“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.”