winged with death, piercing the heart of some mountaineer whose body was
clearly revealed by the firelight. Kit Carson would never thus expose
himself. He would always spread his blanket where the firelight would not
reveal him.

"No, no boys," he would say to his often reckless comrades, "you may hang
around the fire if you will. It may do for you, if you like it. But I do
not wish to have a Digger Indian slip an arrow into me when I cannot see
him."

A gentleman, who was guided over the plains by Kit, writes, "During this
journey I have often watched Carson's preparation for the night. A braver
man than Kit perhaps never lived. In fact, I doubt if he ever knew what
fear was. But with all this he exercised great caution. While arranging
his bed, his saddle, which he always used as a pillow, was disposed in
such a manner as to form a barricade for his head. His pistols half cocked
were placed above it, and his trusty rifle reposed beneath the blanket by
his side, where it was not only ready for instant use but perfectly
protected from the damp. Except now and then to light his pipe, you never
caught Kit, at night, exposing himself to the full glare of the camp
fire."

When on the march everything was conducted with military precision. At the
early dawn as Kit gave the signal to prepare to start, all were instantly
in motion. The mules were brought up; their packs were fastened firmly
upon their backs, an operation which required much labor and skill. The
mules have a strange instinct which leads them to follow with a sort of
fascination a white horse. Thus generally a white horse or mare leads the
cavalcade.