of the Elysian Fields. The leader of this expedition required no
second request from young Carson before enrolling his name on the
company-list. The hardy woodsman saw stamped upon the frank and open
countenance of the boy who stood before him those sterling qualities
which have since made his name a household word. These formed a
passport which, on the spot, awakened the respect and unlocked the
hearts of those whose companionship he sought.

The work of preparation was now commenced by the different parties to
the expedition. All of the arrangements having been finally completed,
the bold and hardy band soon started upon their journey. Their route
lay over the vast, and then unexplored territory, bounded by the Rocky
Mountains on the one side, and the Missouri River on the other. Before
them lay, stretched out in almost never-ending space, those great
prairies, the half of which are still unknown to the white man.
Crossing the plains in 1826 was an entirely different feat from what
it is at this day. Where, then, were the published guides? Where were
the charts indicating the eligible camping grounds with their springs
of pure water? These _oases_ of the American Sahara were not yet
acquainted with the white man's foot. The herds of buffaloes, the
droves of wild horses, knew not the crack of the white man's rifle.
They had fled only at the approach of the native Indian warrior and
the yearly fires of the prairie. It was a difficult task to find a man
who had gazed on the lofty peaks of the mountain ranges which formed a
serpentine division of the vast American Territories, or who had drank
the waters at the camping places on the prairies. The traveller
at that day was, in every force of meaning which the word extends,
literally, an explorer, whose chosen object was the task of a hero.
The Indians themselves could give no information of the route beyond
the confined limits of their hunting ranges. The path which this
pioneer party entered was existent only in the imagination of the
book-making geographer, about as accurate and useful from its detail,
as the route of Baron Munchausen to the icelands of the North Pole on
the back of his eagle. The whole expanse of the rolling prairie, to
those brave hearts, was one boundless uncertainty. This language may
possibly be pronounced redundant. It may be in phrase; it is not in
fact. The carpet-knight, the holiday ranger, the book-worm explorer,
knows but little of the hercu