The Blackfeet did not follow the whites, nor did the latter return to their charge against them. Both parties had gained a thorough taste of each other's mettle, and the conclusion reached was like that of two trained pugilists—their strength was so nearly equal that neither could afford to throw away his advantage by leading in the assault.
Undoubtedly Carson and his men would have withdrawn but for the hope that the reserves were close at hand. The trappers had fought valiantly but not more so than the Indians, who still possessed plenty ammunition while that of the whites was nearly exhausted. Had they advanced and encountered the warriors again, the latter would have swept everything before them. As it was, the mountaineers were by no means safe even when acting on the defensive. If the red men should charge upon them with their old time fierceness, it was by no means certain they would not destroy the whites. The fight would necessarily be of the most sanguinary nature, but when guns and small arms were useless for lack of ammunition, nothing short of a miracle could save them from annihilation.
Several hours had gone and Carson and his men wondered what could delay the reserves. Time always passes slowly to those in waiting, and to some of the hunters the tardiness of their friends was unaccountable. Carson was on the point of sending messengers back to hurry them forward, when the whole party appeared and the situation changed.
But those who expected the Blackfeet to flee in panic when they observed the doubling of the assailing forces, were much mistaken. The feeling among the Indians could not be described as in the least "panicky." They quietly surveyed the new arrivals and prepared with the coolness of veterans for the conflict that was sure to come, within the next few minutes.
The powder was distributed among the trappers, who were more eager than ever to attack their old enemies, who were as ready as they for the conflict. Nearly two hundred yards separated the combatants, when the mountaineers, leaving their horses behind, advanced on foot. The Blackfeet stationed themselves behind rocks and trees and defiantly awaited the attack.
In a few minutes the most savage fight of the day was raging. A hundred rifles were flashing in every direction and the yells of the red men mingled with the shouts of the excited mountaineers.
As the warriors had used every means to shelter themselves, it was necessary to dislodge them before they could be driven back. Without remaining together in a compact mass, the trappers made for them with the fierceness of tigers.
The result of this charge were a number of remarkable combats. A hunter would dash at a warrior crouching behind some rock, and the two would begin dodging, advancing, retreating, firing, striking and manoeuvering against each other. Sometimes one would succeed and sometimes the other. The Blackfoot, finding the situation becoming too hot, would break for other cover and probably would be shot on the run or would escape altogether. Again, it would be the white man who would be just a second too late in discharging his gun and would pay the penalty with his life.
At last the Indians began falling back and the mountaineers pushing them hard, they finally broke and fled in a wild panic, leaving many dead behind them. On the part of the trappers three had been killed and quite a number badly wounded.