We concluded that we had remained here long enough, so we mounted and pulled out again.

The balance of the day we kept on open ground, and saw numerous little bands of Indians, but were not molested by them until late in the afternoon.

About sundown, while traveling down a little narrow valley, all of a sudden about fifteen Indians, all well mounted, made a charge on us. We corralled at once. By this time our horses had learned to corral pretty quick, and when they were in gunshot we opened fire on them. I fired at one with my rifle and got him, for I saw him fall to the ground, and I got another with my pistol. I do not know how many were killed, but they went away a much less number than they came. We all escaped unhurt, but Uncle Kit lost another horse, making in all four horses that day.

We moved on again and traveled about five miles and made another camp, but did not build a fire. Our horses were picketed near camp, and that night we stood guard the same as the night before, but I did not see any Indians crawling up on all fours. The morning following we were off very early, and traveled some four miles before we came to water. Coming to a nice little brook, we stopped and took our breakfast. Here we had a chance to have killed an antelope, but did not dare shoot.

After taking something for the inner man, we proceeded on our way.

We did not have any more trouble with Indians, not even seeing any until we got to what is known as Stinking Water or Alder creek, near where Virginia City, Mont., now stands. In traveling down this stream, which is quite crooked, and just as we were rounding one of those points of the hill running down to the creek, riding in the lead I saw two Indian wick-i-ups about half a mile ahead, just in the edge of the brush. I at once gave the signal to turn back, and we got out of sight without being discovered by the Indians.

We turned our course, somewhat, making a circuitous route, and when we were just opposite the wick-i-ups, Jim Bridger and Uncle Kit climbed to the top of the hill, taking my gla.s.ses with them, and took in the situation. When they returned to where we were they were feeling much more encouraged, saying: "Thank G.o.d we are rid of the Blackfoots and Crows; those are the Bannocks. We are now in their country, and they are not so numerous nor so hostile as the Crows and Blackfoots." That night we camped on Stinking Water, near Lone b.u.t.te, picketed our horses close around camp and stood guard the same as the two nights previous.

The next morning we were up early and off again, aiming to cross the main divide and go over to Fort Hall, expecting to find there a great many trappers and raise a crowd sufficient to come back and trap on the Gallatin river this winter.

At that time Fort Hall was a great rendezvous for trappers.

Now we were beginning to feel more encouraged and to think our chances were pretty good, but that evening, while traveling up Beaver Canyon, which, I think the railroad runs up now, from Pocatello, Idaho, to b.u.t.te City, Mont., the Bannocks attacked us about fifty strong.

They held us there for about an hour, and had it not been for a thunder storm that came up, I don't think one of us would have got out of that canyon, for they had us completely surrounded. They killed two horses from Jim Bridger's string and wounded Uncle Kit in one shoulder severely.

When the thunder storm came up the Indians were gradually closing in on us, and it commenced to thunder and lightning, and it actually rained so hard that one person could not see another two rods before him.

While it was raining so hard, we mounted and rode out of the canyon.

I never saw it rain harder in my life than it did for a half hour.

When we were on open ground and it had quit raining, we stopped, and Uncle Kit said: "Now who says the Almighty didn't save us this time by sending that shower of rain just at the right time?"

That night we camped near the summit of the Rocky Mountains, dividing the waters that run into the Pacific and Atlantic oceans.

Uncle Kit suffered all that night from his arrow wound, the arrow going under his shoulder blade, and when we examined the wound we found it much deeper than we had any idea of. This was the last trouble with Indians on that trip.

The next morning we started very early, and were three days making Fort Hall, having no trouble whatever on the way. On arriving at the Fort we were very much disappointed in regard to raising our crowd to go to the head of the Missouri river to trap the coming winter. There were only about twenty trappers at Fort Hall at that time, and they appeared to have no particular objections to living a little while longer. Those of them who had never interviewed the Blackfoot and Crow Indians personally were pretty well acquainted with them by reputation, and they said they did not care to risk their lives in that country. We remained here two weeks, after which time--Uncle Kit's wound getting considerable better--Jim Bridger, Uncle Kit and myself concluded to go on to the waters of Green river and trap the coming winter.

While here, Jim Beckwith fell in with a man by the name of Reese, who said he had trapped on the headwaters of Snake river the winter previous, and that trapping was good there. He induced Beckwith to go to that section of the country, saying it was only one hundred miles from Fort Hall. This trapping ground was immediately across the divide of the Rockies and south of the Gallatin, where the Blackfoot and Crow Indians were so bad, but Reese thought they could get out the next spring before the Indians could get across the mountains.

So he and Beckwith started, and at the same time we pulled out for the head of Green river. They went to the head of Snake river, and I afterwards learned that they trapped there all winter with splendid success, but trapping being so good they stayed too late in the spring. One morning about the last days of April, after they had just eaten their breakfast and were making preparations to go to look after their traps, they were attacked by about one hundred Blackfoot Indians. Reese was killed the first shot, and Jim then saw that his only show was to run, which he did. It was about sunrise when they made the attack. Jim Beckwith fled, with the Indians in hot pursuit. It was claimed to be one hundred miles from there to Fort Hall, and that same evening, before dark, he was in Fort Hall, and he went all the way on foot.

In this run Beckwith burst the veins in his legs in numerous places, making him a cripple for life. The last time I saw him was at his own home, near Denver, Colo., in 1863. At that time he was so badly crippled that he had to walk with two canes, and after telling me the condition he was in, he showed me a number of running sores that were caused by the bursted veins. For Jim Beckwith, now dead and gone, I will say, he was a hero in his day.

For bravery he was far above the average, and at the same time he was honorable and upright. He was a man whose word was as good as gold, and one who was possessed of great strength and had a const.i.tution equal to that of a mustang. The worst thing that could be said of Jim Beckwith was that he was his own worst enemy, for he would spend his money for whiskey as fast as he earned it.

Uncle Kit, Jim Bridger and myself wintered on the waters of the Green river and trapped, but had very poor success, this country having been trapped over so much that the beaver were scarce and hard to catch, and Uncle Kit's wound bothered him all winter, and in fact as long as he lived.

After winter had broken up we started for New Mexico, via North Park. Our idea in taking that route was to avoid the hostile Sioux.

We were successful in getting through without having any trouble with Indians, whatever, arriving at Bent's Fort about the first of June. We sold our furs again to Col. Bent and Mr. Roubidoux. Joe Favor having gone out of business, I engaged with Col. Bent and Mr. Roubidoux to go among the Arapahoe Indians to trade for furs and buffalo robes.

CHAPTER XX.

CARSON QUITS THE TRAIL.--BUFFALO ROBES FOR TEN CENTS.--"PIKE'S PEAK OR BUST."--THE NEW CITY OF DENVER.--"BUSTED."--HOW THE NEWS GOT STARTED.

Uncle Kit Carson pulled out for home and when he was starting he said he had done his last trapping and he was going home to his sheep ranch and take things easy. "For," said he, "I had the wust luck last winter that I ever had in my life, when I had 'lowed to have the best. I'm gittin old enough to quit."

Before he left he told me that whenever I felt like it he wanted me to come to his place and make my home as long as I pleased.

Col. Bent fitted me out with twenty-five pack animals and two Mexican boys to a.s.sist me, and I started for the Arrapahoe country, one hundred and twenty-five miles distant. I was supplied with beads, blankets and rings to trade to the Indians for furs and buffalo robes.

On my arrival at the Arrapahoe village I learned that there were not many furs on hand, as the Sioux had been so hostile the past fall and winter that the Arrapahoes had not been able to trap or hunt much, consequently we had to visit all the little hunting parties belonging to that tribe, in order to get furs and robes enough to load our pack train.

After remaining about two weeks I got a fair load and started on my return, making the round trip in little over one month, having had no trouble whatever with Indians or otherwise. On my return to Bent's Fort I found John West, who had been trapping in the Windriver mountains in company with two other men I did not know.

They had been successful the past winter and had sold their furs for a good price, and now Johnnie had plenty of money and was having what he termed a glorious good time, spending from ten to forty dollars a day.

After I had settled up with Col. Bent and Mr. Roubidoux I went to Taos with the determination that I would take it easy the balance of this season.

Col. Bent offered to bet me a horse that I would not stay in Taos one month. He told me that if I would go to Taos and rest up a month and return to the fort and hunt for them the balance of the season he would make me a present of a better horse than the other one he gave me, but I told him that he was mistaken, and that he never owned a better horse than Pinto. I knew that Pinto was getting old and had had many a hard day's ride, but I could get on him to-morrow morning after breakfast, and be in Taos before sundown, which was a distance of eighty miles. I made a bargain with them to return to the fort in a month from that time and hunt for them until something else turned up.

On my arrival at Taos I found Jim Bridger stopping with Uncle Kit, and he made me a proposition that we go and stop with the Kiowa tribe that winter and buy furs and buffalo robes. I agreed to that provided that Col. Bent and Mr. Roubidoux would agree to buy the furs and robes of us. They were the only traders in that country since Joe Favor had retired from business.

In one month I returned to the fort as per contract and started in hunting.

There was so much stock around the fort that I had to go from ten to twenty miles to find deer, and sometimes further to find buffalo.

After I had hunted about three weeks Jim Bridger came over to try to make a bargain with the company in regard to buying furs and buffalo robes.

Up to this time the Kiowa had not traded any at this fort. In fact, there had been but little trading done among them, yet they were in the heart of the buffalo country in the fall of the year, being located on the Arkansas river, one hundred miles west from the Big Bend. We made a bargain to work for Bent and Roubidoux by the month, they to furnish us.

They thought the best plan would be to buy a load of robes and return with it, and then go back again, for by so doing we would not have to run chances of being robbed by other tribes as we would by waiting until spring to pack over to the fort.

We started about the first of November for the Kiowa village, with thirty-two pack-horses and a Mexican boy to help us. This was just the time of year that the buffalo were moving south for the winter, and they travel much slower and are much harder to frighten than in the spring when they are traveling the other way.

I attributed this to their being so much fatter in the fall of the year, for in the fall one would never see a poor buffalo except it was either an old male or one that had been crippled; and their hides are much more valuable than those taken off in the spring.

On arriving at the village we found that the Indians had a new chief, whom neither of us were acquainted with. His name was Blackbird. The old chief, Black Buffalo, who fed us on dog meat when we were on our way from St. Louis to Taos, ten years before, having died, Blackbird was appointed in his place, and we found him to be a very intelligent Indian. He said his people were glad to have us come among them and that they would be pleased to trade with us.

We stayed there about two weeks before offering to buy a hide or fur of them, but would show our goods quite frequently in order to make them anxious, and by doing so we would be able to make a better bargain with them.

After staying there about two weeks we told the chief that on a certain day we would be ready to trade with his people, putting the date off about one week.

When the day arrived the Indians came in from all quarters to trade furs and robes, bringing from one to one dozen robes to the family. The squaws brought the robes, and the bucks came along to do the trading, and we got many a first-cla.s.s robe for one string of beads, which in St. Louis would cost about ten cents. We traded for enough furs in one day to load our entire pack-train of thirty-two horses.

The next morning we loaded up our furs and pulled out, telling the chief that we would be back in one moon--meaning in their language, one month--which would keep us busy, it being about four hundred miles to Bent's Fort, and as we were heavily loaded we would have to travel slow. The Mexican boy would ride ahead and the pack horses would follow him, while Jim and I brought up the rear. We experienced no trouble in getting all the buffalo meat we wanted, for those beasts were quite tame at this season of the year, and they would often come near our camp. So near, in fact, that we could sit in camp and kill our meat.

Upon our arrival at the fort Col. Bent and Mr. Roubidoux were well pleased with the success of the trip, and we at once started back after the second load. We found more furs and robes there awaiting our arrival than we could load on our horses. In all we made four trips that winter, and Col. Bent told me some time afterward that they cleared a thousand dollars on each cargo.

When spring came Jim Bridger and I went to Taos and visited Uncle Kit for about a month.

This was now the spring of 1859 and the excitement over the gold mines around Pike's Peak was running high. We all knew where Pike's Peak was, for any day when it was clear we could see it very plainly from Bent's Fort or Taos, but we did not know just where the mines were. Jim proposed that we take a trip out there and see about the mines. So we talked the matter over until I was finally attacked with that disease which was then known as "the gold fever."