out.

The traders were profuse in their thanks to Carson for his timely
interference, but he refused every offer of remuneration. On their
return to Santa Fe from St. Louis, however, they presented him with
a magnificent pair of pistols, upon whose silver mounting was an
inscription commemorating his brave deed and the gratitude of the
donors.

The following summer was spent in a visit to St. Louis, and early in the
fall he returned over the Trail, arriving at the Cheyenne village on
the Upper Arkansas without meeting with any incident worthy of note. On
reaching that point, he learned that the Indians had received a terrible
affront from an officer commanding a detachment of United States troops,
who had whipped one of their chiefs; and that consequently the whole
tribe was enraged, and burning for revenge upon the whites. Carson was
the first white man to approach the place since the insult, and so
many years had elapsed since he was the hunter at Bent's Fort, and
so grievously had the Indians been offended, that his name no longer
guaranteed safety to the party with whom he was travelling, nor even
insured respect to himself, in the state of excitement existing in the
village. Carson, however, deliberately pushed himself into the presence
of a war council which was just then in session to consider the question
of attacking the caravan, giving orders to his men to keep close
together, and guard against a surprise.

The savages, supposing that he could not understand their language,
talked without restraint, and unfolded their plans to capture his party
and kill them all, particularly the leader. After they had reached this
decision, Carson coolly rose and addressed the council in the Cheyenne
language, informing the Indians who he was, of his former associations
with and kindness to their tribe, and that now he was ready to render
them any assistance they might require; but as to their taking his
scalp, he claimed the right to say a word.

The Indians departed, and Carson went on his way; but there were
hundreds of savages in sight on the sand hills, and, though they made
no attack, he was well aware that he was in their power, nor had they
abandoned the idea of capturing his train. His coolness and deliberation
kept his men in spirit, and yet out of the whole fifteen, which was the
total number of his force, there were only two or three on whom he could
place any reliance in case of an emergency.

When the trai