cause of their wishing to have his scalp.  Never,” said he, “to his knowledge had he been guilty of any wrong to their tribe; that, on the contrary, there were braves among those present, who, if they turned to their memories, would recognize his face as that of an old friend in years gone by, and who could testify to the many acts of kindness which he had performed in their behalf.”  He reminded them “how that, even now, he had received them into his camp and treated them with all the hospitality in his power; and yet they persisted in repaying him by taking his life.”  In the end, he wound up his discourse by giving peremptory orders for them to leave his camp, and should any one refuse, he would be shot.  The Indians were completely nonplused, and not feeling inclined to risk a fight without their usual accompaniment of a surprise, after saying something about returning, to which they were answered “that if they did they would be received by a volley of bullets,” they departed to join their friends who were in swarms upon the neighboring hills.  It is supposed that a grand council was called, in which the proceedings that had transpired in the camp of the white men were fully reported, and perchance, many of the braves, in refreshing their memories, began to recollect some of the daring deeds which Kit Carson had performed when he lived in their country.  This, doubtless, led them to the conclusion that they had caught an experienced traveler; for, certain it was, that afterwards their actions became somewhat disconcerted and not so rash as they had been.  No sooner had the savages retired from the camp, than Kit Carson ordered his men to harness their animals to the wagons so that they could resume their journey.

As the train moved on, the Indians were once more left behind, although they had, by no means, formed the idea of allowing the white men to depart in peace.  They were busy concocting some scheme whereby they could accomplish their ends without loss to themselves.  The muleteers, as they walked beside their teams, by order of Kit Carson held in one hand their rifles, while in the other were their whips, which, from time to time, they were obliged to apply freely to their animals in order to keep the caravan in compact order.  Mounted on a fine horse, with his rifle and pistols so adjusted that he could lay his hands on them at a moment’s notice, Kit Carson rode from one end of the line to the other, inspiring his men with his own courage.  He felt that upon him was rested the responsibility of saving the lives of his companions, and that it was to him they all looked to be rescued from the perils that surrounded them.  As he rode along, his eyes were busy scanning the prairies in every direction.  Now and then he rested from this duty as his mind became somewhat relieved, when he could discover nothing except bands of antelope, or, here and there, a hungry wolf, who, with his white, canine looking teeth, seemingly, spoke volumes of