ir efforts. Every morning the trappers came in
from their various directions laden with furs. All were elated with their
extraordinary prosperity. There is the spring hunting and the fall
hunting. But there is a period in midsummer when the fur is valueless or
cannot easily be taken. Game was then abundant, camping was a luxury. This
was the time selected by the traders for their Fairs in the wilderness.
Here, as we have mentioned, there was exchange of the commodities needed
in mountaineer-life, for the furs the trappers had taken during the
autumn, winter and spring. There was at this time another rendezvous on
Green river, where there was to be a renewal of the scenes of the past
year.

Kit Carson very speedily recovered from his wounds. His perfect health and
temperate habits caused a cure, which seemed almost miraculous. As we have
mentioned, these mountaineers were beyond the limits of the laws. There
was no governmental protection whatever. Every man was compelled to be his
own protector, filling the threefold office of judge, jury and
executioner.

The incident we are about to record would have been highly immoral in any
well-ordered community where law was recognized and could be enforced. And
yet the same act occurring in the savage wilderness may have merited the
high commendation which it universally received.

There was a fellow at the rendezvous, as the Fair among the mountains was
called, known as captain Shunan. He was of unknown nationality, of very
powerful frame, a bully and a braggadocio. Totally devoid of principle,
and conscious of his muscular superiority, he was ever swaggering through
the camp, dealing blows and provoking quarrels. He was universally
detested and also feared. Every one in the camp desired to see him
humbled.

One day Shunan was particularly offensive. That morning he had engaged in
two fights, and had knocked down and flogged both of the men whom he had
assailed. The traders had brought whiskey to the rendezvous, and probably
whiskey was at the bottom of these troubles. Mr. Carson was quietly
talking with some of his friends, in one part of the extended encampment,
when the swaggering bully came along seeking to provoke another fight.
"These Americans," said he, "are all cowards; they are all women. I am
going into the bush to cut some rods and I'll switch every one of them."

Kit Carson immediately stepped forward in his calm, unimpassioned way,
and with his soft and almos