CHAPTER X—ATTACKED

CHAPTER X—ATTACKEDNot far in advance the body of an Indian was seen lying directly across the trail. The entire band stopped abruptly at a signal from Kit Carson, and a moment later all were running forward to the place where the Indian was seen.“He may not be dead,” suggested one of the men. “He may be playing ’possum.”“That’s right, too,” suggested another. “They may be fixing a trap for us.”At the bidding of the leader the men all halted, every one holding his rifle in readiness for instant use, and all alike striving to keep watch on the various points from which they thought an attack upon them might be made.Alone and cautiously, Kit Carson advanced, and in a brief time he returned saying: “The man is dead. He had the smallpox. I don’t want any of you to go near him.”It was well known by the trappers what a terrible scourge smallpox was among the Indian tribes. Entire villages had been wiped out of existence by its ravages.“What do you think, Kit?” inquired one of the men. “Is this redskin left here for us, or do you think the village was trying to run away?”“Perhaps both,” replied the guide quietly. “At all events we’ll go around the hill.”“Better than that,” suggested one of the men. “I have had the smallpox and I’ll go ahead and drag the body out of the way.”At last the advice of the volunteer was accepted, and as soon as the dead body had been removed from the pathway the advance was resumed.Although he did not explain nor share his feelings with his companions, it soon became evident that Kit Carson was suspicious of the presence of other foes. Several times he had dropped behind the little cavalcade and as frequently had gone in advance of the body. It seemed more and more strange to Reuben that a man so boyish and slight as Kit Carson, in spite of his youth, should have such absolute control and such loyal support of the men who made up the little company.Late in the afternoon Carson, who had been serving for an hour as the advance guard, hastily rejoined his fellows and said: “There are twenty-five redskins ahead. They have stopped right near the trail.”“What are they?” inquired one of the men in a whisper.“Blackfeet.”“Are they armed?”“Yes.”“How many horses have they?”“There are as many horses as there are men.”“Do you think they know we are coming?”“I have no doubt of it.”“What shall we do?”“Drive them out.”“It can’t be done! It can’t be done! We haven’t but seven men.”“Yes, it can be done,” said Kit quietly. “Now if you’ll do just what I say, I’ll show you how.”Seeing his calmness and confidence, a new spirit of enthusiasm entered the hearts of the men, and they all cordially and willingly followed the directions of the young scout. Three of them were selected to advance along the trail toward the Indians. The other four, together with their prisoner, were to be concealed in a cluster of bushes near which the halt had been made. Just what the young Indian in their midst would do if left to himself no one of the trappers knew, but as they were fearful that he might try to betray them it was deemed wiser to compel him to remain where he then was.“Now, men,” said Kit Carson, as he and one of the trappers, named Jake, and Reuben prepared to leave their companions, “see that you do not expose yourselves. Every one of you hide and keep hidden until we have joined you. You may think when you first see us that you ought to fire right away, but hold your powder until we come. Now, don’t forget that!”As soon as these instructions had been given, the scout, together with his two companions, started along the trail in the direction of the place where the Indians had been seen.Reuben was excited and yet he was so elated over the consent which had been given him to accompany Kit Carson on this perilous adventure that he was almost unmindful of the danger that confronted him. They had left their ponies behind them, and now as they drew near the place where they were expecting to behold the Blackfeet Reuben glanced excitedly at his two companions. Neither of them, however, betrayed any alarm, and in a brief time they had come within sight of the camp.“I want both of you to show yourselves directly behind me,” directed the scout, “and then I want you to jump back into the bushes on either side of the trail, run back a few feet, and then come out where you can be seen again. We must make these redskins think there are at least a dozen of us. You’ll have to move fast, too, because we aren’t going to stay here very long.”A few moments later the men came within sight of the Indians. The discovery of their presence was greeted by a shout, but as yet none of the braves manifested any desire to start in pursuit of the white men.Acting promptly upon the suggestion of Kit Carson, Reuben and Jake darted into the bushes, emerging several times in a manner that might confuse their foes and lead them to believe that there were more in the party than at first appeared. Soon after the war-whoop of the Blackfeet had been heard Kit Carson and his companions started swiftly back over the trail by which they had come. Their flight was greeted with a loud yell, and instantly most of the Indians started in swift pursuit.“It’s the same band that killed the last party of trappers,” said Kit Carson in a low voice to Reuben. “We’ll fix them this time so that they won’t make any more trouble of that kind.”Reuben was running rapidly, but all three knew that they were a considerable distance from the Indians and that their own friends were not far back on the trail; so he was not unduly alarmed. Somehow his complete confidence in the young guide caused him to believe that even in their present peril he would find a way out.The yelling band of braves soon appeared. They were running swiftly and it was evident that they had cast aside their usual caution. The confidence of the attacking party was unabated. If Kit Carson was correct in his statement that the band following them was one which had destroyed the company of trappers the preceding year, it was plain now that they were equally sure the whites were afraid of them.At all events they were swiftly pursuing and were steadily gaining upon the three fugitives. The air resounded with blood-curdling war-whoops. The faces of the warriors, smeared with war-paint, were terrifying, and every time Reuben glanced behind him his fear increased, although he still was convinced that Kit Carson was not attempting any trick for which he was not fully prepared.Strong in their belief that the men who were fleeing were afraid, the Indians pressed still closer in their pursuit. Indeed they were almost upon the heels of the fleeing men. A few steps more and the venturesome trappers would be in their power.At last Reuben and his companions arrived at the thicket in which their friends were concealed. Darting quickly into the midst of the band, they cast themselves upon the ground, concealing themselves behind the trees, and prepared to join in the counter-attack which was about to be made. At that moment a shower of arrows fell among the bushes, and almost as if in response to this action the thicket resounded with the reports of the guns. The resounding yell of triumph from the eager Blackfeet was lost in the midst of the roar of the guns. Clouds of smoke slowly rose above the bushes and hid the scene from the sight of the anxious defenders. However, as soon as the smoke lifted a little, the bodies of the fallen Indians were seen upon the ground. On every side was the neighing of the terrified and the riderless horses. The startled Blackfeet in the midst of it all heard the click that indicated the reloading of the guns of their enemies. Too late they were aware of the mistake they had made.The band of warriors instantly broke and fled, and in the midst of the wild confusion that followed the first attack the weapons of the trappers had been reloaded and again the reports of the rifles rang out. With wild cries of terror the Indians continued their flight. Nor did they stop until they had disappeared from sight and had run far into the wilderness.Then it was that Kit Carson, bidding his men follow him, led them once more upon the trail. Scattered on the ground nearby were the bodies of ten of the Indians that had fallen under the fire of the trappers. Brave as the redmen had been, too late they had discovered that their bows and arrows were of no avail when they were fired upon by men armed with rifles and who were expert shots.Convinced at last that the danger was passed, Kit Carson summoned his men about him and first of all inquired whether or not any one had been hit in the shower of arrows that had fallen upon them. Fortunately no one had been injured, for the Indians had fired without any sight of the white men, simply trusting to their knowledge that some of them at least were concealed within the underbrush.“What will happen next?” inquired Jake.“No man can say,” replied Kit Carson.“Do you think they will attack us again?”“Not soon. They have learned a lesson which they will not forget right away.”“Then we can go right ahead?”“We shall keep on,” replied the guide quietly, “although I am sure that we are not done with our troubles.”“What are you afraid of?”“I am sure they will not leave us. They will follow us, and when night comes they will try to steal our horses, and if we were trapping here they would try to get our traps. I shall be surprised if we do not find that they are watching us all the while.”“Don’t you think we had better turn back?”“I have never travelled that way,” replied Kit Carson lightly. “The safest thing for us will be to show the Blackfeet that we are not afraid of them and are prepared to meet them.”In accordance with the suggestion of the scout, preparations were made at once for resuming the journey. It was plain, however, that not all of the men were of the same mind as their leader and that some were still fearful of attacks by the band which they had successfully driven off. Some time elapsed, however, before the true purposes of the Blackfeet were discovered.

Not far in advance the body of an Indian was seen lying directly across the trail. The entire band stopped abruptly at a signal from Kit Carson, and a moment later all were running forward to the place where the Indian was seen.

“He may not be dead,” suggested one of the men. “He may be playing ’possum.”

“That’s right, too,” suggested another. “They may be fixing a trap for us.”

At the bidding of the leader the men all halted, every one holding his rifle in readiness for instant use, and all alike striving to keep watch on the various points from which they thought an attack upon them might be made.

Alone and cautiously, Kit Carson advanced, and in a brief time he returned saying: “The man is dead. He had the smallpox. I don’t want any of you to go near him.”

It was well known by the trappers what a terrible scourge smallpox was among the Indian tribes. Entire villages had been wiped out of existence by its ravages.

“What do you think, Kit?” inquired one of the men. “Is this redskin left here for us, or do you think the village was trying to run away?”

“Perhaps both,” replied the guide quietly. “At all events we’ll go around the hill.”

“Better than that,” suggested one of the men. “I have had the smallpox and I’ll go ahead and drag the body out of the way.”

At last the advice of the volunteer was accepted, and as soon as the dead body had been removed from the pathway the advance was resumed.

Although he did not explain nor share his feelings with his companions, it soon became evident that Kit Carson was suspicious of the presence of other foes. Several times he had dropped behind the little cavalcade and as frequently had gone in advance of the body. It seemed more and more strange to Reuben that a man so boyish and slight as Kit Carson, in spite of his youth, should have such absolute control and such loyal support of the men who made up the little company.

Late in the afternoon Carson, who had been serving for an hour as the advance guard, hastily rejoined his fellows and said: “There are twenty-five redskins ahead. They have stopped right near the trail.”

“What are they?” inquired one of the men in a whisper.

“Blackfeet.”

“Are they armed?”

“Yes.”

“How many horses have they?”

“There are as many horses as there are men.”

“Do you think they know we are coming?”

“I have no doubt of it.”

“What shall we do?”

“Drive them out.”

“It can’t be done! It can’t be done! We haven’t but seven men.”

“Yes, it can be done,” said Kit quietly. “Now if you’ll do just what I say, I’ll show you how.”

Seeing his calmness and confidence, a new spirit of enthusiasm entered the hearts of the men, and they all cordially and willingly followed the directions of the young scout. Three of them were selected to advance along the trail toward the Indians. The other four, together with their prisoner, were to be concealed in a cluster of bushes near which the halt had been made. Just what the young Indian in their midst would do if left to himself no one of the trappers knew, but as they were fearful that he might try to betray them it was deemed wiser to compel him to remain where he then was.

“Now, men,” said Kit Carson, as he and one of the trappers, named Jake, and Reuben prepared to leave their companions, “see that you do not expose yourselves. Every one of you hide and keep hidden until we have joined you. You may think when you first see us that you ought to fire right away, but hold your powder until we come. Now, don’t forget that!”

As soon as these instructions had been given, the scout, together with his two companions, started along the trail in the direction of the place where the Indians had been seen.

Reuben was excited and yet he was so elated over the consent which had been given him to accompany Kit Carson on this perilous adventure that he was almost unmindful of the danger that confronted him. They had left their ponies behind them, and now as they drew near the place where they were expecting to behold the Blackfeet Reuben glanced excitedly at his two companions. Neither of them, however, betrayed any alarm, and in a brief time they had come within sight of the camp.

“I want both of you to show yourselves directly behind me,” directed the scout, “and then I want you to jump back into the bushes on either side of the trail, run back a few feet, and then come out where you can be seen again. We must make these redskins think there are at least a dozen of us. You’ll have to move fast, too, because we aren’t going to stay here very long.”

A few moments later the men came within sight of the Indians. The discovery of their presence was greeted by a shout, but as yet none of the braves manifested any desire to start in pursuit of the white men.

Acting promptly upon the suggestion of Kit Carson, Reuben and Jake darted into the bushes, emerging several times in a manner that might confuse their foes and lead them to believe that there were more in the party than at first appeared. Soon after the war-whoop of the Blackfeet had been heard Kit Carson and his companions started swiftly back over the trail by which they had come. Their flight was greeted with a loud yell, and instantly most of the Indians started in swift pursuit.

“It’s the same band that killed the last party of trappers,” said Kit Carson in a low voice to Reuben. “We’ll fix them this time so that they won’t make any more trouble of that kind.”

Reuben was running rapidly, but all three knew that they were a considerable distance from the Indians and that their own friends were not far back on the trail; so he was not unduly alarmed. Somehow his complete confidence in the young guide caused him to believe that even in their present peril he would find a way out.

The yelling band of braves soon appeared. They were running swiftly and it was evident that they had cast aside their usual caution. The confidence of the attacking party was unabated. If Kit Carson was correct in his statement that the band following them was one which had destroyed the company of trappers the preceding year, it was plain now that they were equally sure the whites were afraid of them.

At all events they were swiftly pursuing and were steadily gaining upon the three fugitives. The air resounded with blood-curdling war-whoops. The faces of the warriors, smeared with war-paint, were terrifying, and every time Reuben glanced behind him his fear increased, although he still was convinced that Kit Carson was not attempting any trick for which he was not fully prepared.

Strong in their belief that the men who were fleeing were afraid, the Indians pressed still closer in their pursuit. Indeed they were almost upon the heels of the fleeing men. A few steps more and the venturesome trappers would be in their power.

At last Reuben and his companions arrived at the thicket in which their friends were concealed. Darting quickly into the midst of the band, they cast themselves upon the ground, concealing themselves behind the trees, and prepared to join in the counter-attack which was about to be made. At that moment a shower of arrows fell among the bushes, and almost as if in response to this action the thicket resounded with the reports of the guns. The resounding yell of triumph from the eager Blackfeet was lost in the midst of the roar of the guns. Clouds of smoke slowly rose above the bushes and hid the scene from the sight of the anxious defenders. However, as soon as the smoke lifted a little, the bodies of the fallen Indians were seen upon the ground. On every side was the neighing of the terrified and the riderless horses. The startled Blackfeet in the midst of it all heard the click that indicated the reloading of the guns of their enemies. Too late they were aware of the mistake they had made.

The band of warriors instantly broke and fled, and in the midst of the wild confusion that followed the first attack the weapons of the trappers had been reloaded and again the reports of the rifles rang out. With wild cries of terror the Indians continued their flight. Nor did they stop until they had disappeared from sight and had run far into the wilderness.

Then it was that Kit Carson, bidding his men follow him, led them once more upon the trail. Scattered on the ground nearby were the bodies of ten of the Indians that had fallen under the fire of the trappers. Brave as the redmen had been, too late they had discovered that their bows and arrows were of no avail when they were fired upon by men armed with rifles and who were expert shots.

Convinced at last that the danger was passed, Kit Carson summoned his men about him and first of all inquired whether or not any one had been hit in the shower of arrows that had fallen upon them. Fortunately no one had been injured, for the Indians had fired without any sight of the white men, simply trusting to their knowledge that some of them at least were concealed within the underbrush.

“What will happen next?” inquired Jake.

“No man can say,” replied Kit Carson.

“Do you think they will attack us again?”

“Not soon. They have learned a lesson which they will not forget right away.”

“Then we can go right ahead?”

“We shall keep on,” replied the guide quietly, “although I am sure that we are not done with our troubles.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“I am sure they will not leave us. They will follow us, and when night comes they will try to steal our horses, and if we were trapping here they would try to get our traps. I shall be surprised if we do not find that they are watching us all the while.”

“Don’t you think we had better turn back?”

“I have never travelled that way,” replied Kit Carson lightly. “The safest thing for us will be to show the Blackfeet that we are not afraid of them and are prepared to meet them.”

In accordance with the suggestion of the scout, preparations were made at once for resuming the journey. It was plain, however, that not all of the men were of the same mind as their leader and that some were still fearful of attacks by the band which they had successfully driven off. Some time elapsed, however, before the true purposes of the Blackfeet were discovered.

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