When his last journey to Washington was ended the scout was glad to return to his family at Taos. There he had a house built of adobe, in which there was always a welcome for his friends. Even the Indians came and went with more freedom than they visited any of the homes of the white men. Affectionately the redmen called him “Father Kit,” and the confidence of the good Indian was as strong as was the fear of the Indian who had done wrong. About forty miles distant from Taos Kit Carson had his ranch. There his family spent much of their time and there, too, there was always a welcome not only for his old friends, but for visitors as well. Lieutenant Fremont had now become a colonel and his name was famous throughout the United States. He, too, visited the scout of whom he had been so fond, and in his letters, which are still in existence, he relates what a good time he had at the home of Kit Carson, the famous scout, trapper, guide, and messenger. Kit Carson looked well to his farm, but his love of hunting was still strong. Indeed, it is said that his table was kept well supplied by the aid of his own rifle with game throughout most of the year. If Kit Carson believed that his roving days were ended now, he was soon to learn of his mistake. Of all his expeditions, however, only two can be mentioned here. On one of these, with some other men, mostly Mexicans, he drove nearly seven thousand sheep from Taos to California. Across the desert, through the lofty mountain ranges, the strange procession led by Kit Carson slowly made its way. At last, when the drovers arrived at their destination, they were able to sell their sheep for such high prices that every man received an ample reward for his labours. It was at this time that Kit Carson insisted upon going down the Sacramento to San Francisco. It had been many years since he had seen the settlement, and meanwhile the gold fever had drawn men of all kinds to the little place until it had increased very rapidly in its population. The scout, after his arrival, looked about him in amazement. Thirty-five thousand people were living in the place, which he had known only as a little hamlet. Even here his fame had preceded him and there were many of the reckless men who tried to induce the famous scout to join them in their wild dissipations. With the same quiet strength which he had shown in his early life, Kit Carson steadfastly refused the invitations, and when he departed, his record was as clean as when he had first come.