Scouting with Kit Carson

by George Cary Eggleston

  CHAPTER XXIII--BAFFLED

  In his excitement Reuben, almost unmindful of his companion, started atonce toward the place where the man whom he believed to be Jean Badeauwas standing. As he approached he was speedily aware that if the manbefore him was his lost friend there was no evidence of recognition ofthat fact in the expression of his face. Indeed the man scarcely seemedto be aware of the coming of the young trapper.

  Puzzled and slightly alarmed by the strange appearance of the man,Reuben stopped a moment and then said: "Who are you? What is yourname?"

  To the lad's amazement the man to whom he had spoken gazed into hisface and smiled in a manner that was like that of a little child. Hedid not speak, however, and for a brief time the two men stood andlooked, each into the face of the other.

  "What is your name?" again demanded Reuben.

  Once more the bland expression appeared on the face of the stranger,but no reply was given to the query.

  "Are you Jean Badeau?" demanded Reuben sharply.

  Again the smile was seen, but still there was no answer.

  Reuben was almost persuaded that the man before him was indeed his lostcompanion, but the expression in his eyes and the childlike smile onhis face certainly were not characteristics of the missing Frenchtrapper. He was a man strong and of slow speech, even when he spoke, ashe did only on rare occasions. Unlike most of his race in the North,apparently he did not show any signs of the impulsive temperament whichmany of the early French possessed. Now the lad felt that his flesh wascreeping. There was something in the uncanny bearing and expression ofthe man, who, if he was not the trapper, Jean Badeau, at least stronglyresembled Reuben's former comrade.

  "Lad, don't you know?"

  Reuben turned quickly at the unexpected question and saw that KitCarson was beside him. "Don't you know," repeated the leader, "thatthis man is crazy?"

  "No, I didn't know anything about him. He looks so much like JeanBadeau that I was sure at first that it was my friend."

  "It may be and it may not be."

  "What do you mean?"

  "What I mean is this: this man is the same one we found at San Gabriel.Somehow he made his way to the North and the Indians have taken himinto their village."

  "Why did they do that?" inquired Reuben.

  "The Indians are always good to crazy people. They think they are underthe special guidance and protection of the Great Spirit. Perhaps theyare. I don't know," said Kit Carson, thoughtfully. "Certainly they actas if there was something in their life different from what we seeamong the trappers."

  "That's so," said Reuben in a low voice, as he again looked keenly atthe subject of their conversation, who, apparently unmindful of theattention he had aroused, had now turned away. In a low voice he wasspeaking to himself and apparently was unmindful of the presence of anyone near.

  "That may be Jean Badeau," again suggested Kit Carson. "If it is he hasa long and strange story to tell."

  "What do you suppose happened to him?"

  "I haven't the remotest idea. Of course, I am not even sure that he isyour friend, nor are you positive that he is, but I am willing to takeyour word for it. No one in the tribe here knows where he came from norwhat made him crazy."

  "What do you think did?"

  "As I told you, I have no idea, and I am not even sure that it is yourfriend. All I am saying is that he may be and that something may havehappened after you left him that brought this trouble upon him." Reubenwas silent throughout the remainder of their stay in the village andindeed seldom spoke when they rode back to the camp of the trappers.

  Early the following morning Kit Carson appeared and at his suggestionReuben accompanied him in the round of his traps. An unusually goodcatch was made, and the spirits of both trappers were high when soonafter noon they returned to the camp.

  Directly after dinner had been served Kit Carson suggested to his youngfriend: "I think it is time for us to see if the wild horses have notcome back. I don't want that black leader to get away from us."

  Reuben laughed as he said: "Do you still believe that you're going tocatch him?"

  "I know I am," said Kit Carson. "It's only a question of time."

  "He certainly is able to make good time," retorted Reuben. "He ran awayfrom us day before yesterday almost as if he didn't know we were onearth. My horse was almost winded and that fellow trotted along almostas if he were laughing at us. Do you think a horse _can_ laugh?"

  "I have heard of a 'horse laugh,'" replied the scout, smiling dryly.

  "I have not only heard of one, but heard one."

  "Well, if you heard one you haven't forgotten it. Tell Jack, and we'llstart right soon."

  A half-hour later the three trappers, after they had carefully lookedto their mounts, departed from the camp and again saw the valley wherethe black leader and his drove had first been discovered. A carefulsearch was made, but no signs of the presence of the wild horses werediscovered.

  "We'll wait until night," suggested Kit Carson. "It was after sunsetwhen they put into this gorge before."

  The men waited in accordance with the suggestion of their leader, butwhen darkness fell the horses had not been seen.

  "There's no use," said Kit Carson. "They aren't coming here to-night."

  "How do you know?" inquired Reuben.

  "Why, you can see for yourself. The wild ponies, as a rule, do nottravel much after dark. It is almost dark now, and if they were cominghere they would have shown up before this time."

  "Where do you think they are?"

  "I don't know where they are. I thought they were here. If I knew justwhere they were I would go there, wouldn't I? I think they will comeback here, though, and the only thing for us to do is to keep watch andbe sure to be on hand when they do come."

  On two successive days the eager trappers returned to the valley, butthe wild horses were not seen. Alone Kit Carson made excursions formany miles in the immediate vicinity, but his efforts were unrewardedand not a sight of the handsome black leader was had. Still the scoutdid not abandon his efforts. A few days later, at his suggestion,Reuben and Jack once more accompanied him, departing from the camp soonafter dinner.

  Quietly they rode among the foothills, keeping careful watch on everyside. They had almost returned to the place where first the wild horseshad been seen when Kit Carson abruptly stopped and, pointing to a placein advance of them, said in a low voice: "There are ponies yonder. Doyou see them?"

  "I can see something moving," replied Reuben, after a long silence.

  "Well, that's a drove of ponies. The only thing for us to do is to putout for it and find out whether or not the horse we are after is stillthere. It may be some other drove. You know they are likely to break upinto smaller bands when they get too many together." Swiftly thetrappers rode forward, and their disappointment was keen when theydiscovered that the horses before them were not those for which theywere seeking.

  Apparently still as confident as before that he would capture theanimal he was so eager to have, Kit Carson either alone or in thecompany of Reuben daily returned to the valley until more than a weekhad elapsed. Their efforts were rewarded at last when late oneafternoon they discovered the horses making for the same valley inwhich they had sought shelter when first they had been seen. There wasno elation displayed in the manner of the scout, but the determinationexpressed in his face was so plain that Reuben was deeply impressed.

  "Give up? Give up?" said Kit Carson in response to a suggestion of hisfriend. "I never learned to do that and you can't teach an old dog newtricks. I simply am going to have that black rascal. It's too bad thatJack isn't here, for we'll need him, but we'll go ahead without him anddo the best we can."

  Together the two horsemen rode swiftly forward, doing their utmost togain a point nearer the valley than the one where the horses were firstseen grazing. Apparently they had succeeded, when the startled leaderlifted his head, neighed sharply, and instantly warned his family ofthe danger that was near.

  "Come
on, Reuben! Come on!" shouted Kit Carson, as putting his horseinto its swiftest paces he advanced far into the entrance of thevalley.

  The efforts, however, of the trappers were doomed to failure. With adisregard of their attempt to head him off that was almost ludicrous,the swift horse led his followers almost directly into the entrance andin a brief time all, including the colts, had disappeared from sightamong the boulders of the ravine.

  "No use, Reuben. No use trying to do any more to-night. We have got tothink up some other way of trapping that black rascal. Did you ever seesuch a handsome animal in your life?"

  "I never did."

  "Nor I. And every time I see him I simply am more determined than everto get him. I am going to catch him just as sure as the sun rises!"

  Several days later it seemed as if the words of the scout were about tobe fulfilled. Accompanied by Reuben and Jack and two others of thecampers, Kit Carson succeeded in locating the drove and immediatelyattempted the plan which he had already formed for capturing the daringleader.