The Life of Kit Carson Part 17

This proceeding on the part of the Indian Agent is one deserving of special notice, for it shows no less the bravery of Carson than it does the philanthropic spirit which actuated him at all times in his dealings with the red men. Alas, that so few of our officials today deem his example worth their imitation.

The venture was so dangerous that Carson went alone, unwilling that any one else should run the risk. When he arrived at their encampment, he made his way without delay to the presence of the leaders, whom he saluted in the usual elaborate fashion, and then proceeded to state the important business that took him thither.

Nearly every warrior in camp recognized the short, thickset figure and the broad, pleasant face when they presented themselves. They knew he was one of the most terrible warriors that ever charged through a camp of red men. He had met them many a time in fierce warfare, but he always fought warriors and not papooses and squaws. He was the bravest of the brave and therefore they respected him.

But he was a truthful and just man. He had never lied to them, as most of the white men did, and he had shown his confidence in them by walking alone and unattended into the very heart of their encampment. They were eager to rend to shreds every pale face upon whom they could lay hands, but "Father Kit" was safe within their lodges and wigwams.

Carson made an admirable speech. He at first caused every serpent-like eye to sparkle, by his delicate flattery. Then he tried hard to convince them that their hostility to the whites could result only in injury to themselves, since the Great Father at Washington had hundreds and thousands of warriors whom he would send to replace such as might lose their lives. Then, when he made known that the same Great Father had appointed him to see that justice was done them, they grinned with delight and gathering around, overwhelmed him with congratulations.

The Agent insisted that they should prove their sincerity by pledging to follow the line of conduct he had lain down, and they did so with such readiness that a superficial observer would have declared the mission a complete success.

But Kit Carson thought otherwise. He knew the inherent treachery of the aboriginal nature, and his estimate of Apache loyalty was the true one. The most that he was warranted in feeling was the hope that those furious warriors would be less aggressive than had been their custom.

Though they had expressed a willingness to make any agreement which he might propose, yet it was their very willingness to do so which caused his distrust. Had they been more argumentative and more tenacious of their rights, their sincerity might have been credited.

The Agent could have secured their consent almost to any agreement, but the sagacious official asked as little as he could.

"And I don't believe they mean to keep even that agreement," he muttered, as he bade the effusive sachems and warriors goodbye and made his way back to Taos.

CHAPTER x.x.xV.

Trouble With the Apaches--Defeat of the Soldiers--Colonel Cook's Expedition Against Them--It Meets With Only Partial Success--Major Brooks' Attempt to Punish the Apaches--A Third Expedition.

Just as Carson suspected, the Apaches were insincere in their professions of good will toward the settlers. He had scarcely reached home, when they renewed their outrages. The sinewy hors.e.m.e.n, as daring as the Crusaders who invaded the Holy Land, seemed to be everywhere.

We have already referred to those extraordinary warriors, who, for many years have caused our Government more trouble in the southwest than all the other tribes combined, and it is not necessary, therefore, to say that when any branch of the Apaches went on the war path the most frightful scenes were sure to follow.

Carson knew when to be gentle and when to be stern. If the former measures failed, he did not hesitate to use the latter. Coercive means were taken, but, in the first encounter between the red men and the United States troops, the latter were decisively defeated.

As a consequence, the Apaches became more troublesome than ever. Colonel Cook of the Second Regiment of United States Dragoons, was sent against them. He selected Kit Carson for his guide. The Agent's wish, it may be said, was to learn whether any other tribe was concerned in the outrages, and in no way could he do it as well as by accompanying the expedition, which was fully organized by the selection of a number of Pueblo Indians to act as scouts and spies. These were placed under the immediate command of the well known James H. Quinn, who died some time later.

The force proceeded northward from Taos to the stream known as the Arroya Hondo. This was followed to the Rio del Norte, which being very high, was crossed with much difficulty. As an ill.u.s.tration of the rugged work which such expeditions were called upon to undergo, Dr. Peters says that when they struggled to the other sh.o.r.e, they found themselves confronted by a ma.s.s of solid and almost perpendicular rocks, fully six hundred feet high. This was ascended, after the most exhausting labor, by means of a zigzag trail, and the journey was pushed over a rough and diversified country. Gra.s.s and water could not be found until they reached a small Mexican town where they were enabled to buy what was so sadly needed. Men and animals were so worn out that they rested for an entire day.

The next morning the line of march was taken up, and they had not gone far when Carson discovered a trail. This was followed with renewed vigor and a couple of days later the Indians were overtaken. They did not attempt any stand against such a strong force, but took to flight at once. The Apaches used their utmost endeavors to get away and they were helped by the roughness of the country. They were pressed so hard, however, that they lost most of their horses and plunder besides a number of warriors.

Two Americans were wounded, one of whom shortly died; but the soldiers having "located" the Indians, as may be said, did not give over their efforts to punish them. Pursuit was resumed at earliest daylight and men and animals did everything possible. Over mountains, through ravines, around rocks, up and down declivities, the chase continued, until the cunning Apaches resorted to their old tricks: they dissolved, as may be said, into their "original elements"--that is, they began separating until there were almost as many different trails as there were warriors.

Then in their flight, they selected the worst possible ground. Being familiar with the country and possessing far more endurance than the ordinary Indian, it soon became clear that the marauders were beyond reach.

Accordingly Colonel Cook ordered the pursuit discontinued and they headed toward the nearest Mexican village, where forage and rest could be secured for the animals. When the place was reached, Colonel Cook learned of a serious mistake made by the party who were transporting the soldier wounded several days before. They discovered an Indian whom, after some difficulty, they captured. His horse and arms were taken from him under the supposition that he was one of the hostile Apaches. He was not treated very gently and watching his opportunity, he made his escape. It was afterwards learned that the warrior was a Utah, with whom the white men were at peace.

The Utahs were of a war-like nature and Colonel Cook was apprehensive they would use the occurrence as a pretext for joining the Apaches in their attack upon the settlers. He therefore sent Carson to the headquarters of his agency to do what he could to explain the matter and make all the reparation in his power.

As soon as he arrived at Taos, Carson sent a messenger with a request that the Utah chiefs would come and have a talk with him. They were always glad to meet Father Kit face to face. The agent told how the mistake was made, expressed the regret of himself and Colonel Cook and ended by restoring the property and by distributing a few presents among the chiefs. The business was managed with such tact that the sachems expressed themselves perfectly satisfied and their affection and admiration for Father Kit became greater than before.

Colonel Cook was unwilling to return without striking a more effective blow against the Apaches. Pausing only long enough, therefore, to rest and recruit his men and horses, he resumed the hunt. He had not gone far, when he struck another trail which was followed with great vigor; but before anything of the Indians could be discovered, it began snowing. In a few minutes the flakes were eddying all around them, the wind blowing so furiously that the men could hardly see each other, as they bent their heads and rode slowly against it. This rendered pursuit out of the question, because the trail was entirely hidden. Much against his will Colonel Cook was forced to give up the pursuit.

He made his way to a small town lying on his route, where he met Major Brooks, who was marching to his help with reinforcements. The latter officer instead of returning with Colonel Cook, decided to take up the hunt himself for the hostiles.

With little delay, a fresh trail was found and an energetic pursuit began. It was plain the Indians were making for the Utah country, and they were pursued without difficulty; but, when that section was reached, the soldiers came upon so many trails, which crossed and recrossed so many times that all individuality was lost. The most skilful scouts in the company were unable to identify or follow any one with certainty.

The situation was exasperating, but there was no help for it and the command was compelled to turn about and make their way home, having been in the field more than two weeks without accomplishing anything at all.

But it was known that the Apaches would speedily reorganize and the soldiers had but to wait a short while, when an opportunity would be presented for striking an effective blow. When a sufficient period had elapsed, another expedition was sent out under the command of Major Carleton, of the First Regiment of United States Dragoons. He engaged Kit Carson to act as his guide.

The force marched northward about a hundred miles to Fort Ma.s.sachusetts, where all the arrangements were completed. The party was divided, the spies under Captain Quinn being sent to examine the country on the west side of the White Mountains, while the Major decided to inspect the territory to the eastward of the range.

Captain Quinn with his skilful trailers moved up the San Luis Valley until he reached the famous Mosco Pa.s.s, which was often used by the Apaches when hard pressed. They were perfectly familiar with all its diverse and peculiar windings, and, when they once dashed in among the rocks, they felt safe against any and all pursuers.

Making their way through this pa.s.s, Captain Quinn and his scouts reached Wet Mountain Valley, where he had promised to meet and report to his superior officer.

CHAPTER x.x.xVI.

Discovery of the Trail--Prairie Detectives.

Meanwhile, Kit Carson, who was with Major Carleton, had discovered a trail made by three of the enemy. Carefully following it up, it was found to join the princ.i.p.al path, a short distance away. When Quinn arrived he had also some discoveries to report, and the scouts held a consultation over the question. It was agreed by all that they were on the track of the enemy they were seeking.

The general reader is not apt to appreciate the skill, patience and intelligence shown by the scouts and hunters in tracing the flight of an enemy through a wild and desolate country. As an evidence of the wonderful attainments of border men in woodcraft, the following letter may be given, written by the surgeon at Fort Randall in Dacotah in 1869:

"The most extraordinary skill that is exhibited in this part of the country, either by the white man, or red native, is in the practice of trailing. Here it may be accounted an art as much as music, painting or sculpture is in the East. The Indian or trapper that is a shrewd trailer, is a man of close observation, quick perception, and prompt action. As he goes along, nothing escapes his observation, and what he sees and hears he accounts for immediately. Often not another step is taken until a mystery that may present itself in this line is fairly solved. The Indian trailer will stand still for hours in succession, to account for certain traces or effects in tracks, and sometimes gives to the matter unremitting attention for days and weeks.

"The trailer is not a graceful man. He carries his head much inclined, his eye is quick and restless, always on the watch, and he is practising his art unconsciously, hardly ever crossing the track of man or animal without seeing it. When he enters a house, he brings the habits he contracted in the practice of his art with him. I know a trailer as soon he enters my room. He comes in through the door softly, and with an air of exceeding caution. Before he is fairly in, or at least has sat down, he has taken note of every article and person. Though there may be a dozen vacant chairs in the room, he is not used to chairs, and, like the Indian, prefers a more humble seat. When I was employed by General Harney last summer to take charge temporarily of the Indians that were gathered here to form a new reservation, one day a guide and trailer came into the General's headquarters. I told him to be seated. He sat down on the floor, bracing his back against the wall. The General saw this, and in vexation cried out, 'My G.o.d, why don't you take a chair when there are plenty here not occupied?' The man arose and seated himself in a chair, but in so awkward and uncomfortable a manner that he looked as if he might slip from it at any moment. But when this uncouth person came to transact his business with the General, he turned out to be a man of no ordinary abilities. His description of a route he took as guide and trailer for the Ogallalas in bringing them from the Platte to this place was minute, and to me exceedingly interesting. Every war party that for the season had crossed his trail, he described with minuteness as to their number, the kinds of arms they had, and stated the tribes they belonged to. In these strange revelations that he made there was neither imposition nor supposition, for he gave satisfactory reasons for every a.s.sertion he made.

"I have rode several hundred miles with an experienced guide and trailer, Hack, whom I interrogated upon many points in the practice of this art. Nearly all tracks I saw, either old or new, as a novice in the art, I questioned him about. In going to the Niobrara River crossed the track of an Indian pony. My guide followed the track a few miles and then said, 'It is a stray, black horse, with a long, bushy tail, nearly starved to death, has a split hoof of the left fore foot, and goes very lame, and he pa.s.sed here early this morning.' Astonished and incredulous, I asked him the reasons for knowing these particulars by the tracks of the animal, when he replied:

"'It was a stray horse, because it did not go in a direct line; his tail was long, for he dragged it over the snow; in brushing against a bush he left some of his hair which shows its color. He was very hungry, for, in going along, he has nipped at those high, dry weeds, which horses seldom eat. The fissure of the left fore foot left also its track, and the depth of the indentation shows the degree of his lameness; and his tracks show he was here this morning, when the snow was hard with frost.'

"At another place we came across an Indian track, and he said, 'It is an old Yankton who came across the Missouri last evening to look at his traps. In coming over he carried in his right hand a trap, and in his left a la.s.so to catch a pony which he had lost. He returned without finding the horse, but had caught in the trap he had out a prairie wolf, which he carried home on his back and a bundle of kinikinic wood in his right hand.' Then, he gave his reasons: 'I know he is old, by the impression his gait has made and a Yankton by that of his moccasin. He is from the other side of the river, as there are no Yanktons on this side. The trap he carried struck the snow now and then, and in same manner as when he came, shows that he did not find his pony. A drop of blood in the centre of his tracks shows that he carried the wolf on his back, and the bundle of kinikinic wood he used for a staff for support, and catching a wolf, shows that he had traps out.' But I asked, 'how do you know it is wolf; why not a fox, or a coyote, or even a deer?' Said he: 'If it had been a fox, or coyote or any other small game he would have slipped the head of the animal in his waist belt, and so carried it by his side, and not on his shoulders. Deer are not caught by traps but if it had been a deer, he would not have crossed this high hill, but would have gone back by way of the ravine, and the load would have made his steps still more tottering.'

"Another Indian track which we saw twenty miles west of this he put this serious construction upon: 'He is an upper Indian--a prowling horse thief--carried a double shot gun, and is a rascal that killed some white man lately, and pa.s.sed here one week ago; for,' said he, 'a lone Indian in these parts is on mischief, and generally on the lookout for horses.

He had on the shoes of a white man whom he had in all probability killed, but his steps are those of an Indian. Going through the ravine, the end of his gun hit into the deep snow. A week ago we had a very warm day, and the snow being soft, he made these deep tracks; ever since it has been intensely cold weather, which makes very shallow tracks.' I suggested that perhaps he bought those shoes. 'Indians don't buy shoes, and if they did they would not buy them as large as these were, for Indians have very small feet.'

"The most noted trailer of this country was Paul Daloria, a half breed, who died under my hands of Indian consumption last summer. I have spoken of him in a former letter. At one time I rode with him, and trailing was naturally the subject of our conversation. I begged to trail with him an old track over the prairie, in order to learn its history. I had hardly made the proposition, when he drew up his horse, which was at a ravine, and said, 'Well, here is an old elk track. Let us get off our horses and follow it.' We followed it but a few rods, when he said, it was exactly a month old, and made at 2 o'clock in the afternoon. This he knew, as then we had our last rain, and at the hour named the ground was softer than at any other time. The track before us was then made. He broke up here and there cl.u.s.ters of gra.s.s that lay in the path of the track, and showed me the dry ends of some, the stumps of others, and by numerous other similar items accounted for many circ.u.mstances that astonished me.

We followed the trail over a mile. Now and then we saw that a wolf, a fox, and other animals had practised their trailing instincts on the elk's tracks. Here and there, he would show me where a snake, a rat, and a prairie dog had crossed the track. Nothing had followed or crossed the track that the quick eye of Daloria did not detect. He gave an account of the habits of all the animals that had left their footprints on the track, also of the state of the weather since the elk pa.s.sed, and the effect of sunshine, winds, aridity, sand storms, and other influences that had a bearing on these tracks."

CHAPTER x.x.xVII.

The Pursuit and Attack--Two O'clock.

When Kit Carson and the other scouts found the main trail, they eagerly took up the pursuit. They had not gone far when all doubt was removed: they were upon the track of a large hostile body of warriors and were gaining steadily; but so rapid was the flight of the marauders that it was not until the sixth day that the first glimpse of the Indians was obtained. They were encamped on a mountain peak, devoid of trees, and seemingly beyond the reach of danger; but such was the energy of the attack that they reached camp before the Indians could collect their animals and make off. The fight was a hot one for a few minutes during which quite a number of warriors were killed and wounded.

When night came a squad of men hid themselves near the camp, from which the Indians had fled, in the expectation that some of them would steal back during the darkness to learn what had been done. The dismal hours pa.s.sed until near midnight, when one of the soldiers made the call which the Apaches use to hail each other. The sound had hardly died out, when two squaws and two warriors appeared and began groping silently around in the gloom. The soldiers were cruel enough to fire upon the party, but in the darkness only one was killed.