CHAPTER XII--A PUZZLING MESSENGER
"What's wrong? What's the matter?" demanded Reuben excitedly of KitCarson, who was riding by his side.
"Don't you know?" laughed the leader good-naturedly.
"No, I don't know, that's why I asked," replied Reuben in thedisjointed words he was able to speak, while the mule which he wasriding increased the speed at which he was running.
"They have sniffed water."
"But I can't see it anywhere!"
"That's likely," replied the hunter, smiling as he spoke. He was havingless difficulty than his young companion in controlling his mount.
The animal which Reuben was riding had stretched forth its neck and itsmuscles were almost as tense and stiff as if they had been made ofbone. Occasionally one of the excited mules stopped, and, planting itsfeet firmly in the ground, stretched forth its neck, elevated its tail,and at the same time emitted another prolonged and discordant bray.
The minutes passed swiftly and no signs of the longed-for water werediscovered. An hour passed in the wild flight and still the stream wasnot found. To Reuben's protest that the mules had been mistaken, KitCarson made no reply save to smile in the quiet manner which wascharacteristic of him, and slowly shook his head as if he still hadfaith in the instinct of the strange beasts.
Ten minutes later a cry arose from the dry throats of the men when astream not far in advance was seen by them all. In a brief time theentire line had gained the banks and men and animals alike plunged intothe water and drank their fill.
"I never knew before how good it seemed to have all the water I wantedto drink," said Reuben with a sigh of relief when he returned to thebank and once more stood beside the leader.
"It's just like air and sunshine and other things that are so commonthat no one thinks they are worth much," replied Carson thoughtfully."It is only when we lose them that we think they are worth having."
"This certainly is worth having," said Reuben fervently.
"It's so good that I think we'll stay here for a little while. Turn in,boys," the leader added, calling to his companions, "and we'll makecamp."
The courage and hope of the men had now returned in full force, and thelong journey across the desert was forgotten or ignored. Eagerly theyresponded to the call of their leader, and in a brief time acomfortable camp had been made on the banks of the little stream.
For two days the weary men remained in the camp. In a few spots nearthe spring grass had grown, and this, together with the leaves of thetrees, provided food for the horses. No wild animals were seen duringthe stay of the men, and on the third day, when the journey wasresumed, there were few traces to be seen of the suffering which thetrappers had endured in their ride across the desert. There stillremained, however, a long and toilsome journey between them and theregion which they were seeking. Occasionally a stream of running waterwas found, and then the party went into camp for two or three days.
When at last they arrived in the beautiful valley of San Gabriel theywere nearly exhausted, but the sight which greeted their eyes did muchto restore their spirits.
In the valley was the Mission of San Gabriel, established many yearsbefore this time by the Spanish padres in their labours among theIndians of that region. Already the fruits of their devoted work wereto be seen. In the valley there were many fields of waving grain andgreat orchards whose trees were bending under the loads of fruit whichhung from their branches. In certain parts of the valley there werelarge herds of cattle, and many flocks of sheep were to be seen, almostas numerous as the cattle.
The sight of all these good things instantly revived the droopingspirits of the trappers. It is true they had little to offer inexchange, but the people of the mission and the Indians of the vicinitywere kind to the newcomers, and in a brief time the wants of the nearlyfamished men were all supplied.
Perhaps some of them rejoiced more over the fact that water and foodfor their horses abounded than they did over the reports that weregiven them of the multitudes of beaver that were to be found in thenearby streams. To Reuben the region seemed to be a land of plenty. TheIndians were peaceful and apparently happy, and the few white men thatwere to be seen in the vicinity were prosperous and contented.
After the men had been thoroughly rested, Kit Carson explained toReuben that the time had come for them to enter upon the work which hadbeen their object in seeking the marvellous valley.
"We'll go down the San Joaquin River," he explained. "We shan't haveany trouble in getting the skins we want, and at the same time we'llfind game enough to supply all our needs. All you have to do," headded, with a laugh, "is to look at the men. A little while ago theywere half-starved and as lean as bullrushes. Just look at them now!Almost every one is getting so fat he won't be able to do histrapping."
"Yes," laughed Reuben. "They all look as if they would rather stay herethan go on any farther."
"That's just what they must do, though," said Kit. "I have seen a goodmany men in my life who did all right until they came to the last thingthat had to be done and then they gave out. I believe there are moremen that lose because they don't follow up to the very end what theyhave begun than from any other one thing. Who's this coming?" he addedabruptly as he turned and saw a stranger approaching on horseback.
At first the approaching man was thought to be a priest, as he wasdressed in a strange garb that somewhat resembled that worn by thepriests in charge of the mission. As he came nearer, however, theydiscovered that he was not a priest, and when he spoke, his wordsconfirmed Kit Carson in his conclusion.
"I am looking for a man named Kit Carson," explained the newcomer.
"You won't have to look very far," replied the guide quietly.
"Where is he?"
"Not very far away."
"Tell me where he is and I will go to him."
"I reckon I am the man you're looking for."
"You?" exclaimed the stranger in surprise. "You? Are you Kit Carson?Why, you're nothing but a boy."
"I'm not very old," replied the guide with a smile, "but that's a faultI hope to correct some day. Meanwhile let me tell you that my name isKit Carson. If you have any message for him you had better give it tome."
"I came from the Mission San Gabriel," explained the newcomer, after abrief silence in which he had steadily looked into the face of theyoung hunter. "One of the padres sent me. He says that some Indianshave run away with some of our sheep. It is the same band that stolesome horses from the mission a few weeks ago. Before that they stolesome of our cattle. The padre wants to know if some of your men willhelp us to punish them."
"Where are they?" asked Kit Carson.
"We don't know exactly, but we suspect that they have gone to one ofthe strongest of the Indian villages."
"Will they fight?"
"I think they will."
"Then we will go," said the guide quickly. "You tell the padre thatwe'll help him out. How many men does he want?"
"All you can spare."
"Tell him we'll be at the mission to-morrow morning. There will be asmany of us as care to go, whether it is the whole eighteen or onlyone."
"You will be the one?" inquired the stranger.
"I will be one," laughed Kit Carson, "but I do not think I will be theonly one."
Reuben had been silent throughout the conversation and seldom hadturned his face away from the man who had brought the message from theSan Gabriel Mission.
When the messenger departed Reuben turned to Kit Carson and said: "Thatman looks enough like Jean Badeau to be his own brother."
"Who is Jean Badeau?"
"Why, he's the trapper that I came with from St. Louis."
"The one you lost in the camp when we first saw you?"
"Yes."
"Are you sure he isn't the same man?"
"No, I am not sure, and that's just the trouble. Of course it is sometime since I saw him."
"Don't you know his voice?"
"His voice certainly sounded like Jean's."
"Why didn't you ask him if he is Jean?"
"I don't know why I didn't," replied Reuben. "He looks like him, andyet if it is another man it might make trouble."
"How would it make trouble?"
"Oh, I don't know," replied Reuben somewhat uneasily. "I cannot see whyJean should be down here in this valley, anyway, unless he wanted toget away from everybody."
"Is that the reason why we came?" demanded Kit Carson quizzically.
"No, we came for the beaver skins."
"Perhaps your friend came for the same reason. You'll soon know,though, whether he's the real one or not, because when we go over tothe mission to look up these thieving redskins, you probably will seethe man again and can find out just who he is and why he is here."
For the time Reuben was forced to be content, and yet on the followingday, when with eleven others he went to the San Gabriel Mission, thequestion in his mind still remained unanswered. He looked about onevery side, but did not discover the messenger. Nor was he able to makeinquiries, for he understood neither the Spanish nor the Indian tongue.
In a brief time, however, his thoughts were withdrawn from Jean to thetask which immediately confronted them. A band of twenty-five or moresoon set forth from the mission, half the men belonging to the forcewhich Kit Carson had led into the valley.
The trappers and the volunteers from the mission rode swiftly away, andnot more than three hours had elapsed when they arrived at the Indianvillage which they were seeking. When they drew near, the advancingparty halted, while one of the white men advanced to meet three Indianswho had now come forth from the village. It was impossible for Reubento hear what was said, nor would he have understood the conversationhad he been able to hear it. It was not long, however, before the whiteman returned to his followers with the statement that the Indians hadabsolutely refused to give up the redmen for whom they had come.
The village was not large, but the warriors plainly outnumbered thewhite men. To attack seemed foolhardy.
Greatly to Reuben's surprise, after a brief consultation had been heldbetween Kit Carson and the leader of the men from the mission, thehunter turned to his followers and said quietly: "There is only one wayfor us to get those rascals. We must attack the village."
Scouting with Kit Carson Page 12
