Favor
asked me about it. I told him he had not. Whereupon he proposed
betting me a new hat that those parties would write up his, Kit
Carson's, life. I said; "Not by his consent." "Yes," said he, "by
his own consent."
This bet I accepted, and that night Mr. Favor and all of his St.
Louis friends accompanied us from the store down to the hotel for
supper. There was one gentleman in the crowd who was a splendid
talker, and apparently an intelligent man, and when at the supper
table that night, he mentioned the matter to Uncle Kit again of
having his life published. On turning his eyes to the refined
gentleman, he said: "I would have you understand that when I say
anything I mean it. I told you in plain English last evening that
I would not submit to anything of that kind, and now don't compel
me to talk too harsh, but please drop the subject at once."
Mr. Favor, who had been watching very close all this time, could
see at once there was no use in talking any more about the subject
and turned the conversation as quickly as possible and there was
no more said about it.
That night while in a conversation with Buffalo Bill he told Uncle
Kit and I that he would be going out to Bent's Fort in a few days
and proposed that we join him there and have a buffalo hunt before
I went away. We promised that we would meet him.
The next morning Uncle Kit and I mounted our horses to start on
our return trip to Taos, and when we rode up in front of the
store, Mr.
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