before him--and the
accomplishment of either seemed to render the other impossible: he must
travel at a faster rate than the thieves, and, at the same time keep
them in ignorance of his pursuit. It is on such occasions that a man's
woodcraft and knowledge of the country serve him so well. Many a time,
during the career of Kit Carson, did he outwit the red men and white
criminals, not by galloping along with his eye upon their footprints,
but by reasoning out with unerring skill, the destination or refuge
which the criminals had in mind. Having settled that all important
question, he aimed at the same point and frequently reached it first.
Thus it came about that often the fugitive, while hurrying along and
glancing furtively behind him, suddenly found himself face to face with
his pursuer, whose acquaintance with the country enabled him to find the
shorter route.

It took Carson only a few minutes to satisfy himself that the criminals
were heading for the Sierra Nevada Mountains, but, inasmuch as they were
following a direct course, he could only take their trail. Where there
were so many animals in flight, it was impossible to hide their tracks
and the thieves made no attempt to do so. They struck the horses into
a sweeping gallop, which with a few interruptions they maintained until
they were a hundred miles from the camp of the white men and among the
fastnesses of the Sierras.

Then it was the red men made a careful survey of the trail behind them.
The black penetrating eyes scanned the country with a piercing keenness
which it would seem shut out all possibility of concealment. Nowhere
could they detect the faint smoke climbing toward the sky from among the
trees nor could they gain sight of the line of horsemen winding around
the rocks in the distance. Nothing resembling a human being was visible.
Surely they were warranted in believing themselves perfectly secure.

Such being their conclusion, they prepared for a great feast. Six of the
stolen horses were killed and the red men became as ardent hipophagi as
was the club of advanced Parisians a short time ago. The roasted meat
tasted as fine to them as though it was the choicest slices from the
bison or deer, and they ate and frolicked like so many children let
loose for a holiday.

But in the midst of their feast was heard a series of frightful yells
and whoops. The appalled Indians had scarcely time to turn their eyes
when a dozen horsemen, that seemed to h