Christopher Carson | Page 9

companion Kin were their own tailors.
Thus passed the winter of 1826. Both of the men were very
good-natured, and of congenial tastes. They wanted for nothing. When
the wind howled amid the crags of the mountains and the storm beat
upon their lonely habitation, with fuel in abundance and a well filled
larder, and with no intoxicating drinks or desire for them, they worked
upon their garments and other conveniences in the warmth of their
cheerful fireside. It is not hazarding too much to say that these two
gentle men, in their solitary cabin, passed a far more happy winter than
many families who were occupying, in splendid misery, the palatial
residences of London, Paris and New York.
Kin Cade was perhaps a Spaniard. He certainly spoke the Spanish
language with correctness and fluency. The intelligence of Kit is
manifest from the fact that he devoted himself assiduously during the
winter to the acquisition of the Spanish language. And his strong

natural abilities are evidenced in his having attained, in that short time,
quite the mastery of the Spanish tongue. It is often said that Kit Carson
was entirely an uneducated man. This is, in one respect, a mistake. The
cabin of Kin Cade was his academy, where he pursued his studies
vigorously and successfully for a whole winter, graduating in the spring
with the highest honors that academy could confer.
We ought not to forget that, in addition to the study of the languages,
he also devoted much attention to the study of geography. They had no
books, no maps. It is doubtful indeed, whether either Kit or his teacher
could read or write. But Kin had been a renowned explorer. He had
traversed the prairies, climbed the mountains, followed the courses of
the rivers, and paddled over the lakes. With his stick he could draw
upon the smoothly trodden floor of his hut, everything that was needful
of a chart. There were probably many idle students in Harvard and Yale,
who during those winter months did not make as much intellectual
progress as Kit Carson made.
In the spring of 1827, Kit again went forth from his winter's retreat into
the wilderness world, which has its active life and engrossing
excitements, often even far greater than are to be found on the city's
crowded pavements. Not finding in these remote regions any congenial
employment, Kit decided to retrace his steps to Missouri. Most persons
would have thought that the journey of some thousand miles on foot,
through a trackless wilderness where he was exposed every step of the
way, to howling wolves and merciless savages, a pretty serious
undertaking. Kit appears to have regarded it but as an every-day
occurrence.
He joined a party of returning traders. Much of the region they
traversed may be aptly described in the language which Irving applies
to Spain. "It is a stern melancholy country, with rugged mountains and
long sweeping plains, indescribably lonesome, solitary, savage." After
travelling nearly five hundred miles, about half the distance back to
Missouri, they reached a ford of the Arkansas river. Here they met
another party of traders bound to Santa Fe. Kit, who with great
reluctance had decided to return home, eagerly joined them. His

services were deemed very valuable, and they offered him a rich
reward. His knowledge of the Spanish language became now a valuable
investment to him, and as he had already twice traversed the route, he
was at once invested with the dignity of guide as well as interpreter.
The following incident, related by a traveller who was passing over this
same plain under the guidance of Kit Carson, shows that there are other
dangers to be encountered besides the prowling savage and the wolf:
"It was a bright moonlight night. I had, as was my custom, spread my
saddle leathers for a bed, and had drawn my blanket closely around me.
Weary with the day's march, I had been sleeping soundly for several
hours, when about midnight I awoke suddenly with an unaccountable
feeling of dread. It must have been a sort of instinct which prompted
me, for in a moment I was upon my feet, and then, upon removing my
blanket, I found a rattlesnake, swollen with rage and poison, coiled and
ready to strike.
"I drew away the blanket which served as a mattress, intending to kill
the reptile, when to my astonishment it glided away making its escape
into a small opening in the ground directly beneath my bed. The whole
matter was explained at once. The snake had probably been out to see a
neighbor; and getting home after I was asleep, felt a gentlemanly
unwillingness to disturb me. And, as I had taken possession of his
dwelling he took part of my sleeping place, crawling under