They followed the well worn mule path leading from New Mexico to California and which had been known for years as the "Old Spanish Trail." They reached White River without mishap, and made their way down it until Green River was forded, when they struck across the country to Winty River, where they came upon a party of twenty hunters, who were engaged in trading and trapping as opportunity offered.

They affiliated at once, for there is something in the presence of a common danger which draws men closely together.
The weather became very cold and snow began to fall.

It was decided, therefore, to go into winter quarters near the mouth of Winty River.
There they erected skin lodges, such as are used by many tribes of American Indians, and were content to wait the coming of spring.
The skill and address of Carson seemed to create a call for his services, no matter where he happened to be, and it was not long before he became involved in a most remarkable adventure.
Among the employees of the other party, was a shrewd civilized Indian, who was held in high regard by the whites on account of his native keenness, and who stood well in the confidence of his employer; but one day he disappeared, simultaneously with several of the very best horses.

The circumstances were such that there could be no doubt the two occurrences were inseparably connected.
The loss was too serious to be borne, and the angered leader of the other company (though he had not the least claim upon young Carson), appealed to him to help him to recover his property.

Carson said he was perfectly willing, provided Captain Lee would give his consent, and as the Captain was more willing to help his friend, he directed Carson to do as he saw fit.
The matchless hunter made sure his weapons were in the best order, and, mounting one of the fleetest horses in camp, he waved a merry farewell to his friends and galloped off.