Four Years in the Rockies

The hunters and trappers of the far west, at the time when the incidents I am about to relate occurred, were a brave, hardy and adventurous set of men, and they had peculiarities in their characters that cannot be found in any other people. From the time they leave civilization they—metaphorically speaking—carry their lives in their hands. An enemy may be concealed in every thicket or looked for behind every rock. They have not only the wild and savage beasts to contend with, but the still more wily and savage Indian, and their life is one continual round of watchfulness and excitement. Their character is a compound of two extremes— recklessness and caution—and isolation from the world makes them at all times self-reliant. In moments of the greatest peril, or under the most trying circumstances, they never lose their presence of mind, but are ready to take advantage of any incident that may occur to benefit themselves or foil their enemies.

Around the camp-fire they are not at all backward in boasting of what they have done and of bragging what they can do.

I was spending a few days at Nacadoches, Texas, in April, 1840, and there formed the acquaintance of half a dozen trappers, who had just come in from the mountains to dispose of their pelts. They had plenty of money, and were having a good time. I would often sit by their camp-fire and listen to their tales of adventures. Some of them related such daring and wonderful stories that I often thought there was too much Munchausen about them, and that a great deal of their talk was extravagant boasting; but a circumstance occurred that proved to me I was mistaken.