Kit Carson’s Gun

KIT CARSON'S GUN, BY SUSA YOUNG GATES. The low, western sun was gilding the great, green trees of the Sacramenlo valley in the fall of 1852, bringing up from the slow waters of the river a moist, cool air. The virgin forest stood silent, mysterious, and stealthy; the mass clusters of cedar and spruce were grouped in clean and regular lines, as if some titanic gardener had studied the effect of long stretches of green- sward, broken by irregular but neatly grown woods. The air was vibrant with the stillness which clacking insects and low-whistling birds carry on the wings of swift- flying night. Down a distant hillside four men padded swiftly, their moc- casined feet grown careless as to trace and tread for possible foe. The horses followed the travelers with weary, broken steps, for the day had been long, and the march had led through rocky defiles and rough passes. "Boys," called the leader of the party, a tall, wiry, gray- eyed man, *Ve have struck it rich now, and here we'll stay. Unload the bosses, hobble 'em and turn 'em out to feed. I reckon Henry an' me '11 go out and pick up a chicken for supper." They were men of few words, these trappers and pioneers, and so there was no comment made on the remark of Kit Carson. But they were in high spirits; they had found traces of Califor- nia's newly discovered gold on a creek the other side of the moun- tains, and now were hurrying to civilization with a few sacks of their precious find, to secure help, and to announce their discovery. The evening camp was soon made, and the two men left be- hind made somewhat merry over their simple preparations. "To think of Kit Carson turning miner, and huntin' for gold. I couldn't have believed it, if I hadn't see'd it myself," said the short man with the black, beetling eyebrows.

674 IMPROVEMENT ERA. "Huh," snorted the taller one, "yoii could believe most any- thing you see with them flap ears and short-sighted eyes of yourn. You could think 'twas mammy's baby cryin' when the mountain lion's on your track, and that redskins take afternoon naps. Oh yes, ye're a mighty innicint cuss, you be." And the huge shoul- ders shook with the ponderous imaginary joke he had evolved. "Kit Carson's no more love for gold 'n you have fer redskins. Its discoverin' what attracts Kit, that's all, pard." The men gathered wood, hobbled horses and covered their sacks of dust and provisions under their saddle blankets, while they got out the coffee-pot and began the primitive arrangements for supper. An hour later, the two hunters returned with plenty of sup- per material, and the simple meal was soon prepared. Hungry men eat rapidly, and there was little to do after the food had been disposed of. The men hunched up around the camp-fire to warm their chilled bones. The damp, moist air of the evening crept into their vitals and made the look and feel of the glowing, small fire a thing to gladden the eyes and cheer the b ody. "This fire is a leetle resky, " said Kit, as he pushed up his long feet to catch the warmth of the blaze; "but it's mighty comfortable. "Fraid o' Injuns?" asked the beetle-browed man, in a tone of voice which indicated that Indian meat would be sweeter to him than wild chickens. "Not exactly, " replied Kit; "but I'm not spilin' to see any redskins. This damp air has got right into my blood, and makes me feel sort o' cool- like." "Ain't affecting yer grit, is it, Kit?" asked the tall, blue- eyed traveler. Kit Carson turned a slow eye upon the questioner, while he fondled and cleaned the gun which had been his companion in many battles; then, without so much as a grunt in reply, he asked in his drawling voice, "Anybody got an Injun yarn thet we havn't heerd? Seems to me they are all pretty much of a sameness." The two older men smoked silently, neither having the mate- rial nor the disposition to turn story-teller. The young man, Hen- ry, sat silent a few minutes, then, with a half laugh, he said,

KIT CARSON'S GUN. 675 "Well, I hain't had much experience with Indians, but I was with a little squad of Utah men in the Sanpitch valley when we had an encounter with the redskins, and put 'em all to flight with- out firing a single shot." "How's that, Henry?" asked Kit, slowly withdrawing his pipe to fix his keen but quiet gaze on the young man across the fire. "It wa' n't much of a battle, but we won out all right," re- plied the youth. ' 'Three of us had been detailed to visit an old chief, Washakie, to try and stop the intermittent depredations made by his warriors on the settlers in that valley. We spent the day crawling cautiously along the banks of the Sevier river, trying to avoid any chance encounters with the Indians; for they were angry and quarrelsome just then, and we carried no guns, only a flag of truce. We were trailing along one hot summer af- ternoon when suddenly from the willows along the river sprang a dozen warriors, in full war-paint, and rigged up for battle. I tell you their war-whoop made my blood curdle in my veins although ' I've heard it often enough. But we wasn't expecting it at all. "That music gen'lly makes a man's nerves tingle," remarked the beetle-browed man, "expectin' or not expectin'." "We started to run our horses, in spite of ourselves, we was so taken aback. We might aknowed that they could run us down, for our cattle were all tired out. We tore across the country, anyway. Suddenly one of us thought of our flag of truce, and we flung out the white rag; but, bless your soul, they paid no more attention to it than as if 'twas a sheet of blank paper. There was just three of us,and about three times three of them, and we knowed, from the shrill of that cry o' theirn, that they meant business. So we galloped on. 'Twant no use. They soon caught up with us, and we turned round and faced 'em. "I jest wonder now how 'twas they didn't shoot us all down, but they soon showed that they was in for making us prisoners in- stead. "The leader of our squad was an elderly gentleman who had just returned from a trip 1 3 England. He was one of the digni- taries of the "Mormons," and he was to do the parleying with Washakie. Well, he was as pale as the rest of us, but he was game all right, and he sat on his boss as calm and quiet as ef 'twas

676 IMPROVEMENT ERA. a dress parade affair. I couldn't help lookin' at him, he was so imposing. He must have weighed three hundred pounds, and he was over six feet. The Indian? were evidently somewhat impressed also, but they gathered round us quick enough and slung them- selves off the hosses to bind and gag us, I reckon. "Just then, our leader began talking in a loud voice and pint- in' to the sky, and then to the earth, and then oratin' some more. I wondered if the fright had got into his head and addled his brains, he acted so queer. Maybe the Indians thought so, too, for they all stopped still and listened, yet they were still angry and never dropped their eyes from us. "The words jest rolled out of that big mouth of our leader, like claps o' thunder skirtin' the hill-tops. "I seen the Indians were gettin' restless, and that this horse-play wouldn't hold 'em off much longer, when the loud voice sunk to a blood-chilling whisper, and the big hands suddenly shot up to the big mouth, and out came a full set of false teeth set on a gold plate. "The Indians shrank back at this manifestation of bodily undo- ing, but in a moment they recovered themselves and again advanced. ' 'This time our big leader called out apparently to the spirits of the hills and of the flowing river. With a swift brush of his great hand, he dashed off his huge brown wig, and let the sinking sunbeams shine on his gleaming bald head. The redskins were so completely dashed in spirits by this new phenomenon that they slunk together and away from the man who could wield such su- pernatural power. But when this mighty man lifted up his right hand to heaven and in ringing tones appealed to the clouds, while with the other he pulled out a glass eye, the redskins made a bee line for the hills and left us too glad to even laugh." Kit Carson's low chuckle showed that he could appreciate the situation and the joke with evident gusto. The other men laughed and again laughed, as the picture of the dismayed and fleeing redskins came before their gaze. ''Come, boys, time to get a leetle rest," said Kit, as he drew himself up to full height and started to make the rounds of the nearby woods. In a very few moments he was back; and calling

KIT CARSON'S GUN. 677 quietly for all to gather round him, he told them that they were about to be attacked by Indians. Not one of the men doubted his statement, or even ques- tioned him as to the wherefore of his conclusions. But with bated breath, they listened to his instructions. "Every one must make up his blankets just as ef 'twas him- self lyin' there. Ye can put a log of wood in, or yer gold-dust sacks. Maybe ye bett'^r put both. Fix some as if lyin' flat, and some curled up. Every man hide behind a tree and we'll jest make a bit more fire, so's to fool them more, and to show us where to pick out our Injun. Don't git rattled, Henry, but pick yer man when they come in close, and shoot! My ammunition is mighty bw, I'm sorry to say; but mebbe we can fix 'em anyway." Without more words, the plan was carried into effect, and then they all crept behind a big tree to await results. The night wore away, and young Henry was getting a bit sleepy and doubt- ful. But a glance at his friend. Kit, showed him that the prac- ticed scout was on the keenest tension of watching. Suddenly the curdling war-whoop of the Indian slashed the quiet, cool air and sent shivers down more than one manly spine. But young Henry remembered the words of Kit, "Fight when ye 're 'fraid, thet's courage;" and he felt his blood settle away from his ears as he cocked his rifle. The Indians swung around the dim camp-fire, yelling and shooting the beds full of bullets. Suddenly, the other three men heard the shrill call of the night-bird, Kit's signal, and they fired into the yelling Indians around the fire with almost simultaneous effect. Wild with surprise and dismay, the redskins looked fiercely about. Four of their number were struggling in death agon- ies, and the others were confused and wavering; but the leader of the band, a huge fellow with a gleaming tomahawk, which he raised as he dropped his empty gun, spied into the shadows and saw Kit Carson loading his gun for a second dead Indian. With a low growl, he sprang to the tree which partly sheltered Kit, and so sudden was the onslaught that Kit's gun was only half-ready. But no redskin might equal that power in arm and eye which was na- ture's gift to the mighty hunter. Up dashed Kit's gun and, as

678 iMPBOVEMEm ERA. the chieftain sprang towards him, he slung it round his head once and brought the barrel down, crushing it into the skull of the great Indian with such deadly effect that the man fell without a sound, while Kit picked up his broken gun stock. The darkness and the unexpected stratagem had not only dis- mayed, but so terrified the savages, that they beat a hasty retreat. The four men quickly gathered their horses, finding one pack-horse missing. But they were too cautious to linger in the scene of dan- ger, so they rede swiftly out of the woods, and into the west. When they reached the roaring, pounding gold- camps, Kit bade good-by to his companions, for they had elected to get help and go back to their discovery in the mountains. "No," he said in answer to young Henry's question, "I won't stay long in this country. I don't like the damp, wet climate, nor the hordes of fighting, swearing whites. I shall go south. My money's gone, but I shall manage, ' With quick affection, the youth replied, "How much would see you through. Kit? I kept a little bit of the dust in a bag round my waist." Carson thought a moment, and then said, "Oh, I reckon about sixteen dollars would get me out of civilization." "Then wait." And drawing out his little pile, the young man measured with his eye just about that amount and pressed it on his friend. ' 'Well, Henry, if I must take this dust, I must leave you some- thing to show for it. You lost your gun that night on the Sacra- mento, and I have fixed up mine as good as new, nearly. So, if you'll take the gun, I'll take the dust." The broken gun had been spliced and woven with rawhide with the matchless woodman's skill belonging to Kit Carson, and a few like himself. With an exchange of property and a silent hand- shake, the two men parted forever. A year later, when Henry was again in Utah, he received a ])uet epistle from Kit Carson, enclosing the money he had bor- ro-^ed, and telling him to keep the old gun, as he had a new one, bul i;iever a better one. And so the old gun hangs over the man- tle in Henry's son's home today, a reminder of what was done and suffered by the pioneers who made this country. Salt Lake City, Utah.