By the time my panther had grown to be quite large, and was glad to see me.

On my return to Taos I learned that Uncle Kit and Jim Bridger had formed a co-partnership, for the purpose of trapping the coming winter in the Wind River mountains, which were about seven hundred miles from Taos, and had employed Johnnie West, Charlie Jones and Jake Harrington to trap for them, and in a few days after my return from the City of Mexico we made the start with thirty-two pack-animals, besides our saddle-horses.

Nothing happening worthy of note on our way out, we arrived at our proposed trapping ground, and found plenty of beaver and plenty of fresh Indian sign as well, but the Indians were not apt to give us any trouble at this season of the year, more than to run our horses off, as they would prefer to let trappers alone until spring and then kill them and take their furs.

We established our two camps about four miles apart, and kept our horses in the valley between the two camps; there was an abundance of gra.s.s, plenty of game and no end to the beaver. In fact, to take it on the whole, it seemed that this was going to be the loveliest place to spend the winter that we had ever struck, and the boys were all highly elated over their new winter quarters. We had only been in our trapping field about two weeks when Uncle Kit went out one morning to kill a deer and to look after the horses.

He had not gone far when he looked across the little valley and saw an Indian driving off our horses. Being in gunshot of the Indian, he fired at him and brought him to the ground. When Uncle Kit returned to camp, he said:

"Boys, I am afraid we have made a mistake in coming here to trap this winter; we must be near the Blackfoot Indians, for I just killed one that was driving our horses off, and I just happened to see him in time to catch him with old Blackleg." At that time the Blackfoot Indians were considered worst tribe in the entire Northwest.

I went at once to the other camp to notify Jim Bridger and his crowd that they might be on their guard. Bridger said he had been expecting it, as he had seen fresh Indian sign out on the ridges some days before, but thought it was getting so late now that they would not give us any more trouble this winter, but that we would have to get out early the next spring.

We stayed here and trapped all winter, with splendid success. Jim Bridger took twelve beaver from his string of traps every twenty- four hours for seven successive days, being the greatest catch I ever knew from one string of traps.

About the last of March we commenced making preparations to leave the mountains, for fear the Indians might come and clean us out.

The day before we were to start there came a heavy fall of snow, and we were not able to move until the first of April, when we made another start for Santa Fe, going via Sweet.w.a.ter, and we had enough furs to load our entire train.

The second day after leaving camp we were attacked, about noon, by twenty Indians of the Blackfoot tribe, who entertained us for about an hour.

We huddled our horses and used them for breast-works, and killed seven Indians without one of our men being wounded, but we lost two horses.

It might be well to describe the manner in which trappers traveled those days while pa.s.sing through a country where there were hostile Indians.

Each man would take the number of horses he was to lead and string them out and fasten them together by tying each horse to the tail of the horse ahead of him and the head horse of the string he would tie to the tail of his saddle-horse. This had to be done to prevent a stampede when attacked, and the horses, too, were a great protection to the men, for when they were attacked by Indians the men would ride to the center and use the horses for breastworks in time of battle.

After the fight was over the boys all felt jubilant over their victory. We had no more trouble with Indians for four days, when we reached Rock Creek, a beautiful little mountain stream that pays tribute to the North Platte river. Here was a nice place to camp; plenty of wood and an abundance of gra.s.s, and the finest water in the land. Here was a lovely valley, and just off to the northwest was a little hill or ridge, only a short distance from which we made our camp. Some of the men went to getting wood and building a fire, while others were unpacking, not thinking of Indians, and just as the packs were off we were aroused by the war-whoop of a little squad of Indians who were coming over the ridge spoken of. We had a hot little fight, but it only lasted a few minutes, when the Indians withdrew, and Uncle Kit gave orders to follow them, which we did, and had a running fight for about five miles. We captured five horses from the redskins, and in the affair did not lose a man, nor even a horse.

This ended our trouble with the Indians for this trip.

On arriving at Santa Fe, Uncle Kit and Jim Bridger sold their furs to Joe Favor and Mr. Roubidoux for a good price.

Here we met an Englishman, who lived in London, England, and had come that spring from St. Louis, in company with Mr. Roubidoux and Joe Favor.

I had my pet panther with me, and the Englishman took a fancy to her and asked my price for her. I told him that she was not for sale. He offered me a hundred dollars for her. I hated to part with her, but a hundred dollars was more money than I had ever had before at one time, and looked like a big lot to me, so I accepted his offer, and in less than twenty-four hours I was very sorry, for during the time I stayed in Santa Fe, every time that I would pa.s.s in sight of her she would cry as pitifully as any child ever heard. Five hundred dollars would not have bought her from Mr.

Mace, as he had purchased her with the intention of taking her to England.

Mr. Roubidoux and Joe Favor employed Uncle Kit to go out and trade for buffalo robes with the Comanche and Kiowa Indians. I accompanied him on this trip, and we were out two months, during which time we did not see a white man.

This was the first shipment of buffalo robes that had ever been made from this region, consequently we were able to get them almost at our own price.

As soon as Uncle Kit got out there with his little stock of goods that had been furnished him to trade on, and which consisted of beads and rings and a very few blankets, and the Indians had learned that he would trade for robes, the squaws all fell to dressing them. Among the Indians it was considered disgraceful for men to do such work.

In a very short time there were plenty of dressed buffalo robes, and some very nice ones, and I have seen Uncle Kit trade a string of beads a foot and a half long for a first-cla.s.s robe, and for a red blanket he could get almost as many robes as he had a mind to ask.

As fast as the robes were bought they were baled, and by the time Uncle Kit pretty well bought up all that were for sale, the wagon- train came and hauled them away.

There were twenty wagon loads of robes and the goods Uncle Kit traded for them would not have cost to exceed seventy-five dollars.

Our work being done, we started for Taos, for it was now almost time to start out for the winter's trapping. On our arrival at Taos we found Johnnie West, who had been loafing around for two months, and who was anxious to get at work again. Uncle Kit hired him to go with us to South Park to trap the coming winter, that being the place he had decided upon for the season's work.

CHAPTER VII.

BATTLING THREE DAYS' BATTLE BETWEEN THE COMANCHES AND THE UTES FOR THE POSSESSION OF A "HUNTER'S PARADISE."--AN UNSEASONABLE BATH.

All being ready, Uncle Kit, Johnnie West and myself pulled out for South Park. We pa.s.sed over a high range of mountains, struck the Park on the east side, and a more beautiful sight I never saw than the region was at that time. Coming in from the direction mentioned, one could overlook the entire park, which was almost surrounded by snow-capped mountains, and the valley, several miles below, which was about eighty miles long and from ten to twenty miles wide, was as green as a wheatfield in June. When we were near the valley we could see elk in bands of a hundred or more, with small herds of bison scattered here and there in the valley, and antelope by the hundred.

I had often heard of a hunter's paradise, and when I got sight of this lovely valley, with its thousands of wild animals of almost every description known to the continent, I made up my mind that if there ever was such a place as a hunter's paradise, I had surely found it. The high mountains with scattering pine trees on the sides; the snowy white peaks above the timber line, and the many little mountain streams and rills that paid tribute to the main stream that coursed this beautiful valley, all combined to form a scene of magnificent grandeur. The quaking-asp, balm and various other kinds of small timber that grew along the streams all helped to add to the beauty of the scene.

We crossed over to the west side to a cove that ran back some twelve miles from the main valley; here, we decided, was the best place to establish our winter quarters. Every little mountain stream in the valley was alive with beaver, and Uncle Kit thought it so late that we would not be bothered by the Indians that fall, but, that we would have to get out early the following spring.

Feeling perfectly safe, we built our cabin this winter entirely on top of the ground, consequently we were not long in getting our winter quarters completed and were soon ready to start in trapping. We had excellent success this winter; very little snow to contend with, making it much better getting around than usual and an easier task to look after strings of traps.

In those cases each man had his string of traps, and it was his business to go to each trap every day, take the beaver out, skin them, set the traps, carry the skins home and stretch them.

Sometimes we would trap as far as seven miles from camp, that being the outside limit. After we had trapped here about three weeks there came a light fall of snow which drove most of the game to the valley, and we experienced no trouble in getting all the meat we wanted close to camp, in fact we could often kill deer and antelope from our cabin door.

The second morning after the snowfall, Uncle Kit, Johnnie West and myself all started down the valley to took after our traps. We went about a mile together, I left the other two, my traps being the farthest away, some three miles down the valley. After leaving the other two I struck out down the valley on a turkey trot, that being my usual gait when alone. I had not gone far when I heard two gun shots. Thinking that Uncle Kit and Johnnie had been attacked by the Indians, I turned in the direction that I heard the shooting, and ran back much faster than I had come, but had not gone far when I saw ahead of me, up the narrow valley, a band of about twenty bison coming direct for me. I thought by shooting the leader it might check their speed and perhaps cause them to change their course. So I brought my gun to my face and dropped the leader, but it neither caused the others to halt or change their course, and they were making a bee line for me, and there was not a tree in reach large enough for me to climb nor a place of any kind that I could hide.

Now I was not long in making up my mind that I had a first-cla.s.s foot-race on my hands--as an Irishman might say--and after running some distance I looked back and saw the bison were on me at every jump. Had I only known the nature of bison, which I learned afterward were not so vicious as buffalo, I could have turned to the right or left and they would have pa.s.sed on; but thinking that they were after me, I got out like a quarter-horse, putting in my best licks to try to reach a wash-out that I knew of ahead of me.

Thinking that if I only could reach that ditch I might have some possible show for my life, I lost no time in getting there, but got right down to business and did the prettiest running I have ever done in my life. Every time I looked back I saw that the rushing herd was closer upon me, until they were within a few feet, and by the time I reached the ditch I fancied that I could feel the breath from the nostrils of a half dozen bison on the rear base of my buckskin trousers. Then into the ditch I went, head-long and into about four feet of water. It seemed to me that those buffalo were half an hour crossing that ditch, but I stood perfectly quiet in the water up to my waist until they had all pa.s.sed over.

The ditch being deep and the banks perpendicular, I had to wade the water for some distance up the ditch before I could find a place where I could climb out. I had just scrambled up the bank and shaken myself, when up came Uncle Kit and Johnnie, who had heard the report of my gun and had come to see whether or not I had killed anything.

"Rather cold to go bathing," said Uncle Kit. "When I go bathin' I allus pull off my buckskin suit."

But I told them I considered myself lucky to be able to find a suitable place to go swimming just at that time, and congratulated myself on being all there.

Aside from my race with the bison, I put in a very pleasant winter, and Uncle Kit said he had never spent as pleasant a time in the mountains as he did that winter in South Park. "In fact,"

said he, "it was more like a pleasure trip than anything else."

Our camp at this time was near where the town of Tarryall has since been built, and we ranged our horses in the extreme south end of the park, where they had the best kind of grazing the entire winter.

It was in the latter part of March--this now being the spring of 1852--when Uncle Kit made a trip to the south end of the park to get our horses, thinking we had stayed there about as long as it was safe.

During his absence Johnnie West and I were busily engaged in making preparations to start for Bent's Fort, as soon as Carson should get back with the horses. On his return he informed us that he would not leave the park until about the first of May, which was a surprise and disappointment to us both, as we had made all calculations on getting started the following day. We asked what was up that we were to be detained so long.

"On my trip for the horses," said Carson, "I saw some Injuns of the Comanche tribe, and they told me that them and the Utes war goin' to have a battle as soon as the Utes can cross the mountains, and the place for the battle decided on is in the south end of the park." He also said that with all the Indian fighting he had been mixed up in he had never before had an opportunity to see two tribes come together, and that he would not miss seeing it for any consideration.

In those days each tribe of Indians had their own scope of hunting and trapping ground, and if one tribe was caught intruding upon the rights of another tribe it was apt to cause trouble.

As I have said before, South Park was a hunter's paradise in the winter, and added to this, in the summer almost the entire valley was covered with wild strawberries. Along the many little mountain streams were abundance of wild gooseberries, blackberries and wild currants, while on the hillsides were acres of wild raspberries.

In fact almost every variety of berries that there grew west of the Missouri river could be found in South Park; while the streams were full of the finest quality of mountain trout as well as many other kinds of fish.

The two tribes of Indians mentioned had been in dispute for a number of years as to their boundary line, each claiming South Park, and this battle had been arranged the fall before by the chiefs, also the place decided upon for the battle, which was to be on a little stream in the extreme south end of the park, that has since gone by the name of Battle Creek.