The Life of Kit Carson: Hunter, Trapper, Guide, Indian Agent and Colonel U.S.A., - [i read a book .txt] 📗
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It was a question with Carson which would last the longer—the club or the snouts, but in the hope of getting beyond their reach, he climbed to the topmost bough, where he crouched into the smallest possible space. It was idle, however, to hope they would overlook him, for they pushed on up the tree which swayed with their weight.
The nose of the grizzly bear is one of the most sensitive portions of his body, and the vigorous thumps which the hunter brought down upon them, brought tears of pain to their eyes. But while they suffered, they were roused to fury by the repeated rebuffs, and seemed all the more set on crunching the flesh and bones of the insignificant creature who defied them.
It must have been exasperating beyond imagination to the gigantic beasts, who feared neither man nor animal to find themselves repeatedly baffled by a miserable being whom they could rend to pieces with one blow of their paws, provided they could approach nigh enough to reach him.
They came up again and again; they would draw back so as to avoid those stinging strokes, sniff, growl and push upward, more eager than ever to clutch the poor fellow, who was compressing himself between the limb and the trunk, and raining his blows with the persistency of a pugilist.
They were finally forced to desist for a few minutes in order to give their snouts time to regain their tone. The bulky creatures looked at each other and seemed to say, "That's a mighty queer customer up there; he doesn't fight fairly, but we'll fetch him yet."
Once more and for the last time, they returned to the charge, but the plucky scout was awaiting them, and his club whizzed through the air like the piston rod of a steam engine. The grizzlies found it more than they could stand, and tumbling back to solid earth they gave up the contract in disgust. Carson tarried where he was until they were beyond sight, when he descended and hastily caught up and reloaded his rifle, having escaped, as he always declared, by the narrowest chance of all his life.
CHAPTER XI. On the Green River—In the Blackfoot Country—The Blackfeet—An Unwelcome Visit—The Pursuit and Parley—Dissolution of the Peace Congress.
The day was drawing to a close when Carson set out for camp, which was not reached until after dark. His companions did not feel any special alarm over his continued absence, for the good reason that they were confident he could take care of himself no matter in what labyrinth of peril he might become involved.
It was too late to send for the carcass of the elk and more than likely it had already been devoured by wolves. So the trappers made their breakfast on one of the beavers found in their traps, and went into camp to await the arrival of the main body of trappers, which Carson was confident would come that way. Some days later they put in an appearance, and the company proceeded to the general rendezvous on Green River, where were found assembled the principal trappers of the Rocky Mountains. There were fully two hundred divided into two camps. What a history could have been written from the thrilling experiences of such a body of men!
They had gathered at the rendezvous to buy what supplies they needed and to dispose of their peltries. It was several weeks before the negotiations were over, when the assemblage broke up into smaller companies which started for their destinations hundreds of miles apart.
Carson joined a party numbering about fifty who intended to trap near the headwaters of the Missouri. Hundreds of beavers had been taken in that section, but poor success went with the large band of which Carson was a member. That was bad enough, but they were in a neighborhood which, it may be said, was the very heart of the Blackfoot country, and those hostiles were never more active and vigilant in their warfare against the invaders.
The Blackfeet or Satsika today, are the most westerly tribe of the Algonquin family of Indians, extending from the Hudson Bay to the Missouri and Yellowstone. They number over 12,000 warriors about equally divided between Montana and British America. They have always been a daring and warlike people, and the early explorers of the Far West probably met with more trouble from them than from any other tribe on the continent.
Carson and his companions ran in difficulty at once. The Blackfeet seemed to swarm through the woods, and sent in their treacherous shots from the most unexpected quarters. Whoever made the round of the traps in the morning was almost certain to be fired upon. Matters became so bad that after a time the trappers decided to leave the country. Accordingly they made their way to the Big Snake River where they went into quarters for the winter. Even there they were not safe from molestation at the hands of their old enemies the Blackfeet.
One night, when there was no moon or stars, a band of warriors stole into camp and ran off about twenty of the best horses. This outrage touched the hunters in the most sensitive part of their nature, and the truth no sooner became known than they unanimously agreed that the animals not only should be recovered but the audacious aggressors should be chastised.
Twelve men were selected for the most difficult and dangerous task and need we give the name of the youth who was made the leader?
With his usual promptness, Carson took the trail which was followed without trouble over the snow. The Blackfeet had reason to fear some such demonstration, and they hurried off with such speed that they were not overtaken until fifty miles from camp.
The situation was a novel one. The Indians had come to a halt and the horses were grazing on the side of a hill where the wind had blown away the snow. The Blackfeet had on snowshoes which gave them an advantage over the trappers. The latter galloped in the direction of their horses, the moment they caught sight of them. The Blackfeet fired at the trappers, who returned a scattering volley but no one was hurt on either side. Then followed skirmishing and manoeuvering for several minutes, without either party gaining advantage. Finally the Blackfeet asked for a parley to which the trappers assented.
In accordance with the usual custom, one of the Indians advanced to a point midway between the two parties and halted. At the same time, one of the trappers went forward, the rest of the whites and red men keeping their distance and watching them.
The Blackfoot opened business by what might be termed an apology which was no more genuine than many made by his civilized brethren under somewhat similar circumstances. He expressed great surprise to learn that the horses belonged to their good friends the trappers. They had supposed all along that they were the property of the Snake Indians whom the Blackfeet considered it their duty to despoil on every suitable occasion.
This glaring misrepresentation did not deceive the man who was acting as spokesman for his side. By way of reply, he asked that if such was the case, why had not the Blackfeet come forward on discovering their mistake, greeted their white brothers as friends and returned their property to them.
The replies were evasive
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