Scouting with Kit Carson

by Everett T. Tomlinson

Excitement first arose when the dogs, growling, and the hair on their backs standing erect, began to circle the camp and peer angrily into the darkness. The action of the animals caused the men at once to look more carefully to the horses. Every one of the beasts had been hobbled, and were all within the circle of the camp. Although few words were spoken, it was plain every man was suspicious that enemies were not far away.

Soon in the deepening twilight several long, gaunt, shadowy forms were seen creeping about the place. They were the timber-wolves, the most savage of all the wolf tribe. Reuben, congratulating himself that he was no longer alone, thought what his own feelings would have been if, without the presence of the other trappers, he had heard these hungry and savage animals prowling about his camp. He was positive that he would not have given in without a struggle, but his confidence certainly was much stronger now that he was in the company of Kit Carson and his men.

The actions of the guide, however, were peculiar. Only two of the wolves had been seen, and the sounds which they emitted were unlike those which had been heard when they had been farther away. Occasionally one or the other seated itself upon its haunches and, throwing back its head, sent forth its mournful howls. At the same time it was manifest that, although they kept well out of sight, the wolves were stealthily creeping nearer the horses, which now had been assembled at one side of the camp.

Kit Carson, too, was unusually watchful, although he had little to say to any of his friends. When some of the men suggested that it would be wise to shoot the treacherous animals, he had quietly and yet sharply objected. “There isn’t one of you,” he said, “but might hit a dog, mistaking it for a wolf. I would rather have a dozen timber-wolves yelling around here all night than to lose one dog.”

The actions of the dogs also increased the uneasiness among the trappers. Now they either were afraid or had lost the first fierceness of their desire to drive away their foes. All four were whining and, although the hair about their necks was still erect, they displayed less inclination than before to attack the marauders. Crouching and growling, they slunk back toward their masters.

For several minutes Kit Carson remained seated near the border of the camp, holding his rifle in his hand and listening intently to the sounds made by the two wolves. These animals had acted peculiarly from the first. Both now were near the horses, and the terror of the frightened animals was almost pathetic.

Beckoning to his friends to remain where they were, Kit Carson suddenly raised his rifle to his shoulder and shot one of the wolves.

A strange, well-nigh unearthly sound followed the report of his rifle. A scream, loud and prolonged, in no way resembling the howl of a wolf, broke the silence. For a moment the men in the camp stared blankly at one another, while Reuben was appalled by the weird and unnatural cry.

The guide, however, apparently was unmoved by the alarm of his friends. Laughing lightly, he ran quickly to the place where the wounded wolf was lying. The other beast had instantly turned and fled into the darkness.

The approach of the guide produced an immediate effect upon the wounded animal. Struggling desperately, it rose upon its hind feet and for a brief time struggled to escape. The effort, however, was unavailing, and it soon fell to the ground again and became motionless and silent.