Hunting the buffalo is a manly and interesting sport; and, as Kit Carson on this occasion engaged in it with successful results, it might be interesting to the general reader, and, in this place the unity of the narrative seems to require, a complete and practical description of the manner of taking the buffalo.  We have, however deferred this part of our duty to an occasion when Kit Carson had his friend John C. Fremont upon his first buffalo hunt.  We shall then permit the bold Explorer to tell the story of a buffalo hunt in our behalf.[11]

[Footnote 11:  See page 161.]

During their sojourn at Fort Hall, the hardy trappers were not idle.  Besides the calls upon them by the hunt, they set to work with great industry repairing their saddles, clothing and moccasins.  With the aid of a few buck-skins, usually procured from Indians, and a few rude tools, they soon accomplished wonders.

To give the reader an appropriate view of the genius to conquer obstacles displayed by the mountaineers, he must picture one of them just starting upon a long journey over the prairies and through the mountains.  His wagon and harness trappings, if he chances to be possessed of worldly effects sufficient to warrant him in purchasing a first-class outfit, present a neat and trim appearance.  Follow him to the point of his destination, and there the reader will discover, perhaps, a hundredth part of the original vehicle and trappings.  While en route, the bold and self-reliant man has met with a hundred accidents.  He has been repeatedly called upon to mend and patch both wagon and harness, besides his own clothing.  Though he now presents a dilapidated appearance, he is none the less a man; and, if his name is known as a regular trapper and mountaineer, he is immediately a welcomed and honored guest.  If the broadcloth of a prince covered his back, spotless, scientifically shaped and foreign woven, his reception would not be more heartfelt and sincerely cordial.  It is amusing to see the raw-hide patches of harness, wagon and clothing, now become dry and hard as oak.  To have dispensed with the use of buckskin on his route, would have been like cutting off the right arm of the gallant pioneer.  Buckskin and the western wilds of America are almost synonymous terms; at least, the one suggests the other, and therefore they are of the same brotherhood.  The traveler in these regions of this day fails not to learn and appreciate its value.  It has not only furnished material for clothing, but has been used to repair almost every article in daily use.  Even the camp and tea-kettle, as well as the frying, milk and saucepan, bedstead and hammock, chair and table, all have had their buckskin appendage, as fast as any of them have become injured or broken.