Four of the trappers, led by Kit Carson, undertook to cross this Rocky Mountain peak, and explore the valley beyond.  They mounted four horses, laden with their traps, and other articles essential for a short trapping excursion.  Probably the Indians, hidden in the distance, were with keen eyes watching every movement at the camp.  Carson and his companions had been absent but about four hours, and others of the party were dispersed in search of game, when a large band of Indians, mounted on fleet horses, with flaunting pennons, and hair streaming in the wind, and making the cliffs resound with their yells, succeeded in liberating a large number of the horses, and with their booty, rapidly disappeared down the winding glen.

This all took place in almost less time than it has required to describe it.  The hardihood and fearlessness of these hunters is signally manifest in the fact that four of these men instantly grasped their rifles, and springing upon four of the fleetest of their remaining horses, set out in pursuit of these savages, who outnumbered them ten to one.  The narrowness of the glen was such, that the pursuers had the decided advantage over the spoil-encumbered pursued.  They soon overtook them, and opened upon them a deliberate and deadly fire.  One warrior fell dead from his horse.  The others, imminently exposed to the same fate, with terror abandoned the drove they had captured, and soon disappeared in their rapid flight.  The horses were all regained, and with them the victorious party returned to the camp.  One of the men however was seriously wounded, having been struck by a bullet from one of the Indian warriors, several of whom were armed with rifles.

In the meantime, Carson and his companions, after surmounting great difficulties, reached the valley they sought, and to their disappointment, found no beaver there.  Crossing the ridge had proved so difficult, that they decided to return by the more circuitous route of the two valleys.  As they were riding along on their pathless way, they suddenly came upon four Indian warriors, evidently on the war-path; painted, plumed and armed in the highest style of military decoration.  The four Indians instantly turned their horses and fled.  The four trappers at once spurred on their steeds, and pursued them.

They were dashing on at their highest speed, when suddenly they found they had been led into an ambush.  Sixty warriors came rushing upon them from behind the hill, where they had been concealed.  The trappers had no time for deliberation.  There was but one possible escape.  It was to run the gauntlet.  Bowing down to the necks of their horses, so as to expose their persons as little as possible to bullets or arrows, they urged their steeds to their utmost speed.  The horses had an instinctive dread of the Indian.  Sharing the alarm of their riders, they became frantic with terror, and needed no urging in their impetuous race.  The Indians were often within sixty feet of their victims, and bullets and arrows flew thickly around the trappers.  But both parties being on the fiercest run, and there being interposing obstacles of rocks, and shrubs, and trees, accurate aim was impossible.  As the fugitives drew near their camp, the Indians relinquished the pursuit.  One of the men had been struck by an arrow and wounded.