Reuben, startled at first by the quiet manner in which his friend had spoken, now looked at him in alarm. It did not seem possible that so slight and light a man as the guide would be able to defend himself against the braggart, who was known as the bully of the West. It is true Rat had no friends among the trappers. Every one had looked upon him as one who talked much but whose deeds were lacking. It was commonly reported that he was better able to tell other men how to trap the beaver than he was to secure the little animals in his own traps. To the excited Reuben the huge shoulders of the bully looked broader than ever he had seen them before. And yet for some strange reason Rat did not leap forward to attack Kit Carson when the latter in his quiet manner had demanded that he take back his remark that he could “switch any American in the camp.” The silence, however, was soon broken. Rat hesitated a moment and then, turning abruptly, with long strides walked to his tent. At the actions of the bully Kit Carson also started for his own tent, and every man present understood at once what was about to occur. The two men, who seemed to be so unequally matched, were to fight, and each had gone to his tent for his weapons. This method of settling quarrels was the one commonly used on the border. With this thought in mind, every member of Kit Carson’s band was eager to see the coming contest. At once they all drew more closely together, and although many were fearful for the life of their brave little leader, there was no one that ventured to express his opinion. In a few moments the swaggering Rat, holding his rifle in his hand, and his face fierce in its expression of rage, rushed forward on his powerful horse. Almost at the same moment Kit Carson, light and graceful in every movement, approached on horseback from the opposite side of the camp. He carried no rifle, but from his belt there protruded the stock of his pistol. Kit Carson had always been a lover of good horses. Several times in the journeys along the streams and in the valleys of the mountains he had turned aside a part of a day from his regular task of trapping and had caught the leaders of several bands of wild horses. The horse upon which he now was mounted was one of these captives. Its black coat was shining in the sunlight and its expression of intelligence almost seemed to convey the idea that it understood the peril of its master and was determined to do its utmost to aid him. Carson rode without any saddle. No man in all the camp was considered a better rider, or more able to compel the animal he was riding to obey his every word. At full gallop the young scout advanced swiftly toward Rat, who, as has been said, was also mounted upon a powerful horse. Suddenly checking his horse as he approached Rat, Kit Carson in a low voice said: “Am I the man you are looking for?” For a moment the two men gazed steadily each into the face of the other, and then Rat replied, “No.”