hill, when more than fifty warriors similarly mounted and accoutred,
dashed out to intercept the enthusiastic hunters. Just then it
dawned upon Kit and his companions that the whole proceeding was
a trap arranged by the Indians into which he and his friends had
dashed at headlong speed.

It was in such crises that Kit Carson displayed his marvelous
resources and lightning-like perception of the best course to adopt.
The discovery of the ambush would have thrown almost any company of
men, no matter how brave into a panic, or at least into temporary
confusion which would have been equally disastrous. Most probably
they would have reined up or wheeled about and fled in the opposite
direction. The whole band would have dashed in pursuit and the
running fight between four men and more than twelve times their
number, every one of whom it is fair to presume was thoroughly
familiar with the country, could have resulted in but one way.
Skilled and daring as were Carson and his comrades, they could not
accomplish the impossible, as they would have had to do in order
to escape the yelling band behind them.

Kit was slightly in advance of the others, and he did not check his
animal in the least. On the contrary, he urged him to his utmost,
and the four sped straight ahead on a dead run, seemingly as if
they meant to charge the entire war party.

Such, however, was not their intention: they shied off as much as
they could, and, throwing themselves forward and over the side of
their horses, ran the terrible gauntlet. No one of the trappers
fired a shot, for if dismounted by the bullets of their enemies,
each wished to have his loaded rifle in hand, with which to make