For a moment the startled men gazed silently at their leader. Every one
had been confident that when they drew near the Indian village the
redmen would give up the culprits. However, the quietly spoken
declaration of Kit Carson speedily aroused a spirit of determination,
and every one of his followers was willing to do his utmost to carry
out his directions.
Before an attack was made, however, the daring hunter approached the
village alone and noisily summoned the braves to a second conference.
Doubtless the slight form of the hunter and his boyish appearance
created a false impression in the minds of the Indians. That such a man
could really be the leader of the white men and that his courage would
be equal to an attack upon their village was plainly something the
braves did not believe. A brief conference followed, but the result of
it was not any more satisfactory than had been that of the former
interview.
Turning sharply about, Kit Carson quietly went back to his companions,
and then before the Indians were fully aware that he was gone, he said
in a low voice to his men: “Fire on the village! Every one pick his
man, and don’t one of you miss!”
Instantly dropping upon their knees the men obeyed the order. Almost
like the report of one gun the rifles rang out together.
Without waiting for the smoke to clear and reveal the result of their
attack, every man hastily reloaded his rifle and raised his gun to his
shoulder, ready for instant use. The Indians were not armed except with
bows and arrows, and the distance at which Carson’s followers had fired
was believed to be out of range of the warriors.
Cries of alarm and confusion arose from the village. Few of the redmen
had believed that the white men would dare attack, and the unexpected
action had thrown the entire place into confusion. It is true the
Indians greatly outnumbered the little attacking party, but as soon as
it was discovered that the white men were deadly in earnest and
determined to secure the culprits for whom they had come, their greater
numbers did not afford much comfort to the startled braves. Many of
them fled from the village, and those who remained speedily decided to
give up their guilty comrades who had sought refuge among them. It was
impossible to resist the onslaught of the band which had attacked them,
when it was led by such a man as the quiet, courageous scout.
For the third time the rifles were loaded, but before they were
discharged an Indian was seen approaching, extending the palms of his
hands in token of his peaceful purpose.
Directly behind him appeared a young Indian on horseback. He followed
the chief, who was advancing toward the white men, until he came near
the place where the spokesman halted. Although the followers of Kit
Carson were prepared for any event, no gun was fired, while all the men
awaited the coming of the messenger. It was believed now that there
would be no further attempt to shield the guilty parties for whom the
padre at the San Gabriel Mission had sent the expedition.
For a moment, although none of the watchful observers was able to
discover the cause, the herald remained silent. Reuben, who was deeply
interested in the exciting event, now saw, approaching from the
village, a young squaw. Just what was her purpose in coming was not
apparent.
The herald began his speech. “We shall no longer protect the men for
whom the white brothers have come,” he explained. “We did not ask them
to come to our village. They were in trouble and they sought us out. We
would punish them for the evil they did to the good padre, but now that
the padre’s men have come to take back to the mission the men who have
done evil, we shall no longer try to hold them in our village. The
brothers of the padre when they see the evildoers coming forth from our
village will not then make any more attacks upon us.”
The spokesman paused as if he was waiting for Carson to respond to his
implied question. As the hunter remained silent, the Indian herald
continued his appeal. “Already we have children that are fatherless
because the white men have killed our braves. You can hear the wailing
of the squaws whose husbands and sons you have slain. Is not this
enough punishment for the white men to visit upon us? We shall no
longer try to shield those who fled to us for refuge.”
“Will you give us every one?” demanded Kit Carson abruptly.
“Every one,” replied the Indian.
“Then tell them to come out to us now.”
The Indian turned back toward the village and then, abruptly halting,
once more faced the scout. “And will my white brother promise that no
harm shall befall us? That he will take the bad Indians only? Will he
promise that they shall be dealt with justly, and that no harm shall
come to them on their way back to the mission?”
“I make no promises except to tell you that every man will be treated
as he deserves.”
“That’s just the very thing they don’t want,” muttered Jack, who had
been listening as he stood opposite Reuben. “If they got what they
deserved there wouldn’t be many left in the village.”
“I’m afraid there wouldn’t be very many left among us either,”
suggested Reuben quietly.
“What do you mean?” demanded Jack.
“Why, I mean that if every man got what he deserved perhaps he would be
worse off than he is now.”
“I never got all that I deserved,” said Jack sharply. “I’ve seen a good
many men who passed for more than they were worth and then again I’ve
seen others who didn’t pass for what they were worth.”
“Which is your class?” said Reuben, laughing. Throughout the
conversation he had not turned away his gaze from the exciting events
which were occurring before him.
“It doesn’t make any difference which is my class,” retorted Jack. “All
I say is that Indians are all in one class——”
Jack stopped abruptly, for at that moment it was seen that the young
squaw who had come from the village had now turned quickly toward the
young Indian who had approached on horseback. Suddenly the mounted
Indian darted ahead, his horse apparently breaking into its swiftest
paces at its first leap forward.
The action of the Indian girl, however, was most startling of all. As
the young brave fled from the spot she grasped the tail of the horse he
was riding, and, clinging tenaciously to it, she was partly dragged and
partly helped forward as both fled from the spot.
At the first sight of the unexpected happening the men with Carson
laughed loudly. To them it was apparently a joke of some kind that was
being enacted before them. In a moment, however, Kit Carson turned to
Reuben and Jack and said: “Take your horses and follow that redskin.
He’s trying to get away and he’s using the squaw as a shield. If he
thinks that she is going to protect him, just show him how mistaken he
is. Take after them and don’t come back until you get them both.”
Instantly Reuben and Jack obeyed the command which had been given them,
and putting their horses into their best paces started in pursuit of
the fleeing pair.
It was not long, however, before they discovered that the Indian pony,
in spite of the load he was carrying and the weight that was attached
to his tail—for the Indian girl still was clinging tenaciously to her
hold—was much swifter than those of his pursuers.
The marvel of it all was the fearless manner in which the young squaw
still clung to the tail of the running animal. There were moments when
she was dragged over the sands, and then again she would regain her
footing and, running swiftly and leaping wildly, continue her flight.
But whatever befell her, whether she was dragged or drawn, her grasp
was not relaxed.
The horses which Reuben and Jack were riding were old and slow. The
main thought in the minds of the men when they departed from the
mission did not concern any possible pursuit. They all had confidently
believed that as soon as they approached the Indian village the
culprits whom they were seeking would be delivered into their hands.
Their plans, however, had undergone a change, owing to the attack which
they had been compelled to make. And now the wild flight of the two
Indians convinced the pursuers that the brave was a man of importance
in the tribe and that there were special reasons why he was eager to
escape.
Doggedly the white men held to the pursuit, but as they fled across the
level plains toward the defiles of the mountains not more than ten
miles away, they were soon aware that there was slight probability of
their overtaking the fugitives.
“My horse is winded!” called Jack sharply. “Let’s turn back!”
“We can’t turn back,” replied Reuben.
“We can, and I shall,” retorted Jack.
“You’ll have to go alone,” said Reuben. “Kit Carson told us to follow
this redskin until we got him. We have been following him, but we
haven’t got him yet.”
“Well, I can’t follow any farther,” said Jack, and as Reuben glanced at
the horse of his companion he was convinced that the man had spoken
truly. The sides of the poor beast were heaving convulsively and its
suffering was clearly apparent.
“You stop here!” called Reuben. “I’ll go ahead alone. I have a rifle
and the redskin hasn’t any, so I’m not afraid.”
In response to his suggestion Jack drew rein on his horse, and when
Reuben glanced behind he saw that the poor animal was barely able to
stand. The necessity of urging his own horse forward, however, soon
caused him to ignore the plight of his companion and he continued his
well-nigh hopeless pursuit.
Reuben was convinced that the Indian, although now he had stopped and
had taken the squaw behind him on the back of his pony, would be able
to outdistance him. In the pursuit they had steadily drawn nearer the
foothills and once among them Reuben was convinced that the fugitives
would escape. Doubtless they were familiar with the valleys and the
gorges and would speedily find some place in which to hide. But
remembering the words which had been spoken to him by Kit Carson, and
in a measure unconsciously imitating the spirit of the young scout,
which knew no such word as turning back, Reuben still clung to the
chase. The horse he was riding was slow, but its wind apparently was
holding out. Again the boy glanced behind him, and quickly discovered
that he was no longer able to see his companion. What had become of
Jack was not plain, but without any thought of giving in, Reuben urged
his steed forward.
In a brief time he was approaching the valley which he had seen when
the pursuit first began. It was a narrow pass between the foothills.
What lay beyond it he did not know, but his spirit of determination was
so strongly aroused that when the Indian whom he was following turned
into the narrow defile he decided at once to follow him.
Not long afterward Reuben found himself in the gorge. It was several
hundred feet wide and on one side there was a steep, precipitous rock.
On the opposite side the valley extended for several hundred feet to
the right, and apparently much of it was under cultivation. Surprised
by his discovery, Reuben still did not stop. He was relying chiefly
upon the rifle he carried for his defence.
He had not advanced more than two hundred yards beyond the narrow
opening before he was aware that further pursuit of the fugitives would
be useless. Both had disappeared from sight and doubtless were hidden
in some one of the many caves past which he had been riding.
Still keenly alert, Reuben turned and began to retrace his way toward
the entrance of the valley. He had advanced only a few yards, however,
when his progress was abruptly halted.