We infer from the brief narrative that is given that Kit Carson was the bearer of this Indian flag of truce.  He was the friend of both parties.  He was alike regarded by both as eminent for his wisdom and his sense of justice.  He met the Sioux chiefs in council.  After long deliberation, they consented to retire from the Comanches’ hunting-ground at the close of the then season, and never to molest them more.

Carson returned to the Comanches with this announcement, and persuaded them to accede to the terms.  Thus a dreadful Indian war was averted.

Among some of these tribes Kit Carson found a beautiful and unusually intelligent Indian girl, whom he married, and took to his home in the fort.

It is the undisputed testimony of all who knew him, that he was a man of unspotted purity of character in his domestic relations.  By this wife, Mr. Carson had one child; a daughter.  Not long after the birth of this child, the mother died.  The father watched over the motherless infant with the utmost tenderness.  As she emerged from infancy to childhood he removed her to St. Louis.  Here he found the funds he had so carefully invested very valuable to him.  He was able liberally to provide for all her wants, to give her as good an education as St. Louis could afford, and to introduce her to the refining influences of polished society.  She was subsequently married and removed with her husband to California.

Sixteen years had now elapsed since Kit Carson left the log cabin of his father, in the then wilds of Missouri, for the still wilder regions of mountaineer life.  Referring to this period, he says: 

“During sixteen years my rifle furnished almost every particle of food upon which I lived.  For many consecutive years, I never slept under the roof of a house, or gazed upon the face of a white woman.”

He now, very naturally, began to long to visit the home of his childhood, and to witness some of the scenes of progressive civilization, rumors of which often reached him in the forest.  Messrs. Bent and Vrain were in the habit of sending once a year a train of wagons to St. Louis, to transport their skins and to obtain fresh supplies.  It was a journey of about six hundred miles.  There was a wagon trail, if we may so call it, leading circuitously over the vast and almost treeless intervening plains.  The route led along the river valleys, following the windings of streams, and conducting to fords near their head waters.  Sometimes they came to swampy regions, sometimes to deep gulleys, sometimes to desert plains.  But throughout all this wide expanse there were no mountain ranges to obstruct their path.

It was in the spring of the year 1842, that Mr. Carson, as a gentleman passenger, joined one of these caravans.  The little daughter, of whom we have spoken, was then six or seven years of age.  It was one object of his journey to place her at school, at St. Louis, where she could enjoy the advantages of a refined and Christian education.  We have no record of the incidents of this journey, which was probably uneventful.  The old Indian trail had become quite a passable road for wagons.