The Life and Adventures of Kit Carson, the Nestor of the Rocky Mountains, from Facts Narrated by Himself Part 3

[Footnote 5: The mountain Indians, during the Summer season generally come down from their secure retreats and are engaged either in hunting buffalo, or marching on the war-path. When they are at peace with the Indians of the Plains, which is rarely the case, they join them, and, together, with their united strength and skill, they make piratical excursions into the Settlements of the Mexicans. While out on this business, they leave their families in some secluded spot for abundant caution, placing them under the guardians.h.i.+p of the old men, a.s.sisted by some of the younger members of the tribe.]

For several months they followed the business of trapping without being in any way annoyed by the Indians. Their success was abundant.

At the end of the season they had gathered together a splendid stock of beaver fur and began to think of a homeward trip. Having made everything ready, they finally started for Taos. True, their party was small and the risks they ran of attacks from hostile and covetous Indians were imminent; but, fortune, or Providence favored them and there was finally a satisfactory end to their anxieties; for, after a quick march over the plains, they arrived safely at Taos. Beaver fur was, at the time of their arrival, in great demand and prices ruled correspondingly high. Kit and his comrades obtained the benefit of this state of the market and disposed of their fine stock to great advantage.

The money realized, so far as Kit's two comrades were concerned, was soon expended in fleeting pleasures and a new outfit for the next trapping expedition which might offer. Kit's former experience had been sufficient on this score, and he had become impressed with the highly important fact that there existed a much wiser course to be pursued. With his characteristic consistency, Kit acted upon this conviction and wisely saved his hard earnings.

While remaining at Taos, Kit Carson met with Captain Lee, formerly of the United States Army; but, at this time, a partner of Bent and St. Vrain, two names as familiarly known to the mountaineers as the household words of their boyhood days.

Captain Lee was purchasing goods for the purpose of trading with and supplying the trappers. He desired Kit Carson to join in his enterprise and made him an offer which was accepted.

In the latter part of October 1832, with their goods well packed and properly fitted for the rough transportation which they must necessarily be subjected to, they set out to find the trappers. They traveled for some distance on a route well known as the "Old Spanish Trail." This is nothing more than a mule path which leads from New Mexico to California.

Having arrived safely at White River, they continued their march down stream, following the windings of the river until they came to Green River. Green River, they forded and then struck across the country for the Winty River which is a branch of the Green River.

Here they found Mr. Robidoux who had a party of twenty men in his employ and who was engaged both in trapping and trading according as opportunity presented itself. Soon after these parties met, snow began to fall, indicating the approach of the cold season. A mutual understanding having been arrived at, the two parties joined together and began to establish Winter Quarters suitable for the whole.

They selected a site for their permanent camp on the Winty River, at its mouth, where the men made themselves as comfortable as possible under such circ.u.mstances. They were provided with skin lodges, so common among the Indians of America, and which according to Kit's mountaineer experience are very comfortable subst.i.tutes for houses.

During the winter Mr. Robidoux lost six of his most valuable and high-priced horses, in the following manner. Attached to the camp there was a California Indian who was employed by Mr. Robidoux, a keen and shrewd savage: and one, whose acquaintance with the trappers had enabled him to gain the confidence of Mr. Robidoux. He was also an expert with the rifle and possessed undoubted courage with great bodily strength and activity. These qualifications made him a troublesome customer in a skirmish.

This Indian's education on the score of property rights had not been as well attended to as the methods of attack and defence in the chase and on the war path. By some, not strange, personal argument, he concluded to appropriate the six valuable horses above mentioned, in the law wordy vocabulary of civilization, "to his own, use, benefit and behoof, without asking the consent, good-will, approbation, permission and personal, directions of the said owner, to wit Mr.

Robidoux."

As these horses were worth, even at that remote spot on the great American Continent, the just and full sum of two hundred dollars each, making a round sum total of twelve hundred dollars, Mr. Robidoux was not content to pocket the loss; or, much less, to allow the rascal to enjoy ill-gotten wealth on the principle that "stolen fruit is sweet."

He determined, if possible to show him that some stolen fruit is bitter.

Knowing Kit Carson's reputation for skill and his fearless disposition, as soon as he had discovered his loss, he came and requested him to pursue the Indian. Kit Carson is a man who never works without orders except when he is leader. He therefore informed Captain Lee of Mr. Robidoux's request and asked permission to serve his friend. This, as a matter of course, was readily granted by Captain Lee; when, Kit instantly made his preparations for the adventure. He was very soon on horseback, well armed and well prepared for hard and close work.

There chanced, near by to the camp, to be an Indian village belonging to the Utah Tribe. The whites were on friendly terms with the inhabitants of this village, which determined Carson to seek out, from among their warriors, one active and intelligent brave, and get him to join in the chase. This was the more easily accomplished as Carson's reputation for skill, courage and experience was already well known in this tribe. He, himself, had made a large circle of acquaintance among the braves, and many of them had become strongly attached to him. Some of these attachments have existed for years and are still maintained; for, a fact well known, the American Indian warrior, as a general rule, is true and unchangeable in his friends.h.i.+ps. With this object in view, Carson, putting his horse to his speed, started for the Utah village. On making his errand known to such of the braves as enjoyed his confidence, he found no difficulty in engaging a well-known warrior, and one on whom he knew he could rely, to accompany him. The wily savage was soon ready for the march, when Kit gave the word to start. Both men were splendidly mounted. Their pace was that of no sluggard. The high-conditioned animals which they rode seemed to catch the eager spirit of their masters, and entering into it, bent themselves to their work with determination accordingly. To discover the trail of the deserter and to study its various characteristics, a science of no mean or useless order in the matter of a woodman's education, required the two men to slacken their pace for a short time. The tracks made by the stolen animals, however, were well marked; and, to such practised eyes, afforded a certain indication as to their route. Again putting their horses to their speed, with compressed lips and eyes directed to the trail before them, Carson and the Indian warrior dashed on, feeling confident, that, if the rascal escaped with his ill-gotten booty, the sin would not be laid upon their shoulders. The trail led down the Green River. This fact made Carson conclude that California was the destination aimed at in the deserter's calculations. Kit and his Indian brave had accomplished about one hundred miles, having, not once, lost sight of the trail, when, most unfortunately for Kit, the horse of the Indian was suddenly taken sick and his strength gave out completely. The Indian could go no further except on foot, and this mode of travel he was unwilling to adopt, refusing absolutely Carson's request made to him to do so. This was an unpleasant predicament, especially as the rascal, who formed the chase, was a dangerous antagonist even to an experienced fighter and in an honest cause. Goaded on by the fear of punishment for theft, Carson well knew that he would require all of his own address to purchase success; for, the rascal would not fail to make a most desperate resistance. But Kit Carson's courage arose, as the difficulties of the adventure seemed to multiply. With a farewell word to his Indian companion, he put spurs to his horse and entered boldly upon the trail alone, being determined to run every hazard, which the unhappy accident to the Indian's horse seemed to require at his hands.

The spectacle here presented to the reader, is one which exhibits Kit Carson in his true character both as a faithful and earnest friend, and a determined and dangerous adversary. Such is his character. A life of most singular events has never yet found him false to his friend or his manhood. While he is not rash in judgment, he is consummately skillful, quick and brave. Onward he dashed, never for an instant taking his eagle eye from the tracks which formed his compa.s.s.

Think not that such tracks are easily traced. None but a practised and ready eye can follow them to any advantageous end. To trace them even at a snail's pace, for an unpractised eye, is like the child putting pen and ink to paper through his first copy-book of penmans.h.i.+p. Many and many an awful blot and horribly crooked line will doubtless carry the simile fully and strikingly to the mind. But the result which crowned Kit's effort showed conclusively that, notwithstanding he had followed the trail for over one hundred and thirty miles, he had made no blots or crooked lines. At the distance of thirty miles from the place where he parted with his Indian companion, Kit discovered the chase. His pace now became tremendous. The wily savage had descried him almost at the same instant that he was discovered by Kit, and instantly prepared for a desperate encounter. With this object in view, the savage turned to seek a cover from whence he could fire upon his adversary and reload long before he should himself become exposed to a shot. The rascal's plan was good enough, but he was too slow in its execution to overcome Kit's activity. Kit had unslung his rifle as soon as he saw his enemy. Antic.i.p.ating the object of the savage, he, instantly, covered him with his rifle. His horse was now at full speed and he was rapidly nearing the Indian. At the moment he discovered that the Indian had reached his cover and before he could take advantage of it, without relaxing his horse's speed, he fired. The ball from Carson's rifle was so well directed that the Indian, as it struck him, gave one bound and then fell dead in his tracks. At the same instant the rascal's rifle went off with a sharp report, sending a bullet whizzing at some distance from the line of Carson's approach.

The fact of the Indian's rifle being fired at all is a sufficient explanation of what was his intent, had his career not been so suddenly cut short, thereby preventing its fulfillment.

The words of an old trapper are here very much to the point. The author was, on a fitting occasion, questioning him in regard to Kit Carson's capabilities with the rifle. Said he: "If a man has a serious quarrel with Kit Carson, he had better not let him get the _first sight over his rifle_; for, if he succeeds in this, his adversary is as good as dead."

An intimate acquaintance and tried friends.h.i.+p with Kit Carson has, since then, repeatedly furnished occasions which have confirmed this trapper's statement; although, in the first instance, a person will find it no easy task to render an altercation necessary, for Kit Carson holds his pa.s.sions fully under control; and, besides, they are of a very conciliatory type. No man will sooner shun a difficulty when justice, honor and necessity do not warrant strife.

The work of collecting the horses was soon accomplished, when Carson immediately commenced his journey back to the camp. This he reached in safety, after overcoming a few minor difficulties caused by his charge; and, had the satisfaction of returning the six horses to Mr.

Robidoux in as good condition as they were the night on which they were stolen; and, also, of informing him that there was one rascal less in the world to prey upon honest people.

This event served to interrupt the monotony and routine of winter camp duty, affording a basis for many a long yarn during the evening hours around the camp fires. These trappers, especially whenever a green-eyed bundle of curiosity chances to seek their company, can spin yarns most wondrous. The habits of the beaver and their remarkable instinct, form a fit subject for their active imagination. It would doubtless add very much to the interest of these pages if we could set down a few of these anecdotes and tales for the general reader; but, the task would be hopeless as to its accomplishment. To give them life and reality, they require all the surroundings of time, place and occasion; there should be the dark night; the wild whistling wind; the shaking tent with its covering of skins; the roasted venison, bear's meat, or horse flesh; the rifles standing in the corners; the lamp of bear's grease; in fine, all the similitude of camp life. Then the wild stories of bear fightings, beaver intelligence, Indian deviltry, and hairbreadth escapes, become intensely real. The auditor hangs upon each word which falls from the lips of the supposed sage orator with eager earnestness, while curiosity never becomes satisfied.

"Ah! Jones, that is a whopper."

"Sure as I live, but the beaver slept every night with the trapper, and in the day time, if he left the tent, the beaver would fall to work and make a dam across the floor of the tent, using the chist, skins, arms and everything."

"Oh! Jones!"

"But, I tell you it is true. Tame a beaver once, and you'll find I'se tellin' a plain statement as true as ever a Padre made."

"Padre! who'd believe a Mexican priest? Mr. Jones, that tame beaver of your'n must have been born in the States, where he hadn't trees and mud to build dams with, and had to resort to furnitur."

"That beaver," responded Jones, "was as near like a human bein' as any man present."

"How do you make that out, Mr. Jones?"

"Why, one day his master died. Well, they tried all they could to console the beaver, but it 'twant no use. He wouldn't be consoled.

All he did was to git an ole shoe belonging to his master, an' if he didn't haul that ere shoe around day after day wherever he went. Well, the beaver 'gan to grow thin, and one night they found he was a dyin', jest from starvin' himself to death and a huggin' the ole shoe."

"Oh! Jones," said the greenhorn, "you don't expect I'll swallow all that yarn?"

But Mr. Jones and all of the other trappers present preserved an imperturbable dignity of mien, as if the very reference to the animal mentioned demanded from them all due reverence.

"Well, but that was not doing as a human being would do. I never seen a man carry an old shoe around till he died from starvin'."

"That is neither here nor there," continued Mr. Jones. "It was when the trapper first made the beaver's acquaintance that he showed he knew as much as a human critter. At that time he had one wife and lived with her all alone in a hole, side o' the dam. They had two sons and a darter. The darter the old beaver had married to a fine lookin'

young beaver who lived t'other side the dam."

The whistle which the neophyte here gave seemed to give great dissatisfaction to all of the trappers present. One of them quietly asked him--

"Is that the way, youngster, you'se bin eddicated in perliteniss of manners? If it is, I know a beaver who kin larn you sumthin'. In the fust place, if a young beaver ever k.u.ms inter the presence of the ole uns, especially if she's, that is the ole uns, a female beaver, the young un 'mediately fetches his right fore paw up to his forehead, jest 'hind the right eyebrow, an' makes a reverintial bow of cerimony in salute. I'se seen that ar' oftener than you've put one leg ahead of t'other yit, young un."

The trappers present all confirmed the truth of this statement by a solemn nod of a.s.sent to the query, "Ain't that true, gentlemen?"

which, at least, served to prevent unceremonious whistling.

It is thus that we might go on and fill page after page with this picture-talk of the trappers. Some of their yarns are pretty tightly strained, but most of them contain a capital hit and are usually founded on the facts. It is a well authenticated fact that the beaver has but one mate; and, that they live together a loving couple, as if husband and wife. As to their _liaisons_, coquetry, flirting and so forth, doubtless the society in some parts of the human family will bear a faithful resemblance in these respects also. As an example of industry the world will look in vain for a better one than is afforded by the little beaver of the Western Rivers. Look at them patiently felling the tallest trees; and, so nicely adjusting their fall and calculating their height, that they strike the opposite bank of their stream gaining a fixed and permanent lodgment. It is thus that these wonderful little creatures will often erect dams across wide rivers and effectually stop the rus.h.i.+ng torrents.

As has appeared, after collecting the six horses, Kit Carson returned with them safely into camp. A few days subsequent to this occurrence, a band of trappers belonging to another party _en route_, entered the camp. These men reported that Fitzpatrick and Bridger were encamped on Snake River distant about fifteen days' journey. This was too good news for Captain Lee and Kit to warrant their remaining any longer idle. They doubted not but that they should be able to dispose of their goods to these parties. With this object in view, they prepared for the march and started. Their journey, although perilous and laborious, was successfully accomplished. Messrs. Fitzpatrick and Bridger received and entertained them very hospitably, and purchased their entire stock, paying therefor in beaver fur. Kit Carson then joined Fitzpatrick's band, but remained with it only one month.

His reason for separating from it was, that there were too many men congregated together either to accomplish much, or to make the general result profitable in the distribution. He, accordingly, arranged an enterprise upon his own account; and, from his well-established reputation, found more men than he wanted ready to join him. From those who applied, he selected but three. These were men of the best material; and, no man could judge a trapper's qualifications better than Kit Carson.

With his three men he immediately set out for the Laramie River. On this stream and its tributaries, he spent the summer. Perhaps our readers will look for a full description of the course which the American trapper pursues in order to catch beaver. It is very simple in its detail but difficult and tedious in its application. The trap is the common steel trap made in the usual form; if there is any difference, it is larger and more powerful. It is set in the haunts of the beaver with a particular kind of bait[6] known chiefly among trappers. It is a singular fact that, frequently, old beavers will be discovered springing the traps, by the aid of a stick. If discovered at his work, he seems to enjoy hugely the vexation of the trappers which they sometimes exhibit. An old trapper, however, especially if he be a Frenchman or Mexican, feels so much pride in the matter, that he will cover up his vexation under a.s.sumed politeness, as if the beaver could understand and appreciate his language.

[Footnote 6: Animalium patris testiculum.]

But to escape from these pleasing digressions, Kit Carson and his men concluded their summer's work with unusual success. Their exertions had been crowned with rewards which surpa.s.sed their fondest antic.i.p.ations. As the wintry months were again fast coming on, Kit and his men determined to rejoin Bridger's' command. The return trip, was therefore commenced and duly prosecuted. Late one afternoon, just after the little party had gone into camp, Kit, having lingered somewhat behind, suddenly rode into the camp ground and leaped from his horse, giving it in care of one of the men. With his rifle, he then started in pursuit of game for supper. He walked on about one mile from the camp and there came upon the fresh tracks of some elk.

Following up the trail he discovered the game grazing on the side of a hill. In the neighborhood of the animals there were some low and craggy pine trees. Moving along with great care, he finally gained the cover of the trees, which brought him in close proximity to the elk, and within certain range of his rifle. This care was the more necessary as his party had been without meat diet for some time and began to be greatly in need thereof. These ever wary animals saw, or scented him; or, at any rate, became conscious of approaching danger from some cause, before he could reach the spot from which he desired to take his aim. They had commenced moving; and, in another instant, would have bounded away, out of all reach of his rifle. His eye and piece, however, were too quick for them; for, bringing his piece into position and without dwelling upon his aim, he sped a bullet after the largest and the fattest of the n.o.ble game before him. He had wisely allowed for the first leap, for his shot caught the nimble animal in mid air and brought him to the earth, writhing in his death agony with a fearful wound through the heart and lungs, from which there was no escape. One quiver ran through the frame of the beautiful animal, when, he breathed his last. The echoing sound of the rifle shot had hardly died away, to which the true hunter ever listens with unfeigned pleasure as the sweetest of music on his ear, whenever he has seen that his game is surely within his grasp, the last faint melody was broken in upon and completely lost in a terrific roar from the woods directly behind him. Instantly turning his head to note the source of this sound, the meaning and cause of which he well knew by his experienced woodman's ear, educated until its nicety was truly wonderful, he saw two huge and terribly angry grizzly bears. As his eye first rested upon these unwelcome guests, they were bounding towards him, their eyes flas.h.i.+ng fiery pa.s.sion, their pearly teeth glittering with eagerness to mangle his flesh, and their monstrous fore-arms, hung with sharp, bony claws, ready and anxious to hug his body in a close and most loving embrace. There was not much time for Kit to scratch his head and cogitate. In fact, one instant spent in thought then would have proved his death warrant without hope of a reprieve. Messrs. Bruin evidently considered their domain most unjustly intruded upon. The gentle elk and deer mayhap were their dancing boys and girls; and, like many a petty king in savage land, they may have dined late and were now enjoying a scenic treat of their ballet troupe. At all events Kit required no second thought to perceive that the monarchs of the American forest were unappeasably angry and were fast nearing him with mighty stride. Dropping his rifle, the little leaden bullet of which would now have been worth to him its weight in gold if it could by some magic wand have been transferred from the heart of the elk back into its breech, he bounded from his position in close imitation of the elk, but with better success. The trees! he hoped and prayed, as he fairly flew over the ground with the bears hot in chase, for one quick grasp at a st.u.r.dy sapling. By good fortune, or special Providence, his hope, or prayer, was answered. Grasping a lower limb he swung his body up into the first tier of branches just as pa.s.sing Bruin brushed against one of his legs. Bears climb trees and Kit Carson was not ignorant of the fact. Instantly drawing his keen-edged hunting knife, he cut away for dear life at a thick short branch. The knife and his energy conquered the cutting just as Messrs. Bruin had gathered themselves up for an ascent, a proceeding on their part to which Mr. Carson would not give a.s.sent. Mr. Carson was well acquainted with the Messrs. Bruin's pride in, and extreme consideration for, their noses. A few sharp raps made with the severed branch upon the noses of the ascending bears, while they fairly made them to howl with pain and rage, caused them hastily to beat a retreat. This scene of ascending, getting their noses tickled and again descending howling with pain and rage now kept Mr. Carson and Messrs. Bruin actively busy for some time. The huge monsters and monarchs of the mountains were determined not to give it up so. Such a full and fair chase and to be beaten by a simple white man on their own domain! This evidently galled their sensitive natures. It is true the roaring of the bears in his rear had stimulated Mr. Carson in the race, so much so, that he undoubtedly ran at the top of his speed; and, being naturally, as well as by long practice, very fleet of foot, he had managed to outstrip his pursuers in the race. It is true he had made short work of climbing the tree and here again had very innocently beaten the bears at their own game and one in which they took great pride. It is more than probable that the bears were in too good condition to run well. Had it been early spring time they would doubtless have been much lower in flesh. That was their own fault too; they should have known that racing time cannot be made on high condition. After leaving their hibernating quarters they should have been less given to a sumptuous habit at the table.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Two huge and terribly angry grizzly bears were bounding towards him, their eyes flas.h.i.+ng fiery pa.s.sion, their pearly teeth glittering with eagerness to mangle his flesh, and their monstrous forearms, hung with sharp, bony claws, ready and anxious to hug his body in a close and most loving embrace.--PAGE 83.]

Affairs were, however, by no manner of means settled. They had the daring trespa.s.ser on their domain treed, and almost within their reach; and, indeed, to keep out of the way of their uncomely claws, Kit was obliged to gather himself up in the smallest possible s.p.a.ce and cling to the topmost boughs. The bears now allowed themselves a short respite for breathing, during which they gave vent to their wrath by many shrill screeches. Then they renewed their endeavors to force the hunter from his resting place. Mounted on their hind paws they would reach for him; but, the blows with the stick, applied freely to their noses, would make them desist. In vain did they exhaust every means to force the man to descend; he was not to be driven or coaxed. The hard knocks they had sustained upon their noses had now aroused them almost to madness. Together they made one desperate effort to tear Kit from the tree. As in all their previous attempts, they were foiled, and their ardor dampened and cooled by the drumming operations upon their noses, which this time was so freely and strongly applied upon one of them as to make him lachrymate and cry out with pain. One at a time they departed; but, it was not until they had been out of sight and hearing for some time that Kit considered it safe to venture down from the tree; when, he hastened to regain and immediately to reload his rifle.

Thus ended an adventure in which Kit Carson considers that he failed to lose life and limb by the narrowest miss that ever occurred to him.

Although he has killed much more than his _quantum_ of this kind of game, and has gained what is a practical advantage to every western hunter, to wit: a knowledge of all their abilities with which they enforce sway, Kit Carson regards this adventure in the light of a warning. It is a warning too which he never allows himself to forget; consequently, whenever he has hunted since, he watches as closely for signs of Mr. Bruin as he does for the game he seeks; it would, therefore, be a difficult matter for the bears again to surprise him.

Some of the most desperate battles on record between hunters and wild animals are narrated of encounters with the bear tribe.

Several years ago, a Mexican by the name of Armador Sanchez, still well known in the Rocky Mountains as a brave and skillful hunter, had a fight with a bear which lasted several hours. This terrible battle ended by both the combatants being laid prostrate upon the ground, so completely exhausted as to be utterly unable to reach each other from the want of physical strength. In this condition they spent one night; and, on the following morning, when the brave Mexican hunter had recovered sufficiently to be able to creep to his antagonist, he found him dead. This close conflict grew out of the hunter's n.o.ble daring in endeavoring to save the life of a Mexican boy, whom, at the instant the hunter attacked the beast, the bear was about to tear into pieces.

At one time the bear had the youth in his terrible clutches in such a manner that it was impossible for him to plant a shot in any vital organ. But nothing daunted, with his rifle and revolver, he lodged several bullets in other parts of the fierce monster. Still the savage animal clung to the unfortunate boy, endeavoring to tear him to pieces, and horribly mangling him in every part of his body. The n.o.ble hunter could resist no longer, and dropping his pistols and rifle, he drew his sheath-knife and slung shot, and, after winding his blanket around his left arm to protects it, rushed in and compelled the animal to turn upon him. Wounds were freely given and returned; but, the wary Mexican fought with such dexterity and determination, that the bear finally became so mad with pain and rage that by a tremendous effort, with one blow of his powerful paw, he knocked the brave hunter headlong upon the ground, where he lay some time before recovering his breath. Instead of following up this advantage, the brute, doubtless being deceived because the man did not move, commenced examining and licking his own bleeding wounds. But the brave hunter had now got his spirit so completely up, that he determined to conquer his antagonist or die. Early in the fight, by a blow from his slung-shot, he had succeeded in breaking the bear's lower jaw. This had greatly disabled the animal and undoubtedly was the successful wound which eventually gave Sanchez the victory. When he felt himself sufficiently rested, he renewed the fight; and, by adopting various manoeuvres, in which he was greatly a.s.sisted by some adjacent trees, succeeded in putting in several telling blows with his knife. Again the animal became aroused to madness unendurable, and, gathering himself up for a final effort, succeeded in planting a terrible blow on the hunter's head, which once more brought him to the ground. From this blow and the previous loss of blood, the brave man fainted entirely away. How long he remained in this state he could not tell; but, on becoming again conscious, he found that the victory was on his side, for the bear had already breathed his last. The poor boy, notwithstanding his wounds, as soon as the battle was decided; and, as he supposed, at the cost of his friend's life, started for a neighboring fort, and, reaching it the following morning, reported the affair. A party of men well armed immediately marched to the rescue. They found the brave hunter in a most pitiful condition, with his flesh terribly mangled, his clothes torn into ribbons, and his back and shoulders one ma.s.s of lacerated wounds. His reason had already become unseated. In his native language he would call out to his now visionary foe, "If you are a brave man, come on." Although the most delicate care and a.s.sistance was rendered to Sanchez, it was many weeks before he was able to resume his occupation; and, even then, he owed his life to the wonderful recuperative powers of his healthy and iron const.i.tution. Had the fact been otherwise, he could not have survived his injuries. One more brave heart must have yielded its last drop of heroic blood in defence of youthful weakness. This picture, because it does not exaggerate the facts, we leave with regret; for, it is a pleasure to contemplate such n.o.bility of character, whatever be the name which declares the governmental allegiance of the hero.