“You?” exclaimed the stranger in surprise. “You? Are you Kit Carson? Why, you’re nothing but a boy.” “I’m not very old,” replied the guide with a smile, “but that’s a fault I hope to correct some day. Meanwhile let me tell you that my name is Kit Carson. If you have any message for him you had better give it to me.” “I came from the Mission San Gabriel,” explained the newcomer, after a brief silence in which he had steadily looked into the face of the young hunter. “One of the padres sent me. He says that some Indians have run away with some of our sheep. It is the same band that stole some horses from the mission a few weeks ago. Before that they stole some of our cattle. The padre wants to know if some of your men will help us to punish them.” “Where are they?” asked Kit Carson. “We don’t know exactly, but we suspect that they have gone to one of the strongest of the Indian villages.” “Will they fight?” “I think they will.” “Then we will go,” said the guide quickly. “You tell the padre that we’ll help him out. How many men does he want?” “All you can spare.” “Tell him we’ll be at the mission to-morrow morning. There will be as many of us as care to go, whether it is the whole eighteen or only one.” “You will be the one?” inquired the stranger. “I will be one,” laughed Kit Carson, “but I do not think I will be the only one.” Reuben had been silent throughout the conversation and seldom had turned his face away from the man who had brought the message from the San Gabriel Mission. When the messenger departed Reuben turned to Kit Carson and said: “That man looks enough like Jean Badeau to be his own brother.” “Who is Jean Badeau?” “Why, he’s the trapper that I came with from St. Louis.” “The one you lost in the camp when we first saw you?” “Yes.” “Are you sure he isn’t the same man?” “No, I am not sure, and that’s just the trouble. Of course it is some time since I saw him.” “Don’t you know his voice?” “His voice certainly sounded like Jean’s.” “Why didn’t you ask him if he is Jean?” “I don’t know why I didn’t,” replied Reuben. “He looks like him, and yet if it is another man it might make trouble.” “How would it make trouble?” “Oh, I don’t know,” replied Reuben somewhat uneasily. “I cannot see why Jean should be down here in this valley, anyway, unless he wanted to get away from everybody.” “Is that the reason why we came?” demanded Kit Carson quizzically. “No, we came for the beaver skins.” “Perhaps your friend came for the same reason. You’ll soon know, though, whether he’s the real one or not, because when we go over to the mission to look up these thieving redskins, you probably will see the man again and can find out just who he is and why he is here.”