This was too much for Kit Carson to hear without treating the person addressed to his beau ideal of Kit Carson, so suppressing a laugh, and assuming a very meek expression of countenance, as if he was afraid to impose upon the Arkansas man, he quietly pointed to a powerfully built trader, who chanced to be passing near by, dressed in true prairie style.  The Arkansas emigrant followed around after the trader until, seemingly, he was perfectly satisfied, that he had, at last, found the famous person of whom he had heard so many wonderful stories narrated.  After gazing at the man for some time, he departed, no doubt with one more perfect description of what sort of personage Kit Carson was.

From the time Kit Carson’s name began to be heralded throughout the world up to the present date, impostors have presented themselves in various cities; and, acting on the credulity of the people, they have palmed themselves off as the individual of whom we write; but, from the perusal of this work, it can be seen how seldom the real Kit Carson has enjoyed the luxuries of civilized life.  It is in this way, many persons have gathered wrong impressions concerning Kit Carson.

Within the past few years, a stranger one day presented himself in the quiet town of Taos, and, being a fellow of words, he soon let everybody there know his business, both past and present.  In one of the principal stores of the town, there happened to be congregated a small party of friends, among whom was Kit Carson.  They were talking of the important affairs of their section of country, when this strange individual entered.  His familiarity with all things soon gave him an introduction; and, after a short conversation, a wag present was tempted, by the fellow’s boasting, to quiz him.  Addressing the traveler he asked, “What part of the world, pray sir, do you come from?”

The answer was prompt.

“I kum from the Cheyenne Nation.  I’ve been living with them Injins fur several years.  Indeed, I consider myself more of an Injin than a white man.”

The conversation then turned upon other matters.  The fellow made some remarks which led the party to believe that he was entirely unacquainted with the Cheyenne Indians, or any other Indians.  When he was apparently off of his guard, the wag resumed his questioning.

“I presume, stranger, you accompany the Cheyennes when they go out on war parties, as you say that you have turned warrior.”

The reply was: 

“When they go out ’gainst t’other Injins, I do; but when they hunt white men’s hair, I am allowed to stay behind.  This was one of the stip’lations when I took a squaw and jined the tribe.”

“Oh ho! that is the way you manage!” exclaimed the wag.

“Yes! and I’ve bin the means of saving some scalps for my race too, fur the Injins believe in me, they do,” continued the fellow.

The wag resumed—­

“Perhaps, stranger, you have heard of Kit Carson.  It is said he is on the prairies somewhere, either dead or alive.”