Conversation ceased until the repast was prepared and eaten. Then Reuben inquired: “Did you see anything of my friend?” “No see. What do now?” “Do you mean what I am going to do?” inquired Reuben. “Well, I wish some one would answer that question for me.” “Breaker of Arrows go home. Black Night come, too. White boy want to go with us?” “No,” answered Reuben, “I must stay here. I must find my friend.” Apparently his explanation satisfied his companions, for in a brief time they mounted their ponies and prepared to leave Reuben alone in the little valley or defile where the buffalo meat had been roasted. It was impossible for Reuben to resume his search for Jean. In the place where he then was he was protected from sudden attacks and he decided to remain there and await the coming of the morning. The night passed without any adventures, but when morning came the light revealed to Reuben a sight even more startling than that of the preceding evening, when the three Cheyennes had discovered him alone on the plains. CHAPTER IV—RAT TRUE In the light of the early morning Reuben saw a man on horseback approaching the place where he was standing. Behind him were two pack-horses, each heavily laden. Convinced that the man was a stranger and that as yet he had not discovered the presence of any one besides himself in the defile, the first impulse that seized upon the young trapper was to seek some place of safety. He waited, however, excitedly watching the stranger as he led the little procession up the narrow natural pathway. It soon was evident that the stranger was a white man, and, once convinced of that fact, Reuben’s fears in a measure departed. What a man could be doing among the foothills of the Rockies, so far from companions and civilization, was something he was unable to conjecture. The bundles on the backs of the horses indicated that it might be possible that he had come with a purpose not unlike that which had drawn him and Jean to the region. At all events, he decided that he would not flee immediately. Hastily examining his rifle to make sure that it was ready for immediate use if occasion required, he awaited the coming of the man. There was a slight bend in the valley, which for a moment hid the approaching stranger from sight. As soon as the man turned the bend, however, he discovered Reuben before him, and instantly stopped, grasped his rifle, and gazed intently at the unexpected sight. “Who are you?” demanded the stranger. “I was just going to ask you that question myself,” replied Reuben, laughing in a manner that served to allay much of the suspicions of the newcomer. “My name is Rat True. Now that I have told you that much,” said the stranger, “tell me who you are.” “My name is Reuben Benton,” acknowledged the young trapper.