Meanwhile a guard had been established by the leader and a careful watch was to be maintained throughout the night. If Indians were as near as the presence of the prisoner indicated, Reuben was at a loss to understand why the fire should have been kept up. However, as he had complete confidence in the leader, he asked no questions, and soon he, too, was sleeping as soundly as his companions.
When morning dawned and Reuben arose, he found Kit Carson talking to the prisoner. “Come here!” called the leader when he saw that Reuben was awake. “Have you ever seen this young redskin before?”
Reuben looked keenly at the captive before he replied. “He looks like the young Indian that I saw two or three nights ago,” he said. “He was one of the three I told you about that had been trying to steal horses from the Pawnees. At least that’s what the Indian said who could speak English.”
“Doesn’t this one talk English?”
“He didn’t that time, and the one who did speak it said he was the only one that understood it.”
The trapper turned again to the Indian boy and tried to engage him in conversation, but either the lad did not understand what was said or he did not want to, for he stolidly refused to reply.
Once more the guide examined the young Indian’s wound, and soon afterward turned to his followers, explaining that as soon as they had all had breakfast and the horses had been watered and permitted to gather such food as they could obtain in the little valley, the entire band would resume its journey.
“But what shall I do?” said Reuben. “Shall I go away without trying to find Jean?”
“Jean can take care of himself if he is alive,” said Kit Carson quietly, “and if he is dead he will not need your help. I think the only thing for you to do is to come with us.”
“Where are you going?”