A half-hour later, however, Kit Carson was seen approaching the camp, riding his own pony and leading his captive. The black horse was following meekly, his dejected bearing clearly showing the sufferings he had undergone. The scout made no comment when he rode into the camp. He at once quietly dismounted and threw the bridle rein over the head of the pony he had been riding and then turned to his captive. At first it seemed as if the spirit of the black horse was broken. In a moment, however, when Kit Carson tried to lead forward the nearly exhausted animal, the wild pony reared and with a scream of anger attempted to strike the scout with his forefeet. Carson, however, was too quick, and the attempt of his prisoner to injure him proved futile. Again the scout pulled upon the halter, although as Reuben watched him he was puzzled to understand how the daring man had succeeded in placing a halter on the head of the powerful animal. The pony this time responded, and although he was apparently unaware of what he was doing, he followed his captor as he led him to a stake which had been securely driven into the ground on the border of the camp. There the captured horse was tied. Once more, however, Kit Carson barely escaped the onrush of the beast as he dashed upon him with wide-open jaws. It was impossible for any one in the camp now to hobble the animal, and for a time he was left to his vain efforts to escape. Desperately the poor beast pulled upon the thongs that held him, but without avail. After a struggle of a few minutes the attempt was abandoned, and for a time it seemed as if the black horse, his spirits drooping and his whole bearing dejected, had at last decided to yield to his fate. Kit Carson declared that the horse should not be fed or watered throughout the night. When morning came, with some oats in his hat which he was holding in his outstretched hand, the scout again approached the captive. Hunger and thirst by this time had deprived the beast of still more of his fiery energy. He was weak now as well as suffering. Stretching forth his head, he ate a few oats, and then, apparently overcome by his recollection of his humiliation, with a scream of anger he arose upon his hind feet and again endeavoured to crush the scout. CHAPTER XXVI—THE RETURN OF RAT “Come on, shoot the brute!” shouted Jack, greatly excited as he saw the peril of the scout. In response to his appeal several men ran for their rifles, but Kit Carson himself, quickly turning to his followers, said quietly: “None of that, boys. This fellow isn’t to blame for what he’s doing. Leave him to me.”