“By all rights,” said Dave Johnson, “this fight should be mine or Joe’s. We brought the man down this way; he was always looking for us when he came. And now that trouble has come of it, I don’t see why you should shoulder it.” Kit slapped him on the back and laughed. “The whole thing is a public one,” said he. “The man has come to be a nuisance and a danger, and so a stop of some sort must be put to him. We have no law in the wilderness, nor law officers. But we know what we want, and somebody always comes forward to put a thing right. In this case it is Kit Carson.” Having saddled his pony to his satisfaction, he took out a heavy dragoon pistol and looked at its priming with much care. This he placed in his belt, then swung himself into the saddle. And as Kit rode out from the line of the lodges, the sound of hoofs came to him. His quick eye turned in the direction of the sound; and he saw the Frenchman mounted on a powerful horse, a rifle in his hands, riding toward him. CHAPTER XII LOPEZ RIDES INTO CAMP It is written boldly in the records of the great west that Kit Carson was a man without fear; and never before did he show this fact as he did when he turned his horse’s head and rode toward the Frenchman, Shunan. His pony went at a slow, swinging lope; Kit sat him as quietly as though he were on his way to try a shot at a flock of prairie chickens, and there was no enemy on that side of the range. And the bully was in no way backward. But his bluster was gone; all the cunning in his nature was called upon to aid him in the crisis. His horse advanced at a swift pace; and the heads of the two steeds almost touched when their riders drew rein. “Shunan,” said Kit, “am I the man you’re looking for?” The eyes of the bully shifted under the steady gaze of the American. “No,” said he. Then almost instantly the muzzle of his rifle lifted and covered Kit. But quick as was his action, Kit’s was quicker. The dragoon pistol flashed, and its heavy bullet struck Shunan in the arm, shattering the bone; the man’s weapon exploded a second after the trapper’s; and its missile grazed Kit’s scalp; then it fell to the ground, and the man’s horse, unchecked, turned and dashed away. Calmly Kit rode back to where he had left his friends. “He meant to kill you,” stated old Zeke. “I saw the way he threw up his rifle barrel that nothing else would please him.” And that the American trapper, lightning quick and of deadly aim, only shot to disable his foe was evident to all; had he so desired, Shunan would have dropped from his saddle never to rise again. “Peace in camp is all we want,” said Kit, quietly. “And I think as far as Shunan’s concerned we’ll have it in the future.” There was no expedition going that fall into the Blackfoot country; but one was organizing for a trading trip in that direction. “We’ll join that,” said Kit. “But,” said Joe, “we’ll be taking you away from work that will be profitable.”