“This won’t do,” declared Kit. “This won’t do, captain. These critters air jest on the narrow edge ’twixt life an’ death, an’ they’ve got to have forage an’ rest every night, to carry ’em through the next day. It’s dangerous, missing grass.”
That was true. Now Proveau the buffalo-runner could not keep up, and dropped behind. Jacob was left by the lieutenant to bring him along slowly, while the squad went on, seeking a camping place. Lunch was a boiled mule-head. It furnished a soup.
Jacob arrived without Proveau; but he brought Charles Townes, who worn down by the long privations was becoming crazed. Just at nightfall, when all were well-nigh despairing for the lives of the few horses and mules remaining, the inspiring call of Kit Carson, on before, in the dark ravine, echoed back.
“This way!” he cried. And as they drove the staggering animals for him: “Life yet! Life yet, boys! Here’s a hill-side sprinkled with grass enough for the night!”
Hurrah for Kit—tireless, hard-working, never-say-die Kit!
Proveau the buffalo-runner, Charles Townes’ fine young horse from the Columbia River supply, and another Indian horse packed with the cooking utensils failed to join the herd; so that the next day some of the men were sent back after them or any others that had strayed. Baptiste Derosier appointed himself to bring in Proveau.
Oliver remained at camp, in the gorge, to guard the herd. The lieutenant and Kit Carson climbed as high as they could, for a view; and reported that beyond the timber the valley seemed to be as far as ever!
Baptiste and Proveau did not get in, that night; and Baptiste did not overtake the march, the day following. It was feared that he had become lost. Charles Townes was still crazy, and insisted upon swimming in the icy river; he imagined that this was summer-time. At evening Baptiste trudged weakly in. He sat down by the camp fire and began to tell of several days’ wanderings—as if he had been gone a long while.
The country was improving, with much grass, and flowers and butterflies, and acorns to eat; and Mr. Preuss walked on ahead of the squad, to sketch the route. That night he did not return to camp. The next day they found his trail, and they shouted and fired guns; but the only response they received was from an Indian, who in the mutual astonishment ran away.
The march must be continued; but although search right and left and on the back trail was made for Mr. Preuss, no sign of him was discovered. The lieutenant and Kit grew worried; Mr. Preuss had been unarmed, and no one could tell what the Indians might have done to him.