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.