te
of their sex in all savage tribes, while their lords' portion of the
impending business was to end with the more manly efforts of the chase.

Suddenly a great cloud of dust rose on the trail from the mountains, and
on came the maddened animals, fairly shaking the earth with their
mighty tread. As soon as the gate was closed behind them, and uttering a
characteristic yell that was blood-curdling in its ferocity, the Indians
charged upon the now doubly frightened herd, and commenced to discharge
their rifles, regardless of the presence of any one but themselves. My
horse became paralyzed for an instant and stood poised on his hind legs,
like the steed represented in that old lithographic print of Napoleon
crossing the Alps; then taking the bit in his teeth, he rushed aimlessly
into the midst of the flying herd, while the bullets from the guns of
the excited savages rained around my head. I had always boasted of my
equestrian accomplishments--I was never thrown but once in my life, and
that was years afterward--but in this instance it taxed all my powers to
keep my seat. In less than twenty minutes the last beef had fallen;
and the warriors, inflated with the pride of their achievement, rode
silently out of the field, leaving the squaws to cut up and carry away
the meat to their lodges, more than three miles distant, which they soon
accomplished, to the last quivering morsel.

As I rode leisurely back to the house, I saw Maxwell and Kit standing
on the broad porch, their sides actually shaking with laughter at my
discomfiture, they having been watching me from the very moment the herd
entered the corral. It appeared that the horse Maxwell ordered the groom
to bring me was a recent importation from St. Louis, had never before
seen an Indian, and was as unused to the prairies and mountains as a
street-car mule. Kit said that my mount reminded him of one that his
antagonist in a duel rode a great many years ago when he was young.
If the animal had not been such "a fourth-of-July" brute, his opponent
would in all probability have finished him, as he was a splendid shot;
but Kit fortunately escaped, the bullet merely grazing him under the
ear, leaving a scar which he then showed me.

One night Kit Carson, Maxwell, and I were up in the Raton Mountains
above the Old Trail, and having lingered too long, were caught above
the clouds against our will, darkness having overtaken us before we were
ready to descend into the valley.