Suddenly in the midst of their pranks there came a rude and sharp interruption. The reports of rifles were heard from two sides of the camp. Several of the Indians fell to the ground, and Reuben instantly followed their example, although he was uninjured.
With wild cries the redmen now ran for their horses, but as they approached the place where they had corralled them there were fresh shots, and others of the Indians fell.
With renewed and louder shouts they now turned and ran swiftly toward the plains beyond. Many of them had been able to secure mounts and some of the horses were carrying double loads. Most of the animals, however, had been abandoned in the sudden flight.
By this time the men who had attacked the camp were near enough to enable Reuben to recognize them as his recent companions. Among them he saw the youthful form of Kit Carson riding at some distance to the left of his comrades and evidently fearful of an attack from the redmen who might still remain in the camp.
Aside from those who had fallen, Reuben was convinced, as he lifted his head and gazed about him, that he was the only one left there alive. All those who had been able to escape had fled from the place.
“Here I am, Kit! Don’t shoot!” he called loudly, afraid to lift his head lest instantly he should be made the target of the excited trappers.
“Who’s calling? Who is it?” demanded Kit Carson quickly, as he and his companions stopped to stare blankly all about them at the unexpected hail.
“Here I am!” repeated Reuben. “If you won’t shoot I’ll stand up.”
“Go ahead, show yourself!” called Kit Carson.
At the command Reuben instantly arose and was recognized by the scout and his band.