Somehow, feeling as if the matter had been decided for him rather than that he had had any part in the decision, an hour later Reuben found himself astride a stocky little pony riding beside Kit Carson, who was leading the way. Conversation ceased, for still the guide did not explain the purpose of their journey. A brief time later he selected two men to go in advance of the others. It was evident to Reuben that they were following what appeared to be an Indian trail. The captive Indian was still in their midst, although, he was no longer bound. What had become of his companion no one in the party knew. He had vanished in the night as soon as his comrade had been hit by the bullet of Kit Carson. The journey was uneventful until the noon hour had passed, then when the guide began to look about for a suitable place where they might halt and prepare such food as they possessed for the mid-day meal, he said abruptly: “Do you see what that is ahead of us?” “Where?” inquired Reuben, who still was nearest the leader. “Right ahead on the right. Close to the trail. Look at it closely and tell me what you see.” Doing as he was bidden, Reuben soon discovered an object that instantly aroused within him a keen feeling of excitement. “I see it!” he said, turning quickly to Kit Carson. “I see it! What are we going to do?” CHAPTER X—ATTACKED Not far in advance the body of an Indian was seen lying directly across the trail. The entire band stopped abruptly at a signal from Kit Carson, and a moment later all were running forward to the place where the Indian was seen. “He may not be dead,” suggested one of the men. “He may be playing ’possum.” “That’s right, too,” suggested another. “They may be fixing a trap for us.” At the bidding of the leader the men all halted, every one holding his rifle in readiness for instant use, and all alike striving to keep watch on the various points from which they thought an attack upon them might be made. Alone and cautiously, Kit Carson advanced, and in a brief time he returned saying: “The man is dead. He had the smallpox. I don’t want any of you to go near him.” It was well known by the trappers what a terrible scourge smallpox was among the Indian tribes. Entire villages had been wiped out of existence by its ravages. “What do you think, Kit?” inquired one of the men. “Is this redskin left here for us, or do you think the village was trying to run away?” “Perhaps both,” replied the guide quietly. “At all events we’ll go around the hill.” “Better than that,” suggested one of the men. “I have had the smallpox and I’ll go ahead and drag the body out of the way.” At last the advice of the volunteer was accepted, and as soon as the dead body had been removed from the pathway the advance was resumed.