the fugitives.  At last their camp was seen far away in the distance.  Kit Carson was the first who caught a glimpse of it.  He urged that they should draw unseen as near the camp as possible, and then make a sudden rush upon the Indians, with constant and unerring discharges from their rifles.  He said that the savages in their consternation would run, each one to save his own life, without thinking of their captives.  If there were a few moments allowed them for thought, they would certainly kill them before effecting their escape.

Unfortunately his counsel was not followed.  There was hesitation, delay, and talk of parley.  At length they made the attack.  The Indians fled before them like deer.  The body of Mrs. White was found in the camp, still warm, with an arrow piercing her heart.  The savages, on their fresh horses, could not be overtaken by the wearied steeds of the dragoons.  They were pursued for six miles.  One warrior was killed, and several wounded.  Sadly they returned.  The little child of Mrs. White had annoyed the Indians by its cries, and with one blow of a tomahawk, its skull had been split open.

Mr. Carson speaking of this adventure modestly writes: 

“I am certain that if the Indians had been charged immediately on our arrival, Mrs. White would have been saved.  Yet I cannot blame the commanding officer, or the guide, for the action they took in the affair.  They evidently did as they thought best; but I have no doubt that they now can see that if my advice had been taken, the life of Mrs. White might have been spared.”

The expedition however was not a failure.  The Indians were severely punished.  Many of them fled with nothing but the scanty clothing they had on.  Mr. Carson returned to Razado.  The winter passed peacefully away.

In the spring, a band of Apaches entered the valley, shot the two herdsmen, and drove off a large number of animals.  Kit Carson, at the head of ten dragoons, set out in sharp pursuit.  After a ride of twenty-five miles, they came in sight of them, far away on the prairie.  It was an open chase.  Soon four of the horses of the dragoons gave out.  The remainder of the party, consisting of Carson, six dragoons, and three settlers, pressed on.  They soon got near enough to count the numbers of the Indians.  There were twenty.  Five of them were soon struck by rifle balls, and dropped from their horses.  The heroic band returned with the stolen property.

Mr. Carson was now a farmer.  In May, 1856, accompanied by an old mountaineer, he took fifty horses and mules to Fort Laramie, a distance of five hundred miles, and sold them to advantage.  He then set out for home accompanied only by a Mexican boy.  He remained at his farm through the following summer, a peaceful, industrious, busy man, loving his home and enjoying it.  He had quite a number of Mexicans employed upon his large farm, whose labors he superintended.  Much of his time he employed in hunting, thus abundantly supplying his large family with game.  It is written of him, at this time: