, "Now boys, when you come back this
fall I want you to come and see me and tell me what kind of luck you
have had, and all the news."
We now bid him good bye, and we were off.
I will here inform the reader that Carson had taught me to call him
Uncle Kit when I was fourteen years old, and I always addressed him in
that way. Jim and I were off for Fort Kerney, which was a journey of
about three hundred miles and not a sign of civilization on the whole
trip. It was a wild Indian country the entire distance, but we
knew where the hostile Indians were and also the friendly Indians.
Consequently we reached Fort Kerney without having any trouble.
We met Gen. Kerney, who was glad to see us. He said, "Boys, where in the
name of common sense are you going to?"
We explained to him in a few words our business. After hearing our plans
the Gen. said, "I am certainly glad to know that someone will take hold
of this thing, for I am sure that there will be more emigrants massacred
this year than has ever been in any other. I will tell you why I think
so. All the Indians from here to the Sierra-Nevada mountains are in the
war-path; in the second place the emigrants who are coming from the
east have no idea what they have to contend with, and I dread the
consequences."
While this conversation was taking place a soldier rode in that had been
on picket duty and said to the Gen., "I saw some covered wagons going
into camp down on Deer Creek about five miles from here. Where do you
suppose they are going, Gen?"
To which Gen. Kerney replied, "They are going to California, and you
will see hundreds of them inside the next two weeks."
Jim Bridger said, "Well, Willie, come on and let's see what we can do
with them."
As we were leaving the Fort Gen. Kerney said to us, "Boys, come back and
stay all night with me, I want you to make my quarters your home while
you are waiting for the emigrants to arrive."
Bridger answered, "Thank you, Gen. We will be glad to do so, and we may
want you to recommend us to the emigrants."
To which the Gen. answered, "I will take pleasure in doing so."
Bridger and I rode down to where the emigrants were in camp, and we
found the most excited people I ever saw in my life. They had passed
through one of the most terrible experiences that had ever occurred on
the frontier. There were thirty wagons in the train, and they were all
from the southeastern part of Missouri, and it seemed that there was o
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