“Come on, shoot the brute!” shouted Jack, greatly excited as he saw the
peril of the scout.
In response to his appeal several men ran for their rifles, but Kit
Carson himself, quickly turning to his followers, said quietly: “None
of that, boys. This fellow isn’t to blame for what he’s doing. Leave
him to me.”
In surprise the trappers drew back and watched the scout, as quickly
avoiding the rush of the black horse he soon quieted the excited
animal, which was more nervous than savage. Indeed, in the days that
followed, the methods which Kit Carson employed to “break” the
high-spirited animal were different from those which any of his friends
had ever seen or employed. In most cases horses were broken by the most
brutal of means. Cruelty was so common that it was looked upon as
commonplace. The new method which the scout used was so different as to
cause surprise among his followers. Indeed, many of them expressed
their open belief that he would never succeed and his plan would only
result in damage to the one who employed it.
Kit Carson, strong and quiet, a man who did not hesitate to use the
very utmost of his strength and the greatest of his resources when he
was fighting, in most ways was quiet and gentle as a woman. Following
his plan persistently, not many days had elapsed before the black horse
was following the scout almost as a dog follows his master. Indeed he
seemed to develop a feeling of strong affection for his captor, and it
was plain to all the campers that they never before had seen their
leader become so fond of any animal.
In the days that passed, the horse, which was named Black Jack, became
the pet of the entire camp. There was one strange trait, however, which
the horse developed, and that was that he was unwilling for any of the
trappers to mount him save Kit Carson and, on rare occasions, Reuben.
Several times Reuben had been permitted to ride the swift-footed steed,
but it was plain to the beholders as well as to the rider that there
was no enthusiasm in carrying the boy. The excitement attending the
capture of the wild horse passed in a brief time, although Black Jack
still remained a great pet of the trappers.
There were busy days that followed. The season was proving to be
unusually successful, and the number of skins taken by the men rapidly
increased with every passing day. The daily round of visiting the
traps, the labour of skinning the animals that had been caught, and the
work of drying and curing the catch occupied most of their time.
Indeed it was soon decided that the furs must be cached after the plan
which had been followed once before. This time it was Reuben who
assisted in selecting the spot where the hole should be dug in the
ground, and it was he who looked after the preparations of the place to
receive the valuable skins which represented so much toil and time.
Still the labour of trapping was steadily continued. One day while
Reuben was alone, engaged in the task to which he had been assigned, he
was startled when he saw before him near one of the traps the stooping
figure of a man. The stranger was bending over a trap, and for a moment
the lad was angered by the sight before him. He was suspicious that the
visitor was striving to steal the catch of the night. And there was no
crime considered more heinous among the trappers, unless it was that of
horse stealing.
Hastily Reuben looked to the priming of his rifle and then advancing,
quickly shouted: “Who is there? Who are you? What do you want?”
To the amazement of the startled lad the huge form of Rat arose from
the opposite bank of the stream and quickly turned to face the one who
had hailed him.
“Huh!” exclaimed Rat. “It’s only you, is it?” as he discovered who the
party was that had hailed him.
“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.”
“Including Rat,” suggested Reuben.
“What do you mean?” thundered the trapper, his face once more
expressive of his anger.
“Nothing, except that you stand in your own way. That’s what everybody
about the camp says. They would like to be friends with you, but you
won’t let them.”
“Why won’t I let them? I would like to be on good terms with
everybody.”
“With Kit Carson?” inquired Reuben.
“Yes, even with Kit Carson.” As Rat spoke, Reuben was conscious for an
instant of a deep scowl that appeared on the face of the trapper, but
it disappeared so quickly that he was not even positive that it had
been there at all. “What would Kit Carson say if I came back to camp?”
inquired Rat at last.
“That would depend very much upon what you yourself said, I reckon. If
I remember right, that’s the way it was before, wasn’t it? If you had
kept quiet Kit Carson would have been quiet, too.”
“I hear he has married a squaw,” suggested Rat.
“You can hear all sorts of things.”
“Did he?”
“Yes. He’s not ashamed of it.”
“Perhaps she’ll be when he runs off and leaves her.”
“I advise you not to suggest that thing to Kit Carson the next time you
see him. You’ll have more than a lame wrist to show for it if you do.”
“He took me off my guard,” protested Rat. “I wasn’t ready for him.”
“That wasn’t any fault of yours. He caught you before you could get
ready. You were doing your best to get the drop on him.”
“That’s a lie!” shouted Rat. “I wasn’t doing anything of the kind! But
then,” he added a moment later, his voice becoming lower, though it was
plain that he had regained his self-control only by a great effort,
“but then I have no desire to quarrel with Kit Carson nor any one in
the camp. I would like to be friends with all, if they’d let me.”
“Do you mean you want to come back to camp?” inquired Reuben.
“Yes.”
The lad whistled and made no response until Rat said: “Don’t you think
they would let me come?”
“If you will promise to be on your good behaviour, they’ll be glad to
have you come. They wouldn’t have you there a minute, though, if you
tried the trick you did before.”
“I haven’t any trick to try. I’m hungry and I’m tired. If they’ll give
me some supper and let me spend the night in camp, that’s all I want.
I’ll leave to-morrow morning if they want me to. If they will let me,
though, I’ll stay and do my share, and be glad to do it.”
“I can’t say what they’ll do. The only thing for you to do is to try
it.”
“Maybe you’ll go ahead and find out for me?” suggested Rat, his voice
becoming almost a whine in his eagerness.
“No, come along. Go back up the stream about a mile and you’ll find a
place where you can jump across. If you want to you can come over on
this bank now.”
“I don’t want to,” said Rat quickly, glancing at the rushing torrent,
as if it was threatening him. “I’ll walk back up the bank and wait for
you. How long will you be?”
“I don’t know,” said Reuben. “I wasn’t coming back this way anyway. I’m
going to visit the traps and set them. I have brought bait with me and
I’ll fix every trap before I leave.”
“Would you like to have me help you?” inquired Rat, striving to speak
pleasantly.
Reuben hesitated a moment and then said: “Yes. You had better come
across here, though, and not wait to go back up the stream.”
In response to the suggestion the huge man, with many groans and
protestations, finally entered the stream, and as the depth of the
water increased he held high above his head the two pistols with which
he was armed. The sight was ludicrous and Reuben laughed heartily. As
the man came nearer the bank on which he was standing Reuben’s heart
almost misgave him for the invitation he had given. Nor was it long
before Reuben had greater cause for regret that he had been willing for
the huge Rat to join him.