“No, he didn’t. He found the Indians in camp, cooking and eating horse meat. Without stopping a minute, Kit called to his men, and they started straight for the camp. They shot eight the first time, and all the rest made for the woods.”
“But they didn’t get away because Kit Carson chased them into the forest and got them all?”
“No, he didn’t; he told the men to get all the horses that had been stolen, and then they started straight back for camp. They were lucky to find some one who bought all their beaver skins. When the summer was over they all started back home, but they kept trapping all the way along. They made a lot of money, and every one got a share. He said he didn’t know what to do with the money.”
“Probably he found somebody to tell him?” laughed Rat.
“Yes, he did. He said he got into all sorts of bad ways that winter. I don’t suppose he was doing anything different from the rest of them, but Kit Carson isn’t the kind of a man that could ever find much fun in drinking and gambling. That was about all the other men seemed to care for.”
“He must be a wonderful man. I think I must try to see him some time. He wouldn’t scare me, would he?”
“No,” replied Reuben seriously. “I told you he is as gentle as a girl.”
“I am glad,” laughed Rat. As he spoke he extended his huge arm, and as he clinched his hand Reuben was almost convinced that even Kit Carson would be powerless in its grasp.
“There’s our camp,” suggested Rat, as he pointed to the defile in the distance. “There I have got to leave you, if you won’t go on with me.”
“No, I have got to find Jean.”