Scouting with Kit Carson

by Everett T. Tomlinson

“There they come! There they come!” exclaimed the boy excitedly. “The old fellow is making straight for this place where we are.”

“We had better hide so that he won’t turn off,” suggested Jack. “Then when he comes a little nearer we’ll take the tin pans and sticks and serenade him.”

“We’ll have to be quick about it,” suggested Reuben as he saw the black leader now swiftly approaching. Apparently he had been chased far and long, for his body was flecked with foam and his breathing was laboured. In spite of his appearance of distress, however, the steed was such a noble-looking animal that Reuben’s admiration was keener than when he first had seen him. There was a wildness in his manner now, however, that had not been seen on the former occasions. The poor beast, fighting for his liberty, and perhaps believing that he was struggling for his life, was now thoroughly alarmed. His speed had diminished, and, pursued by fresh horses, he was no longer able to outdistance them easily.

The horse now was within fifty feet of the place where Reuben was standing. Quickly he and his companion began to pound upon their tins and at the same time they shouted in their loudest tones.

The startled horse swerved in his course, and, snorting with anger or fear, started for the familiar entrance. Evidently he was fearful that a trap of some kind had been laid, for, turning sharply about within the narrow valley, he started swiftly back over the way by which he had come.

“Chase him! Chase him!” called one of the pursuers. “You and Jack take your ponies now and give him a good run. We’ll go into the other end of the pocket so that he won’t go through there, and when he runs in the next time, why, we’ll let Kit Carson take him.”

In response to the suggestion Reuben and Jack speedily were mounted and in swift pursuit of the running horse. Their own mounts were somewhat fresh now, and as neither was slow, the speed at which they advanced was marked. It was plain, too, that the leader was distressed. Occasionally when he glanced backward his nostrils seemed like coals of fire and an expression of fear as well as of anger flashed from his eyes.

“Keep it up! Keep it up!” called Jack. “Spread out a little! Drive him back so that Kit Carson can start after him! This time I think he will get him for sure.”

It was fortunate for Reuben and his companion that their own horses were not compelled to cover all the distance between the pocket and the valley. Both ponies were soon labouring hard and with difficulty maintaining the pace into which their riders had urged them. Hard, however, as they soon were working, their distress was markedly less than that of the animal they were following.

Spreading out when they came nearer the place where they expected to find some of their comrades, the boys were not surprised when suddenly Kit Carson and four of his companions, yelling in their loudest tones and brandishing rifles, several of which were discharged, dashed after the startled wild horse. Again he retraced his way, but his distress was increasing so rapidly that it was a question whether or not he would be able to gain the pocket before he would be taken.