“Ay de mi! Mi madre y mi padre!” wailed Pablo.
“Godey—he has scalps! See, on his gun!” directed Baptiste Tabeau, capering. “Yes! Two! Tied to the end of his gun!”
“They overtook the Indians as well as the horses,” remarked the lieutenant.
With whoop from Kit Carson and wide smile from Godey, triumphant the twain rode in. As said by Baptiste, from the end of Godey’s long-barrelled rifle dangled two fresh scalps, of black, Indian hair.
How the camp cheered. As soon as the horses had been thrown in with herd, around Kit and Godey gathered the camp, breathless to hear the story.
“Oh, Godey can tell it,” responded to the inquiries Kit. “Thar’s nothing to tell, anyhow. We followed the trail an’ found the Injuns an’ took the hosses an’ a couple o’ scalps, an’ hyar we air.”
“And my people, señor—my wife, and the mother and father of Pablo, and Santiago? Nothing of them?”
“Nothing of them, amigo,” said Kit Carson, gently; and turned away.
Godey, by no means loath, was recounting, in his dramatic French fashion, while to his words his auditors, particularly the other French, wagged their heads.