“I have more oranges,” he said, “than I can either use or give away.  This is the finest country the sun shines upon.  We can live luxuriously upon just what will grow on our own farms.  But we cannot get rich.  Our cattle will only bring the value of the hides.  Our horses are of little worth, for there are plenty running wild, which a good huntsman can take with a lasso.  I think that we shall have the Americans with us before many years, and, for my part, I hope we shall.  The idea of the Californians generally, as well as other Mexicans, that the Americans are too shrewd for them, is true enough.  But certainly there is plenty of room for a large population, and I should prefer that the race that has most enterprise should come and cultivate the country with us.”

Thus the conversation continued for two hours.  Young Carson modestly suggested that it would be better if the Spaniards were less cruel in breaking in their horses.

“Your horses,” said he, “would make excellent buffalo hunters with proper training.  I have some horses at camp, that I intend shall see buffalo.  But why do you not deal gently with them when they are first caught?  You might thus preserve all the spirit they have in the herd.  Pardon me, but I think that in taming your horses you break their spirits.”

“I sometimes think so too,” the Spanish gentleman replied.  “We mount one just caught from the drove, and ride him until he becomes gentle from exhaustion.  Our custom is brought from Spain.  It answers well enough with us, where our horses go in droves; and when one is used up, we turn him out and take up another.”

When young Carson took his leave, the Spaniard, with true Castilian courtesy, pressed his hand, thanked him for his visit, and promised to return it at the camp.  It was thus instinctively that Kit Carson, naturally a gentleman, took his position among gentlemen.

In the meantime most of the rude trappers, seeming to be almost of a different nature from Kit Carson, were indulging in a drunken carouse at Los Angelos.  They got into a brawl with the Mexicans.  Knives were drawn, wounds inflicted, and one Mexican was killed.

It became necessary to get these men away as soon as possible.  Carson was sent forward a day’s march, with all who could be collected.  The next day Mr. Young followed, having with much difficulty gathered the remainder of the band.  Soon the party was reunited, and the men were recovered from their shameful debauch.  Then for nine days they vigorously continued their march homeward, when they again reached the banks of the Colorado river, not far from the spot where they had crossed it before.

Here they encamped for a few days, while most of the men ranged the stream for many miles up and down, still very successfully setting their traps.  Carson, with half a dozen men, was left to guard the camp.  It was a responsible position.  Nearly all the horses were there, and all the treasures of furs which they had gathered in their long and laborious excursion.  As the animals were turned out to graze, the packs, which were taken from them, were arranged in a circular form so as to enclose quite a space, like a fortress.  These bundles of furs not even a bullet could penetrate.  Thus Kit Carson reared for himself and men a rampart, as General Jackson protected his troops with cotton bags at New Orleans.