plains and then disappear as if the earth opened and swallowed
them.

Early in June we reached Bent's Fort and met there Col. Bent and
his son, Mr. Roubidoux and his son, and a man named James Bridger,
of whom you will see a great deal, later on in this narrative.
These men were all traders, buying furs and buffalo robes from
Indians, white hunters and trappers.

We remained at Bent's Fort six weeks, and often during that time
some one of the many hunters, trappers and traders, that made this
place their headquarters, would ask Uncle Kit what he was going to
do with that boy--meaning me. To all of which Carson would reply
"I'm goin' to make a hunter and trapper of him."

During the six weeks at the fort I was out nearly every day with
some of the men, and to me they gave the name of "Young Kit."

By the time we were ready to leave Bent's Fort, Young Kit became
quite a rider, and Uncle Kit had been training me in the dexterous
use of the rifle, shooting from my knee, lying on my back, resting
the gun on my toes, lying flat on my belly, resting the gun on my
hat, and in various other positions.

Having disposed of all our blankets, beads and all of the tobacco,
except what was reserved for home consumption, we left Bent's
Fort, crossed the Arkansas river and followed up Apishapa creek
three days, when we came to the Rocky Mountains, among which we
were during four days, passing Trinkara Peak then turning south
toward a little Mexican village called Taos, where Uncle Kit made