“I drew away the blanket which served as a mattress, intending to kill the reptile, when to my astonishment it glided away making its escape into a small opening in the ground directly beneath my bed.  The whole matter was explained at once.  The snake had probably been out to see a neighbor; and getting home after I was asleep, felt a gentlemanly unwillingness to disturb me.  And, as I had taken possession of his dwelling he took part of my sleeping place, crawling under the blanket where he must have lain quietly by my side until I rolled over and disturbed him.  I can scarcely say that I slept much more that night, and even Carson admitted that it made him a little nervous.”

Kit Carson was not a garrulous man.  He was much more given to reflection than to talk, and he was never known to speak boastfully of any of his achievements.  It is the invariable testimony of all who knew him, that he was mild, gentle and unassuming, one of Nature’s noblemen.  While travelling he scarcely ever spoke.  Nothing escaped his keen eye.  His whole appearance was that of a man deeply impressed with a sense of the responsibility of his office.  He knew full well the treacherous character of the Indians, and that “the better part of valor is discretion.”

He had often seen men killed at night by an invisible foe.  From the impenetrable darkness which surrounded the camp fire, an arrow would come winged with death, piercing the heart of some mountaineer whose body was clearly revealed by the firelight.  Kit Carson would never thus expose himself.  He would always spread his blanket where the firelight would not reveal him.

“No, no boys,” he would say to his often reckless comrades, “you may hang around the fire if you will.  It may do for you, if you like it.  But I do not wish to have a Digger Indian slip an arrow into me when I cannot see him.”

A gentleman, who was guided over the plains by Kit, writes, “During this journey I have often watched Carson’s preparation for the night.  A braver man than Kit perhaps never lived.  In fact, I doubt if he ever knew what fear was.  But with all this he exercised great caution.  While arranging his bed, his saddle, which he always used as a pillow, was disposed in such a manner as to form a barricade for his head.  His pistols half cocked were placed above it, and his trusty rifle reposed beneath the blanket by his side, where it was not only ready for instant use but perfectly protected from the damp.  Except now and then to light his pipe, you never caught Kit, at night, exposing himself to the full glare of the camp fire.”

When on the march everything was conducted with military precision.  At the early dawn as Kit gave the signal to prepare to start, all were instantly in motion.  The mules were brought up; their packs were fastened firmly upon their backs, an operation which required much labor and skill.  The mules have a strange instinct which leads them to follow with a sort of fascination a white horse.  Thus generally a white horse or mare leads the cavalcade.