For the time Reuben was forced to be content, and yet on the following day, when with eleven others he went to the San Gabriel Mission, the question in his mind still remained unanswered. He looked about on every side, but did not discover the messenger. Nor was he able to make inquiries, for he understood neither the Spanish nor the Indian tongue. In a brief time, however, his thoughts were withdrawn from Jean to the task which immediately confronted them. A band of twenty-five or more soon set forth from the mission, half the men belonging to the force which Kit Carson had led into the valley. The trappers and the volunteers from the mission rode swiftly away, and not more than three hours had elapsed when they arrived at the Indian village which they were seeking. When they drew near, the advancing party halted, while one of the white men advanced to meet three Indians who had now come forth from the village. It was impossible for Reuben to hear what was said, nor would he have understood the conversation had he been able to hear it. It was not long, however, before the white man returned to his followers with the statement that the Indians had absolutely refused to give up the redmen for whom they had come. The village was not large, but the warriors plainly outnumbered the white men. To attack seemed foolhardy. Greatly to Reuben’s surprise, after a brief consultation had been held between Kit Carson and the leader of the men from the mission, the hunter turned to his followers and said quietly: “There is only one way for us to get those rascals. We must attack the village.” CHAPTER XIII—PURSUIT For a moment the startled men gazed silently at their leader. Every one had been confident that when they drew near the Indian village the redmen would give up the culprits. However, the quietly spoken declaration of Kit Carson speedily aroused a spirit of determination, and every one of his followers was willing to do his utmost to carry out his directions. Before an attack was made, however, the daring hunter approached the village alone and noisily summoned the braves to a second conference. Doubtless the slight form of the hunter and his boyish appearance created a false impression in the minds of the Indians. That such a man could really be the leader of the white men and that his courage would be equal to an attack upon their village was plainly something the braves did not believe. A brief conference followed, but the result of it was not any more satisfactory than had been that of the former interview. Turning sharply about, Kit Carson quietly went back to his companions, and then before the Indians were fully aware that he was gone, he said in a low voice to his men: “Fire on the village! Every one pick his man, and don’t one of you miss!” Instantly dropping upon their knees the men obeyed the order. Almost like the report of one gun the rifles rang out together.