“Where?” inquired Reuben, who still was nearest the leader.
“Right ahead on the right. Close to the trail. Look at it closely and tell me what you see.”
Doing as he was bidden, Reuben soon discovered an object that instantly aroused within him a keen feeling of excitement.
“I see it!” he said, turning quickly to Kit Carson. “I see it! What are we going to do?”
[CHAPTER X—ATTACKED]
Not far in advance the body of an Indian was seen lying directly across the trail. The entire band stopped abruptly at a signal from Kit Carson, and a moment later all were running forward to the place where the Indian was seen.
“He may not be dead,” suggested one of the men. “He may be playing ’possum.”
“That’s right, too,” suggested another. “They may be fixing a trap for us.”
At the bidding of the leader the men all halted, every one holding his rifle in readiness for instant use, and all alike striving to keep watch on the various points from which they thought an attack upon them might be made.
Alone and cautiously, Kit Carson advanced, and in a brief time he returned saying: “The man is dead. He had the smallpox. I don’t want any of you to go near him.”