ing a narrow trail among the pines of the foothills of the Sierras he observed a huge grizzly bear coming directly towards him in the same footpath. It was a mutual recognition and unpleasantly near, especially from the standpoint of Captain Smith. Both stopped at the same instant. Mr. Bear raising himself in a perpendicular attitude upon his haunches. After gazing at each other with more or less admiration (probably less) for a couple of minutes, the grizzly dropped upon all fours, turned tail to and quietly took his back track, occasionally looking around as he retired. When fairly out of sight the Captain remarked that he, too, took his back track and "did not stand upon the order of his going."

After reaching the Upper Humboldt river I again came in contact with the celebrated Kit Carson, who, with his wife and several Spaniards in his employ were on their way to California from Taos, N. M., with 400 sheep intended for that market. They were of the coarse wool variety and only suitable for mutton.

On one occasion while camped near a party of emigrants a number of horses were stolen from the latter by the Indians. The company included several women and children, and their condition at once elicited the sympathy of "Kit," as he was familiarly called. Taking three of his men, he soon struck the Indians' trail and followed it until nightfall, when upon ascending a low elevation, he discovered the Indians in camp but a short distance away. Their fires were burning briskly, and one of the stolen animals was already killed, with which they were preparing to regale themselves. The party consisted of about 20 braves. Kit and his men concealed themselves until they began

their feast. Not apprehending danger near, they had carelessly laid aside their arms. At a given signal fr `m Kit, with savage yells and a rapid discharge of then guns they rushed upon them, when "Lo, the poor Indian," fell over himself and each other in making his escape, and those who were not killed or wounded disappeared in the darkness. The animals. were quickly loosened and rushed in the direction of the emigrant camp, where they arrived at daylight. All the stock returned, save one, to the great joy of the owners, enabled them to pursue their journey. The services of Carson had been rendered many times ir similar cases. The Indians in this instance would not have known whether they were attacked by four men or 400, most likely they imagined the latter.

We traveled and camped together along the alkal plains bordering the Humboldt, across the sandy 45mile desert to Carson river and valley (both named in honor of Kit), until reaching a delightful spot about 30 miles up the eastern slope of the Sierras, with plenty of grass and cold mountain water. Here we remained three weeks, recruiting our animals. During our stay in this little Eden, one of Carson's Spaniards and myself crossed the mountains to Hangtown (now Placerville), about 75 miles, for a supply of provisions.

The December following I met Carson for the last time, he having disposed of his sheep at $12 per head. I bade him good-by, as he started on the return trip to his home in New Mexico by way of Los Angeles and Yuma. Carson was as companionable and honorable as he was brave, and of a modest and retiring disposition.

At the breaking out of the Civil War he was com

missioned Colonel and remained in the employ of the government until his death, which sad event occurred at Fort Lyons, Colo., where he was in command. As one writer remarked, when his death was announced: "To one who knew him, no formal eulogy is needed upon the man who was the most perfect specimen of a hunter, a scout and a skillful, loyal soldier that ever wore moccasins or filled the stirrups of a trooper." I have knowledge of the death of only three other noted guides, hunters and trappers whom I have mentioned in these papers. All were among the most trusted of Fremont's men during his explorations. Godey died a few years ago at Bakersfield, Cal. The circumstances of the death of two others were related by Carson himself. At the time hostilities commenced in California and just before the raising of the Bear flag, Fremont and his party were on their way to make some explorations in Oregon, and were camped on Klamath lake, near its southern boundary. Carson says: "Colonel Fremont remained up and kept a large fire burning. until after midnight; the rest of us were tired out, and all went to sleep. This was the only night in all our travels-except the one night on the island in the Salt lake that we failed to keep guard; and as the men were so tired, and we expected no attack now that we had 16 in the party, the Colonel didn't like to ask it of them, but sat up late himself. Owens and I were sleeping together and we were awakened at the same time by the sound of blows of the ax that killed our men. At first I didn't know it was that; but I called to Basil (Basil was, like Fremont, a scientist), who was on that side, 'What's the matter there? What's the fuss about?' He never answered, for he was dead