This man Shewman seemed to have a great antipathy toward Kit Carson.
If the reader will pardon me, I would like to say just here, that while Kit Carson was the last man to offer an insult, yet, at the same time, if challenged, he would fight any man living rather than be called a coward, and in those days the character of men concerning whom this work is written quarreled but very little. If a man insulted another, ten chances to one he would be challenged to fight a duel; and in such a case he would either have to fight or be branded as a coward, and the sooner he left the crowd the better it would be for him, for he could see no peace while remaining with them.
The third day we arrived at the place spoken of, this man Shewman got pretty well ginned up and started out to look for Uncle Kit, saying that he had heard a great deal of Kit Carson and of his fighting proclivities, and that he would lick him on sight. One of Shewman's friends, knowing Kit Carson by reputation, tried to induce him to let Kit alone and have nothing to do with him, but the more they said to him the madder he got, until finally he was raging with anger.
It happened that while he was in his rage, Uncle Kit, Jake Harrington and I, knowing nothing of Shewman's mad fit, started out to look after our horses and had to pass near their camp. Just as we were passing by their cabin, Shewman said:
"There goes the d--d white-faced American now. Look at him, he looks just like a coward, and he is a d--d cowardly cur, just like all the rest of the Americans."
