"It was a bright moonlight night. I had, as was my custom, spread my
saddle leathers for a bed, and had drawn my blanket closely around me.
Weary with the day's march, I had been sleeping soundly for several hours,
when about midnight I awoke suddenly with an unaccountable feeling of
dread. It must have been a sort of instinct which prompted me, for in a
moment I was upon my feet, and then, upon removing my blanket, I found a
rattlesnake, swollen with rage and poison, coiled and ready to strike.

"I drew away the blanket which served as a mattress, intending to kill the
reptile, when to my astonishment it glided away making its escape into a
small opening in the ground directly beneath my bed. The whole matter was
explained at once. The snake had probably been out to see a neighbor; and
getting home after I was asleep, felt a gentlemanly unwillingness to
disturb me. And, as I had taken possession of his dwelling he took part of
my sleeping place, crawling under the blanket where he must have lain
quietly by my side until I rolled over and disturbed him. I can scarcely
say that I slept much more that night, and even Carson admitted that it
made him a little nervous."

Kit Carson was not a garrulous man. He was much more given to reflection
than to talk, and he was never known to speak boastfully of any of his
achievements. It is the invariable testimony of all who knew him, that he
was mild, gentle and unassuming, one of Nature's noblemen. While
travelling he scarcely ever spoke. Nothing escaped his keen eye. His whole
appearance was that of a man deeply impressed with a sense of the
responsibility of his office. He knew full well the treacherous character
of the Indians, and that "the better part of valor is discretion."

He had often seen men killed at night by an invisible foe. From the
impenetrable darkness which surrounded the camp fire, an arrow would come