"How am I getting on with Kidd? I have succeeded in deceiving him."
"Ah, but for how long? He's a cute devil. At the least suspicion, he will pin you to a tree, or riddle you with a repeater!"
"I shall take care not to rouse his mistrust," answered Ranald, with a smile of confidence.
"Heaven help you—you are the circus boy, who, seeing the lion tamer go into the cage so easily every day, offers to perform the critters the first day he falls sick. However, youth will be boastful. In any case, rely on me. That American girl is the daughter of my brother's son. And another belief of mine is all out of the tie if that poor young lad is not her brother Lewis. This depends, perhaps, on finding out who their gaoler is—this Kidd, in reality. Soon the means of identifying the children will be at hand if the father's loving eyes are baffled. There are more friends and allies yet to be seen by you. An old friend of my nephew Filditch is due right here, and right now. His name is Don Gregorio, Peralta, Lewis's uncle. From him, through a trader, come the 'pointers' that have set me against Captain Kidd. I allow that, so far, he has thrown me out, but I take a heap of beating, and then I am not conquered. But he has even bigger enemies than this child. Into his very camp, travelling along with his crowd from the very jump-off, is one of his foes, sir. He must have been in communication with you first off. He has been signalling to us all over the mountain, from smoke and fires, and played with the axe on trees."
"You allude to the Carcajieu."
"Ay, the Wolverine. You can 'go to sleep in his blanket.' You must put full confidence in him, for, otherwise, he might upset your plans without intending it in performing his special duty."
"There's no fear about that. Joe and I have no secrets for one another."
"So much the slicker! Now, we are full forty strong. Before this gang reaches the Yellowstone Valley, we shall be nearly a hundred, for the trappers are rallying."
"We are certain to succeed!" exclaimed the Englishman, gleefully.
"Certainty is a brittle twig. But 'our cause it is just,' as the song says, and we are going to do our utmost. Our enemies are the more to be dreaded as 'gold or a grave' is a motto that pulls them far. They are not the first band, though about the biggest, that have started for the Wonderland. So far we have driven them back, or Nature's scared them; but that cannot be etarnal. It is not more than a couple of days that I found out that the leader of these banditti is the notorious Captain Kidd. He is far down in my book for being the brother of one Miguel Tadeo, a scoundrel who has dropped through somewhere, though the frontier is alive with inquiries after him. Kidd is a pestilence, but Don Miguel is the black plague itself! He is overflowing with spite against his brother man. If he is hanging around me, why, I haven't seen a trace yet, and that's bitter on an old trail hunter that's consulted by guides with a big reputation. So be prudent, young sir, for you are in the hornets' nest. Kidd will kill you straight, on the faintest doubt, without any challenge. Other hostiles abound, keep before you as a fact: the Indians, and those Canadian Half-breeds. Their chief, Dagard, is a queer mix of good white and bad Injin, and a crime no more burdens his conscience than the last drink he took. Add that all the stray pirates of the prairie, hoss thieves, gold diggers, robbers, and skulks ginerally will flock to Kidd the moment he has an advantage over us which promises him undisputed passage into the Enchanted Valley. You see the scales are pulled down agin us!"