In the Rockies with Kit Carson

Late one afternoon when the sunlight was slanting through the trees and wavering upon the adobe walls of the Pueblo of Los Angeles, when the only sounds were the whispering wind...

“A rather narrow squeak,” was his comment, when told of their misadventure; “the captain back there at the Pueblo is anxious to get his revenge upon an Americano because of the...

“Trouble with that Greaser is that he is too public in his invitations,” grinned he. “If he wants to treat us so consarned bad, why don’t he do it privately? I reckon nobody her...

That night the trappers camped upon the banks of a small stream; their supper was of game shot during the day and corn-cakes made from the meal in one of the packs.

The feathered head-dress of many colors waved gaily above the advancing braves; the streamers of their long lances danced in the breeze; their lithe ponies covered the ground in...

At sight of the great array of armed and mounted savages facing the little fort, the two lads from the East felt that sinking sensation which usually comes to those not bred to...

The Indian band lighted large fires upon the hillside that night; the tall figures of the braves could be seen flitting to and fro in mysterious activity. The trappers watched t...

The open order of the whites and the rifle fire which came like a thunder clap at the command of their leader discomfited the savages; the arrows flew wild, and as the horsemen...

Fitzpatrick, the head of the fur hunting expedition of which Kit Carson now made one, was a hardy, courageous man, a good trapper, and knew the country and its signs as well as...

As the bullets of the trappers sang their way into the Crow encampment, the warriors began to fall; the whites stationed themselves behind trees and reloaded; and while they wer...

After making sure that the bears were not returning, Kit Carson shouldered his rifle and made his way back to camp through the gathering dusk. It was dark when he reached there,...

It is written boldly in the records of the great west that Kit Carson was a man without fear; and never before did he show this fact as he did when he turned his horse’s head an...

“I came to warn you,” he said in Spanish, to Fontenelle. “Directly in your path, one day’s ride from here, is the main village of the Blackfeet. Hold to your present course and...

Making sure that the savages were merely in the first stages of their preparations for departure, Kit and his little party of scouts crept away through the trees and grass to th...

Christopher or “Kit” Carson was born in Madison County, Kentucky, in December, 1809. The great state had been opened only a few years and was, in many parts, still a trackless w...