Books: The Life of Kit Carson
E >>
Edward S. Ellis >> The Life of Kit Carson
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 | 5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
11 |
12 |
13 |
14
The ball broke the forearm of Captain Shunan, at the very moment he
discharged his gun. The shock diverted the aim so that the bullet
grazed his scalp, inflicting a trifling wound; but the combatants
were so close that the powder of the rifle scorched the face of
the mountaineer.
Captain Shunan had been badly worsted, and was disabled for weeks
afterward. He accepted his fate without complaint and was effectually
cured of his overbearing manner toward his associates.
CHAPTER XIII.
On the Yellowstone -- Repeated Disappointments -- Carson Enters the
Employ of a Hudson Bay Trader -- Poor Success -- A Trying Journey
-- Arrival at Fort Hall -- The American Buffalo or Bison.
With the approach of cool weather, preparations were made for the
fall hunt. When all was ready, the trappers headed for the Yellowstone,
which was reached without mishap, and they immediately set their
traps. The country as a rule, was a good one for those valuable
animals, but the visitors were disappointed to learn they were
unusually scarce.
When it became evident that it was useless to work on the Yellowstone,
they gathered up their traps and made their way to the Big Horn,
but, failing again, tried their fortunes on other rivers in that
vicinity with no better results.
It was while engaged in this discouraging work that they met
a trader belonging to the Hudson Bay Company. He had been pushing
operations in every direction, but the stories he told were of the
same general tenor as those of the larger party. He had been as
unsuccessful in the way of trade as they had been in catching the
fur bearing animals.
The Hudson Bay trader, however, was confident he could succeed
where they had failed, and he made such liberal offers to Carson
that he and several of his companions accepted them on the spot.
The first point which they visited was the Humboldt River, from
which had come reports of the abundance of beavers. They began near
the head waters of the stream, and carefully trapped down to the
Great Basin. Meeting with only moderate success, they made their
way to Big Snake River. After remaining there a considerable time,
the party divided, the Hudson Bay trader and his friends going
northward toward Fort Walla Walla, while Carson and the larger
number set out for Fort Hall.
The journey thither was one of the most distressing which Kit
Carson ever undertook. The country through which most of the march
led is one of the most dismal wastes on the American continent.
Except in extent, a journey across it is similar to that of the
parched caravans across the flaming sands of Sahara. Carson and his
companions were accustomed to all manner of privations, but more
than once their endurance was tried to the utmost point.
The trappers had gathered some nutritious roots upon which they
managed to subsist for a time, but these soon gave out, and their
situation grew desperate. When almost famishing they bled their
mules and drank the warm current. They would have killed one of
the animals, but for the fact that they could not spare it, and,
as there was no calculating how long the others would last, they
were afraid to take the step, which was likely to cripple them
fatally.
This strange source of nourishment served them for the time, but
a repetition would endanger the lives of their animals, who were
also in sore straits, inasmuch as the grass was not only poor but
very scanty. Matters rapidly grew worse, and soon became so desperate
that Carson said they would have to kill one of their animals or
else lie down and perish themselves.
At this trying crisis, they discovered a band of Indians approaching.
Perhaps the hapless situation in which all were placed left no room
for enmity, for the red men showed a friendly disposition. The high
hopes of Carson and his friends were chilled when it was found that
the Indians were in about as bad a plight as themselves. They had
barely a mouthful of food among them, and, when besought to barter
with the whites, they shook their heads. They had nothing to trade,
and, while they felt no hostility toward the suffering trappers,
they gave them to understand they could not afford any help at all.
But Carson had fixed his eyes on a plump old horse, and never did
a shrewd New Englander apply himself more persistently to secure a
prize than did he. Kit's companions put forth all their powers of
persuasion, but in vain, and they advised Carson that he was throwing
away his efforts in attempting the impossible.
But Carson succeeded, and when the equine was slaughtered and
broiled, the trappers enjoyed one of the most delicious feasts
of their lives. They filled themselves to repletion and felt that
the enjoyment it brought was almost worth the suffering they had
undergone to obtain it.
When their strength was recruited, they resumed their journey and
a few days later reached Fort Hall. There they found abundance of
food and received a cordial welcome. In a brief while they were as
strong as ever and eager for any new enterprise.
Hundreds of bisons were in the neighborhood of the fort and Carson
and his friends slew them by the score. Indeed they kept the post
well supplied with fresh meet as long as they remained there.
The animal almost universally known as the "buffalo" is miscalled,
his correct name being the "bison," of which there are droves
numbering, it is said, as high as a hundred thousand. The flesh
is held in high repute by hunters, and not only is nourishing but
possesses the valuable quality of not cloying the appetite. The
most delicate portion of the animal is the hump which gives the
peculiar appearance to his back. That and the tongue and marrow
bones are frequently the only portions made use of by the hunter.
The hide answers many useful purposes. All know how much a "buffalo
robe" is appreciated in wintry weather by those exposed to cold.
It serves to form the Indian's tents, his bed, parts of his dress
and is sometimes made into a shield which will turn aside a rifle
ball that does not strike it fairly.
Hundreds of thousands of bisons are killed annually -- myriads of them
in pure wantonness -- and yet enormous droves may be encountered
today in many portions of the west, where it is hard for the
experienced hunters to detect any decrease in their numbers.
Some of the methods employed to slay bisons are cruel in the
extreme. Many a time a large herd has been stampeded in the direction
of some precipice. When the leaders found themselves on the edge,
they have endeavored to recoil; but there was no stemming the tide
behind them. The terrified animals literally pushed the leaders over
the rocks and then tumbled upon them. In a little while the gully
or stream would be choked with the furiously struggling creatures
and hundreds would be killed within a few minutes.
The bison is as fond as the hog of wallowing in mud. When he comes
upon a marshy spot he lies down and rolls about until he has worn
out a large and shallow excavation into which the water oozes
through the damp soil. Lying down again he rolls and turns until
he is plastered from head to tail with mud. Though it cannot be
said that it adds to his attractiveness, yet the coating no doubt
serves well as a protection against the swarms of insects, which
are sometimes terrible enough to sting animals to death.
Those who have viewed the scraggy specimens in the menageries and
zoological gardens would scarcely suspect the activity and power
of running possessed by them. The body is covered with such an
abundance of hair that it looks larger than it really is, while
the legs appear smaller. But the bison not only can run swiftly,
but possesses great endurance. They will often dash at full speed
over ground so rough that the more graceful horse will stumble.
When wounded by the hunters, a bull will sometimes turn in desperation
on his persecutor. Then, unless the horse is well trained, serious
consequences are likely to follow. The plunging thrust of his stumpy
horns perhaps rips open the steed, sending the rider flying over
the back of the furious bison, who may turn upon him and slay him
before he can escape.
This rarely happens, however, the bison being a huge, cowardly
creature which prefers to run rather than fight, and a hunt of the
game in these days often takes the character of wholesale butchery
in which no true sportsman would engage.
CHAPTER XIV.
A Strange Occurrence -- Arrival of Friends -- Carson Joins a Large
Company -- Trapping on the Yellowstone -- The Blackfeet -- A Dreadful
Scourge -- In Winter Quarters -- The Friendly Crow Indians -- Loss
of Two Trappers -- On the Head Waters of the Missouri.
A singular occurrence took place a few nights after the return of
Carson and his friends from an extended bison hunt. Their horses
and mules were corralled near the post and a sentinel was on duty
at all hours of the night to prevent the animals being stolen by
the Indians who were always prowling through the neighborhood.
In the dim uncertain light, just beyond midnight, the sentinel saw
two men walk forward from the darkness, and without any appearance
of haste, let down the bars and drive out the stock. Very naturally
he concluded they were his friends who intended to take out the
animals to graze. As there was nothing more for him to do, he sought
his quarters, lay down and went to sleep.
In the morning not a horse or a mule was to be found. The two
individuals who had let down the bars and driven them out, were
Blackfeet Indians, whose complete success was due to their amazing
audacity. Had they shown any hesitation or haste, the suspicions
of the sentinel would have been aroused, but when the truth became
known, he was the most astonished man at the fort.
The hunters were in a most sorry plight, for the Blackfeet having
made a clean sweep, they were without the means of pursuing and
recovering their property. The parties who belonged at the fort
had suffered a somewhat similar trick a short time before from the
same tribe, so that only a few rickety horses remained in their
possession.
Under the circumstances, the trappers were compelled to accept their
misfortune with grim philosophy, and await the arrival of the rest
of the party, who had promised to rejoin them after completing
their business at Fort Walla Walla.
Sure enough, a few weeks later, their friends appeared and
providentially indeed they brought with them an extra supply of
excellent horses. The trappers were in overflowing spirits once
more and soon started for the general rendezvous on Green River.
Other trappers continued to arrive for a number of days, until
about all that were expected had come in. Trade and barter then
began and lasted some three weeks. The scene was picturesque and
stirring and there was much hand shaking and pleasant wishes when
the time came to separate.
Kit Carson left the employ of the Hudson Bay Company trader
and attached himself to a party numbering fully a hundred who had
determined to trap along the Yellowstone. It will be recalled that
Carson once quit a company of trappers because it was too large,
and it may be wondered why he should join one that was still more
numerous. The reason he did so was because they were going into the
very heart of the Blackfoot country. They had suffered so much from
these daring marauders that they knew there would be no safety
unless they went in strong force. Furthermore, the whites had
so many old scores to settle with those redskins that they meant
to invite attack from them. If the Blackfeet would only offer the
opportunity for battle, the trappers meant to give them their fill.
The formidable company arranged matters according to a system.
Dividing into two equal parties, the duty of one was made to trap
beaver, while the other furnished food and guarded the property.
By this means, they would always be in shape to meet their sworn
foes, while the real business which brought them into the country
would not be neglected.
The hunters were confident they would not be left alone very long.
The Blackfeet would resent the invasion of their hunting grounds,
and to say the least, would take measures to prevent the time
hanging heavily on the hands of the pale faces.
But, to the astonishment of the trappers, the days passed without
bringing a glimpse of the savages. No hostile shot awoke the
impressive stillness of the wilderness. Could it be the Blackfeet
were seeking to throw the whites off their guard? Did they expect
to induce a degree of carelessness that would enable the Blackfeet
to gather their warriors and overwhelm them before they could reply?
It was not reasonable to suppose that the sagacious tribe held any
such belief, for they could not have failed to know that any such
hope was idle.
But the explanation came one day by a party of friendly Crow
Indians, who stated that the small pox was raging with such awful
virulence among the Blackfeet that they were dying by hundreds and
thousands. Indeed, the havoc was so dreadful that there was reason
to believe the whole tribe would be swept away.
It would not be the first time that such an annihilation has taken
place among the American Indians. The treatment required by that
frightful disease is precisely the opposite of that which the red
man in his ignorance pursues. When small pox breaks out among them,
therefore, the mortality becomes appalling.
The Crow Indians affiliated with the trappers and guided them to a
secluded valley, where they established themselves for the winter.
The lodges were made strong and substantial, and it was fortunate
that such precautions were taken, for the winter proved one of
the severest known for many years. With their abundance of fuel,
they kept enormous fires going and passed the days and nights in
comparative comfort.
But it was far different with their stock. During the severe
weather, the only food that could be obtained was the bark of the
cottonwood. The inner lining of this is quite palatable to animals
and in cases of extremity it affords temporary sustenance to men.
With its help actual starvation was kept away, though it came very
close.
Unusual weather always brings unusual experience, and the intense
cold developed an annoyance to the trappers upon which they had
not counted. The difficulty of finding food was felt by the wild
animals as well as domestic, and the bisons became desperate. When
they saw the horses eating their fodder, they rushed forward and
with lowered heads drove them away. If a horse or mule refused, he
was likely to be gored to death.
The beasts finally became so numerous and fierce they would have
killed all the stock of our friends if they had not kindled large
fires and mounted constant guard. When the weather moderated those
annoyances ended.
Had any explorer of the west found his way to the secluded valley
where the trappers were in winter quarters, he would have looked
upon a striking scene. The Crow Indians and white men engaged in
numerous athletic sports in friendly rivalry. They maintained the
best of terms, and when the bisons departed, the strange community
enjoyed themselves far better than would be supposed. In truth where
they were favored with such rugged health and where they had plenty
of food and comfortable quarters, it would have been remarkable
had they not been comparatively happy. They were not disturbed by
political discussions or diversity of views on any public questions
and were satisfied that the glorious Union was safe without any
worriment on their part.
When spring came, two of their party were sent to Fort Laramie to
procure needed supplies. They went off well mounted and armed and
were never heard of again. Somewhere in the recesses of the forest
or mountain, the Blackfeet had probably killed them as they had done
with many a brave man before, and as they have done with multitudes
since.
When it became certain the messengers had been slain, the company
began the spring hunt without them. After trapping a brief while
on the Yellowstone, they worked their way to the head waters of
the Missouri. They met with fair success and while engaged in that
section, learned that the reports of the ravages of the small pox
among the Blackfeet had been greatly exaggerated. Instead of being
decimated, the tribe had not suffered to any serious extent and
were as strong and aggressive as ever.
The trappers were not displeased to learn that such was the case,
for they desired a settlement of accounts with them. Under such
circumstances it was impossible that hostilities should be long
delayed.
CHAPTER XV.
A Fierce Battle with the Blackfeet -- Daring Act of Kit Carson --
Arrival of the Reserves and End of the Battle.
When near the head waters of the Missouri, the trappers discovered
they were approaching the principal village of the Blackfeet. They
determined to attack and punish the Indians who had caused them
so much trouble and suffering; but the whites were so numerous and
powerful that extreme care was necessary to prevent their presence
becoming known.
When a number of miles from the village, the trappers came to a halt,
and Kit Carson with several men was sent forward to reconnoitre.
With extreme caution they made their way to a point from which they
could overlook the village.
A glance showed the Indians hurriedly making ready to move elsewhere.
The shrewd red men had discovered their danger before their enemies
caught sight of them. Carson galloped back as rapidly as he could,
and made known what had been seen. A council was hastily called
and about half the company advanced to give the Blackfeet battle.
Kit Carson, as might be supposed, was made the leader. The others
were to guard the property, advance slowly and act as reserve,
which could be hurried forward should it become necessary.
As agreed upon, Kit Carson galloped ahead, and the moment his men
came in sight of the village, they dashed through it, killing a
number of warriors. The others slowly fell back, fighting as they
went, and without showing the least panic. They received charge
after charge of the white men, with the steadiness of veterans. By
and by the eagerness of the trappers reduced their ammunition and
their firing became less destructive. The Blackfeet were quick to
perceive the cause, and in turn they charged upon their assailants
who became immediately involved in a desperate hand to hand fight.
It was then the small arms in the possession of the whites played
their part. They were used with such effect, that the fierce warriors
were compelled once more to retreat.
But the courageous red men recoiled a short distance only, when they
halted and then, with exultant yells, dashed toward the trappers,
who despite all they could do, were forced back until it looked as
if the whole party would be overwhelmed and destroyed.
On this retreat, one of the horses belonging to the hunters was
shot, and plunged to the ground so suddenly that his rider was caught
before he could spring from the saddle. Several of the warriors
were quick to perceive his sore straits, and dashed toward him,
eager to secure his scalp. The poor fellow struggled desperately,
but could not extricate himself, and his expression of horrified
despair when he perceived the fierce red men running a race with
each other to reach him, would have melted the heart of almost any
one.
Carson was several rods distant, but seeing the danger of his
friend, he bounded out of his saddle, and shouted to the others to
rally to the defence of their imperilled comrade. Kit raised his
rifle while on the run and shot the leading warrior dead. The other
whites were so close behind that the remaining Blackfeet whirled
and ran for their lives. Several of them were shot down before they
could reach the shelter of the rocks from behind which they sprang
after the fallen white man.
Carson's devotion to his friend now placed him in an unpleasant if
not dangerous situation. His steed being without restraint, galloped
off beyond his reach, and the commander was thus left on foot, when
there was urgent need that he should be mounted.
Meanwhile the mountaineer who was caught under the body of his
horse, was struggling desperately to withdraw his imprisoned leg,
for there was no saying when the Blackfeet would be upon him again.
He succeeded at last, and, standing upon his feet, shook himself
together, as may be said, and he found that though pretty badly
bruised, no bones were broken, and he was able to do his full part
in the serious duty before him.
The exciting episode benefited the trappers in one respect: it served
to check the seemingly resistless rush of the Blackfeet and gave
the others a chance to rally and fix upon some course of action.
Carson ran rapidly toward the nearest horseman and sprang upon the
back of his animal behind him. The steed was forced to his best
and speedily joined the main body a short distance off. It was
fortunate that just at that moment there came a lull in the furious
fighting, else Carson could scarcely have escaped so well. The
runaway horse was pursued by one of the mountaineers who finally
cornered and brought him back to their leader.
The Blackfeet did not follow the whites, nor did the latter return
to their charge against them. Both parties had gained a thorough
taste of each other's mettle, and the conclusion reached was like
that of two trained pugilists -- their strength was so nearly equal
that neither could afford to throw away his advantage by leading
in the assault.
Undoubtedly Carson and his men would have withdrawn but for the
hope that the reserves were close at hand. The trappers had fought
valiantly but not more so than the Indians, who still possessed
plenty ammunition while that of the whites was nearly exhausted.
Had they advanced and encountered the warriors again, the latter
would have swept everything before them. As it was, the mountaineers
were by no means safe even when acting on the defensive. If the red
men should charge upon them with their old time fierceness, it was
by no means certain they would not destroy the whites. The fight
would necessarily be of the most sanguinary nature, but when guns
and small arms were useless for lack of ammunition, nothing short
of a miracle could save them from annihilation.
Several hours had gone and Carson and his men wondered what
could delay the reserves. Time always passes slowly to those in
waiting, and to some of the hunters the tardiness of their friends
was unaccountable. Carson was on the point of sending messengers
back to hurry them forward, when the whole party appeared and the
situation changed.
But those who expected the Blackfeet to flee in panic when they
observed the doubling of the assailing forces, were much mistaken.
The feeling among the Indians could not be described as in the least
"panicky." They quietly surveyed the new arrivals and prepared with
the coolness of veterans for the conflict that was sure to come,
within the next few minutes.
The powder was distributed among the trappers, who were more eager
than ever to attack their old enemies, who were as ready as they
for the conflict. Nearly two hundred yards separated the combatants,
when the mountaineers, leaving their horses behind, advanced on
foot. The Blackfeet stationed themselves behind rocks and trees
and defiantly awaited the attack.
In a few minutes the most savage fight of the day was raging. A
hundred rifles were flashing in every direction and the yells of
the red men mingled with the shouts of the excited mountaineers.
As the warriors had used every means to shelter themselves, it
was necessary to dislodge them before they could be driven back.
Without remaining together in a compact mass, the trappers made
for them with the fierceness of tigers.
The result of this charge were a number of remarkable combats. A
hunter would dash at a warrior crouching behind some rock, and the
two would begin dodging, advancing, retreating, firing, striking
and manoeuvering against each other. Sometimes one would succeed and
sometimes the other. The Blackfoot, finding the situation becoming
too hot, would break for other cover and probably would be shot on
the run or would escape altogether. Again, it would be the white
man who would be just a second too late in discharging his gun and
would pay the penalty with his life.
At last the Indians began falling back and the mountaineers pushing
them hard, they finally broke and fled in a wild panic, leaving
many dead behind them. On the part of the trappers three had been
killed and quite a number badly wounded.
CHAPTER XVI.
At Brown's Hole -- Trading in the Navajoe Country -- Carson Serves
as Hunter at Brown's Hole -- Trapping in the Black Hills -- On
the Yellowstone -- Fight with the Blackfeet -- Their Retreat to
an Island -- Their Flight During the Night -- An Imposing Array of
Warriors.
The fight between the Blackfeet and trappers was one of the most
important in which Kit Carson, previous to the late war, was ever
engaged. The forces must have included several hundred, and the
lesson administered to the aggressive red men was remembered by
them a long time.
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 | 5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
11 |
12 |
13 |
14