“Do you think I have not?” asked Lopez, quietly. “Do you suppose I have been lying by all this time waiting to be helped? I spent months in trying to find out where he was. Twice I was taken by the Blackfeet and once almost lost my life. That I could speak their language and claimed to be related to their tribe was all that saved me. At last I located him in the village which you will see to-morrow. The Pueblos call me Spotted Snake,” and he laughed, harshly. “Well, I tried to earn the name in my lookout for Moccasin Williams; for never a snake held so close to the ground, or crawled so silently through the grass as I did. But I never got him as I wanted him. A hundred times I had him under my rifle, but he was never near enough for me to be sure. To-morrow,” and there was a deadly meaning in his voice, “I will try again; and I think I shall succeed.” The fire at which they stood was one removed from the others, having been kindled by a horse guard to roast a particularly prized piece of buffalo tongue while he was on watch. The trees threw huge, dancing shadows all about; and their own movements were grotesquely mimicked by the giant shades flung from them by the changing light. There was a silence after the half-breed’s last words; then, as he stood staring into the red of the blaze, Dave Johnson fancied he heard a sound behind him. Trained, by this time, to respond to sounds which he did not understand, Dave was about to turn; but he felt the grip of Kit upon his arm--a grip which asked for silence as plainly as words could have done. Kit, facing the half-breed, spoke quietly: “The map which belongs to these boys, now? What about that?” The half-breed gave a gesture of contempt. “If I can find the man who stole it from me, that’s all I ask,” said he. “Well, all right,” said Kit. Then he added, drily, “But seeing that you stole it yourself, Spotted Snake, I think you’re making a mighty big complaint.” “He claimed to be my friend. He is a traitor,” said the half-breed, sullenly. “As I have said, all right,” repeated Kit. “You can look at the thing just as you see fit, and I’ll not say a word against it. But,” and here there was a ring in his voice like that of steel, “the map belongs to these two lads, and I’m going to see that they get it. It belongs to them and no one else shall have it; neither you, Lopez, who stand there grinning at me; nor you, Moccasin Williams, away there in the Blackfoot town; nor you, Shunan, who are behind me in the bushes!” He wheeled as he spoke these last words, and faced the darkness. “Come out,” said he. “We know you’re there, and we know why you’re there.” There came a swishing and clattering among the thick growth, and the burly Frenchman made his appearance. “I was looking for fuel,” he growled, sullenly. “I didn’t know you were here.” Kit regarded him steadily.