They were again in the country of their bitter enemies, the Blackfeet, and were certain of a fight with them; but several months passed without molestation.
One day, however, several of the trappers who were making the rounds of the traps, came upon signs which showed they were close to a strong force of the Blackfeet.

The men lost no time in hurrying back to camp with the news, where it was agreed that trouble was at hand.
Forty men were selected at once to hunt out the Indians and engage them in battle.

It goes without saying, that Kit Carson was made the leader and there was not a moment's unnecessary delay in starting out to find the enemy.
They were successful in their search.

They suddenly found themselves in the presence of a scouting party, who were undoubtedly looking for them; but perceiving the strength of the whites, they began retreating.

Carson and his men pressed them hotly, when, as anticipated, they fell back on the main body and one of the old fashioned battles between trappers and Indians began.
The Blackfeet always fight bravely, and, for a time, they held their ground well, but they were forced to give way and retired to a small island in the Yellowstone, where they had thrown up rude fortifications and felt able to hold their own against a much superior force.
Darkness closed in upon the contending forces, and the assailants ceased firing and encamped for the night on the bank of the river.