Part 13 (1/2)
The horses belonging to the Expedition broke down, one by one, until at last, the chase had to be given over, after which the Indians made short work in getting out of sight. Among the trinkets and baggage found in the captured camp, there was a novel which described Kit Carson as a great hero who was able to slay Indians by scores. This book was shown to Kit and was the first of the kind he had ever seen.
After glancing at it he made the remark, ”that perhaps Mrs. White, to whom it belonged, knowing he lived not very far off, had prayed to have him make his appearance and a.s.sist in freeing her. He wished that it might have been so, but consoled himself by thinking that he had performed his duty.” While on their route back to Taos, the command was overtaken by a terrible snow storm which was accompanied by a high wind; as there were no hills to break its force, it amounted almost to a tornado. The snow was driven with such force into the men's faces that they became nearly blind, and were bewildered as to the course they should travel. During its continuance, they wandered about on the prairies. Finally they were so fortunate that at last they reached a clump of timber in the neighborhood of _Las Vegas_ in New Mexico; but, during the tramp, one man had been frozen to death and others had come near to peris.h.i.+ng.
After arriving in the settlements; the party learned from some friendly Indians, that the Apaches had suffered severely by being exposed to this same storm, and the report was that many of them had since died in consequence thereof. From this, it would appear as if an all seeing power had protected the whites, while it had dealt out a fearful judgment upon these wicked savages, who have more than vague ideas of the sin of murdering, in cold blood, innocent people, sages and philanthropists far distant and safe in great cities to the contrary notwithstanding. There are no set of men in the world who can draw the line between right and wrong based on its first principle, and taught to them by the great lessons of nature, as can many tribes of Indians. Among themselves, and especially among their individual bands, in regard to all crimes, the Indian has his moral code of laws which, in many respects, is not surpa.s.sed by those of his pale-faced brother. They have their civil chief who is responsible for the peace and good order of the camp; and, before him, are tried, by the lawyers of the tribe, all cases worthy of notice. If the parties are found guilty, the offender or offenders are summarily dealt with--therefore, ”with his untutored mind,” in his intercourse with white men, the Indian is not altogether excusable in committing crime.
There are many people who believe that the Indians, as a race, have been greatly sinned against, and to sustain their views, have called in the a.s.sistance of flowery-written romances and the high-sounding language of prose and poetry. Much of this novelty and interest rubs off by coming in contact with the savage as he really exists.
Admiration often changes, in this case, into distrust and even enmity.
It is natural that this should be so, for mere book-education biases the mind always, either for or against, and therefore, it is not strange that in the far West, we should often meet with men who unhesitatingly declare that the red man, if capable, is unwilling to entertain in his character even one redeeming trait; but, on investigating their individual case, we find that they are but superficial observers who are p.r.o.ne to find fault with everything that does not exactly suit their tastes. It is necessary to spend a whole life with Indians, in order to judge them without prejudice. The Great Spirit has endowed his red children with reason, the same in quality as possessed by any other race, but their habits, mode of life and experience is of such a kind, that, when taken, as a whole, they are truly original. Looking upon this cla.s.s of people, either in the light of an enthusiast or as a detractor, cannot be otherwise than wrong; for, as is usually the case, the truth lies between the extremes.
To be caught in one of these winter storms on the plains is a very serious affair; and one only needs to have been through a fearful gale on the seas to render him dubious of which to choose. To the faint heart, death seems inevitable in either case; and, to such a one, a choice between a watery grave or a bed of snow, when hunger and cold are his attendants while life is gradually ebbing out, is a question in which the contrast appears small. During many of the winter months, a life on the prairies becomes a necessity to the frontiersman and not a pleasure. The force and power of the winds on the level earth of the far West, are beyond human imagination. The snow storms there, at the proper period of the year, are terrific in their grandeur. The quant.i.ty of the snow that falls is not so much a matter of notice as the force with which it comes, being almost blinding in its effects and requiring all the physical powers of both man and beast to meet and contend against it. It but seldom happens, during one of these seasons, that the roads are so blocked up by snow that human ingenuity cannot overcome the obstacle; for the wind drifts the snow, rendering the path clear at intervals which vary in their area. The poor mail parties are the ones who experience this undesirable life; and, in their attempts to make their journeys, they are often driven near to death's door, although every precaution is taken to make the transit safe. The mules of these parties are well protected with india rubber coverings which are lined with blankets, and, so snugly are they made to fit every available part of the animal, that it seems almost impossible for cold to touch them. Corn and fodder, to a limited extent, is transported; but, even with these precautions, the mules now and then succ.u.mb to cold. The man covers his body with warm clothing and carries with him furs and robes enough to be seemingly able to defy the storms. He can provide himself only with a scanty amount of fuel, for his means of conveyance are very contracted. When overtaken by the storms, which may last several days, he is rendered almost powerless, and is at the tender mercies of the gale; for he cannot make fires,--and without them he may perish. This is not true of every trip made across the plains during the winter, for, like on the ocean, the pa.s.sage may be frequently gone through with the encountering of but little real suffering. One thing in favor of making the journey in this season of the year is, the probability of not seeing an Indian. They, usually, during the cold months, stow themselves away in their, comparatively speaking, warm mountain retreats. In crossing the plains, small parties find the item of meeting Indians to be of considerable importance, as, even in the time of peace, they are very exacting and troublesome, demanding that provisions should be given them, by way of toll. To refuse is apt to bring down their ire, when they will usually help themselves to whatever suits their fancy. They are very partial to sugar, which, when they cannot say the word in English, they call ”Shoog.” If not understood, they make their wants known by the Indian sign of touching with the index finger the tip of the tongue, thereby indicating the sweetness of the article. Many of them come armed with a piece of paper, which testimonial of good behavior they have obtained from their agent or forced from some traveler. As they cannot read, it makes but little difference what is the sense of the writing so long as it is _bona fide_ penmans.h.i.+p. I once saw one of these doc.u.ments which the owner prized very highly, but, had he known the purport of his paper, he would have sighed for the scalp of his _kind friend_ who wrote it. The language was as follows: ”Crossing of the Arkansas,”
etc. ”The bearer, _Young Antelope_, is a good Indian and will not take anything out of his reach. This is to warn traders and travelers to beware of his race, breed, seed, and generation.” It was signed evidently with a fict.i.tious name, and answered the purpose for which it was intended, which was, to get rid of an ugly customer and to put strangers on their guard against the man who carried it.
On arriving at Taos, Kit Carson left this party and proceeded to Rayado, where he was, soon after, actively engaged in farming pursuits.
During the subsequent winter, a detachment of ten dragoons under the command of sergeant Holbrook was stationed at Rayado to protect the little settlement. In order that their animals might have the benefit of the good gra.s.s which was to be found in the mountains at a place where but little snow fell, the settlers established there a herder's ranche, posting two men there to look after and guard the property.
The cold months were pa.s.sed in peace and quiet, but, in the spring the marauding Apaches came, and, after wounding both of the herders, stole all the gentle animals, including both horses and mules. One of the wounded men made his way to Rayado, notwithstanding his injuries, and gave information of what had happened to himself and companion.
On learning these facts, Kit Carson, the dragoons and three of the settlers, immediately proceeded to the ranche. They arrived there just as the shades of night began to fall. Nothing could be attempted until the dawn of another day, consequently, a camp was ordered and duly arranged. As the first faint beam of light gilded anew the mountain tops, the party were up and moving. They soon found the trail made by the thieves and commenced a sharp pursuit. The pace at which they traveled became so rapid, that, at the distance of only twenty-five miles from the spot where they first struck the trail, the Indians were discovered moving on the prairie a long way in advance. There remained nothing but an open chase.
Orders were issued to accelerate even the hitherto rapid march. Each man resumed his exertions to put his horse to his best speed.
The chase was growing intensely exciting when four of the animals belonging to the pursuers gave out, completely ridden down. Their riders were the most unhappy of any of the party at this circ.u.mstance, for it precluded even the chances of engaging in the expected affray.
Leaving the four men behind, the remainder of the party pushed on in the pursuit, and every bound made by their horses brought them nearer to their foes. After several hours of this hard riding, they came near enough to the warriors to count their numbers. Their force consisted of twenty well armed and equipped Indians. They showed no fear of the party pursuing them, but clung to their stolen property with such pertinacity that they allowed themselves to be overtaken. A running fight was immediately commenced which became most exciting, as well as dangerous, to the partic.i.p.ants; but, all the more exciting because thus dangerous. The Indians were all skillful hors.e.m.e.n and fought with great dexterity. Their animals being comparatively fresh, in this respect they had the advantage. Notwithstanding this fact, the pursuing party administered to them a severe lesson. Five of the rascally Indians were killed and several wounded, while all of the stolen animals, with the exception of four, were overtaken and recaptured. The whole of this pursuit and the running fight which terminated so successfully was accomplished under the advice of Kit Carson. Each man in the pursuing party felt that the simple fact that Kit Carson's eagle eye and experienced hand watched and guided their movements was a guaranty of certain and ample success. Hence, the labor of the long chase and the demands upon their personal skill, activity and courage made by the necessities of the fight, were all met with that kind of readiness and determination which seldom fails to make the soldier invincible. Every man in that party knew well that an Indian chase with Kit Carson for a leader, meant fight and win success or die.
In referring to this adventure Kit Carson, when speaking of the gallant men who accompanied him, said, ”They all proved themselves to be men of the very best material.”
Unfortunately, two of this gallant party have since fallen by the hands of these same Apache warriors. One of these was Sergeant Holbrook, a brave man, a skillful soldier and a n.o.ble friend. He was one who adorned his profession of arms and who was an honor to the country whose uniform he wore. He was killed at the well known battle of Ceneguilla while bravely fighting against overwhelming odds. This battle was fought in New Mexico in the year 1854. In it, a company of United States dragoons were worsted and cut to pieces by a greatly superior force of these Indians who succeeded in drawing them into an ambuscade.
The other person referred to as having been since killed by this tribe of Apaches was a brave and experienced trapper, well known throughout the range of Indian depredations as a fearless and dangerous adversary. His name was William New. He was literally murdered at Rayado by these Apaches. This occurred only a few months after he had formed one of the party to pursue and recover the animals stolen from their ranche. When he was attacked, New was engaged tilling the soil on his own farm. The rascally Indians surrounded him before he became aware of their presence. Having an empty rifle with him, he succeeded, for some time, in keeping his a.s.sailants at bay, by pretending that the piece was loaded and pointing it at the foremost warrior as if he intended to fire it. The savages, however, finally discovered the truth and immediately made a rush upon him. A most desperate fight ensued, for William New, even thus defenceless, was not one who would yield up his life without a struggle. He made almost superhuman efforts to effect his escape, using the rifle as a club; wound after wound was given him in rapid succession in return for the desperate blows which he dealt with the rifle. His efforts, however, proved futile. Gradually the red blood was gathered from his body and drank up by the soil to which he looked for the sustenance of himself and family, until finally, he sank upon the ground fainting from its loss, literally covered from head to foot with frightful wounds. Thus died one more of the spa.r.s.e race of original mountaineers, now fast pa.s.sing away, bravely meeting the fate that has. .h.i.therto usually awaited this band of fearless men.
We again turn to the adventures of Kit Carson. On the fifth day of May, 1850, accompanied by an old mountaineer named Timothy Goodel, he started with fifty head of mules and horses for Fort Laramie. This fort is distant from Rayado, over five hundred miles. The object which the two men had in view was to trade their animals with the emigrants who were, at that time, thronging the overland route to California.
The journey was safely accomplished, Kit Carson and Goodel arriving at the fort, with their animals all in good condition, sometime in the following June. They remained here about one month disposing of their animals at good bargains.
A few rather amusing anecdotes have had their rise connected with this visit which Kit Carson made to Fort Laramie. Among several other incidents the following is somewhat laughable and seems to us worth relating. Among the line of emigrants then on the road, the report was circulated for some distance back that the famous Kit Carson was at the fort. The result was that every man, woman and child, as fast as they arrived at the fort, were eager to gratify their curiosity by a sight of the man whose name and exploits had already been the theme of many a conversation among them. If ever Yankee, or American, (which is the more appropriate term, we will not attempt to decide) inquisitiveness was exhibited, it certainly could be then seen at Fort Laramie. The large majority of those who were thus anxious to see the famous guide, were led astray by the descriptions which they had heard and read, and picked out some powerfully built trader who chanced to present himself, especially if the man was tastefully dressed in a hunting s.h.i.+rt, with buck-skin leggins, and whose appearance indicated ferocity. Of this kind of personages there were quite a number present at the fort. Usually they would accost the man whom they had thus selected. Sometimes, if their address was appropriate and the humor of the person accosted so inclined, they would get put right, but more frequently they were left to enjoy and cherish their mistake, or were made the subject of a joke. Among the rest there came along quite a rough looking individual fresh from the cane-brakes of Arkansas. He, also, was seeking to place his eyes upon Kit Carson. Accidentally, or intentionally, it matters not for the story, he was directed to the place where the _bona fide_ Kit Carson stood. His powerful frame and determined looks, as he put his inquiries, made those inquired of, apparently, cautious how they perpetrated a joke upon the Arkansas man. At last, standing face to face with Kit Carson, he thus interrogated him. ”I say, stranger, are you Kit Carson?” Being modestly answered in the affirmative, he stood a moment, apparently quite taken aback at beholding the short, compact and mild-looking man that stood before him. Evidently his beau ideal of the great mountaineer did not compare with the man whom he thus faced. This momentary hesitation resulted in the conviction that he was being deceived. The conviction, at last, took form in words. Rolling an immense quid of his beloved Indian weed from one cheek to its brother he said, ”Look 'ere _stranger_, you can't come that over me any how.
You ain't the kind of Kit Carson I am looking for.”
This was too much for Kit Carson to hear without treating the person addressed to his _beau ideal_ of Kit Carson, so suppressing a laugh, and a.s.suming a very meek expression of countenance, as if he was afraid to impose upon the Arkansas man, he quietly pointed to a powerfully built trader, who chanced to be pa.s.sing near by, dressed in true prairie style. The Arkansas emigrant followed around after the trader until, seemingly, he was perfectly satisfied, that he had, at last, found the famous person of whom he had heard so many wonderful stories narrated. After gazing at the man for some time, he departed, no doubt with one more perfect description of what sort of personage Kit Carson was.
From the time Kit Carson's name began to be heralded throughout the world up to the present date, impostors have presented themselves in various cities; and, acting on the credulity of the people, they have palmed themselves off as the individual of whom we write; but, from the perusal of this work, it can be seen how seldom the real Kit Carson has enjoyed the luxuries of civilized life. It is in this way, many persons have gathered wrong impressions concerning Kit Carson.
Within the past few years, a stranger one day presented himself in the quiet town of Taos, and, being a fellow of words, he soon let everybody there know his business, both past and present. In one of the princ.i.p.al stores of the town, there happened to be congregated a small party of friends, among whom was Kit Carson. They were talking of the important affairs of their section of country, when this strange individual entered. His familiarity with all things soon gave him an introduction; and, after a short conversation, a wag present was tempted, by the fellow's boasting, to quiz him. Addressing the traveler he asked, ”What part of the world, pray sir, do you come from?”
The answer was prompt.
”I k.u.m from the Cheyenne Nation. I've been living with them Injins fur several years. Indeed, I consider myself more of an Injin than a white man.”
The conversation then turned upon other matters. The fellow made some remarks which led the party to believe that he was entirely unacquainted with the Cheyenne Indians, or any other Indians. When he was apparently off of his guard, the wag resumed his questioning.
”I presume, stranger, you accompany the Cheyennes when they go out on war parties, as you say that you have turned warrior.”