to tell their
head chief what had become of the rest of his warriors.

Wooton had an adventure once while he was stationed at Bent's Fort
during a trading expedition with the Utes, on the Purgatoire, or
Purgatory River,[58] about ten or twelve miles from Trinidad. He had
taken with him, with others, a Shawnee Indian. Only a short time before
their departure from the fort, an Indian of that tribe had been murdered
by a Ute, and one day this Shawnee who was with Wooton spied a Ute, when
revenge inspired him, and he forthwith killed his enemy. Knowing that as
soon as the news of the shooting reached the Ute village, which was not
a great distance off, the whole tribe would be down upon him, Wooton
abandoned any attempt to trade with them and tried to get out of their
country as quickly as he could.

As he expected, the Utes followed on his trail, and came up with his
little party on a prairie where there was not the slightest chance to
ambush or hide. They had to fight, because they could not help it,
but resolved to sell their lives as dearly as possible, as the Utes
outnumbered them twenty to one; Wooton having only eight men with him,
including the Shawnee.

The pack-animals, of which they had a great many, loaded with the goods
intended for the savages, were corralled in a circle, inside of which
the men hurried themselves and awaited the first assault of the foe.
In a few moments the Utes began to circle around the trappers and open
fire. The trappers promptly responded, and they made every shot count;
for all of the men, not even excepting the Shawnee, were experts with
the rifle. They did not mind the arrows which the Utes showered upon
them, as few, if any, reached to where they stood. The savages had a few
guns, but they were of the poorest quality; besides, they did not know
how to handle them then as they learned to do later, so their bullets
were almost as harmless as their arrows.

The trappers made terrible havoc among the Utes' horses, killing so many
of them that the savages in despair abandoned the fight and gave Wooton
and his men an opportunity to get away, which they did as rapidly as
possible.

The Raton Pass, through which the Old Trail ran, was a relatively fair
mountain road, but originally it was almost impossible for anything
in the shape of a wheeled vehicle to get over the narrow rock-ribbed
barrier; saddle horses and pack-mules could, however, make the trip
without much difficulty. It wa