So eager was Kit Carson to secure the wonderful leader of the drove
that he had spent much time in thinking out various plans by which the
black pony might be captured. There had been times when he acknowledged
that it seemed a pity to try to take such a noble-looking animal from
its state of freedom and compel it to become a servant. And yet,
although the trapper’s feelings were tender and he seldom permitted his
men even to shoot game without some necessary purpose in view,
nevertheless the eagerness of the leader to obtain possession of the
beautiful animal increased with every passing day.
When at last he explained his plans to his friends he said: “I have
discovered a pocket about ten miles below that gorge into which the
black rascal led his followers. I think it will be possible for us to
run him into that. There will be no use in trying it until we have
tired him out, but I think we shall be able to do that.”
“How?” inquired Reuben.
“I have found that the wild horses come about two nights a week into
that valley where we drove them. They seem to have regular rounds. The
old fellow that leads them is smart, and if any bears or wolves have
thought they could lie in wait for him they have been mistaken, for he
never is two successive nights in the same place.”
“But how do you think you are going to drive him into that pocket?”
“I’m telling you, lad, to-night the wild ponies will be in the place
where we drove them the last day we chased them. We mustn’t let them
get inside. Probably the leader will do just what he did before—send
his family and his friends off in one direction and he will start for
another. Then the thing for us to do is to chase him back and forth
over the ten miles.”
“But you’ll need an army of men to do it,” suggested Reuben.
“I have already sent ahead four men. They are as full of the game as we
are. They haven’t seen that black horse, but what I have told them
about him makes them all hungry to join in the chase. I’m going to put
you and Jack down below that pocket. You two must turn back the fellow
if he tries to get past you. I don’t think he will, for he won’t want
to leave his charges quite so far away. I have got some pieces of tin
and I want you both to pound on them and yell like good fellows. Turn
him back anyway. Chase him. Make him go as far as the place where I am
going to have two other men waiting. Then I’ll have two more up near
the valley.”
“Where will you be?” inquired Reuben, who was becoming deeply
interested in the project.
“I’m going to be where I’m needed most, for my horse is the swiftest in
the camp. I want to be in at the finish, too, for I’m going to lasso
the rascal. And this time we’re going to succeed.”
In spite of the failures of the preceding attempts somehow Reuben was
convinced that a greater measure of success was likely to crown their
efforts in the present chase. Obedient to the word of their leader the
lad and his companion rode in the direction indicated and in a brief
time had arrived at the position they desired.
Upon their arrival they were speedily convinced that the description
which Kit Carson had given of the spot was more than fulfilled. A
narrow space not more than forty feet wide seemed almost to provide an
end for the long valley. Beyond it was another valley, the passage
between being like an isthmus joining two larger spaces.
Every rider carried his gun, and in addition to these weapons Reuben
and Jack had tied to the pommels of their saddles some large pieces of
tin which had served as the bottoms of certain pans that had been used
in the camp.
As soon as they had taken their positions, they threw their bridles
over the heads of their horses and climbing to the shelter of the
overhanging rocks seated themselves to await the signal that might be
given for the approach of the horse they were so eager to capture.
Between the places occupied by Reuben and his friend two other men were
stationed, but they were hidden from the sight of their companions.
Slowly the afternoon waned, but patience was a lesson which Reuben had
learned from the scout. Never yet had he heard an impatient word or a
word of complaint escape the lips of Kit Carson. For one whose natural
temperament was so fiery, who was so quick in his movements, and so
thoroughly alive to every form of physical activity, his powers of
repression and self-control were marvellous. In part it was due to his
natural disposition, but still more it was the result of his training.
The school in which he had studied was hard and the lessons were not
taught by a schoolmaster. In order to succeed as a hunter or trapper
infinite patience was required. The very success which had attended the
efforts of the young scout had been a part of his duties, and Kit
Carson had been a diligent pupil. In all his experiences with him the
only time Reuben had ever seen him respond to the words of his
comrades, which easily aroused the anger of one another, had been the
time when Rat had declared that he would thrash any man in the camp who
declared himself to be an American.
Even now the recollection of the boaster caused Reuben to smile, and
turning to his friend he said: “Do you know what has become of Rat?”
Jack laughed as he said: “I reckon he evaporated. He hasn’t been seen
near here nor in these parts for a long time.”
“Do you suppose he will ever try to get even with Kit Carson?”
“I don’t think he will even try any such thing. What he will try
hardest to do will be to put all the space he can between him and the
scout.”
Reuben laughed as he said: “I wouldn’t have believed that a little
fellow like Kit Carson would have dared to fight such a great hulk as
Rat.”
“You don’t know him. He’s afraid of nothing on earth, and yet, like
other men who are good fighters, he doesn’t fight often. There is a big
difference between a man who is always picking a quarrel and one who
can put up a good fight.”
“I reckon Rat knows that now.”
“He surely does, and I don’t think he will want to take the lesson over
again either. He won’t have to stay after school to learn the rules of
that game.”
“The only thing I have heard Kit Carson talk much about of all the
things he has done was what he did in his fight with the two
grizzlies.”
“That’s right,” replied Jack, laughing loudly as he spoke. “I have
heard him tell that story a good many times. He almost makes me see
that big grizzly swinging and snorting and swaying his head when Kit
struck him on the nose with his club. The nose is about as tender a
spot for a grizzly as his shins are for a darky.”
“It was mighty funny,” laughed Reuben. “I saw both of them. When the
first one came down the tree the other one acted just as if he was
giving his opinion of a fellow who would back out like that. He would
show him how to do it; so up he goes, and Kit Carson gets a good swing
on his club and lands it right plumb on the snout of that grizzly. The
way that bear snorted and shook his head almost made me laugh.”
“I should think it would have made you laugh.”
“The only reason I didn’t was because I was afraid the bear would see
me, and turn around and come for the tree where I was. I hadn’t any
desire to have him know any more about me than he did right then.”
“‘Ignorance is bliss,’ they say.”
“It was with me when I thought of that bear. Can you see anything of
Kit Carson and the horses?” Reuben added as he peered intently in the
direction from which the expected approach of the black leader was to
be seen.
Jack was silent a moment before he said: “I see something moving up
yonder.”
Instantly Reuben leaped to his feet and gazed long and earnestly in the
direction indicated by his companion. Not many minutes had elapsed
before both men were convinced that some large animals were
approaching. Both were hopeful that the cloud of dust which was now
steadily increasing as it drew nearer concealed the black horse and his
pursuers. The cloud approached rapidly, but it was long before Reuben
was able to discover the outlines of a horse running swiftly and
pursued by two riders.
“There they come! There they come!” exclaimed the boy excitedly. “The
old fellow is making straight for this place where we are.”
“We had better hide so that he won’t turn off,” suggested Jack. “Then
when he comes a little nearer we’ll take the tin pans and sticks and
serenade him.”
“We’ll have to be quick about it,” suggested Reuben as he saw the black
leader now swiftly approaching. Apparently he had been chased far and
long, for his body was flecked with foam and his breathing was
laboured. In spite of his appearance of distress, however, the steed
was such a noble-looking animal that Reuben’s admiration was keener
than when he first had seen him. There was a wildness in his manner
now, however, that had not been seen on the former occasions. The poor
beast, fighting for his liberty, and perhaps believing that he was
struggling for his life, was now thoroughly alarmed. His speed had
diminished, and, pursued by fresh horses, he was no longer able to
outdistance them easily.
The horse now was within fifty feet of the place where Reuben was
standing. Quickly he and his companion began to pound upon their tins
and at the same time they shouted in their loudest tones.
The startled horse swerved in his course, and, snorting with anger or
fear, started for the familiar entrance. Evidently he was fearful that
a trap of some kind had been laid, for, turning sharply about within
the narrow valley, he started swiftly back over the way by which he had
come.
“Chase him! Chase him!” called one of the pursuers. “You and Jack take
your ponies now and give him a good run. We’ll go into the other end of
the pocket so that he won’t go through there, and when he runs in the
next time, why, we’ll let Kit Carson take him.”
In response to the suggestion Reuben and Jack speedily were mounted and
in swift pursuit of the running horse. Their own mounts were somewhat
fresh now, and as neither was slow, the speed at which they advanced
was marked. It was plain, too, that the leader was distressed.
Occasionally when he glanced backward his nostrils seemed like coals of
fire and an expression of fear as well as of anger flashed from his
eyes.
“Keep it up! Keep it up!” called Jack. “Spread out a little! Drive him
back so that Kit Carson can start after him! This time I think he will
get him for sure.”
It was fortunate for Reuben and his companion that their own horses
were not compelled to cover all the distance between the pocket and the
valley. Both ponies were soon labouring hard and with difficulty
maintaining the pace into which their riders had urged them. Hard,
however, as they soon were working, their distress was markedly less
than that of the animal they were following.
Spreading out when they came nearer the place where they expected to
find some of their comrades, the boys were not surprised when suddenly
Kit Carson and four of his companions, yelling in their loudest tones
and brandishing rifles, several of which were discharged, dashed after
the startled wild horse. Again he retraced his way, but his distress
was increasing so rapidly that it was a question whether or not he
would be able to gain the pocket before he would be taken.
Kit Carson was carrying his lasso, and it was plain to Reuben that at
almost any moment now he was prepared to dash ahead and try to cast the
rope over the neck of the suffering steed. For some reason, which
Reuben did not understand, the action was delayed. Kit Carson, however,
was riding in advance of his followers, and, his pony being
comparatively fresh, he was able to make swifter time than the horse he
was following. All now were near the entrance to the pocket, and a
shout arose when the black horse dashed through the narrow opening.