Loaded with a full cargo of fur they soon after set out for Robidoux's
Fort, which they reached in safety, selling out their stock to good
advantage.

Kit Carson made only a short stop at this Fort. As soon as his fur was
disposed of, he immediately organized a small party consisting of five
trappers and made a journey to Grand River. After thoroughly trapping
this river, he established himself at Brown's Hole on Green River for
the winter. Early in the spring he returned with the same party to the
country of the Utahs and hunted there for some time. He then went
to the New Park, where they finished their trapping operations and
returned to Robidoux's Fort. Here Kit again found a purchaser for his
furs; but, the prices at which he was obliged to sell them, did not
at all please him. Within a few years, the value of beaver fur had
greatly deteriorated. This was caused by the slow demand which had
gradually ruled at the great emporiums of Europe and America. The
skill of the manufacturer had substituted a material for the making
of hats which, while it was cheaper, pleased the great race of
hat-wearers. The beaver itself was becoming scarce, owing to their
being so diligently hunted. It was evident to Kit Carson and many
of his mountaineer companions that their occupation was gradually
becoming less profitable and that it would soon drive them into other
employments. Acting upon this impression Kit Carson, accompanied
by "Old Bill Williams,"[14] William New, Mitchell and Fredericks,
a Frenchman, started for Bent's Fort, which was then located on the
Arkansas River near a large forest of cotton wood trees, and which
is, even at this day, known as the "Big Timbers." The party struck
the river at a point about one hundred miles above the Fort, where, in
later years, was built a settlement called St. Charles.[15]

[Footnote 14: William Williams was a most celebrated character in the
Rocky Mountains, where he lived for many years. At one time he was
a Methodist preacher in the State of Missouri, which he frequently
boasted of in after life. Whenever relating this part of his eventful
career, he used to say that he was so well known in his circuit, that
the chickens recognized him as he came riding past the farmhouses.
The old chanticleers would crow "Here comes Parson Williams! One of us
must be made ready for dinner." Upon quitting the States, he traveled
extensively among the various tribes of wild Indians throughout the