_ CHAPTER XLII. KIT CARSON RIDES
Following the recession of the snow, men began to push westward up the Platte in the great 'spring gold rush of 1849. In the forefront of these, outpacing them in his tireless fashion, now passed westward the greatest traveler of his day, the hunter and scout, Kit Carson. The new post of Fort Kearny on the Platte; the old one, Fort Laramie in the foothills of the Rockies--he touched them soon as the grass was green; and as the sun warmed the bunch grass slopes of the North Platte and the Sweetwater, so that his horses could paw out a living, he crowded on westward. He was a month ahead of the date for the wagon trains at Fort Bridger.
"How, Chardon!" said he as he drove in his two light packs, riding alone as was his usual way, evading Indian eyes as he of all men best knew how.
"How, Kit! You're early. Why?" The trader's chief clerk turned to send a boy for Vasquez, Bridger's partner. "Light, Kit, and eat."
"Where's Bridger?" demanded Carson. "I've come out of my country to see him. I have government mail--for Oregon."
"For Oregon?
Mon Dieu! But Jeem"--he spread out his hands--"Jeem he's dead, we'll think. We do not known. Now we know the gold news. Maybe-so we know why Jeem he's gone!"
"Gone? When?"
"Las' H'august-Settemb. H'all of an' at once he'll took the trail h'after the h'emigrant train las' year. He'll caught him h'on Fort Hall; we'll heard. But then he go h'on with those h'emigrant beyon' Hall, beyon' the fork for Californ'. He'll not come back. No one know what has become of Jeem. He'll been dead, maybe-so."
"Yes? Maybe-so not! That old rat knows his way through the mountains, and he'll take his own time. You think he did not go on to California?"
"We'll know he'll didn't."
Carson stood and thought for a time.
"Well, its bad for you, Chardon!"
"How you mean, M'sieu Kit?"
"Eat your last square meal. Saddle your best horse. Drive four packs and two saddle mounts along."
"
Oui? And where?"
"To Oregon!"
"To Oregon?
Sacre 'Fan!' What you mean?"
"By authority of the Government, I command you to carry this packet on to Oregon this season, as fast as safety may allow. Take a man with you--two; pick up any help you need. But go through.
"I cannot go further west myself, for I must get back to Laramie. I had counted on Jim, and Jim's post must see me through. Make your own plans to start to-morrow morning. I'll arrange all that with Vasquez."
"But, M'sieu Kit, I cannot!"
"But you shall, you must, you will! If I had a better man I'd send him, but you are to do what Jim wants done.".
"
Mais, oui, of course."
"Yes. And you'll do what the President of the United States commands."
"
Bon Dieu, Kit!"
"That packet is over the seal of the United States of America, Chardon. It carries the signature of the President. It was given to the Army to deliver. The Army has given it to me. I give it to you, and you must go. It is for Jim. He would know. It must be placed in the hands of the Circuit Judge acting under, the laws of Oregon, whoever he may be, and wherever. Find him in the Willamette country. Your pay will be more than you think, Chardon. Jim would know. Dead or alive, you do this for him.
"You can do thirty miles a day. I know you as a mountain man. Ride! To-morrow I start east to Laramie--and you start west for Oregon!"
And in the morning following two riders left Bridger's for the trail. They parted, each waving a hand to the other. _