When he told us he
had been engaged in a fight with some kind of a wild animal,
Johnnie asked why he did not call for help, and his reply was that
he did not have time to call as he had his hands full with the
"varmint."
After we had dressed his wounds as best we could, we took a torch
and went to the foot of the pine tree, and there lay the panther,
dead. He had stabbed it to the heart.
Uncle Kit had a very bad wound in one thigh, also in one arm, so
we did not move camp next day, but the day after we proceeded on
our journey. We took our furs to Santa Fe, where we disposed of
them at a good price, furs being higher that season than usual.
Our furs being disposed of we returned to Taos and rested for
about two weeks.
CHAPTER V.
ON THE CACHE-LA-POUDRE.--VISIT FROM GRAY EAGLE, CHIEF OF THE
ARAPAHOES.--A BEAR-HUNTER IS HUNTED BY THE BEAR.--PHIL, THE
CANNIBAL.
Uncle Kit, having made quite a sum of money, concluded that he
would take a trip over to the headwaters of the Cache-la-Poudre to
look for a new field where he could trap the coming winter on a
large scale, and wanted Johnnie and I to accompany him, which we
did.
Each taking a saddle-horse and one pack animal, we started on the
trip, taking a new route to Uncle Kit, as well as to Johnnie and
myself.
Carson took the lead, for, like a deer, he could find his way
anywhere he wished to go.
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