a distance of about a hundred miles between the
Laramie and Sweetwater rivers. These streams were tributaries of the north
fork of the Platte. This region had perhaps never before been visited by
either trapper, or hunter. They found beavers in plenty, and their success
was excellent.

With well laden mules they again crossed the Rocky mountains to reunite
themselves with the main camp of the trappers on Green river. They trapped
on their way and continued success attended them. Thus enriched, they
accompanied the main party to a tributary of the Wind river, where the
annual Rendezvous was that year to be held. Here were renewed the usual
scenes of the trapper's great Fair which we have already described.

As the Rendezvous broke up, Mr. Carson joined a large party, and
recrossed the mountains to the Yellowstone, where they had already had so
many bloody encounters with the Blackfeet Indians. They trapped
successfully until the inclement weather forced them into winter quarters.
Nothing occurred of any moment, until mid-winter. Daily parties went out
for game and they always returned with an ample supply. In their snug
lodges, gathered around their blazing fires, telling stories of past
adventures, preparing clothing for the summer, feasting upon fat turkeys,
and the choicest cuts of buffalo-meat and venison, a few weeks passed very
pleasantly away. Being free from that most terrible of all earthly curses,
intoxicating drinks, there was no discord, and this little community of
mountaineers, in the solitudes of a Rocky mountain valley, were perhaps as
happy as any other equal community amidst the highest conveniences of
civilization.

One winter's day a little band of hunters, in their pursuit of game, were
lured to a greater distance than usual from the camp. Their attention was
arrested by certain signs which indicated that a band of Indians had
passed by, and had endeavored carefully to conceal their trail. A close
scrutiny so confirmed this opinion that they hastily returned to the camp
with the declaration that savages were certainly prowling around watching
for an opportunity to attack them. They knew full well that the wary
Indians would never think of approaching their camp unless in overpowering
numbers. It was deemed expedient not to allow the foe any time to mature
their plans. A party of forty men was immediately fitted out, under the
command of Kit Carson, to go to the hidden trail and follow it till the