Of the three men killed, the one by the name of Lajeunesse was the most regretted, for he had been with Fremont on his previous expeditions, and had won the admiration and confidence of his commander and companions.  In a small company of men, such as these expeditions were composed of, where every member becomes intimately known and admired by his companions, the loss of one would be greatly felt; but, when three such were thus suddenly taken, it caused a gloom to be cast over the remainder, not easily to be dispelled.  The only consolation left to the living was, that they had been instrumental in saving Lieutenant Gillespie and his four companions; therefore, in sacrificing their comrades, they had saved more lives than had been lost.

There were no more thoughts of sleep in this camp for that eventful night; but instead, the men selected positions behind neighboring trees and fallen logs, and were ready to receive the enemy should they see fit to visit them again.

The Indians, however, as Kit Carson predicted, had come to the wise conclusion not to attempt so unsatisfactory a business as another attack, for the grey light of the following day came without their reappearance.  Before the sun had fairly risen, Fremont had broken up this camp, which had become odious to the men from its unpleasant associations.  With their packs, and with the bodies of their dead companions, the party started to find their rear guard.  They had proceeded about ten miles on their journey, when, by unanimous consent, they resolved to halt and inter the remains, which they had wished to carry until they united their forces, so that all could participate in the funeral rites; but, the woods through which they were traveling were very thick, and already the bodies had become greatly disfigured, on account of their frequently striking against the trees, as they were fastened on the backs of three animals.

Slowly and sadly, in that dense forest, hundreds of miles from their nearest countrymen, was this funeral procession formed.  A spot was selected on one side of the main trail, at a distance of about one half mile, where a rude grave was dug, and, wrapped in their blankets, in the same common house, were deposited all that remained of these three brave men.  An observer of these obsequies, would have seen the lips of daring men, now and then, giving spasmodic twitchings; eyes swimming in tears, and a silence and solemnity that bespoke the truest kind of grief.  Among that party, such a one would have been sure to have marked out the countenance of Kit Carson; for, engraven on it were the throes which were troubling his kind heart on being thus obliged to separate from old friends.  Not a man left that grave, but who resolved, secretly and silently, to make these dastardly Indians suffer for the lives they had thus wantonly taken.  In fact, they felt it an imperative duty they yet owed to their departed comrades; who, if they but stood in their places, would have sworn to be avenged; hence, the reader must not judge them harshly if they nourished these feelings.