Kit Carson. He
had performed such trips, through watchful Indians themselves, many a
time before.

They three, the scout, the sailor and the California Indian, proceeded
to get ready, in order to start at nightfall. Each was supplied with a
rifle, a pistol, knife and a canteen; but food seemed a question.

General Kearny had saved a handful of mouldy flour. This was baked
into a loaf and given to Lieutenant Beale, with the general's
compliments.

"It's the last of everything, sir," said the soldier who brought it.
"The general'll have to do without breakfast, but you're welcome to it,
sir."

"Take it back to General Kearny," Lieutenant Beale directed. "Tell him
that I thank him heartily, and will provide for myself."

So he scraped in the ashes where some baggage had been burned; managed
to find a little charred corn and dried peas; stowed that in his
pocket. Kit Carson and the Indian provisioned themselves with a small
piece, each, of half-cooked mule beef.

Of all Kit Carson's dangerous scouts in enemy country this turned out
to be the most ticklish. For young Lieutenant Beale, the tenderfoot,
it was hair-raising. Captain Pico had known that the celebrated Kit
Carson was with the Americans upon the hill, and feared him. He had
placed three lines of mounted patrols around the base of the hill, and
instructed them to keep riding so as to leave no intervals.

"Se escapara el lobo (The wolf will escape)," he warned.

And the wolf did escape.

Naturally, Lieutenant Beale let Kit Carson take the lead, for "Kit"
knew best what to do. They had to crawl on their hands and knees, and
stomachs, through the brush, down the hill, for if they stood up they
might be seen against the sky.

"Wait," Kit Carson whispered back. "Take off yore shoes, lieutenant.
They make too much noise. Stow them in yore belt."

They tucked their shoes in their belts. Twigs had been cracking
alarmingly. Presently their feet, knees and hands were afire with the
cactus spines. Now twigs rasped along the canteens. Kit Carson paused
and laid his canteen aside. Lieutenant Beale did the same; so did the
cautious Indian.

They reached the base of the hill; waited here for a sentinel in the
first line to pass; and crawled silently across almost at his horse's
heels.

Foot by foot, wellnigh inch by inch, they snaked on, listening and
peering for other patrols. Suddenly they encountered a second outpost,
and crouched low, flatte