There is a raging storm wailing through the tree-tops.  The howling of the wolves is heard as, in fierce and hungry packs, they roam through these uninhabited wilds.  Carson, reclining upon his couch, in perfect health and unfatigued, caresses the faithful dog, which clings to his side, as he looks out upon the scene and listens to the storm.  What is there which the chambers of the Metropolitan hotel can afford, which the hardy mountaineer would accept in exchange?

Slowly our party of trappers ascended the river, gathering many furs on their way.  It was an unexplored region, and they could never tell what scene the next mile would open before them.  One morning as they were turning the majestic bend of a ravine, they came upon a beautiful little meadow, where the mountains retired for nearly a quarter of a mile from the stream, and where the waters of the river flowed gently in a smooth, untroubled current.  They were ascending the river which flowed down from the south.  A beautiful vista was opened before them of green valleys and gentle treeless eminences, while far away in the distance rose towering mountains.

Upon this lovely meadow there was a large village of Flathead Indians.  Their conical lodges, constructed of skins, were scattered thickly around, while the smoke of their fires curled gently through an opening in the top of each lodge.  Children were playing upon the greensward, shooting their arrows, throwing their javelins, and engaged in sundry other barbaric sports.  A party of the Indians had just returned from a hunting expedition laden with game.  Warriors and women were scattered around in small groups, discussing the events of the day and preparing for a great feast.  Young Indian girls, of graceful form, looked very attractive in their picturesque attire of fringed buskined leggins and glittering beads.

Kit Carson at once recognized these Indians as his friends, the Flatheads.  They knew him and gave him and his comrades a cordial greeting.  O, the blessings of peace!  How many are the woes of this world which are caused by man’s inhumanity to man.  The trappers were led by their Indian friends, with smiling faces and kind words, into their lodges, and shared with them in a thanksgiving feast.

Mr. Carson was endowed with unusual facility in the acquisition of languages.  He could converse fluently in Spanish and French, and it was stated that he also understood some ten Indian dialects.  With the Flatheads he was quite at home.  After a few days, spent in this hospitable village, it was deemed expedient to seek winter quarters.  Several of the chiefs accompanied them.  They accordingly left the head waters of the Missouri, and crossed the Rocky mountains in a southerly direction, about two hundred miles, till they reached the Big Snake river.  It will be remembered that this stream, flowing from the western declivities of the mountains, is the most important tributary of the Columbia river.  Here the winter passed very pleasantly away without any incident which calls for record.  Rather an unusual quantity of snow fell.  But the trappers were warmly housed, with ample clothing and abundant fuel.