“I am sure it is,” said Kit Carson in a low voice, “and we shall find that the Indians either are having a feast on horseflesh, or that they have just finished one. The best plan, Reuben, will be for you to stay here while I go alone into the village.” Reuben glanced nervously about him, for his confidence in his own ability to protect himself in case he should be attacked was not strong. However, he made no reference to his own feelings and watched his companion as he slowly rode toward the wigwams, the tops of which could be seen in the distance. Two hours passed before Kit Carson returned to his companion. At first the scout was not inclined to relate what had befallen him in his visit. In a brief time, however, he said: “I found the Indians all friendly.” “Did you?” inquired Reuben. “Were they having a feast?” “Yes.” “Didn’t they object to your interrupting them?” “No. I found them all friendly, as I said. Indeed, the chief of the village is a cousin of my wife. What horse do you suppose they have been eating?” “Not Black Jack?” demanded Reuben, startled by the suggested question. Kit Carson nodded his head to indicate that the beautiful animal had indeed been the one which had provided the feast for the Indians. “Why did they do that? How did it happen?” “It seems that when Rat came into the village the black horse had broken a leg. It was just able to drag itself along.” “Was Rat there?” “He was, but he isn’t now.” “What has happened to him?” Kit Carson smiled slightly as he looked keenly into the face of his angry friend, and then he said: “I advised him to leave.” “And he left?” “He did.” “Did you do anything to him?” “Nothing except to advise him to depart. I am glad to say that to all appearances he seemed to be willing to follow my advice. He decided, however, to leave our furs behind him.” “Where are they now?” “They are in the village and I can get them any time I want them.” “What did Rat have to say for himself?” “Nothing much. He tried at first to explain that it was all a mistake, that he didn’t know the skins belonged to us, and when he found them he thought it was a great find and he would make away with them himself.” “What did he have to say about Black Jack?” “He claimed that Black Jack was outside the camp and that he didn’t intend to run away with him. He was going to bring him back just as soon as he disposed of the furs. I have just come back to tell you, Reuben, that I’m not going back to camp just now. Do you think you can find your way alone?” “Yes. Why don’t you want me to stay with you?” Kit Carson shook his head as he said in a low voice: “It will be better, Reuben, for you to go back to camp. Tell the men that I shall be there some time to-morrow.”