ent's Fort the next morning. They had a number of dogs,
among them some excellent animals. These barked a good deal, and seemed
restless, and the men heard wolves.

"I saw," said Kit, "two big wolves sneaking about, one of them quite
close to us. Gordon, one of my men, wanted to fire his rifle at it, but
I did not let him, for fear he would hit a dog. I admit that I had a
sort of an idea that those wolves might be Indians; but when I noticed
one of them turn short around, and heard the clashing of his teeth as he
rushed at one of the dogs, I felt easy then, and was certain that they
were wolves sure enough. But the red devil fooled me, after all, for
he had two dried buffalo bones in his hands under the wolfskin, and he
rattled them together every time he turned to make a dash at the dogs!
Well, by and by we all dozed off, and it wasn't long before I was
suddenly aroused by a noise and a big blaze. I rushed out the first
thing for our mules, and held them. If the savages had been at all
smart, they could have killed us in a trice, but they ran as soon as
they fired at us. They killed one of my men, putting five bullets in his
body and eight in his buffalo-robe. The Indians were a band of Sioux on
the war-trail after a band of Snakes, and found us by sheer accident.
They endeavoured to ambush us the next morning, but we got wind of their
little game and killed three of them, including the chief."

Carson's nature was made up of some very noble attributes. He was
brave, but not reckless like Custer; a veritable exponent of Christian
altruism, and as true to his friends as the needle to the pole. Under
the average stature, and rather delicate-looking in his physical
proportions, he was nevertheless a quick, wiry man, with nerves of
steel, and possessing an indomitable will. He was full of caution,
but showed a coolness in the moment of supreme danger that was good to
witness.

During a short visit at Fort Lyon, Colorado, where a favourite son of
his was living, early in the morning of May 23, 1868, while mounting his
horse in front of his quarters (he was still fond of riding), an
artery in his neck was suddenly ruptured, from the effects of which,
notwithstanding the medical assistance rendered by the fort surgeons, he
died in a few moments.

His remains, after reposing for some time at Fort Lyon, were taken to
Taos, so long his home in New Mexico, where an appropriate monument was
erected over them. In the Plaza at S