Project Gutenberg's Scouting with Kit Carson, by Everett T. Tomlinson This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: Scouting with Kit Carson Author: Everett T. Tomlinson Illustrator: John Frost Release Date: October 3, 2012 [EBook #40927] Language: English Character set encoding: UTF-8 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SCOUTING WITH KIT CARSON *** Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net “‘Here I am, Kit! Don’t shoot!’” Every Boy’s Library—Boy Scout Edition SCOUTING WITH KIT CARSON BY EVERETT T. TOMLINSON AUTHOR OF SCOUTING WITH DANIEL BOONE, Etc. ILLUSTRATED BY JOHN FROST NEW YORK GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS Copyright, 1916, by Doubleday, Page & Company All rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign languages, including the Scandinavian PREFACE Perhaps it is unnecessary to explain that the purpose of the author primarily has been to write a story, not a biography. And yet behind the story stands the romantic character of the great trapper, scout, guide, messenger, and soldier—Kit Carson. In every way the aim has been to portray him in a manner that should be true to his unique personality and his adventurous life. There is a basis of truth for the incidents incorporated in the tale. Although exact chronology has been impossible, still an attempt has been made in a general way, to present in order, various phases of Kit Carson’s stirring life. The courage and truthfulness of the famous scout, his modesty and determination, as well as his fidelity and his friendliness are qualities of life never more in demand than to-day. Where can our boys and girls learn of their value better than in becoming familiar with a life which, whatever its limitations may have been, surely possessed these valuable qualities. Is it not high time, too, for young Americans to be taught that in the romance and adventure of the early days of our own country there are heroes as deserving of recognition as the semi-fabulous characters in the early life of nations across the sea? Whatever may be taught of the latter, surely American boys and girls ought not to be ignorant of the early heroes of their own land. Everett T. Tomlinson. Elizabeth, New Jersey. CONTENTS CHAPTER I—THE CAMP ON THE PLAINS CHAPTER II—IN PURSUIT OF A HERD CHAPTER III—THREE CHEYENNES CHAPTER IV—RAT TRUE CHAPTER V—THE FAME OF THE TRAPPER CHAPTER VI—ALONE CHAPTER VII—MOUNTAIN TROUT CHAPTER VIII—AN UNEXPECTED MEETING CHAPTER IX—WOLF’S CLOTHING CHAPTER X—ATTACKED CHAPTER XI—A TRYING EXPERIENCE CHAPTER XII—A PUZZLING MESSENGER CHAPTER XIII—PURSUIT CHAPTER XIV—CAPTURED CHAPTER XV—A LONELY RIDE CHAPTER XVI—A MOUNTAIN LION CHAPTER XVII—THE COMING OF RAT CHAPTER XVIII—A FIGHT CHAPTER XIX—TRAPPED CHAPTER XX—WILD HORSES CHAPTER XXI—THE CHASE OF THE LEADER CHAPTER XXII—A WHITE MAN IN THE INDIAN VILLAGE CHAPTER XXIII—BAFFLED CHAPTER XXIV—A FRESH ATTEMPT CHAPTER XXV—THE CAPTIVE LEADER CHAPTER XXVI—THE RETURN OF RAT CHAPTER XXVII—THE THEFT CHAPTER XXVIII—THE RETURN CHAPTER XXIX—THE GREAT SCOUT AND THE GREAT EXPLORER CHAPTER XXX—CONCLUSION ILLUSTRATIONS “‘Here I am, Kit! Don’t shoot!’” “Several Indians seated themselves before the mouth of the cave” “The trembling boy was able to see the scout as he drew his knife” “Instantly Kit Carson struck the treacherous redskin a blow between his eyes with his fist” SCOUTING WITH KIT CARSON CHAPTER I—THE CAMP ON THE PLAINS “I am glad we are going to stop here.” “It ees so. The boy ees mooch tired?” “Yes, I am tired,” responded Reuben Benton. “I have been in the saddle since before sun-up. Sometimes it seems to me as if I had been riding forever and a day.” The conversation ceased, and both men, leaping from the backs of their tired horses, first stretched themselves and then danced about in a manner not in the least suggestive of weariness. The action, however, was not so much to express their pleasure as to give relief to the cramped muscles of their backs and legs that now were almost numb. The ponies manifestly, too, were glad of the respite. It was a long trail from St. Louis, or Pain Court, as the trading post frequently was called ninety years before this story was written, to the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. For many days the two weary travellers had steadily ridden across the arid plains. In certain places they had forded rivers or had crossed on boats or rafts, that now were left far behind them. Here and there along the uncertain trail they had camped near the springs that occasionally were to be found. It was a spring which now had caused the two men to halt and to prepare their camp for the night. For a brief moment both men turned and looked sharply all about them. Not far away, although they were much farther than they appeared to be, the towering Rocky Mountains lifted their summits high in the air. Some of the peaks still were covered with snow, although nearly all of them at this time in the summer were bare and bleak. Gorges and cañons were plainly visible, and the keen look which each of the riders gave them indicated that they were aware that these great defiles among the giant hills might be the hiding-places of savage beasts or of no less savage Indians. Indeed, the latter were much more to be feared, for recently there had been an increasing hatred of the whites manifested by all the tribes of the prairies and the mountains beyond. Not that many white men as yet had ventured into the wilderness, but the few that had done so had aroused feelings of fear and anger lest the pale-faced men might be merely scouts for a larger body that was following them. Rumours of battles fought farther east between the Indians and the settlers had made their way somehow even across the plains. Many of the actions, as well as the activities, of certain of the trappers and hunters, in their occasional visits among the tribes, also had not tended to soothe the fears or allay the feelings of the suspicious redmen. Although thoughts of such perils were in the minds of the two men who had halted for the night, neither referred to them, nor was there any unusual anxiety betrayed by either. The horses now were hobbled, blankets were spread on the sandy soil, and a few cooking utensils were taken from the backs of the pack-horses, and all things were made ready speedily for the night that was fast approaching. The horse of Jean Badeau, the elder of the two men, would have been noticed even by a passing stranger. Even after the long ride of the day was ended, there still was a flash in the eyes of Proveau, as Jean called his horse, and splotches of foam were still flying from his mouth when he proudly tossed his head. The horse of Reuben Benton, though its coat was not quite as sleek and its eyes betokened a greater weariness than those of his companion’s mount, still was manifestly fleet and strong. Four other ponies also were in the little caravan, and it was not long before the burdens they carried were removed from their backs and placed together on the ground. As soon as the contents of the packs were seen it was evident that the men were engaged in what was a not infrequent occupation in these early days: both men were trappers. Indeed, numerous traps tied together were seen among the burdens carried by the patient animals. Powder and lead, two or three blankets, a few cooking utensils, and a scanty store of provisions comprised most of the outfit of the little train. Of the two trappers, Jean Badeau was a man of medium height, with dark hair, and eyes piercing and black as midnight. His swarthy skin as well as his manner of shrugging his shoulders indicated that he was French. Whether he had come from St. Louis or Montreal, or even from France itself, he had not explained to his companion. It was in St. Louis, however, that Reuben first had met him, and there he had agreed to accompany Jean on his long journey to the Rockies, where they were to trap until late in the fall or early winter. Their first plan had been to go to the upper waters of the Missouri River. When, however, they learned that several large trapping parties were also planning to go to the same country, Jean decided that their opportunities would be better and their chances of success much more if they should leave their companions, and set their traps among the hills or mountains farther south, where some of the smaller streams had their rise. Jean was about thirty-eight or forty years of age. The muscles of his neck and shoulders indicated his great physical strength. His heavy chest and long arms were silent witnesses to the power of the Frenchman. Nor was Reuben Benton a weakling. Slightly taller than his companion, he, too, had dark hair and black eyes, but the tint of his skin indicated that it was due more to the sun and winds he had encountered on his long journey from St. Louis than to its original colouring. His eyes were expressive of the kindness of his heart, and it was clear that Reuben was not one that easily lost his temper or self-possession. Perhaps it was for this reason that Jean, whose success as a hunter and trapper was well known, had urged the lad to accompany him. He himself was the possessor of neither of these two virtues. Indeed, Reuben had told him that “he was not so much a man who had a temper as he was a man whose temper had him.” The difficulties confronting the two men were many. The food they had brought was not sufficient to provide for their wants more than a few days, and for the greater part they must depend for supplies upon their own skill with their rifles. However, as game was plentiful in the region, neither was anxious concerning the outlook for their immediate future. They were much more fearful of the red-skinned Indians among the defiles of the mountains and of possible rivals whom they might encounter in their visits to their traps. Of all the trappers that had gone forth that year they were the only ones who had ventured to start with only two in the party. Whether or not they were wise in their undertaking will be better understood as the story of their adventures is unfolded. In a brief time after they had arrived at the spring their camp had been made, brush had been gathered for a fire, the horses had been hobbled, and Jean had taken his flint and tinder and after two quick attempts had started a fire in the dry brush. The sun was still well above the tops of the mountains, but darkness, when it fell, would come suddenly. “I’m telling you,” said Jean, “that we start on Friday. That is ver’ mooch onlucky.” “Why is it unlucky?” laughed Reuben, who was not greatly moved by the superstitious fears of his companion. “Do you think we shall have trouble or that we shan’t get any skins?” “I fear ver’ mooch the both things.” While Jean had been talking he had been preparing their simple supper. So engrossed was he in his occupation, as well as in the steady stream of talk he maintained, whether Reuben heeded his words or not, that he was unaware of what was occurring in the vicinity of the camp. It was plain that he had entrusted to his younger companion the guardianship of the camp, while he himself prepared their simple evening meal. “Look out! Look out!” suddenly shouted Reuben. At the words of his companion Jean leaped to his feet, grasped his rifle, which he had left upon the sand nearby, and hastily turned in the direction indicated by Reuben. In a brief time the sight which had aroused the younger trapper also stirred the older man. Not far away a buffalo calf was running directly toward the camp, evidently exerting itself to the utmost of its strength. Behind it in swift pursuit were following two long, gaunt wolves. “It is so scared,” Reuben suggested, “that it probably has taken us for a herd of buffaloes.” The calf by this time had in all likelihood discovered its mistake, but with undiminished speed it was continuing on its way directly through the camp. The wolves, however, swiftly moved in a circuit outside the camp, so that the fugitive secured a slight gain on its enemies, and in a moment was straining every nerve to reach a large herd which now could be seen at the foot of the hills not more than two miles away. “Why didn’t you shoot, Jean?” inquired Reuben. The trapper shook his head as he replied, “No waste powder.” “It isn’t wasting powder to shoot one of those wolves!” replied Reuben. “It’s one of the best pieces of work you can do! Look yonder! It almost seems as if they had come up out of the ground. There’s one, two, three, four, five more now that have joined the two already there.” In silence the two trappers watched the pursuit, and in a brief time they saw that the number of wolves had increased to twenty or more. Indeed, the helpless victim was overtaken long before it could find a refuge among its fellows. The little animal fell an easy prey to its savage pursuers and was half devoured even before it was dead. “I wish I had shot heem,” muttered Jean. “If one of our horses had been saddled I would have helped out the little beggar. I wonder why it is that one always feels that he wants the weaker side to win?” inquired Reuben. Jean shrugged his shoulders, but made no reply, and once more resumed his task over the fire. Silence rested over the region, for Reuben was caring for the horses while his friend was busy with his labours. “I no think they fight mooch,” said Jean in a low voice. Reuben hastily glanced up at the words of his friend, as for a moment the flight of the buffalo calf had been forgotten. Looking in the direction indicated by Jean, he saw that four or five buffaloes had advanced from the herd, keeping well together, and were moving toward the pack of wolves that still were busy over what remained of the unfortunate calf. “Perhaps they won’t,” responded Reuben, “but they are going to do something which is almost as bad.” Both men stood silent as they watched the herd. Although the animals were two miles distant, as has been said, in the clear air they seemed to be much nearer, and the entire herd was advancing in a body. Out from the ravine was coming a steadily increasing number of buffaloes. Soon the great herd, forming as if some one had been giving directions which they understood, began to move in such a manner that for a moment it appeared as if the prowling wolves would be surrounded. In a brief time, however, the savage animals were aware of the threatening danger, and with incredible speed fled from the region. The advancing buffaloes, however, did not halt when they saw their enemies disperse. Their speed steadily increased. The earth rumbled beneath the heavy tread of the myriad feet, producing a sound not unlike that of distant thunder. An exclamation of dismay or fear from Jean caused Reuben to glance hastily at his companion; and it was plain that Jean was anxious or alarmed. Not many minutes elapsed, however, before Reuben understood the source of his friend’s excitement and was sharing in his feeling of fear. The great herd, moving now as if it was controlled by one motive, with steadily increasing speed was directly approaching the very place which the trappers had selected for their camping-place. CHAPTER II—IN PURSUIT OF A HERD “Queek! Queek!” called Jean. “At once! Immediately!” Whether or not it was the call of his excited companion that influenced Reuben, his pony was quickly bridled, and almost at the same time both men leaped upon the backs of their horses. In spite of the weariness of both men and beasts, in a brief time all were alike highly excited. The great rumbling mass was steadily approaching and the horses also were aware of the peril that threatened. In Reuben’s heart there was a thought that if he and his companion should fire at the buffaloes the course of the mighty herd might be diverted. Perhaps even the direction in which they were moving would be turned and they would then avoid the camp. The young trapper had heard many stories of men and horses that had been trampled beneath the feet of a frantic herd of buffaloes. As the huge animals came nearer and a mighty bull was seen acting as an advance guard, Reuben glanced quickly at Jean to see whether or not he shared in his alarm. Nothing apparently would be able to stand in the way of the rush of the oncoming horde. It was a sight unlike any that Reuben ever had seen. On, and still on, dashed the animals, moving almost as if the swaying mass was one huge creature. Neither Reuben nor Jean had as yet advanced from the camp, but both were waiting with loaded rifles, unable to discover just what the exact course of the fleeing herd was to be. “How many are there?” inquired Reuben in a low voice. “About seven hundred.” Reuben whistled, but made no further response. Two minutes elapsed without any change in the direction in which the buffaloes were going. Then Jean said quickly, “I shall go to one side. It ees good for you to wait. When you shoot you must hit a cow, that ees the only meat that one can eat. Il trouverait à tondre sur un oeuf.” Whenever Jean fell into the use of his native language Reuben was aware that his excitement was almost beyond control. What the words meant he had no conception, but an instant later he saw Jean dashing directly toward the approaching herd. His horse now apparently was as excited as its rider. The weariness of the long journey of the day was forgotten or ignored. Without any definite plan, Reuben departed from the camp, moving in accordance with Jean’s advice toward the rear of the animals. The great mass was now less than a half-mile distant, and as the two hunters separated and approached the herd, Reuben saw that they had come within three hundred yards before the presence of the two riders was discovered. Then there was a sudden agitation in the huge body. The band apparently wavered for a moment, and some of the bulls galloped to and fro along the borders of the herd, betraying the fact that the presence of enemies had been discovered. The progress of the trappers, however, was not stayed. Riding steadily forward, they drew nearer the buffaloes. To Reuben the interest of the chase had now become so intense that all other things were ignored. Suddenly the movements of the dense mass were changed. The body swerved in a semicircle and apparently was in swift flight for the foothills. Within a few seconds the entire herd had joined in the flight, a guard of bulls as usual bringing up the rear. Frequently some of them stopped, and faced about as if they intended to test the strength or learn the purpose of the men on horseback. In every case, however, the huge animals speedily turned and once more dashed after the band, only to stop again and gaze at the horsemen. Indeed, as the minutes passed, Reuben was persuaded that the animals were minded to stand and fight. Whatever may have been the impulse, however, as the hunters increased the pace at which they were riding the confusion in the herd became more manifest. The buffaloes were moving over the ground now with increasing swiftness, while the rumbling and roaring became steadily louder as the speed increased. Reuben, who had followed directions and was making for the rear of the herd, now lost sight of his companion. He had a momentary glimpse of Jean when he was about thirty yards from the border of the herd, dashing into its midst. He heard the loud shout of the Frenchman, “A beau jeu beau retour!” but as he did not understand any of the words he was ignorant of Jean’s purpose. He saw the mass give way, and a half-dozen or more of the bulls, that were less fleet than the cows, turned to face the approaching hunter. Several of them, however, were thrown to the earth by the mass of maddened animals and rolled over and over upon the ground, hardly to be distinguished from the clouds of dust that now were settling all about them. Aware that Jean’s plan was, if possible, to separate one animal and pursue it until he had approached its side and then aim directly at its heart, Reuben became so interested that for a brief time he almost forgot the task which had been assigned him. Recalled in a few moments, however, and aware that Jean no longer was to be seen, he shouted to his horse to increase its speed and soon was swiftly moving toward the rear. He saw one cow slightly separated from the mass, and in a moment he was pursuing her as swiftly as the wolves had followed the buffalo calf a little while before. Steadily the young trapper gained upon his victim until at last his horse was alongside the animal he was seeking. Partly rising in his stirrups Reuben, when only a yard separated him from the buffalo, fired. The animal fell headlong at the discharge of the rifle, and then Reuben checked his horse and looked about him for his companion. Not far away he discovered Jean tying his horse to the head of a cow, which he was preparing to cut up. Filled with the spirit of the chase, Reuben decided that he would try to secure another cow. As he swiftly advanced he heard a shout from Jean, “Le coût en ôte le goût!” Still he did not understand what was said, and in his determination to secure another victim he did not heed the call, and soon was engaged in the mad pursuit of the flying herd. Whether or not it was due to the weariness of the horse he was riding, or to the increased speed of the buffaloes, Reuben never knew, but at all events he was compelled to continue the pursuit for a long distance. Unaware of the passing time and unmindful of the fact that the sun now was disappearing below the western horizon, intent solely upon securing another buffalo, Reuben still followed in the chase. A thick cloud of dust filled his mouth and eyes and at times nearly smothered him. There were moments, too, when the herd was not to be seen, so concealed was it by the cloud which the hundreds of feet had stirred up in the desert. He was aware also that the buffaloes were crowding more closely together, and the body was so compact that he was beginning to question whether or not he would be able to force an entrance and cut off any of the animals from the others. The dull and confused murmuring at times was as distinctly heard as was the noise of the many feet. Many times before Reuben had seen herds of buffaloes in the distance, but this had been the first time he had joined in a chase. Jean had told him often of his own experiences in buffalo hunting, and in his own peculiar way had declared that “Indians and the buffalo provide the poetry and life of the prairie.” Whenever a discovery of a herd had been made Jean had insisted upon hunting alone. Even now Reuben could picture the excited Frenchman shouting to his horse, “Avance donc!” and cracking his whip to urge the fleet animal into its best paces. Often Reuben had shared in the feast that had followed, enjoying the tongues and steaks which his companion insisted were the only choice bits of meat that the buffalo provided. While these pieces were being roasted on sticks held over the fire, Reuben in a measure had been content because of the feast that was promised. Now, he himself was a buffalo hunter and already had secured one victim. Unaware how far he was leaving his companion behind him, and ignorant of the direction in which he was moving as he followed the herd, Reuben still maintained the pursuit. He was unaware also of another change in the course of the animals. He had ridden near to the border of the terrified mass, but for some reason had been unable to penetrate it, or to separate one from the others. As the herd swung to the right, Reuben found that he was being crowded by the animals, that apparently either were unaware of his presence or ignored their peril. He was ignorant of the fact that the herd was passing over dangerous ground. Many times in his long rides across the plains Reuben had passed through a prairie-dog village. The sight of the little creatures sitting erect upon their haunches, watching the approaching stranger on horseback, had become so common that he had given slight heed to the little animals. Nor had he once thought of them as a source of danger. Still the flight and the pursuit were maintained. Several times the horse which Reuben was riding stumbled and nearly fell, but every time the pony was able to regain its foothold and dashed forward with undiminished speed. Reuben was now aware that the animal he was riding was breathing heavily and doubtless was feeling the effect of its swift pace after the long ride of the day. As soon as he had secured the cow he desired—for now the young trapper had selected the animal which he intended to shoot—he decided that he would give his horse a long rest before he returned to the camp. Suddenly one of the forefeet of his horse sank into a hole which the prairie-dogs had made. Glancing about him, Reuben saw that he was in the midst of a village of the little animals. With an effort he maintained his seat in the saddle, for he was an expert horseman, and an ordinary fall had little peril for him. This time, however, his horse was unable to regain its foothold. It stumbled and staggered several steps, and then with a groan sank to the ground. As it fell, Reuben slipped from its back and leaped lightly to the ground. Advancing to the head of his horse, he seized the bridle and attempted to lift the animal to its feet. It was unable to rise, and a brief examination convinced the young trapper that the fall had broken its leg. The thunder of the flying herd now sounded farther away. In the dim light Reuben saw that the buffaloes were still running swiftly and were headed for a valley or defile among the hills not far distant. Once there, doubtless they would be secure from attack. His own predicament, however, was too appalling to enable Reuben long to think of the fleeing herd. He was miles distant from his companion, his horse had fallen with a broken leg, and night was upon him, while his perils doubtless would be greatly increased before morning came. For a moment the heart of the young hunter was heavy. A groan of his faithful pony recalled him to the necessity of action. There was no hope of restoring the suffering brute, and, advancing to its head, without hesitating a moment, Reuben fired at the heart of the panting, suffering animal. With scarcely a quiver the horse became still. His own problem, however, was still unsolved, as Reuben now was fully aware. The cloud of dust in part had disappeared in the dim light. He looked all about him, but not a trace of Jean or the camp was he able to discover. He was alone on the trackless plains and by no means certain of the direction in which he had come or of the way in which he should go. CHAPTER III—THREE CHEYENNES Reuben was aware that he was not far from the base of one of the highest mountains. As once more he looked up and peered intently in every direction, he was aware also that no one was within sight. The poor beast on which he had ridden was dead and there was no means by which the young trapper might return to the camp where he had left his friend. In the distance the herd of buffaloes still could be seen, a tiny mass moving across the plains in the dim light. Even while he was gazing at them they disappeared and were lost to sight among the foothills. Reuben was aware that he had shot one cow, but where the animal had fallen or how far it was from the place where he now was standing he had no means of knowing. He looked behind him, but was unable to discover even his own trail in the sand. All traces had been destroyed by the hoof-prints of the mighty herd of fleeing animals. In what direction had he come? Reuben was aware that in a general way he had followed the line of foothills, but it was plain to him now that the herd which he had pursued had not moved in a straight course. In and out over the uneven ground, the animals, frantic with fear, had fled for safety. The young trapper was aware also that he was hungry, and yet he had no food. If he could secure the carcass of the buffalo cow he had shot his wants would be supplied. The light, however, was too dim to enable him to see far away, and even in clear daylight he was doubtful if he could see the body in the distance. Again he tried to discover the fire or smoke of the camp which he and Jean had made. Not a trace of it, however, was to be seen. It was quite likely that the very fire itself had been scattered by the herd when they had dashed across the plains. The pack-horses, too, doubtless had fled, and Reuben shuddered as he thought what was likely to be their fate before the morning appeared. The pursuit of the buffalo calf by the gaunt, hungry wolves was only an indication of what might occur when the ponies, wearied by their efforts throughout the day, would be in no condition to escape from the attack of the savage animals. For several minutes Reuben remained standing, slowly turning in his position until he had looked about the entire region. He listened intently, hoping that he might hear the sound of Jean’s rifle. The oppressive silence of the great desert, however, was unbroken. Twinkling stars had appeared in the sky, the air was motionless, the solitude was almost appalling, and within a few minutes Reuben decided that he must take his rifle and saddle and proceed in the direction in which he thought the camp was located. The boy, however, was now feeling the full force of the reaction after his strenuous day. Every muscle in his body seemed to be sore. He advanced with difficulty, and the saddle somehow appeared to be much heavier than when he had thrown it on the back of his pony. It was impossible for him to think of remaining where he was. He was hungry as well as tired, and the fear of an attack by a pack of hungry wolves was more than a vague impression. Suddenly Reuben saw the outline of three dim forms approaching on horseback. Startled by the unexpected sight, the boy remained motionless and waited for the strangers to come near him. The sight was not one to soothe the fears of the troubled young trapper, but he was convinced that his safest course was to await their coming. Accustomed now to the dim light, not many minutes elapsed before the young man was able to see that the advancing party was composed, of three Indians. One of them was much smaller than his two companions and perhaps was a lad. Who they were or why they should be coming at that time he was unable to conjecture. It was plain, however, that his presence had been discovered, for a slight divergence in the course the Indians were following showed that they were now approaching. In a brief time they drew near and one of them spoke. “How? How?” inquired the leader. At the same time he indicated, by extending his open hands, that no hostile action was intended. Following their example, Reuben also held forth his hands in a way to indicate his peaceful intentions. “Where go?” inquired the Indian that before had spoken. “I want to find my camp,” answered Reuben. He was relieved by his discovery that the three Indians were poorly mounted, the beasts which they were riding apparently being well-nigh exhausted. The smallest member of the party he now discovered was an Indian boy, perhaps fifteen years of age. It was manifest, too, that the spokesman was the only one able to speak English. “Where go? Where go?” repeated the Indian. “I want to find my camp,” again answered Reuben. “I left my partner back yonder somewhere, while I went out to shoot buffaloes. My horse stumbled and fell in a prairie-dog village over here. The poor brute broke his leg and I had to shoot him. I thought I was not very far from camp, but I reckon now I am a good deal farther than I thought I was. Where are you going? Who are you?” “Cheyenne,” answered the Indian promptly. “We go home.” “How far do you go?” inquired Reuben. The Indian held up three fingers of his right hand to indicate the distance which must be covered before they rejoined their tribe. “Three miles!” said Reuben, startled by the suggestion. The Indian laughed and, shaking his head, again held up his three fingers. “Three hundred miles, you mean?” said Reuben. The Indian nodded his head several times to indicate that the young white had spoken correctly. Plainly the words “hundred” and “miles” were not in his vocabulary. Patting himself upon the chest, the Indian said: “Me Breaker of Arrows. Come to Pawnee country. Try to get Pawnee ponies.” “You mean you came out here to steal their horses?” inquired Reuben. “No steal; take horses.” “How many did you get? It doesn’t look as if you had had very great success. These ponies you are riding look as if they had been turned loose by the Pawnees. They aren’t worth feeding.” “Pawnee heap coward!” said the Indian grimly. “Pawnee shut up horses in lodges at night.” “Did they find you?” inquired Reuben. “No find. Breaker of Arrows, Cheyenne. Dark Night, no find,” added the warrior, pointing to the boy as he spoke. The third member of the party apparently was ignored. “Where did you get these ponies?” “Ponies wild. Get horses on plains.” “They look as if they were wild,” said Reuben. “Have you had anything to eat?” “No eat,” replied the warrior; at least the man was posing as a warrior, although the only weapons the three Cheyennes carried were bows and arrows and one long spear, which was in the hands of the spokesman. “I shot a buffalo cow.” “Where buffalo?” demanded the Cheyenne quickly. “I wish I knew,” replied Reuben lightly. “I am hungry and tired. I ought to have stopped when I shot one, for one was enough, but I kept on, thinking I would get another, and so I passed the place where the cow fell. If you can find it you will have something for supper, for I will be glad to share with you.” The Cheyenne turned and spoke in his own tongue to his companions. After a hasty conversation the spokesman once more turned to Reuben and by the aid of signs and a few words intimated his desire for the young trapper to remain where he then was while the Indians searched for the body of the fallen buffalo. Somewhat suspicious that if the strangers should succeed in finding the dead animal they might not return, Reuben nevertheless agreed to the suggestion, at the same time striving to conceal his own fears. At once the Indians departed after they had secured from Reuben his impressions of the direction in which they should go. The boy watched them until the outlines of their forms no longer could be seen in the dim light. It was plain to him that they were moving in parallel lines at a considerable distance from one another. Casting his saddle upon the ground, Reuben stretched himself on the sand, using the saddle as a pillow. His rifle was loaded and placed beside him, and in a brief time the young trapper was sleeping soundly. How long he had slept he was unable to decide when he was suddenly aroused from his slumber by the sound of approaching footsteps. Lifting his head but still retaining his position, Reuben peered in every direction to discover the approaching party. At first he was unable to see what had awakened him, but in a brief time he saw a man approaching on horseback. In a little while he was convinced that the man was an Indian, and if so doubtless was one of the party which he recently had seen. His impression was confirmed when in a low voice the approaching Indian spoke: “Find um buffalo.” “Where is it?” inquired Reuben. The Indian did not reply, but alighted from his pony, for by this time he had drawn near the place where Reuben was standing, and bade him follow. “Where are you going?” inquired Reuben. Still the Indian did not explain, and after a brief hesitation Reuben decided to obey the suggestion. Slowly the Cheyenne, who still was on the back of his pony, led the way toward the foothills that now seemed to be nearer than before. In a brief time the desired point was gained and there Reuben discovered the Indian boy who had been with him a little while before. The third Indian, however, was no longer to be seen, and no explanations were given for his absence, although Reuben asked several times where the other member of the party was. Sheltered by a huge rocky boulder, the Indians soon kindled a fire and parts of the buffalo tongue and steaks which they had cut from the carcass were roasting on sticks held over the flames. Conversation ceased until the repast was prepared and eaten. Then Reuben inquired: “Did you see anything of my friend?” “No see. What do now?” “Do you mean what I am going to do?” inquired Reuben. “Well, I wish some one would answer that question for me.” “Breaker of Arrows go home. Black Night come, too. White boy want to go with us?” “No,” answered Reuben, “I must stay here. I must find my friend.” Apparently his explanation satisfied his companions, for in a brief time they mounted their ponies and prepared to leave Reuben alone in the little valley or defile where the buffalo meat had been roasted. It was impossible for Reuben to resume his search for Jean. In the place where he then was he was protected from sudden attacks and he decided to remain there and await the coming of the morning. The night passed without any adventures, but when morning came the light revealed to Reuben a sight even more startling than that of the preceding evening, when the three Cheyennes had discovered him alone on the plains. CHAPTER IV—RAT TRUE In the light of the early morning Reuben saw a man on horseback approaching the place where he was standing. Behind him were two pack-horses, each heavily laden. Convinced that the man was a stranger and that as yet he had not discovered the presence of any one besides himself in the defile, the first impulse that seized upon the young trapper was to seek some place of safety. He waited, however, excitedly watching the stranger as he led the little procession up the narrow natural pathway. It soon was evident that the stranger was a white man, and, once convinced of that fact, Reuben’s fears in a measure departed. What a man could be doing among the foothills of the Rockies, so far from companions and civilization, was something he was unable to conjecture. The bundles on the backs of the horses indicated that it might be possible that he had come with a purpose not unlike that which had drawn him and Jean to the region. At all events, he decided that he would not flee immediately. Hastily examining his rifle to make sure that it was ready for immediate use if occasion required, he awaited the coming of the man. There was a slight bend in the valley, which for a moment hid the approaching stranger from sight. As soon as the man turned the bend, however, he discovered Reuben before him, and instantly stopped, grasped his rifle, and gazed intently at the unexpected sight. “Who are you?” demanded the stranger. “I was just going to ask you that question myself,” replied Reuben, laughing in a manner that served to allay much of the suspicions of the newcomer. “My name is Rat True. Now that I have told you that much,” said the stranger, “tell me who you are.” “My name is Reuben Benton,” acknowledged the young trapper. “Good name,” said the other man, laughing boisterously. Now that he had discovered that apparently there was only one man approaching, Reuben’s confidence in his own ability to protect himself returned in full measure. “What are you doing here?” demanded Rat. “Trying to get out.” “Where did you come from?” “Last night I came from the plains. I was chasing a buffalo herd and my horse fell in a prairie-dog village and broke his leg. I had to shoot him.” “You weren’t alone, were you?” “No.” “Who was with you?” “Three Cheyennes came to join me for a little while, but then they went on, so I was left alone.” “Yes, but who was with you before the redskins?” “Jean Badeau.” “Who’s he?” “A trapper.” “He’s a trapper, is he? Well, has he ever tried it before?” “Yes.” “Where did he sell his skins?” “Sometimes he took them to the trading-post and sometimes he took them to Pain Court.” “Are you and he the only men here?” “Yes,” answered Reuben with a laugh. “And he isn’t here now. At least I can’t find him.” “Where did you leave him?” “I can’t even find the place where I left him. You see, as I told you, I started out last night to shoot one or two buffaloes. I got one and then I chased along after another, but I think I must have gone farther than I knew, for I couldn’t find my way back before dark.” “Do you think that you can find it now that it is light?” “I don’t know,” replied Reuben dubiously. As he spoke he glanced in the direction in which it seemed to him the place where he had left Jean must lie. “I don’t mind telling you,” began the stranger, “that I’m a trapper myself.” “Have you ever been here before?” The man, who was at least six feet three inches tall, and large in every way, threw back his head and emitted a laugh that was proportionate to the size of his body. “‘Have I been here before?’” repeated the stranger. “Well, just a little. Last year I took in over one thousand beaver skins. I shot more than two hundred buffaloes. I hugged a grizzly bear until he yelled for mercy. I killed two Utes with one bullet.” Reuben was looking intently at the stranger as he spoke and was inclined to believe that he was telling the truth. It was plain that the newcomer was a man of great physical strength, and his exploits, which he described in a loud voice, were not altogether improbable. At all events, the boy decided that the man was in nowise bashful, whatever his other faults might be. “Yes, sir,” continued Rat. “I guess if you were to ask the redskins about me there aren’t many of them that can’t tell you who I am. I’ve fought them single-handed and alone, and then, again, I’ve fought them when there were hundreds of them together. I thought at first I would go up along the Oregon this trip, but I soon decided that too many others would be there, too. I don’t like company. That’s the reason I wasn’t very much pleased when I first saw you here.” “Do you own this country out here?” inquired Reuben soberly. “I can’t just say as how I own it,” laughed the giant, “but there aren’t many who will dispute what I claim. Where did you say your friend is?” “I didn’t say. That’s just what I want to know.” “Well, what are you planning to do?” “The first thing I have got to do is to find Jean. Then I suppose we’ll start pretty soon for the place where we are going to begin our trapping.” “I hope you don’t trespass on any of my territory.” Reuben did not respond to the suggestion, and a moment later the newcomer said: “Have you had your breakfast yet?” “Not yet,” replied Reuben. “I was just going to have it.” “What have you got to eat?” “Buffalo tongue and some strips of steak.” “Good! That’s mighty good! I’ll help you get ready,” said the giant. “I’ll do you a good turn even if I shan’t let you trap along the streams what I preëmpt for myself.” Acting upon his suggestion the trapper dismounted and removed the saddle from the horse he was riding. The pack-laden animals, however, he did not relieve in the same way. “I’m thinkin’ I’ll stay here and help you with your breakfast,” he repeated. Reuben, who at once had begun to make preparations for the morning meal, was unable to see for a time, at least, where the “help” of his uninvited visitor was shown. As soon, however, as the pieces of buffalo meat had been cooked and the repast was ready, Reuben discovered how capable the giant was to “help” in disposing of the food which he had provided. Indeed, Rat was increasingly free with his advice and directions as to what Reuben should do, and for several reasons the boy did not refuse to obey, or even to follow, any of the proffered suggestions. When at last the food had disappeared, the giant remarked: “Then you think you will look up your camp, do you?” “I want to look up Jean.” “Well, isn’t that the same thing? I’ll tell you what I’ll do. You have been good to me and given me a bite, now I’ll take the pack off of one o’ the ponies and let you saddle it, and then we’ll go out and look for your friend. I hope he really is somewhere,” added Rat, suspiciously. “He was, the last I knew,” laughed Reuben. In a brief time the suggestion of Rat had been followed, and after Reuben had carefully adjusted his saddle to the pony of his companion they decided to leave the remaining pony in the defile while they set forth on their search for the missing Jean. Still Rat was loquacious. Apparently it made little difference whether or not Reuben replied or even listened to what he was saying. “You asked me a spell ago did I own these streams out here where I’m trapping. I told you I didn’t know as I did, but I likewise remarked that no one else had been putting in no claim for them. I don’t think many of them are likely to, not while I’m ’round.” “There aren’t likely to be any here, are there?” remarked Reuben. “You’re here, aren’t you?” “Yes.” “Well, isn’t the other fellow that was with you? Isn’t he here?” “That’s what I’m trying to find out,” laughed Reuben. “So am I,” roared the giant. “If you’re here, it may be somebody else will be here, too. Now, let me tell you that there isn’t anybody in creation what is going to set traps along the same streams where I set mine.” “How will you stop it?” inquired Reuben. “Do you see that?” inquired the giant as he held up for Reuben’s inspection an immense fist. “With that bunch of bones I have knocked down an ox. If anything happens to that fist, then I have got something else to fall back upon,” and with a loud laugh the giant held up his rifle. “And if worst comes to worst,” he continued, “I have got something in my belt here that will help take care of me.” As he spoke he drew from his belt a long, slim, sharply pointed piece of steel, which he explained had once been a bayonet, but by repeated filings had been reduced to its present shape and size. That it was a dangerous weapon Reuben instantly understood. “That time I was hugging that grizzly,” resumed Rat, “or, rather, that time when he was hugging me, do you know I just tickled his ribs with that instrument?” “Did he like it?” inquired Reuben. “He didn’t live long enough to say. There was a grin on his face though when he doubled over, so I guess he didn’t feel so bad as he made out, though he was pretty dead when I left him.” “What do you mean by ‘pretty dead?’” “Dead as a door-nail.” “But when one is dead he can’t be any deader, can he?” persisted Reuben. “I don’t know about that. That bear didn’t look as if he was dead, but he was. Now, suppose I had blown him all to pieces, and couldn’t find as much as a nail or a tooth left, I guess he would be deader then than he was when he just had my knife in between his ribs. Where did you say this fellow came from?” “What fellow?” “Why this man that you were with—this fellow Jean.” “Pain Court.” “Is that where you belong?” “Yes.” “Ever heard o’ Kit Carson?” “I have that!” said Reuben eagerly. “I know him. I have seen him.” “How long ago?” “He was there early in the summer not long before we left. Indeed, he wanted us to go with him.” “Why didn’t you?” remarked Rat. His eyes, which were unnaturally small, contracted as he spoke, until the expression startled the young trapper. “Because Jean thought we would do better not to go with a crowd, but to go off by ourselves.” “That Jean of yours is a fool.” “But I thought that is what you yourself said,” suggested Reuben, “and that you wanted to trap alone and not with a good many others.” “There’s a mighty sight o’ difference when I say it and when this friend o’ yours says it.” “What’s the difference?” “Look here, my friend,” said Rat, turning sharply upon his companion. “There are better men than you got into trouble from asking too many questions.” “But you asked a good many questions of me.” “Did I get into any trouble by askin’ ’em?” demanded Rat, as he laughed loudly. “Not yet.” “What do you mean by ‘not yet?’” “Oh, nothing.” By this time the two men had proceeded far from the place from which they had started, and still Reuben was unable to recognize any signs of the locality where he and Jean had prepared to make their camp the preceding night. Suddenly, however, he abruptly halted and, pointing toward a spot not far away, he excitedly demanded: “What’s that? What do you make of that?” CHAPTER V—THE FAME OF THE TRAPPER In response to Reuben’s startling questions both men halted and looked keenly in the direction in which he was pointing. “Is that where your camp was?” inquired Rat. “It looks like it,” replied Reuben quietly as he hastened toward the spot he had discovered on the plains. Both were silent until they arrived at the place they were seeking. Then, after a hasty inspection, Reuben said quickly: “This is where Jean and I camped last night.” “Are you sure?” “I know it is,” said Reuben positively after further investigation. “Where is your friend now?” “That’s what I should like to know, myself,” responded Reuben, as he peered intently about him in all directions. “What are you going to do about it?” inquired Rat after a brief silence. “It’s strange where Jean could have gone,” said Reuben slowly, almost as if he was unconscious of the presence of his companion. “He isn’t a man likely to be drawn into trouble. I have been wondering if the redskins got him.” “If they did they carried him off.” “But there are no signs of a...