At this juncture young Kit Carson first showed the material that he was made of. Riding out in front, he swung himself under his horse,—and shooting at a redskin from below its neck, brought him to the ground.
“Bully for you, Kit!” shouted Scout Young. “But these infernal redskins are too thick for me. I must break loose and retreat to Tavo.”
This the plainsman speedily did, and, although pursued for some distance, finally got safely away. At Tavo a crowd of trappers were assembled for their yearly rendezvous. Ninety-five of them joined Young, crying: “To the rescue of Bill Bent! To the fore! We’ll clean up all the Comanches in the state!”
“Hurrah, boys!” shouted Young. “That’s the kind of talk I like to hear. We’ll get right after them.”
The Indians, meanwhile, still pursued Bill Bent and his party.
The trappers under Young were not long in riding to the rescue of their comrades. As they came in sight the redskins gave whoops of disgust, for they saw that they were outnumbered and outclassed.
“Back to the woods!” shouted young Kit Carson, as he galloped his steed in the direction of the braves. “Back to the plains, for we’ll get you now!”
As the party came on, Bill Bent’s followers set up a wild whooping. “We’re saved!” cried several. “Old Scout Young, we knew, would not let us be annihilated.”
The Indians now became dispirited. Seeing the reinforcements coming up in battle array they quickly retired, chanting a death song, for they had lost fully fifty men in killed and wounded.
Bill Bent’s followers were now free, and Bill, himself, was overjoyed to have saved his scalp. But he soon came near losing it again.