nearing the Indian.  At the moment he discovered that the Indian had reached his cover and before he could take advantage of it, without relaxing his horse’s speed, he fired.  The ball from Carson’s rifle was so well directed that the Indian, as it struck him, gave one bound and then fell dead in his tracks.  At the same instant the rascal’s rifle went off with a sharp report, sending a bullet whizzing at some distance from the line of Carson’s approach.  The fact of the Indian’s rifle being fired at all is a sufficient explanation of what was his intent, had his career not been so suddenly cut short, thereby preventing its fulfillment.

The words of an old trapper are here very much to the point.  The author was, on a fitting occasion, questioning him in regard to Kit Carson’s capabilities with the rifle.  Said he:  “If a man has a serious quarrel with Kit Carson, he had better not let him get the first sight over his rifle; for, if he succeeds in this, his adversary is as good as dead.”

An intimate acquaintance and tried friendship with Kit Carson has, since then, repeatedly furnished occasions which have confirmed this trapper’s statement; although, in the first instance, a person will find it no easy task to render an altercation necessary, for Kit Carson holds his passions fully under control; and, besides, they are of a very conciliatory type.  No man will sooner shun a difficulty when justice, honor and necessity do not warrant strife.

The work of collecting the horses was soon accomplished, when Carson immediately commenced his journey back to the camp.  This he reached in safety, after overcoming a few minor difficulties caused by his charge; and, had the satisfaction of returning the six horses to Mr. Robidoux in as good condition as they were the night on which they were stolen; and, also, of informing him that there was one rascal less in the world to prey upon honest people.

This event served to interrupt the monotony and routine of winter camp duty, affording a basis for many a long yarn during the evening hours around the camp fires.  These trappers, especially whenever a green-eyed bundle of curiosity chances to seek their company, can spin yarns most wondrous.  The habits of the beaver and their remarkable instinct, form a fit subject for their active imagination.  It would doubtless add very much to the interest of these pages if we could set down a few of these anecdotes and tales for the general reader; but, the task would be hopeless as to its accomplishment.  To give them life and reality, they require all the surroundings of time, place and occasion; there should be the dark night; the wild whistling wind; the shaking tent with its covering of skins; the roasted venison, bear’s meat, or horse flesh; the rifles standing in the corners; the lamp of bear’s grease; in fine, all the similitude of camp life.  Then the wild stories of bear fightings, beaver intelligence, Indian deviltry, and hairbreadth escapes, become intensely real.  The auditor hangs upon each word which falls from the lips of the supposed sage orator with eager earnestness, while curiosity never becomes satisfied.