The Life and Adventures of Kit Carson, the Nestor of the Rocky Mountains, from Facts Narrated | Page 9

courage or strength which admits them to the councils of the braves, their nation's wrongs are uppermost in their thoughts, causing them to thirst for a revenge which sooner or later gives them a grave, making themselves, in turn, an object of revenge.
It has already appeared that when Kit Carson entered upon his first expedition, game was to be had in abundance. His route lay across the western wilds to Santa Fé. All this distance the bulk of provisions, consisting of a small quantity of flour and bacon, had to be transported by himself and his companions. These articles were kept as a reserve, and were looked upon as luxuries; for, that man was estimated to be a very poor shot who could not obtain, with his rifle, all the animal food he required for his individual sustenance. These hunters, however, well understood the laws which govern and the advantages which follow division of labor. Everything was so arranged, both for this and subsequent expeditions, by which a regular hunter was appointed, and each man assigned some particular duty according to his capacity. These appointments were usually made by the leader of the party, whose supervision was acknowledged by general consent on account of his known experience and capability. This plan was the more necessary in order to avoid confusion.
The caravan had hardly launched out on its long and tedious tramp, when an accident occurred which came very near proving serious in its results. For several days the men had been greatly annoyed by wolves who appeared more than usually ravenous and bold.[2]
[Footnote 2: There are two species of these animals found on the western prairie. One is small, called the Jackal; the other much larger. The latter, or larger species, are found of various, colors, but more frequently grey. The color, however, varies with the season and often from other causes. Many of their habits are strikingly similar to those of the domestic dog, with the simple difference that the wolf is unreclaimed from his wild state. The connecting link between the prairie wolf and the domestic dog is the cur found among the Indians. The Indian cur, by a casual observer, could be easily mistaken for a prairie wolf. Near the Rocky Mountains, and in them, these animals are found of immense size; but, being cowardly, they are not dangerous. The first night a person sleeps on a prairie is ever afterwards vividly impressed upon his memory. The serenade of the wolves with which he is honored, is apt to be distinctly remembered. It is far from agreeable, and seldom fails to awaken unpleasant forebodings concerning the future; and, the idea that these fellows may be soon clearing his bones, is not very genial to the fancy. To the wolf the graveyard is anything but consecrated ground; and, if a person is very chary of his cadaver, he had better not leave it on the Western Plains. The wolf is quite choice in his viands whenever the opportunity offers, and will, at any time, leave the carcass of an Indian for that of a white man. Old frontiersmen, speaking of the wolves, usually style them as "their dogs;" and, after a night when these animals have kept up an incessant barking, they will express wonder by asking what has been disturbing "their hounds." The flesh of the mountain wolf, when cooked, has something of the smell and taste of mutton, but it is very rank.]
In order to frighten the wolves, the teamsters would occasionally shoot them. One of the members of the expedition was obliged to take a fresh rifle from a wagon. In taking the gun out, the hammer of the lock caught against some projecting object, which caused it to be partially set. Having become freed, however, before it was fully set, it came down and fired the gun. The contents of the barrel were sent through the man's arm. No member of the expedition was conversant with surgical knowledge. Here was an occasion to shake the nerves of any feeling man; and, beneath the rough exterior of the western ranger, there runs as deep a stream of true humanity as can be found anywhere on the American continent. Every suggestion was offered and every effort was put forth which heart feeling chained to anxiety and the terrible necessity, could offer. Every remedy which promised a good result was duly weighed; and, if pronounced worthy of trial, it was adopted. The sufferer had kind, though rough nurses; but, the absence of scientific skill, under such emergency, proved a sad want for the unfortunate man. Notwithstanding their united efforts, Broader's arm grew alarmingly worse. It soon became manifest to all that he must part with his arm, or lose his life; perhaps both. At this critical period,