed that his friend was examining the lock
of his gun all unmindful of the fact that one of the Blackfeet had
levelled his weapon directly at his breast. On the instant, Kit
changed his aim and shot the savage dead, thereby saving the life
of his friend, who could not have escaped had the weapon of his
adversary been discharged.
CHAPTER XII.
Carson Badly Wounded -- A Drawn Battle -- An Ineffectual Pursuit
-- The Summer Rendezvous -- Carson's Duel.
This act of chivalry on the part of Carson simply transferred the
peril of his friend to himself, for the Indian whom he had selected
for his target was carefully sighting at him, at the very moment
the gun was discharged. Kit saw what was coming and bounded to one
side in the hope of dodging the bullet. Quick as he was, however,
he did not entirely succeed, though the act doubtless saved his
life. The ball from the rifle of his adversary grazed his neck and
buried itself in his shoulder, shattering the head of one of the
bones.
Carson though badly hurt, did not fall or retreat. On the contrary,
he tried desperately to reload his gun, but found it impossible
to raise his arm. He was hors de combat beyond all question, and
bleeding so fast that his weakness compelled him to lie down on the
ground while the conflict went on about him. The fight was very
hot for a time, the result being what may be called a drawn battle,
with the advantage inclining to the side of the Indians. The trappers
fell back to the safest place that presented itself and went into
camp. They dared not start a fire; for they knew it would bring an
attack from the Indians, but wrapping their saddle blankets around
them, they bore the intense cold as best they could.
The sufferings of Carson were great. His wounds continued bleeding
and froze upon the dressings, which were of the most primitive
character. And yet not once through those hours of anguish did he
utter a word of complaint. Many a strong man would have cried out
in his agony, but one might have sat within arm's length of the
mountaineer without knowing he was hurt at all.
More than that, Carson took his part in the council which was
held in the cold and darkness. The conclusion reached was that the
party of trappers were not strong enough to pursue the Blackfeet,
and the proper course to pursue was to rejoin the main body and
report what had been done. It would then be time enough to decide
upon their future action.
When this programme was carried out, a larger party of hunters
under the lead of an experienced mountaineer resumed the pursuit;
but nothing could be found of the savages. They had utilized the
grace allowed them so well that it was impossible to overtake or
trace them, and the indignant trappers were obliged to submit to
their loss.
The severe cold moderated, and, as spring was close at hand the
hunters pushed their trapping operations along the Green and Snake
Rivers, meeting with unbounded success. They gathered more peltries
than they had dared to hope for, and when warm weather approached,
went into quarters where they remained until the following fall,
a party of traders having brought them all the supplies they needed.
The rugged constitution of Carson and his temperate habits caused
him speedily to recover from his severe wound. He again became the
active, vigilant, keen witted guide and hunter who was looked up
to by all as the most consummate master of woodcraft that had ever
been known in the west.
Such a large party as were gathered at the summer rendezvous was
certain to include many varieties of people. The frank, brave and
open hearted, the sly and treacherous, the considerate and courteous,
the quarrelsome and overbearing -- indeed the temperaments of the
individuals composing the company were as varied as it is possible
to imagine.
Among them was a powerful Frenchman known as Captain Shunan. He had
won his title by hard fighting, possessed a magnificent physique,
was brave and skilled in the use of arms, and was the most quarrelsome
individual in camp. It is impossible to picture a more irascible
and disagreeable personage than Captain Shunan, who appeared to
spend all his spare time in trying to provoke quarrels with those
around him. Sometimes he succeeded, but more often his insolence
was submitted to by men as brave as he, but who wished to avoid
trouble with him.
The activity and strength of the Frenchman were so great that a
skilful pugilist would have found difficulty in handling him. The
only ground upon which he could be met with anything like fairness
was where firearms were used.
On one of these occasions, the bully became unbearable in his
behavior. He knocked down several weak and inoffensive persons,
and swaggered back and forth through camp, boasting that he could
trounce any one there. In the midst of his bluster, Carson walked
up in front of him and said in a voice loud enough to be heard by
those around:
"Captain Shunan, there are plenty here who can easily chastise you,
but they prefer to submit to your impudence for the sake of peace:
however, we have had enough and now I notify you to stop at once
or I shall kill you!"
These were astounding words, and, as may be supposed, when uttered
by a man six inches shorter and many pounds lighter than the
blustering Captain, they fairly took away his breath. Carson spoke
in his quiet, soft voice, as though there was not the least cause
for excitement; but those who knew him, noted the flash of his
clear, gray eye and understood his deadly earnestness.
Captain Shunan was infuriated by the words of Carson. As soon as
he could recover himself, he turned about and without speaking a
word, walked to his quarters. Kit did not need be told what that
meant. He did the same, walking to his own lodge, from which he
speedily emerged holding a single barrel pistol. He was so anxious
to be on the ground in time, that he caught up the first weapon
that presented itself.
Almost at the same moment, Captain Shunan appeared with his rifle.
Carson observed him, and, though he could have secured without
difficulty a similar weapon, he did not do so. He was willing to
give his burly antagonist the advantage, if it should prove such.
The other trappers as may be supposed, watched the actions of the
two men with breathless interest. The quarrel had taken such a course
that they were convinced that one or the other of the combatants
would be killed. Captain Shunan had been so loud in his boasts that
he did not dare swallow the insult, put on him by the fragile Kit
Carson. Had he done so, he would have been hooted out of camp and
probably lynched.
As for Kit, his courage was beyond suspicion. He feared no man and
was sure to acquit himself creditably no matter in what circumstances
he was placed. He was the most popular member of the large company,
while his antagonist was the most detested; but the love of fair
play was such that no one would interfere, no matter how great the
need for doing so.
The duellists, as they may be called, mounted each his horse and
circling about the plain, speedily headed toward each other and
dashed forward on a dead run. As they approached, they reined up
and halted face to face, within arm's length.
Looking his antagonist straight in the eye, Carson demanded:
"Are you looking for me?"
"Have you any business with me?"
"No," growled the savage Frenchman; but, while the words were in
his mouth, brought his rifle to his shoulder, and, pointing it at
the breast of Carson, pulled the trigger; but Kit expected some
such treacherous act, and, before the gun could be fired, he threw
up his pistol and discharged it as may be said, across the barrel
of the leveled weapon.
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