Arriving again in Taos, to carry into effect at once, the resolution he had formed of establishing for himself a permanent home, he joined his old friend Maxwell in the purpose of occupying a beautifully romantic mountain valley, fifty miles east of Taos, called by the Indians Rayedo, which would long since have been settled by the Mexicans, only it was very much exposed to Indian depredations.

Through the centre of this valley flows a broad mountain stream, and, for the loveliness of the scenery, or the fertility of its broad, sloping basin, or the mountain supply of timber, there can scarcely be found a spot to equal it. Carson and Maxwell established a settlement about mid-way in the valley; and at the present date, have an imposing little village, in which the houses of Carson and Maxwell are prominent by reason of their greater dimensions, and indicate to the trader a style of plenteous comfort, which, while it might offend the pale-faced denizen of our most fashionable thoroughfares, the traveler, who has learned to love nature and health, gazes upon with pleasure, and gladly tarries to enjoy the patriarchal hospitality, and the sumptuous, almost regal luxury of their hunter occupants, who "count their horses and their cattle by the hundreds," and whose thousand sheep are on the hills; whose larder is replenished from the still countless herds of prairie oxen which roam through those magnificent plains, and the lesser bands of speed-defying, beauteous quadrupeds of the hills, and the fleet climbers of the rocks and big-horned mountain cliffs, and the flocks that build their eyrie in their crags, all of which are occupants of the sheep-pasture of these chevaliers of the wilderness, and in whose court-yards may be seen specimens of this game, of which they are not ashamed; for a young Carson has lassoed a little grizzly, while antelope and young fawn feed from his sister's fingers.

Here too the Indian braves fear not to come and call the master of the mansion, Father,—"Father Kit," is his long time appellation—and they have learned to look on him and his, with all that reverence and fondness with which grateful children look upon a worthy sire.

Carson cannot tarry at his pleasant home, much more than to care for its necessary superintendence, for his life is the property of the public; and to the quiet settlement of the Indians into the condition which is happiest for them, so far as it can be secured in the condition of the country and their own habitudes, is the work to which he has wisely devoted himself. He has given to the Indians the best years of his ever busy life, and gives them still, neglectful of immediate personal comfort—or rather finding highest satisfaction in doing what is fittest he should do, because it is the work in which he can accomplish the most good.

In the vicinity of the home of Carson, and that of his friend Maxwell, are gathered a number of their old comrades—men of the mountains, who have survived the multitudinous and conflicting events which have come over the spirit of the Yankee, and the activities of the Yankee nation, since the business of trapping first became for her hardy sons a lucrative employment; and here, in the society of each other, and the conscious security of protection for each other, in a locality congenial to their tastes, with occasional old time occupations, and where the rivalries of their predilections can be still indulged, and quietly maintained, they are ever ready after every test to concede to Christopher Carson the palm of being first as a hunter, first as an experienced traveler and guide through the mountain country, whether it be by a route he has, or one he has never before traveled.

The stories of his exploits in defence of his neighbors and friends, and to recover from the Indians property they had stolen, since he left the service of the Army of the United States, would of themselves fill a volume, and we have space to allude to but a very few.

A Mrs. White, the wife of a merchant of Santa Fe, had been taken captive with her child, (which was soon killed before her eyes,) by a party of Apaches, who had shot her husband, and all the men of his company, before capturing her. A party of New Mexicans was at once organized to pursue the Indian band, and effect Mrs. White's release if possible. The guidance of this party was entrusted to a neighbor by the name of Watkins Leroux, rather than to Carson. They found the Apache murderers, and Carson was advancing foremost to attack them, when he discovered that the rest of the party were not following; consequently he had to retire, and when the commander ordered the attack to be made, it was too late, for the Indians had murdered Mrs. White and were preparing to escape by flight. Carson tells this story with all the generous magnanimity a great soul exercises in speaking of a failure on the part of a rival; admitting that, if his advice had been followed, they might have saved Mrs. White, but affirming that the command "did what seemed to it the best, and therefore no one has any right to find fault."

This occurred in the autumn of eighteen hundred and forty-nine, directly after the commencement of the settlement of Rayedo.

Near the close of the following winter, all the animals belonging to the party of ten dragoons which had been stationed there to protect the settlement, were run off by the marauding Apaches, and the two herders having them in charge, were wounded. Early the following morning, Carson and three of the settlers with the ten dragoons, started in pursuit, discovered the Indians—twenty well armed warriors—and four of the party being obliged to stop, because their animals had given out, the remaining ten rode down the Indians, who might themselves have escaped but for their persistance in retaining the stolen horses, which were all recaptured except four, while five of the warriors were killed, and several more wounded. This expedition was planned and executed under the direction of Carson, and the fact that he was their leader gave every man confidence, as they knew that with him an engagement implied success or death.

The next spring Carson went to Fort Laramie with a drove of horses and mules, making the journey successfully and pleasantly in company with Timothy Goodell, another old mountaineer, being the observed of all observers to the large numbers of overland emigrants to California whom he met at the fort, where Goodell left him to go to California.

Carson found a Mexican to attend him upon his return, and taking a circuitous course, he managed to avoid the Apaches; often traveling by moon-light, and taking their animals into a quiet nook, and climbing a tree for a little sleep during the day, they finally reached the Mexican settlements in safety.

The days of the following summer winged their happy flight with great rapidity, while Carson was directing and aiding in his farming, and, of course, pursuing his favorite employment of hunting, ever returning from a hunt with his horse laden with deer or antelope, wild turkey and ducks, or perhaps a half score or more of prairie chickens, to complete the list. Only once was his work interrupted by the harsher business of chastising offenders against justice, and this time the guilty parties were two white men.

A party of desperadoes, so frequently the nuisance of a new country, had formed a plot to murder and rob two wealthy citizens, whom they had volunteered to accompany to the settlements in the States, and were already many miles on their way, when Carson was informed of the nefarious design. In one hour he had organized a party, and was on his way in quick pursuit, taking a more direct route to intercept the party, and endeavoring at the same time to avoid the vicinity of the Indians, who were now especially hostile, but of whose movements Carson was as well informed as any one could be. In two days out from Taos, they came upon a camp of United States recruits, whose officer volunteered to accompany him with twenty men, which offer was accepted, and by forced marches they soon overtook the party of traders, and at once arrested Fox, the leader of the wretches, and then proceeded to inform Messrs. Brevoort and Weatherhead of the danger which they had escaped; and they, though at first astounded by the disclosure, had noticed many things to convince them that the plot would soon have been put in execution.

Taking the members of their party whom they knew were trusty, they at once ordered the rest, thirty-five in number, to leave immediately, except Fox, who remained in charge of Carson, to whom the traders were abundant in their thanks for his timely interference in their behalf, and who refused every offer of recompense.

Fox was taken to Taos, and imprisoned for a number of months; but as a crime only in intent was difficult to be proved, and the adobe walls of their houses were not secure enough to retain one who cared to release himself, Fox was at last liberated, and went to parts unknown.

On the return of Messrs. Brevoort and Weatherhead from St. Louis, they presented Carson with a magnificent pair of pistols, upon whose silver mounting were inscribed such words as would laconically illustrate his noble deed, and the appreciation of the donors of the great service rendered. The summer following was consumed in an excursion for trade, on behalf of himself and Maxwell, and a visit to the home of his daughter, now married in St. Louis; and which was prosecuted without incident worthy of note, until he came to a Cheyenne village on the Arkansas, upon his return. This village had received an affront from the officer of a party of United States troops bound to New Mexico, who had whipped one of their chiefs, some ten days before the arrival of Carson; and to have revenge upon some one of the whites, was now the passion of the whole tribe.

The conduct of this officer is only a specimen of that which thousands have exercised toward the Indians of the different tribes; and the result is the same in all cases. Carson's was the first party to pass the Indian village after this insult; and so many years had elapsed since he was a hunter at Bent's Fort, and so much had this nation been stirred by their numberless grievances, that Carson's name was no longer a talisman of safety to his party, nor even of respect to himself, in their then state of excitement; and as Carson went deliberately into the war council, which the Indians were holding on the discovery of his party, having ordered his men to keep their force close together, the Indians supposing he could not understand them, continued to talk freely of the manner of capturing the effects, and killing the whole party, and especially himself, whom they at once concluded was the leader. When Kit had heard all their plans, he coolly addressed them in the Cheyenne language, telling them who he was, his former association with and kindness to their tribe; and that now, he should be glad to render them any assistance they might need; but as to their having his scalp, he should claim the right of saying a word. The Indians departed, and Carson went on his way; but there were hundreds of the Cheyennes in sight upon the hills, and though they made no attack, Carson knew he was in their power, nor had they given up the idea of taking his train. His cool deliberation kept his men in spirits, and yet, except upon two or three of the whole fifteen, he could place no reliance in an emergency. At night the men and mules were all brought within the circle of wagons, grass was cut with their sheath-knives, and brought into the mules, and as large a guard was placed as possible. When all was quiet, Carson called outside the camp with him a Mexican boy of the party, and explaining to him the danger which threatened them, told him it was in his power to save the lives of the company, and giving him instructions how to proceed, sent him on alone to Rayedo, a journey of nearly three hundred miles, to ask an escort of United States troops to be sent out to meet him, telling the brave young Mexican to "put a good many miles between him and the camp before morning;" and so he started him, with a few rations of provisions, without telling the rest of the party that such a step was necessary. This boy had long been in Carson's service, and was well known to him as faithful and active, so that he had no doubts as to the faithful execution of the trust confided to him; and in a wild country like New Mexico, with the out-door life and habits of its people, a journey like the one on which he was dispatched, was not an unusual occurrence: indeed, in that country, parties on foot often accompany those on horse, for days together, and do not seem to feel the fatigue. Carson now returned to the camp to watch all night himself; and at break of day they were again upon the road. No Indians appeared until nearly noon, when five warriors came galloping toward them. As they came near enough to hear him, Carson ordered them to halt, and approaching, told them that the night before, he had sent a messenger to Rayedo, to inform the troops that their tribe were annoying him; and if he or his men were molested, terrible punishment would be inflicted by those who would surely come to his relief. The Indians replied, that they would look for the moccasin tracks, which they probably found, and Carson considered this the reason that induced the whole village to pass away toward the hills after a little time, evidently seeking a place of safety. The young Mexican overtook the party of troops whose officer had caused the trouble, to whom he told his story, and failing to secure sympathy, he continued to Rayedo, and procured thence immediate assistance. Major Grier dispatched a party of troops, under Lieutenant R. Johnston, which, making rapid marches, met Carson twenty-five miles below Bent's Fort; and, though they encountered no Indians, the effect of the quick transit of troops from one part of the country to another, could not be other than good, as a means of impressing the Indians with the effective force of the United States troops.