One of the company, who was in the rear, came spurring up, in great haste, shouting "Indians." He affirmed that he had seen them distinctly, and had counted twenty-seven.

The party immediately halted.

All examined their arms, and prepared for battle, in case they should be attacked.

Kit Carson sprang upon one of the most fleet of the hunting horses, crossed the river, and galloped off, over the prairie, towards the hills where the objects had been seen.
"Mounted on a fine horse, without a saddle," writes Lieutenant Fremont, "and scouring, bareheaded, over the prairies, Kit was one of the finest pictures of a horseman I had ever seen.

He soon returned quite leisurely, and informed them that the party of twenty-seven Indians had resolved itself into a herd of six elk who, having discovered us, had scampered off at full speed." The next day they reached a fork of the Blue river, where the road leaves that tributary of the Kansas, and passes over to the great valley of the Platte river.