But for the dread in which the savages stood of the powers of the white men, the advantages would have been in their favor ten to one.

There were unerring marksmen on both sides.

No one could expose himself to the aim of either party without almost certain death.

Kit Carson and one of his companions, by the name of Markhead, were the foremost of the band of trappers, and they stood behind trees not far from each other.

As Carson was watching the movements of a burly savage, who was endeavoring to get a shot at him, he saw another savage taking deliberate aim, from his concealment, at Markhead.
With the rapidity of thought Carson wheeled around, and at the same instant the bullet from his rifle pierced the heart of the savage and he fell dead.