Next day a half dozen men were left to guard the camp; the balance of the party, with Dave and Joe pressing joyously on in their midst, set out upon their errand. After a ride of a couple of hours the band sighted a large mixed herd of horses and mules. These were grazing some little distance up the San Pedro; and a scout or two was sent to locate the Indian village. “It’s off to the west, there,” said old Zeke. “I was there once, trading; and the varmints robbed us of everything we had.” After a short time the scouts returned. The village, a clutter of dirty huts, lay in the direction indicated by Zeke; and the band of buckskin-clad trappers rode toward it under cover of the timber. “There it is,” said Kit Carson, at length pointing through the trees. The village lay quietly in the sun; it was a barren, neglected place; the bucks lolled in the doorways of the low huts; in the narrow fields the women were preparing to plant the scanty crops. At a word of command the trappers shouted to their mounts; at full speed they dashed into the village, their firearms rattling and snapping briskly. Yells of fear and rage went up from the savages; they grabbed up their arms, and their deadly arrows began to hiss through the air. “Open order,” called the chief of the trappers. “Don’t ride so close together. Load and hold your fire until I give the word!” The horses were brought to a standstill outside the town; the trappers reloaded their rifles and looked to the state of their pistols. During this pause in the attack the savages recovered from their surprise; and upon a sort of plain, stretching away to the river, they rallied their forces. The village was quite a large one; several hundred warriors faced the trappers, and from their furious actions it was plain that they meant to make a most desperate defense. “Ready?” called the head trapper. “All ready,” was the answer from his men. “Hold your fire till I give the word,” said the leader, once more. Then lifting his hand: “Charge!” Down rode the trappers upon the redskins; and the latter bent their bows with practiced hands, the keen eyes of each selecting a mark. CHAPTER VIII KIT REACHES SANTA FÉ ONCE MORE The open order of the whites and the rifle fire which came like a thunder clap at the command of their leader discomfited the savages; the arrows flew wild, and as the horsemen came plunging at them, their small arms crackling, they broke and ran toward the river. For perhaps a mile the trappers pursued them, more to keep them on the run and discourage another rally than anything else; then at a shout from Young they wheeled about and made for the herd on the other side of the village.