Excitement first arose when the dogs, growling, and the hair on their
backs standing erect, began to circle the camp and peer angrily into
the darkness. The action of the animals caused the men at once to look
more carefully to the horses. Every one of the beasts had been hobbled,
and were all within the circle of the camp. Although few words were
spoken, it was plain every man was suspicious that enemies were not far
away.
Soon in the deepening twilight several long, gaunt, shadowy forms were
seen creeping about the place. They were the timber-wolves, the most
savage of all the wolf tribe. Reuben, congratulating himself that he
was no longer alone, thought what his own feelings would have been if,
without the presence of the other trappers, he had heard these hungry
and savage animals prowling about his camp. He was positive that he
would not have given in without a struggle, but his confidence
certainly was much stronger now that he was in the company of Kit
Carson and his men.
The actions of the guide, however, were peculiar. Only two of the
wolves had been seen, and the sounds which they emitted were unlike
those which had been heard when they had been farther away.
Occasionally one or the other seated itself upon its haunches and,
throwing back its head, sent forth its mournful howls. At the same time
it was manifest that, although they kept well out of sight, the wolves
were stealthily creeping nearer the horses, which now had been
assembled at one side of the camp.
Kit Carson, too, was unusually watchful, although he had little to say
to any of his friends. When some of the men suggested that it would be
wise to shoot the treacherous animals, he had quietly and yet sharply
objected. “There isn’t one of you,” he said, “but might hit a dog,
mistaking it for a wolf. I would rather have a dozen timber-wolves
yelling around here all night than to lose one dog.”
The actions of the dogs also increased the uneasiness among the
trappers. Now they either were afraid or had lost the first fierceness
of their desire to drive away their foes. All four were whining and,
although the hair about their necks was still erect, they displayed
less inclination than before to attack the marauders. Crouching and
growling, they slunk back toward their masters.
For several minutes Kit Carson remained seated near the border of the
camp, holding his rifle in his hand and listening intently to the
sounds made by the two wolves. These animals had acted peculiarly from
the first. Both now were near the horses, and the terror of the
frightened animals was almost pathetic.
Beckoning to his friends to remain where they were, Kit Carson suddenly
raised his rifle to his shoulder and shot one of the wolves.
A strange, well-nigh unearthly sound followed the report of his rifle.
A scream, loud and prolonged, in no way resembling the howl of a wolf,
broke the silence. For a moment the men in the camp stared blankly at
one another, while Reuben was appalled by the weird and unnatural cry.
The guide, however, apparently was unmoved by the alarm of his friends.
Laughing lightly, he ran quickly to the place where the wounded wolf
was lying. The other beast had instantly turned and fled into the
darkness.
The approach of the guide produced an immediate effect upon the wounded
animal. Struggling desperately, it rose upon its hind feet and for a
brief time struggled to escape. The effort, however, was unavailing,
and it soon fell to the ground again and became motionless and silent.
Every one in the camp now was watching the leader with intense
interest, Reuben being the most excited of all. Indeed, the lad had
followed Kit Carson and was only a few yards behind him when the guide
stopped to watch the struggles of the animal before him. When at last
the wolf became motionless, Kit Carson advanced upon it and at once
lifted it to an upright position.
The strange events which had occurred were followed by those that were
stranger still. Seizing the wolf by its fore-shoulders, the guide
alternately with his foot and knee kicked the animal, compelling it to
walk in advance of him on its hind feet.
“Look out there, Kit!” called some one in the camp. “If you let that
fellow bite you it will be sure poison!”
No response was made by the guide, who had been intently watching the
wolf, which when standing up on its hind feet was as tall as he.
Strange to say, the animal made no attempt to bite its captor. As soon
as it was discovered that all efforts to free itself were useless, the
wolf was forced to approach the campfire, where the men curiously were
watching the antics of the strange animal. Never before had Reuben seen
a sight like the one he was now beholding. Why the wolf did not fight
he was unable to understand. The very fact that it had been wounded was
sufficient to arouse its anger, but, as far as he could see, it was
advancing as meekly as if it had been a lamb instead of a wild animal
in the hands of Kit Carson.
When the guide had brought his victim nearer to the fire in the camp,
he suddenly forced back the head of his prisoner, and then with one
quick motion tore back the skin, revealing the head and face of an
Indian. The sight, startling as it was, caused most of the men to
laugh. Reuben recalled now the stories which Jean had told him of how
some of the Indians, disguising themselves as wild animals, in the
darkness of the night had crept near the camp of the trappers to steal
their furs or run away with the ponies that belonged to the outfit. The
howlings he had heard then had been made by the Indians, and yet as
Reuben looked at the prisoner it was difficult for him to believe that
the human voice could so closely imitate the cries of a prowling wolf.
Meanwhile Kit Carson, who not for a moment had relaxed his grip of his
captive, suddenly tore away the skin in front, and as it fell to the
ground the entire body of a young Indian was revealed to the excited
assembly.
“Kill him!” shouted one of the men. The cry was taken up by others, and
for a brief time the fate of the young Indian was in the balance.
It was marvellous to Reuben at this time to see the young leader
quietly step in front of his men and say in a low voice, “We will have
none of that. He is my prisoner, anyway.” The guide, slight and boyish,
in his figure, speaking in a tone so low that it did not betray any
excitement under which he might be labouring, instantly checked the
anger of his men.
As they made no further effort to advance, he said: “This redskin is
only a boy. I shot him in the leg. I suspected just what he was trying
to do, and though he played the trick well, he lost. Come up here!” he
said to his captive, as taking him by the arm he led him near the fire.
A hasty examination of the wound disclosed the fact that it was slight,
the ball having not more than grazed the calf of his leg. A bandage was
soon made and applied, and after the feet and hands of the prisoner had
been securely bound he was placed upon the ground between the fire and
the trappers, who were soon asleep.
Meanwhile a guard had been established by the leader and a careful
watch was to be maintained throughout the night. If Indians were as
near as the presence of the prisoner indicated, Reuben was at a loss to
understand why the fire should have been kept up. However, as he had
complete confidence in the leader, he asked no questions, and soon he,
too, was sleeping as soundly as his companions.
When morning dawned and Reuben arose, he found Kit Carson talking to
the prisoner. “Come here!” called the leader when he saw that Reuben
was awake. “Have you ever seen this young redskin before?”
Reuben looked keenly at the captive before he replied. “He looks like
the young Indian that I saw two or three nights ago,” he said. “He was
one of the three I told you about that had been trying to steal horses
from the Pawnees. At least that’s what the Indian said who could speak
English.”
“Doesn’t this one talk English?”
“He didn’t that time, and the one who did speak it said he was the only
one that understood it.”
The trapper turned again to the Indian boy and tried to engage him in
conversation, but either the lad did not understand what was said or he
did not want to, for he stolidly refused to reply.
Once more the guide examined the young Indian’s wound, and soon
afterward turned to his followers, explaining that as soon as they had
all had breakfast and the horses had been watered and permitted to
gather such food as they could obtain in the little valley, the entire
band would resume its journey.
“But what shall I do?” said Reuben. “Shall I go away without trying to
find Jean?”
“Jean can take care of himself if he is alive,” said Kit Carson
quietly, “and if he is dead he will not need your help. I think the
only thing for you to do is to come with us.”
“Where are you going?”
“That will depend somewhat on what comes to us. We shall go back to
join the main camp pretty soon, but just now we are busy on some other
work. You will be safe with us, and if you stay here you may not see
another white face in a year.”
“But I don’t like to leave Jean,” persisted Reuben.
“As far as I can see you are not the one that left him. He left you.
Come, my lad, there’s nothing else to be done.”
“I have no pony.”
“What became of it?” inquired Kit Carson.
“While I was chasing a buffalo I ran into a prairie-dog village and the
horse stumbled and fell, and broke its leg. I had to shoot it.”
“We can fix you up. We have several ponies that are not being ridden.
You may have one of them to use.”
Somehow, feeling as if the matter had been decided for him rather than
that he had had any part in the decision, an hour later Reuben found
himself astride a stocky little pony riding beside Kit Carson, who was
leading the way. Conversation ceased, for still the guide did not
explain the purpose of their journey.
A brief time later he selected two men to go in advance of the others.
It was evident to Reuben that they were following what appeared to be
an Indian trail. The captive Indian was still in their midst, although,
he was no longer bound. What had become of his companion no one in the
party knew. He had vanished in the night as soon as his comrade had
been hit by the bullet of Kit Carson.
The journey was uneventful until the noon hour had passed, then when
the guide began to look about for a suitable place where they might
halt and prepare such food as they possessed for the mid-day meal, he
said abruptly: “Do you see what that is ahead of us?”
“Where?” inquired Reuben, who still was nearest the leader.
“Right ahead on the right. Close to the trail. Look at it closely and
tell me what you see.”
Doing as he was bidden, Reuben soon discovered an object that instantly
aroused within him a keen feeling of excitement.
“I see it!” he said, turning quickly to Kit Carson. “I see it! What are
we going to do?”