“That’s all,” said Reuben dryly, “and I see you’re just Rat. Tell me what you’re doing here.”
“I’m ’tending to my own business, and that’s more than some people are doing.”
“You don’t look as if you were,” retorted Reuben, still more angered by the manner of the man.
“What do I look as if I was doing?”
“You know as well as I do,” said Reuben quickly, “and you know what sometimes happens to men for doing that very thing.”
“You little cub!” roared Rat. “I’ve a great mind to treat you as——”
“As you were treated by Kit Carson?” laughed Reuben.
For a moment the expression of anger on the face of the huge man caused Reuben to regret the hasty words he had spoken. He felt safe, however, as the brook was wide and deep, and he had little fear that Rat would venture into the cold waters of the mountain torrent. Water had ever been one of the pet aversions of the huge Rat, and he had never listened kindly to suggestions of his camp mates as to its use. For a moment the angry face of the man glared upon Reuben, and then as if by a supreme effort, Rat, striving to look more pleasant, said: “And what luck have you had this winter?”
“Good. How has yours been?”
“My luck is against me,” replied Rat, shaking his head as he spoke. “Everything is against me.”