“I am going to take you with me to-morrow into the village and let you see how they treat me. Just now, however, Reuben, I would rather you would not say anything about what I have just told you.” Abruptly both men stopped, and in a low voice Reuben said: “What is that? It sounds like thunder.” “It is a drove of wild horses,” answered Kit Carson quickly. “Come with me and we’ll see what they are.” The sun was now about a half-hour above the horizon. In the soft light of the closing day the sound of the approaching body was almost weird. The band of wild horses was steadily drawing nearer the place where the two scouts had concealed themselves. The wind was blowing toward them, or otherwise the horses would not have approached the spot. They were almost as keen in their ability to detect by their sense of smell the presence of an enemy as were the prowling beasts. In a brief time the drove came within sight. At the head was the leader, a powerful and beautiful creature, running easily, his head carried high and his pride showing in his every movement. “Did you ever see such a tail on a horse?” exclaimed Kit Carson in a low voice. “Look at it—it sweeps the ground! Do you know, I believe I’ll get that fellow. If there is anything I am fond of it’s a good horse.” The scout’s fondness for fleet-footed ponies was well known by his friends. Not a man in the camp was his equal as a rider. He seldom used a saddle, and whatever the motion of the animal he was riding might be, Kit Carson bestrode it almost as if they were parts of the same being. Reuben, whose heart was beating wildly as he saw the drove approach, said in a whisper: “How will you get him?” “We’ll fix that up to-morrow. We’ll see to-night where they go.” The approaching horses soon swept past the hiding-place of the two trappers, and turning abruptly disappeared from sight at the entrance to one of the valleys. “They will stay there all night,” said Kit Carson quickly. “Come on now, lad, we’ll go back to camp.” “What makes you think they will stay all night? They may leave before morning.” Kit Carson smiled and shook his head, but made no further response, and in a brief time, delaying only until they had secured a few rabbits and a deer which they chanced to see, soon rejoined their companions. For some reason Kit Carson was silent concerning their visit at the Indian village, and Reuben himself naturally did not refer to it. The leader, however, made much of the drove of wild horses, and it was plain that the young scout’s enthusiasm increased as he described the strength and beauty of the black pony at its head. “I must have him,” he said. “That’s easy to say,” suggested one of the men. “I have heard others talk the same way, but when you run down a pony like that you’ll have your work cut out for you.” “But I’m going to get him,” said Kit confidently. “And I’ll tell you how.”