“Did you hear me speak?” he demanded. “Did you hear me mention coyotes? Where’s the Indian fighters that I’ve heard about? Where are they? Did they ever fight a white man? Well, here’s their chance, if they’ve got the stomachs to take it up. Here’s a man that’s willing to give them a chance to make a reputation.” The silence of the group was still unbroken and the bully’s sneering look ran around the circle. “All Americans, eh? Every one an American! Well, I’ve beaten all the Frenchmen in the camp; and as for the Americans, I’ll cut a stick some day and switch them around their own lodges.” Again his sneering glance went over them; then he shrugged his huge shoulders contemptuously, turned and started away. But he had gone hardly half a dozen steps when a voice called sharply: “Shunan!” The man halted and wheeled. Kit Carson stood facing him. The difference in the two was very great. The Frenchman was a Hercules; a towering man, with a great chest and massive limbs; the American trapper was small and quiet in manner and seemed in no way a match for him. But Kit Carson was never a man to stand back because the odds were not in his favor; so he advanced toward the camp bully. “Shunan,” said he, coolly, his gray eyes fixed steadfastly upon the man before him, “we’ve all listened to you talk for some time; and we’ve said nothing. There are twenty men in this camp who could beat you in any kind of fighting you could name. But they are not trouble seekers; and so they’ve stood back. Now, I consider myself the least among them; and being such I take it on myself to say that we are all tired of you and your bullying. And, further, I want to say that you will, from this time on, stop your threats, or I’ll shoot you.” For a moment the Frenchman stood staring at the speaker, his eyes glowing with fury; then he turned again without a word toward his own quarters. “Gone for his gun,” said old Zeke. “And from his looks he means business.” The group of trappers broke up immediately; sharp action was in the air, and to meet this their experience told them to be prepared. But, seeing, from their faces, what they meant to do, Kit shook his head negatively. “This is my affair, boys,” he said. “So I must ask you all to stand aside while I go through with it.” “But he’s got friends in camp,” protested old Zeke. “They’ll all be out to see him through.” “If they interfere,” said Kit, “then I rely on you to see me through. But I don’t think they will. Shunan has had the run of this camp too long to think he needs help in a little matter like this. It’ll be a matter of pride with him; and you’ll see, he’ll handle it alone.” Like lightning the news of the impending conflict ran through the camp. The trappers and traders carefully drew out of what they thought would be the line of fire, or placed themselves behind trees or the heavy log houses. The boys went after Kit and found him tightening his saddle-girth, a little distance from his lodge.