CHAPTER IV—RAT TRUEIn 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.“Good name,” said the other man, laughing boisterously. Now that he had discovered that apparently there was only one man approaching, Reuben’s confidence in his own ability to protect himself returned in full measure.“What are you doing here?” demanded Rat.“Trying to get out.”“Where did you come from?”“Last night I came from the plains. I was chasing a buffalo herd and my horse fell in a prairie-dog village and broke his leg. I had to shoot him.”“You weren’t alone, were you?”“No.”“Who was with you?”“Three Cheyennes came to join me for a little while, but then they went on, so I was left alone.”“Yes, but who was with you before the redskins?”“Jean Badeau.”“Who’s he?”“A trapper.”“He’s a trapper, is he? Well, has he ever tried it before?”“Yes.”“Where did he sell his skins?”“Sometimes he took them to the trading-post and sometimes he took them to Pain Court.”“Are you and he the only men here?”“Yes,” answered Reuben with a laugh. “And he isn’t here now. At least I can’t find him.”“Where did you leave him?”“I can’t even find the place where I left him. You see, as I told you, I started out last night to shoot one or two buffaloes. I got one and then I chased along after another, but I think I must have gone farther than I knew, for I couldn’t find my way back before dark.”“Do you think that you can find it now that it is light?”“I don’t know,” replied Reuben dubiously. As he spoke he glanced in the direction in which it seemed to him the place where he had left Jean must lie.“I don’t mind telling you,” began the stranger, “that I’m a trapper myself.”“Have you ever been here before?”The man, who was at least six feet three inches tall, and large in every way, threw back his head and emitted a laugh that was proportionate to the size of his body.“‘Have I been here before?’” repeated the stranger. “Well, just a little. Last year I took in over one thousand beaver skins. I shot more than two hundred buffaloes. I hugged a grizzly bear until he yelled for mercy. I killed two Utes with one bullet.”Reuben was looking intently at the stranger as he spoke and was inclined to believe that he was telling the truth. It was plain that the newcomer was a man of great physical strength, and his exploits, which he described in a loud voice, were not altogether improbable. At all events, the boy decided that the man was in nowise bashful, whatever his other faults might be.“Yes, sir,” continued Rat. “I guess if you were to ask the redskins about me there aren’t many of them that can’t tell you who I am. I’ve fought them single-handed and alone, and then, again, I’ve fought them when there were hundreds of them together. I thought at first I would go up along the Oregon this trip, but I soon decided that too many others would be there, too. I don’t like company. That’s the reason I wasn’t very much pleased when I first saw you here.”“Do you own this country out here?” inquired Reuben soberly.“I can’t just say as how Iownit,” laughed the giant, “but there aren’t many who will dispute what I claim. Where did you say your friend is?”“I didn’t say. That’s just what I want to know.”“Well, what are you planning to do?”“The first thing I have got to do is to find Jean. Then I suppose we’ll start pretty soon for the place where we are going to begin our trapping.”“I hope you don’t trespass on any of my territory.”Reuben did not respond to the suggestion, and a moment later the newcomer said: “Have you had your breakfast yet?”“Not yet,” replied Reuben. “I was just going to have it.”“What have you got to eat?”“Buffalo tongue and some strips of steak.”“Good! That’s mighty good! I’ll help you get ready,” said the giant. “I’ll do you a good turn even if I shan’t let you trap along the streams what I preëmpt for myself.”Acting upon his suggestion the trapper dismounted and removed the saddle from the horse he was riding. The pack-laden animals, however, he did not relieve in the same way.“I’m thinkin’ I’ll stay here and help you with your breakfast,” he repeated.Reuben, who at once had begun to make preparations for the morning meal, was unable to see for a time, at least, where the “help” of his uninvited visitor was shown. As soon, however, as the pieces of buffalo meat had been cooked and the repast was ready, Reuben discovered how capable the giant was to “help” in disposing of the food which he had provided. Indeed, Rat was increasingly free with his advice and directions as to what Reuben should do, and for several reasons the boy did not refuse to obey, or even to follow, any of the proffered suggestions.When at last the food had disappeared, the giant remarked: “Then you think you will look up your camp, do you?”“I want to look up Jean.”“Well, isn’t that the same thing? I’ll tell you what I’ll do. You have been good to me and given me a bite, now I’ll take the pack off of one o’ the ponies and let you saddle it, and then we’ll go out and look for your friend. I hope he really is somewhere,” added Rat, suspiciously.“He was, the last I knew,” laughed Reuben.In a brief time the suggestion of Rat had been followed, and after Reuben had carefully adjusted his saddle to the pony of his companion they decided to leave the remaining pony in the defile while they set forth on their search for the missing Jean.Still Rat was loquacious. Apparently it made little difference whether or not Reuben replied or even listened to what he was saying. “You asked me a spell ago did I own these streams out here where I’m trapping. I told you I didn’t know as I did, but I likewise remarked that no one else had been putting in no claim for them. I don’t think many of them are likely to, not while I’m ’round.”“There aren’t likely to be any here, are there?” remarked Reuben.“You’re here, aren’t you?”“Yes.”“Well, isn’t the other fellow that was with you? Isn’t he here?”“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” laughed Reuben.“So am I,” roared the giant. “If you’re here, it may be somebody else will be here, too. Now, let me tell you that there isn’t anybody in creation what is going to set traps along the same streams where I set mine.”“How will you stop it?” inquired Reuben.“Do you see that?” inquired the giant as he held up for Reuben’s inspection an immense fist. “With that bunch of bones I have knocked down an ox. If anything happens to that fist, then I have got something else to fall back upon,” and with a loud laugh the giant held up his rifle. “And if worst comes to worst,” he continued, “I have got something in my belt here that will help take care of me.”As he spoke he drew from his belt a long, slim, sharply pointed piece of steel, which he explained had once been a bayonet, but by repeated filings had been reduced to its present shape and size. That it was a dangerous weapon Reuben instantly understood.“That time I was hugging that grizzly,” resumed Rat, “or, rather, that time when he was hugging me, do you know I just tickled his ribs with that instrument?”“Did he like it?” inquired Reuben.“He didn’t live long enough to say. There was a grin on his face though when he doubled over, so I guess he didn’t feel so bad as he made out, though he was pretty dead when I left him.”“What do you mean by ‘pretty dead?’”“Dead as a door-nail.”“But when one is dead he can’t be any deader, can he?” persisted Reuben.“I don’t know about that. That bear didn’t look as if he was dead, but he was. Now, suppose I had blown him all to pieces, and couldn’t find as much as a nail or a tooth left, I guess he would be deader then than he was when he just had my knife in between his ribs. Where did you say this fellow came from?”“What fellow?”“Why this man that you were with—this fellow Jean.”“Pain Court.”“Is that where you belong?”“Yes.”“Ever heard o’ Kit Carson?”“I have that!” said Reuben eagerly. “I know him. I have seen him.”“How long ago?”“He was there early in the summer not long before we left. Indeed, he wanted us to go with him.”“Why didn’t you?” remarked Rat. His eyes, which were unnaturally small, contracted as he spoke, until the expression startled the young trapper.“Because Jean thought we would do better not to go with a crowd, but to go off by ourselves.”“That Jean of yours is a fool.”“But I thought that is what you yourself said,” suggested Reuben, “and that you wanted to trap alone and not with a good many others.”“There’s a mighty sight o’ difference when I say it and when this friend o’ yours says it.”“What’s the difference?”“Look here, my friend,” said Rat, turning sharply upon his companion. “There are better men than you got into trouble from asking too many questions.”“But you asked a good many questions of me.”“Did I get into any trouble by askin’ ’em?” demanded Rat, as he laughed loudly.“Not yet.”“What do you mean by ‘not yet?’”“Oh, nothing.”By this time the two men had proceeded far from the place from which they had started, and still Reuben was unable to recognize any signs of the locality where he and Jean had prepared to make their camp the preceding night.Suddenly, however, he abruptly halted and, pointing toward a spot not far away, he excitedly demanded: “What’s that? What do you make of that?”
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.
“Good name,” said the other man, laughing boisterously. Now that he had discovered that apparently there was only one man approaching, Reuben’s confidence in his own ability to protect himself returned in full measure.
“What are you doing here?” demanded Rat.
“Trying to get out.”
“Where did you come from?”
“Last night I came from the plains. I was chasing a buffalo herd and my horse fell in a prairie-dog village and broke his leg. I had to shoot him.”
“You weren’t alone, were you?”
“No.”
“Who was with you?”
“Three Cheyennes came to join me for a little while, but then they went on, so I was left alone.”
“Yes, but who was with you before the redskins?”
“Jean Badeau.”
“Who’s he?”
“A trapper.”
“He’s a trapper, is he? Well, has he ever tried it before?”
“Yes.”
“Where did he sell his skins?”
“Sometimes he took them to the trading-post and sometimes he took them to Pain Court.”
“Are you and he the only men here?”
“Yes,” answered Reuben with a laugh. “And he isn’t here now. At least I can’t find him.”
“Where did you leave him?”
“I can’t even find the place where I left him. You see, as I told you, I started out last night to shoot one or two buffaloes. I got one and then I chased along after another, but I think I must have gone farther than I knew, for I couldn’t find my way back before dark.”
“Do you think that you can find it now that it is light?”
“I don’t know,” replied Reuben dubiously. As he spoke he glanced in the direction in which it seemed to him the place where he had left Jean must lie.
“I don’t mind telling you,” began the stranger, “that I’m a trapper myself.”
“Have you ever been here before?”
The man, who was at least six feet three inches tall, and large in every way, threw back his head and emitted a laugh that was proportionate to the size of his body.
“‘Have I been here before?’” repeated the stranger. “Well, just a little. Last year I took in over one thousand beaver skins. I shot more than two hundred buffaloes. I hugged a grizzly bear until he yelled for mercy. I killed two Utes with one bullet.”
Reuben was looking intently at the stranger as he spoke and was inclined to believe that he was telling the truth. It was plain that the newcomer was a man of great physical strength, and his exploits, which he described in a loud voice, were not altogether improbable. At all events, the boy decided that the man was in nowise bashful, whatever his other faults might be.
“Yes, sir,” continued Rat. “I guess if you were to ask the redskins about me there aren’t many of them that can’t tell you who I am. I’ve fought them single-handed and alone, and then, again, I’ve fought them when there were hundreds of them together. I thought at first I would go up along the Oregon this trip, but I soon decided that too many others would be there, too. I don’t like company. That’s the reason I wasn’t very much pleased when I first saw you here.”
“Do you own this country out here?” inquired Reuben soberly.
“I can’t just say as how Iownit,” laughed the giant, “but there aren’t many who will dispute what I claim. Where did you say your friend is?”
“I didn’t say. That’s just what I want to know.”
“Well, what are you planning to do?”
“The first thing I have got to do is to find Jean. Then I suppose we’ll start pretty soon for the place where we are going to begin our trapping.”
“I hope you don’t trespass on any of my territory.”
Reuben did not respond to the suggestion, and a moment later the newcomer said: “Have you had your breakfast yet?”
“Not yet,” replied Reuben. “I was just going to have it.”
“What have you got to eat?”
“Buffalo tongue and some strips of steak.”
“Good! That’s mighty good! I’ll help you get ready,” said the giant. “I’ll do you a good turn even if I shan’t let you trap along the streams what I preëmpt for myself.”
Acting upon his suggestion the trapper dismounted and removed the saddle from the horse he was riding. The pack-laden animals, however, he did not relieve in the same way.
“I’m thinkin’ I’ll stay here and help you with your breakfast,” he repeated.
Reuben, who at once had begun to make preparations for the morning meal, was unable to see for a time, at least, where the “help” of his uninvited visitor was shown. As soon, however, as the pieces of buffalo meat had been cooked and the repast was ready, Reuben discovered how capable the giant was to “help” in disposing of the food which he had provided. Indeed, Rat was increasingly free with his advice and directions as to what Reuben should do, and for several reasons the boy did not refuse to obey, or even to follow, any of the proffered suggestions.
When at last the food had disappeared, the giant remarked: “Then you think you will look up your camp, do you?”
“I want to look up Jean.”
“Well, isn’t that the same thing? I’ll tell you what I’ll do. You have been good to me and given me a bite, now I’ll take the pack off of one o’ the ponies and let you saddle it, and then we’ll go out and look for your friend. I hope he really is somewhere,” added Rat, suspiciously.
“He was, the last I knew,” laughed Reuben.
In a brief time the suggestion of Rat had been followed, and after Reuben had carefully adjusted his saddle to the pony of his companion they decided to leave the remaining pony in the defile while they set forth on their search for the missing Jean.
Still Rat was loquacious. Apparently it made little difference whether or not Reuben replied or even listened to what he was saying. “You asked me a spell ago did I own these streams out here where I’m trapping. I told you I didn’t know as I did, but I likewise remarked that no one else had been putting in no claim for them. I don’t think many of them are likely to, not while I’m ’round.”
“There aren’t likely to be any here, are there?” remarked Reuben.
“You’re here, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Well, isn’t the other fellow that was with you? Isn’t he here?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” laughed Reuben.
“So am I,” roared the giant. “If you’re here, it may be somebody else will be here, too. Now, let me tell you that there isn’t anybody in creation what is going to set traps along the same streams where I set mine.”
“How will you stop it?” inquired Reuben.
“Do you see that?” inquired the giant as he held up for Reuben’s inspection an immense fist. “With that bunch of bones I have knocked down an ox. If anything happens to that fist, then I have got something else to fall back upon,” and with a loud laugh the giant held up his rifle. “And if worst comes to worst,” he continued, “I have got something in my belt here that will help take care of me.”
As he spoke he drew from his belt a long, slim, sharply pointed piece of steel, which he explained had once been a bayonet, but by repeated filings had been reduced to its present shape and size. That it was a dangerous weapon Reuben instantly understood.
“That time I was hugging that grizzly,” resumed Rat, “or, rather, that time when he was hugging me, do you know I just tickled his ribs with that instrument?”
“Did he like it?” inquired Reuben.
“He didn’t live long enough to say. There was a grin on his face though when he doubled over, so I guess he didn’t feel so bad as he made out, though he was pretty dead when I left him.”
“What do you mean by ‘pretty dead?’”
“Dead as a door-nail.”
“But when one is dead he can’t be any deader, can he?” persisted Reuben.
“I don’t know about that. That bear didn’t look as if he was dead, but he was. Now, suppose I had blown him all to pieces, and couldn’t find as much as a nail or a tooth left, I guess he would be deader then than he was when he just had my knife in between his ribs. Where did you say this fellow came from?”
“What fellow?”
“Why this man that you were with—this fellow Jean.”
“Pain Court.”
“Is that where you belong?”
“Yes.”
“Ever heard o’ Kit Carson?”
“I have that!” said Reuben eagerly. “I know him. I have seen him.”
“How long ago?”
“He was there early in the summer not long before we left. Indeed, he wanted us to go with him.”
“Why didn’t you?” remarked Rat. His eyes, which were unnaturally small, contracted as he spoke, until the expression startled the young trapper.
“Because Jean thought we would do better not to go with a crowd, but to go off by ourselves.”
“That Jean of yours is a fool.”
“But I thought that is what you yourself said,” suggested Reuben, “and that you wanted to trap alone and not with a good many others.”
“There’s a mighty sight o’ difference when I say it and when this friend o’ yours says it.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Look here, my friend,” said Rat, turning sharply upon his companion. “There are better men than you got into trouble from asking too many questions.”
“But you asked a good many questions of me.”
“Did I get into any trouble by askin’ ’em?” demanded Rat, as he laughed loudly.
“Not yet.”
“What do you mean by ‘not yet?’”
“Oh, nothing.”
By this time the two men had proceeded far from the place from which they had started, and still Reuben was unable to recognize any signs of the locality where he and Jean had prepared to make their camp the preceding night.
Suddenly, however, he abruptly halted and, pointing toward a spot not far away, he excitedly demanded: “What’s that? What do you make of that?”