After crossing the Platte a little below where Denver now stands, we met about five hundred Kiawah Indians, led by their old chief.  The Kiawas were friendly to us, and the chief was a particular friend of Jim.  He wanted to trade for some of our beaver traps.  He kept bidding until he offered two horses for one trap.  Jim refused to trade, but he made the chief a present of a trap.  After Jim refused to take the horses, a young squaw came running out and offered to give me as fine a buffalo robe as I ever saw; I was in the act of taking it and was congratulating myself on what a fine bed I would have that winter when Jim said, “Will, don’t take that.  There is more stock on that robe than we can feed this winter.  Open the hair and look for yourself.”

I did so, and I saw the Grey Backs all through the hair as thick as they could crawl.  I had never seen such a sight before, and the reader can imagine my horror.  I dropped it so quick that Jonnie West laughed and asked me if it burnt me.  The boys had the joke on me the balance of the winter.  Most every day they would ask me if I didn’t want a present of a Buffalo robe from a young squaw.

A few days after this, we were on our trapping ground, and our winter’s work of toil, hardship, and pleasure had begun.  We soon had our cabin built in a little valley, which was from a half mile to a mile wide and about eight miles long.  On each side of the valley were high cliffs.  In places there was a half a mile or more where neither man or beast could climb these cliffs, and we were surprised later on to see the quantity of game of various kinds that came into this valley to winter, such as Elk, Deer, and Antelope.  I never, before or since, have seen so many Wild Cats, or Bob Cats, as they were called at that time, and also some cougars.

I remember one little circumstance that occurred later on; it was about the middle of the afternoon; we had all been to our traps and had returned to the cabin with our furs.  Jim said, “Will, we will stretch your furs if you will go and shoot a deer for supper.”

This suited me, so I took my gun and went outside the door to clean it.  Just as I had got through, Jonnie West looked out and said, “Look, Will, there is your deer now; you won’t have to hunt him.”

I looked, and sure enough, there he was, in about a hundred yards of the cabin.  Jim Bridger fired at him and knocked him down, but he got up and ran into a little bunch of brush.  I ran to the spot, thinking he was only wounded and that I should have to shoot him again.  When I reached the brush, to my surprise, I found five big wildcats, and they all came for me at once.  I fired at the leader, and then I did some lively running myself.  As soon as I got out of the brush, I called the boys, and we got the cats, the whole of the bunch, and the deer besides, which had not been touched by the cats.

We skinned the cats, and Jim afterwards made a cap out of one of them, and he wore it for several years.