Koh-boo-yah--and here a little incident occurred that created much
fun for all the party except one--that was me.

As soon as we went into camp, Carson told Johnnie West and me to
let Juan take our horses and for us to go out and kill some meat.

We started out in opposite directions, and I had not gone more
than a quarter of a mile when I saw a small deer, which I shot,
threw on my shoulder and pulled for camp. Only a few rods on the
way I came to a little mound of rock about three feet high, and from it
flowed a spring of the nicest looking, sparkling water I thought I had
ever seen. Being very thirsty, I made a cup of my hat by pinching the
rim together, dipped up some of the water and gulped it down, not
waiting to see whether it was hot or cold, wet or dry. But a
sudden change came over me. I felt a forthwith swelling under the
waistband of my buckskin breeches, and I seemed to have an
internal and infernal hurricane of gas, which in a second more
came rushing through my mouth and nostrils like an eruption from
Cotopaxi or Popocatapel. To say that I was frightened would be
putting it mild. I rushed down the hill like mad, and fairly flew
to camp and up to Uncle Kit, exclaiming as best I could, "I'm
poisoned!"

"Pizened?" said Uncle Kit.

"Yes, poisoned;" and just then another rush of gas came through my
nostrils.

When the men saw me running so fast they grabbed their guns,
thinking the Indians were after me, and quickly surrounded me to