usually selected for such raids.

The night passed slowly on; nothing disturbed the hunters except their
anxiety for their lost comrade. At the faintest intimation of the
coming dawn, ten of the party, including the two who had been with
the missing man the previous afternoon, set out on their quest for
their lost companion. They first went back to the spot where they
remembered having last seen him, but there was not a sign of him;
not even the track of his horse's hoofs could be seen. The men
fired off their rifles as they rode along, and occasionally called out
his name, but not a sound came back in response. At last they were
rewarded by the sight of a horse standing in a bunch of willows.
As they approached him, they were welcomed by his neighing. They then
halted, and continued their shouting and calling by name, but not an
answer did they get. They were now confirmed in their belief that
their comrade had been killed by the Indians, who were in possession
of his horse, and at that moment hidden in the bunch of willows
before them. They were determined to know positively, so they
approached the spot very cautiously, with their fingers on the
triggers of their rifles, ready to repel an attack. When they had
approached sufficiently near, they saw that the horse was carefully
fastened to the brush, and a short distance away was Carson[7]
lying down with his head resting on the saddle! At first the men
thought him dead, but found out that he was only in a profound sleep,
indeed, really enjoying the most delightful dreams. When they aroused
him he appeared bewildered for a moment, but soon recovered his normal
condition, and related his story to his now happy companions. He said
that in his eagerness to get the elk he lost his bearings, and
wandered about until midnight. He hoped that he might catch a glimpse
of their camp-fire, but failing in that, being tired and hungry,