the fort. The result was that every man, woman and child, as fast as
they arrived at the fort, were eager to gratify their curiosity by a
sight of the man whose name and exploits had already been the theme of
many a conversation among them. If ever Yankee, or American, (which
is the more appropriate term, we will not attempt to decide)
inquisitiveness was exhibited, it certainly could be then seen at Fort
Laramie. The large majority of those who were thus anxious to see the
famous guide, were led astray by the descriptions which they had heard
and read, and picked out some powerfully built trader who chanced to
present himself, especially if the man was tastefully dressed in a
hunting shirt, with buck-skin leggins, and whose appearance indicated
ferocity. Of this kind of personages there were quite a number present
at the fort. Usually they would accost the man whom they had thus
selected. Sometimes, if their address was appropriate and the humor
of the person accosted so inclined, they would get put right, but more
frequently they were left to enjoy and cherish their mistake, or were
made the subject of a joke. Among the rest there came along quite a
rough looking individual fresh from the cane-brakes of Arkansas. He,
also, was seeking to place his eyes upon Kit Carson. Accidentally, or
intentionally, it matters not for the story, he was directed to the
place where the _bonâ fide_ Kit Carson stood. His powerful frame and
determined looks, as he put his inquiries, made those inquired of,
apparently, cautious how they perpetrated a joke upon the Arkansas
man. At last, standing face to face with Kit Carson, he thus
interrogated him. "I say, stranger, are you Kit Carson?" Being
modestly answered in the affirmative, he stood a moment, apparently
quite taken aback at beholding the short, compact and mild-looking
man that stood before him. Evidently his beau ideal of the great
mountaineer did not compare with the man whom he thus faced. This
momentary hesitation resulted in the conviction that he was being