into New Mexico, and counselled the retracing of their steps. Kit
Carson set himself to work, but found he had a difficult task to talk
courage into these men. By dint of much argument, he succeeded in
persuading one of them to accompany him. On the seventh day, with this
one companion--for the Mexican had left him--he broke up his little
camp on the Greenhorn, and set out upon his dangerous journey.

By taking a zigzag course, avoiding, in the mountains, all the usually
traveled trails, he advanced on his route forty miles without seeing
any very fresh Indian signs. As often as the moon was unclouded, the
two men embraced the assistance of its pale light to make progress
through the dangers that beset them; and, on the days which succeeded
this night-work, they would conceal themselves and animals in some
out of the way place, where they were not to be easily discovered. Kit
Carson had not sufficient confidence in the quickness of perception
of his companion to trust him as a sentinel, therefore, he had to
take upon himself all of that important duty. While on the lookout, he
usually posted himself in the top limbs of a tree and always took
care to select one that commanded a good prospect of the surrounding
country. After several days passed without having proper rest, Kit,
in the monotony of his position as sentinel, would feel sleep stealing
over him, until it was difficult to keep longer awake. He would close
his eyes and commence to nod, but on these occasions he was sure to
be quickly aroused on almost losing his balance, by which, however, he
endangered his neck. One day, while thus employed, he was perched in
the highest branches of a lofty old cotton-wood on the banks of the
River Timchera and not far off from the "Spanish Peaks." Nearly
ten hours had passed without anything special having attracted his
attention, when, all at once, a band of straggling Apaches came into
view not over one half mile distant. A single look was sufficient to