The record of Fremont and Carson's journey through this region of country, already so thoroughly explored at such great hazard, and accompanied with such unheard-of sufferings, would be but a repetition of what has already been written, for they were again driven to mule meat, or whatever else chance or Providence might throw in their way, to sustain life. In every need—in every peril—in every quarter where coolness, sagacity, and skill were most required, Carson was ever first, and his conduct throughout cemented, if possible, more firmly the friendship between him and his young commander.

They reached, at last, Sutter's Fort, where they were received with the hospitality which has made Mr. Sutter's name proverbial; and leaving his party to recruit there, Fremont pushed on towards Monterey, to make known to the authorities there the condition of his party, and obtained permission to recruit and procure the supplies necessary for the prosecution of his exploration.

Journeying in the security of this permission, he was suddenly arrested in his march, near Monterey, by an officer at the head of a body of cavalry, who bore him a violent message from the commanding officer in California—Gen. Castro—commanding him to retire instantly from the country.

There was now no alternative but to put himself on the defensive, as he had come to the country for an entirely peaceable purpose, and it was not in the blood of Americans to submit to dictation. The direction of travel was therefore changed; a strong point was selected and fortified as thoroughly as could be with the means at their command, which work was hardly completed before Gen. Castro, at the head of several hundred men, arrived and established his camp within a few hundred yards and in sight of the exploring party, evidently under the mistaken idea that he could intimidate them by his numbers.

Though the Americans were but forty in number, every man had already seen service, and the half score of old traders and trappers, who had been leaders in many an Indian fight, made the party, small as it was, quite equal to that of the ten fold greater number of the Mexicans; for the men, equally with their leader, were determined to maintain their rights, and if need be, to sacrifice their lives in defence of the cause of American citizens in Mexico; for in the three days during which they lay there encamped, expresses came in from the American citizens in Monterey, warning them of their danger, and announcing too, the probability of a war with Mexico, and urging the propriety that every American should unite in a common defence against the Mexican authorities.

At the end of three days the council which Fremont now called, agreed with him, that the Mexican General had no intention of attacking them, and that it was the more prudent course to break up camp, push on to the Sacramento River, and endeavor at Lawson's trading post to obtain the needed outfit for their return homeward through Oregon, as further exploration in southern California seemed out of the question; and because, as an officer in the United States service, Fremont felt he could not commence, or willingly court hostility with the Mexican authorities—besides, all the American residents in the country were equally in peril; and if the event of war pressed upon them, preparation was needed, and should be made at once.

In council Fremont found Carson ready for such, as for every emergency; and, around the camp fires, where the subject was discussed, every man was ready for the affray; and while willing to retire and wait the command of the leader evinced no disposition to avoid it.

The party remained ten days at Lawson's post, when information was brought that the Indians were in arms at the instigation of the Mexicans, as it was supposed, and were advancing to destroy the post, and any other American settlement; and it was soon rumored that a thousand warriors were collected, and on their way to aid in this purpose. The time had now come for action, and, with five men from the post, Captain Fremont and his command, with Carson for his Lieutenant, by choice of the party, as well as of its leader, took up their march against the savages, in aid of their countrymen.

They had no difficulty in finding the Indian war party, and immediately made the attack, which was responded to with vigor by the Indians, and contested bravely; but, of course, with inability to conquer. The red men were defeated with terrible slaughter, and learned here the lesson not forgotten for many years, that it was useless to measure their strength with white men.

Carson was, of course, as was his invariable custom, in the thickest of the fight, and when it was over, and the Indians had retired, cowed and defeated, ventured the opinion that they had received a lesson which would not be required to be repeated in many years.

This victory won, and present danger from these Indians thus avoided, the party returned to Lawson's post, where, having completed their outfit, they turned their backs on Mexican possessions, and started northward, Fremont looking to Oregon as the field of his future operations, intending to explore a new route to the Wah-lah-math settlements.

While on that journey, Carson being as ever his guide, companion, and friend, the party was suddenly surprised by the appearance of two white men, who, as all knew from experience, must have incurred the greatest perils and hazards to reach that spot.

They proved to be two of Mr. Fremont's old voyageurs, and quickly told their story. They were part of a guard of six men conducting a United States officer, who was on his trail with despatches from Washington, and whom they had left two days back, while they came on to give notice of his approach, and to ask that assistance might be sent him. They themselves had only escaped the Indians by the swiftness of their horses. It was a case in which there was no time to be lost, nor a mistake made. Mr. Fremont determined to go himself; and taking ten picked men, Carson of course accompanying him, he rode down the western shore of the lake on the morning of the 9th, (the direction the officer was to come,) and made a journey of sixty miles without a halt. But to meet men, and not to miss them, was the difficult point in this trackless region. It was not the case of a high road, where all travelers must meet in passing each other: at intervals there were places—defiles, or camping grounds—where both parties might pass; and watching for these, he came to one in the afternoon, and decided that, if the party was not killed, it must be there that night. He halted and encamped; and, as the sun was going down, had the inexpressible satisfaction to see the four men approaching. The officer proved to be Lieutenant Gillespie, of the United States marines, who had been despatched from Washington the November previous, to make his way by Vera Cruz, the City of Mexico, and Mazatlan, to Monterey, in Upper California, deliver despatches to the United States consul there; and then find Mr. Fremont, wherever he should be.

Carson, in a letter to the Washington Union in June 1847, thus describes the interview, and the events consequent upon it:

"Mr. Gillespie had brought the Colonel letters from home—the first he had had since leaving the States the year before—and he was 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 sixteen 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 waked at the same time by the licks of the axe that killed our men. At first, I didn't know it was that; but I called to Basil, who was on that side—'What's the matter there?—What's that fuss about?'—he never answered, for he was dead then, poor fellow, and he never knew what killed him—his head had been cut in, in his sleep; the other groaned a little as he died. The Delawares (we had four with us) were sleeping at that fire, and they sprang up as the Tlamaths charged them. One of them caught up a gun, which was unloaded; but, although he could do no execution, he kept them at bay, fighting like a soldier, and didn't give up until he was shot full of arrows—three entering his heart; he died bravely. As soon as I had called out, I saw it was Indians in the camp, and I and Owens together cried out 'Indians.' There were no orders given; things went on too fast, and the Colonel had men with him that didn't need to be told their duty. The Colonel and I, Maxwell, Owens, Godey, and Stepp, jumped together, we six, and ran to the assistance of our Delawares. I don't know who fired and who didn't; but I think it was Stepp's shot that killed the Tlamath chief; for it was at the crack of Stepp's gun that he fell. He had an English half-axe slung to his wrist by a cord, and there were forty arrows left in his quiver—the most beautiful and warlike arrows I ever saw. He must have been the bravest man among them, from the way he was armed, and judging by his cap. When the Tlamaths saw him fall, they ran; but we lay, every man with his rifle cocked, until daylight, expecting another attack.

"In the morning we found by the tracks that from fifteen to twenty of the Tlamaths had attacked us. They had killed three of our men, and wounded one of the Delawares, who scalped the chief, whom we left where he fell. Our dead men we carried on mules; but, after going about ten miles, we found it impossible to get them any farther through the thick timber, and finding a secret place, we buried them under logs and chunks, having no way to dig a grave. It was only a few days before this fight that some of these same Indians had come into our camp; and, although we had only meat for two days, and felt sure that we should have to eat mules for ten or fifteen days to come, the Colonel divided with them, and even had a mule unpacked to give them some tobacco and knives."