CHAPTER XXII—A WHITE MAN IN THE INDIAN VILLAGE

As Reuben dashed forward he speedily discovered that swift as was the pony he was riding it was unable to overtake the wild leader he was following. Indeed, in a brief time it became plain to the young trapper that his own horse was steadily dropping behind.

Aware, however, of the plan which was in the mind of Kit Carson for chasing the horse they were all so desirous of securing, he sturdily continued his efforts, all the time urging his horse to still greater endeavours. It seemed to Reuben that never before had he ridden so swiftly. The air appeared to strike him in the face, the hoofs of his flying animal barely touching the sand. And yet every time he glanced ahead he saw the black horse running easily, his neck arched and his head held high, the long tail sweeping the ground at every leap.

What a magnificent animal the leader of the drove was! And how easily he maintained his lead! Frequently the horse stopped and seemed almost to be tempted to turn and dash past its pursuer and rejoin his companions that had started toward a valley several miles distant.

And the hopeless part of his task was, as Reuben soon discovered, that the animal he was following did not seem to be tiring. It still ran easily when two miles or more had been covered by the pony which Reuben was riding. Jack could not be far away now, Reuben thought, and he began to peer anxiously ahead of him for the coming of his ally.

For some strange reason the black leader did not turn toward the plains. He was running nearer the hills than was Reuben’s mount, holding to his course, doubtless from the very fact that his pursuer was coming from the same direction.

On and still on fled the pursuer and the pursued. In spite of all his efforts, Reuben steadily dropped behind until, as he estimated the distance, there was at least one hundred yards between him and the pony he was so desirous of capturing.

Again Reuben rose in his stirrups and shouting into the ears of his horse urged it to still greater efforts; and the pony responded nobly. Its sides were heaving now and a sound very like a groan came with every breath. He could see by an occasional glance that the nostrils of his pony were red and dilated. There was no time for mercy, however, and with every forward leap now Reuben shouted into the ears of his horse.

He was wondering why Jack did not appear. He was confident that he had passed more than the number of miles that had been assigned to him in the race, but his friend still was nowhere within sight.

In a brief time, however, riding forth from behind one of the foothills, Jack suddenly appeared. And it was high time for his aid to be given. The poor beast upon which Reuben was mounted was now trembling in every muscle and its strength was so nearly gone that when Reuben halted it was barely able to stand.

Hastily dismounting, as soon as the young trapper was aware that the chase was to be taken up by his friend, Reuben patted the neck of his pony and in low tones spoke soothingly to it. The poor animal was standing with lowered head and with an air of such complete dejection as Reuben thought he never before had seen displayed by any living animal.

His meditations, however, were interrupted by the report of a gun in the distance and the faint sound of a shout that came across the sands. Glancing hastily in the direction from which the hail had come, Reuben saw that soon after his friend had appeared to join in the chase the black horse had swerved in his course and instead of continuing on his way had turned backward and now was directly approaching the place where Reuben was standing.

And still the horse was running easily and apparently without fatigue. To overtake him seemed almost a hopeless undertaking. Again Reuben assured himself that never before had he seen such strength combined with swiftness and grace.

Aware, however, that he must do something now to help, Reuben leaped upon the back of his tired horse and urged it once more to join in the pursuit. A challenging neigh now came from the swiftly running black horse, and almost as if he ignored the puny efforts of his foes to overtake him, the course he was following again was changed and with a sudden burst of speed the animal, like a thunder-bolt, dashed past the place where Reuben was standing.

The young trapper now joined in the shouts and he, too, discharged his gun as a warning to Kit Carson, who was doubtless waiting at the place where he had abandoned the chase. The efforts, however, were useless, as in a brief time once more, swiftly swerving to his left, the black horse dashed into what at first seemed to Reuben to be an unbroken mass of rocks. In an instant the animal had disappeared from sight.

As rapidly as his horse was able to bear him, Reuben rode to the place where the leader had so strangely disappeared. As he came near he discovered a narrow opening or gorge apparently caused by some great crack in the formations centuries before. As Reuben entered the narrow place he saw eight or ten feet below him a stretch of more level land, though it was dotted here and there with stones and boulders.

It seemed impossible to the young scout that a horse could have leaped to the ground below. However, at that moment he heard the sound of a defiant neigh and in a brief time was able to discern the outline of the form of the black horse speeding along a narrow trail which was at least twenty-five feet above the plain on which he was riding.

It was plain that the horse was familiar with every foot of the region. Along this narrow ledge the black horse now was running with confidence unbroken, although the pathway was not more than a yard wide. Indeed in several places it seemed to the astonished Reuben that the width was still less.

Every moment he expected to see the black pony lose his foothold and fall to the rock-covered ground below him. His expectations, however, were not fulfilled, for the sure-footed animal, scarcely pausing in his flight, steadily continued on his way. At one place Reuben saw him leap across a narrow ravine and without any slip regain his footing on the opposite side. Although the young trapper’s admiration of the horse increased, he was now well-nigh hopeless that the animal ever could be taken.

Indeed it was not long before the horse disappeared from sight, and Reuben was unable to determine which of the numerous gorges he had entered, as several converged at the point where the black leader was lost to sight.

It was impossible for Reuben’s horse to attempt to follow. Not only was the leap from the rock one which few animals would be able to make with safety, but also the nearly exhausted condition of his mount made such an attempt worse than reckless. There was nothing to be done except to return and join his companions.

“Did you get him, Reuben?” inquired Kit Carson dryly, as the young trapper, discovering his friend, rode slowly to meet him.

“No, I didn’t,” said Reuben glumly.

“I’m surprised. Still, when we have him broken, I think you’ll enjoy a spin on that black demon as much as any of us.”

“If you ever take him,” suggested Reuben dryly.

“Why,” said Kit Carson in apparent surprise, “you haven’t any question about that, have you? Of course we’re going to take him.”

“Not to-day,” suggested Reuben.

“No, not to-day,” acknowledged the scout; “but there are other days to come.”

“Do you believe that that black leader, after to-day’s chase, will stay around this part of the country any longer? He will take his followers and start for some other part of the mountains.”

“Perhaps he will,” acknowledged Kit Carson, “but before that time comes we’ll have another chance at him.”

“You never can take him,” asserted Reuben. “I never in my life saw anything run the way that pony did. And it doesn’t make any difference whether he’s running on the plains or along a ledge of the rocks. Why, he followed a narrow little ledge for three hundred yards. I expected every minute to see him tumble into the bed of the stream that was twenty-five or thirty feet below him. As far as I could see he didn’t slip once.”

“Oh, yes, he’s a wonderful animal,” said Kit Carson quietly, “and we shall appreciate him all the more after we have had a chance to break him in.”

“You won’t break him in very soon,” said Reuben, shaking his head. “You stand just about as much chance of getting that black horse as you do of grabbing a streak of lightning by its tail.”

Kit Carson smiled and made no response to the assertion of his young companion, and then at his suggestion they all started on their way back to camp.

In silence the men advanced, and when two hours had elapsed, Kit Carson suggested: “I think I’ll go over to the Indian village. Do you want to come, Reuben?”

The lad hesitated a moment and then said, “I’m hungry.”

“Come along with me and the squaws will feed you. And Jack, too, if he wants to come,” added the scout amiably. Jack, however, insisted upon returning to his companions and rode away alone as Kit Carson and Reuben started toward the Indian village.

It was not long before they found themselves in the little settlement, where the words of the scout were confirmed, for food was soon provided for the hungry hunters, and, as Kit Carson had said, the squaws seemed to vie with one another in their efforts to please their white visitors.

Soon after Reuben had finished his repast he was startled by the sight of an approaching white man. To all appearances the man belonged to the village. He was, however, neither dressed as were the Indians nor did his appearance suggest that he was a newcomer or a stranger in the midst of the redmen. Reuben’s surprise, however, was caused by his conviction that the man before him was the same one he had seen at San Gabriel, and if he was not the missing Jean, at least he so strongly resembled him that a stranger might take one for the other.

“Look at that man,” said Reuben in a low voice as he turned to Kit Carson. “Do you know who he is? He looks to me like Jean Badeau.”

In response to the suggestion of his young friend Kit Carson glanced hastily at the man to whom Reuben had referred and then said, “Are you sure?” As he spoke the scout glanced at the young trapper, but he quickly was aware that Reuben had not heard his question. He was staring blankly at the white man.