A Hot Pursuit--An Unexpected Calamity--Carson Continues the Chase
Alone--The Result.
Everything now depended on speed. Not only was the dusky thief pushing
his animals to the utmost, but Kit Carson knew he would give them little
rest night or day. He was familiar with the route to California and the
pursuit would be no child's play.
There could be no doubt, however, of the destination of the redskin, and
Carson and his brave warrior were equally persistent with their horses.
The ground flew beneath their hoofs. Across the stretch of prairie,
along the bank of the rushing streams, around the rocks, over mountains,
through torrents, they forced their way, with no thought of turning back
or checking the speed of their animals. Occasionally the bright eyes of
the pursuers glanced at the ground in front, when the displaced gravel
or the indentation in the soft earth showed they had not lost the trail.
In this headlong fashion the friends galloped forward until they had
placed a full hundred miles behind them. They were a long distance from
home and camp, but in spite of the speed of the fugitive, Carson was
confident they had gained considerably upon him. If everything went
well, they ought to catch sight of him on the morrow. At this juncture,
when the prospect was so encouraging, an unlooked for calamity occurred.
Carson's steed stood the great strain admirably, but the one bestrode
by the Indian succumbed. He suddenly slackened his pace, staggered and
trembled so violently, that, when the warrior leaped from his back, he
saw he was fearfully ill. If he did not die, he would not recover for
hours and even then could not be forced hard.
Carson contemplated the situation with dismay. He had not counted on
anything like this, and the help of the Indian was beyond all price
to him. He was unusually strong, active and experienced, and would not
hesitate to attack any person single handed.
Seeing the condition of the exhausted steed, Kit proposed to his dusky
companion that he should abandon him and continue the pursuit on foot,
but the brave shook his head. He was equal to the exploit of running ten
or twenty miles at a high pace, but a great deal more was likely to
be required and he needed all his powers when the shock of the battle
should come. He not only refused to continue the chase, but, knowing
the character of the thief, tried to dissuade Carson from going further.
They had certainly done all that could be asked of them and no one could
find fault if, in the face of such difficulty, they should withdraw and
return to their friends.
"No," said Carson, "I have set out to recover those horses and nothing
shall turn me back. I am sorry to lose you, but it can't be helped; so
good bye and good luck attend you."
And putting spurs to his steed, he dashed over the trail with compressed
lips and flashing eye, determined on running down the fugitive if he had
to follow him to the bank of the Pacific itself. This single act of the
famous mountaineer shows his character in its true light.
In the first place, it must be remembered that Kit Carson was a man
of slight figure and was never noted for his strength. Many of his
companions were much more powerful, though none was so quick and active
in his movements. His wonderful success lay in his coolness, agility,
skill and bravery, which never "overleaped itself." As we have stated,
he was below the medium stature, and never could have attained a tithe
of his renown, had his muscular strength formed a necessary part of his
requirements.
On the other hand, the Indian thief whom he was pursuing, was
exceptionally powerful, athletic and one of the most desperate men on
the whole frontier. He cared nothing for Carson, nor for any single
member of the company he had left. He would expect pursuit and would be
on the watch for it. Whenever he caught sight of those who were seeking
him, he would not abandon the horses and flee. Far from it: he would
stand his ground, and if his booty should be wrested from him the men
who did it would be compelled to the fiercest kind of fight. He would
not run from the attack of two or three persons: much less from one of
the most insignificant men in the entire company.
The course of Carson illustrated another marked feature of his
character--that of loyalty to his friends and resolution in carrying
through any task he undertook. Where scarcely one man in a multitude
would have pushed forward, he advanced without hesitation. He
deliberately resolved to attack a fierce criminal who was as fully armed
as he, as daring and perfect in his knowledge of woodcraft, and much his
superior in strength.
Carson had proven the mettle of his steed, and he now showed him no
mercy. The trail indicated he was gaining rapidly and he was anxious to
force matters to an issue before night. Among the horses the Indian was
running off were one or two whose endurance was less than the others.
Their tardiness moderated the pace of the rest, and thus gave Kit a
chance of lessening the distance between him and the fugitive.
At the end of the ten miles he scanned the ground in front, but nothing
was seen of the thief or his horses; but the hoof prints were fresh and
the scout knew he was closer to him than at any time since the chase
began. The flanks of his steed shone with perspiration and froth, but
it would not do to lag now. The lips were compressed and the gray eye
flashed fire as before.
Ten more miles were speedily thrown behind him, and he knew he was not
far from the dusky desperado, who doubtless was continually glancing
backward in quest of pursuers; but the keen vision which swept around
every portion of the visible horizon, discovered no sign of the thief.
Carson anticipated some attempt on the part of the fugitive to confuse
pursuit and he, therefore, watched the hoof prints more closely than
ever. The eagle eye continually glanced from the ground to the country
in front, and then to the right and left. Nothing escaped his vision,
but when his foamy steed had thundered over another ten miles the
fugitive was still beyond sight.
"He can't be far off," was the thought of Carson, "I'm bound to overtake
him before long."
At that moment, he caught sight of the Indian galloping leisurely
forward, amid the stolen horses. The cunning savage, as the scout had
suspected, was constantly on the alert, and detected Carson the same
moment that he himself was discovered. Quick as a flash, he leaped from
the back of his horses and started on a swift run for a clump of trees
between him and his pursuer. The latter understood his purpose on the
instant. If the Indian could secure the shelter of the grove, he would
have his enemy at his mercy; for not only would he be able to protect
his body, while loading and firing, but Carson himself, being in an open
space, would be without the slightest protection against his deadly aim.
Carson cocked his rifle and driving his spurs into the flanks of his
high spirited steed, charged at full speed for the same shelter. Whoever
should reach it first would be the master.
The Indian had much less distance to run, and was as fleet of foot as
a deer. He bounded forward with such tremendous strides, that while the
horseman was still some distance away, he plunged in among the trees;
but for the last few seconds the foes had approached each other at a
terrific pace, a result that was not only inevitable, but desirable, to
the pursuer.
The very second the savage arrived on the margin of the grove, he made a
leap for the nearest tree from behind which he meant to shoot his enemy;
but in the very act of doing so, he was smitten by his bullet. Without
checking his animal in the slightest, Carson had aimed and fired.
The death screech of the savage rang out, as he leaped in the air and
tumbled prostrate to the earth, killed by the shot that was unerring in
its accuracy. The Indian himself was so near firing his gun, that his
piece was also discharged, the ball whizzing harmlessly above the head
of his pursuer. A couple of seconds delay on the part of Carson must
have proved fatal to him, for the savage was a good marksman, and was
standing still, with such a brief space intervening, that he could not
have missed. It is hard to conceive of any escape more narrow than that
of the daring mountaineer.