Hughes gathered wood for the night-fires.
I could scarcely sleep that night for thinking of my buffalo, and
could I have seen Henry Becket that night I would almost have
stunned him with my stories of frontier life.
The novice is ever enthusiastic.
The following morning we woke up early, and off, still heading up
the Arkansas river for Bent's Fort, and from here on the buffalo
were numerous, and we had that sort of fresh meat until we got
good and tired of it.
The second day out from Cow Creek, in the afternoon, we saw about
twenty Indians coming towards us. At the word, "Indians," I could
feel my hair raise on end, and many an Indian has tried to raise
it since.
This was my first sight of the red man. He looked to me to be more
of a black man.
Uncle Kit asked Mr. Hughes what Indians he thought they were. The
reply was that he thought them to be Kiowas, and on coming up to
them the surmise proved to be correct.
They were Black Buffalo, the chief of the Kiowas, and his
daughter, accompanied by twenty warriors.
Black Buffalo, and indeed all the Kiowa tribe, were well
acquainted with Uncle Kit and had great respect for him. So a
general hand-shaking and pow-wow followed.
Carson spoke their language as well as they could, and
consequently had no difficulty conversing with them.
In those days very few Indians knew a word of English,
consequently all conversation with them had to be carried on in
the several tribal languages or dialects, or in the jargon.
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