nal day. Eden could scarcely have presented scenes more
attractive.

Young Carson stands at the door of the cabin with a stout mule before him.
The animal is strong and plump, having been feasting upon the wild oats
growing luxuriantly around. Carson is packing his mule. His outfit
consists of a Mexican blanket, rough, thick and warm; a supply of
ammunition; a kettle; possibly a coffee-pot and some coffee, which have
been obtained at Santa Fe; several iron traps; some dressed deerskin for
replacing clothing and moccasins, a hatchet and a few other similar
articles. In addition to his mule he may also take a pony to bear him on
the way. Thus, if by accident, one give out, he has another animal to rely
upon. And if very successful he may have furs enough to load them both on
his return.

His costume consists of a hunting shirt of the soft and pliable deerskin,
ornamented with long fringes and often dyed with bright vermilion.
Pantaloons of the same material are also ornamented with fringes and
porcupine's quills of various colors. Many a tranquil hour has been
beguiled, in the long evenings and when the storm has beaten upon the hut,
in fashioning these garments with artistic taste, learned of the Indians.
A flexible cap, often of rich fur, covers his head, and moccasins, upon
which all the resources of barbaric embroidery have been expended, cover
his feet.

His rifle is borne on his left shoulder. His powder horn and bullet pouch
hang under his right arm. In his bullet pouch he also carries spare
flints, steel and various odds and ends. Beneath the broad belt which
encircles his waist there is a large butcher knife in a sheath of buffalo
hide. There is a whetstone in a buckskin case made fast to the belt, and
also a small hatchet or tomahawk.

Thus accoutred, our young hunter and trapper sets out in search of the
most lonely ravine which he can find among the mountains. He would reach
if possible, some solitary stream which no white man's eye had ever
beheld. He has no road, no trail to guide him. He rides his pony and leads
his mule. Over the prairie, through the forest, across the streams, in
silence and in a solitude which to him is not lonely, he passes on his
way.

Night comes. If pleasant, he unburdens his horse and mule; drives his iron
pickets into the ground, to which his animals are attached by ropes about
thirty feet long, generally in pastures of rich grass or wild oats; builds
a fire, cooks his supper