Sometimes the mirages present to the vision what appear to be men, at other times bodies of water surrounded by trees, and often houses and whole towns. They appear before you on the dryest plains and then disappear as if the earth opened and swallowed them. Early in June we reached Bent's Fort and met there Col. Bent and his son, Mr. Roubidoux and his son, and a man named James Bridger, of whom you will see a great deal, later on in this narrative. These men were all traders, buying furs and buffalo robes from Indians, white hunters and trappers. We remained at Bent's Fort six weeks, and often during that time some one of the many hunters, trappers and traders, that made this place their headquarters, would ask Uncle Kit what he was going to do with that boy--meaning me. To all of which Carson would reply "I'm goin' to make a hunter and trapper of him." During the six weeks at the fort I was out nearly every day with some of the men, and to me they gave the name of "Young Kit." By the time we were ready to leave Bent's Fort, Young Kit became quite a rider, and Uncle Kit had been training me in the dexterous use of the rifle, shooting from my knee, lying on my back, resting the gun on my toes, lying flat on my belly, resting the gun on my hat, and in various other positions. Having disposed of all our blankets, beads and all of the tobacco, except what was reserved for home consumption, we left Bent's Fort, crossed the Arkansas river and followed up Apishapa creek three days, when we came to the Rocky Mountains, among which we were during four days, passing Trinkara Peak then turning south toward a little Mexican village called Taos, where Uncle Kit made his home, he having a house of his own in that village. On the morning after our arrival at Taos, Uncle Kit said to me at breakfast: "Willie, there are a lot of Mexican boys here who would like to play with you." Some of them were standing near in a group, gazing at me in much wonderment. "But," continued Uncle Kit, "you will have to learn to speak their language in order to have much fun. Go with them if you wish, and tell me to-night how many words you have learned." Then he spoke to the group of boys in their own tongue and told them I wished to play with them but couldn't speak their language, and wanted to learn. We had a jolly time that day in many boyish games that I had never seen, and when I came home Uncle Kit asked me how many words I had learned. "Three," I replied. "Splendid!" he exclaimed. "'Twont be long fo' you are a fus'-class Mexican." One evening, after we had been in Taos about two weeks, Uncle Kit told me to put on my best suit and he would take me to a fandango. I was not sure what a fandango was but was willing to experience one, just the same, and, togged out in our best, we went to the fandango, which was simply a Mexican dance. Sort of a public ball.