CHAPTER XIII—PURSUITFor 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.
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.