“Yes.”

“Didn’t they object to your interrupting them?”

“No. I found them all friendly, as I said. Indeed, the chief of the village is a cousin of my wife. What horse do you suppose they have been eating?”

“Not Black Jack?” demanded Reuben, startled by the suggested question.

Kit Carson nodded his head to indicate that the beautiful animal had indeed been the one which had provided the feast for the Indians.

“Why did they do that? How did it happen?”

“It seems that when Rat came into the village the black horse had broken a leg. It was just able to drag itself along.”

“Was Rat there?”

“He was, but he isn’t now.”

“What has happened to him?”