"Farewell," he said at last, "above all, do not let this joyous hope of yours be manifested. You must wear a mask, too, whatever singular events may occur. This Cherokee Bill is an inseparable companion of the oldest trapper of the Rocky Mountains, and there is no trick too artful or impudent that he may not essay. Rest assured the Yager of the Yellowstone Valley, as this trapper is called, will give Kidd a teaser before long."
He bowed and left the excavation. Soon after he might have been seen perambulating the camp, cold, calm, and wary, directing the nourishing of the fires, and puffing easily at a huge meerschaum pipe with a very short stem, secured by a string to his buttonhole against loss. No one suspected what a chat he had with the beautiful prisoner.
[CHAPTER XIV.]
THE COMPACT.
After leaving his camping ground, Captain Kidd soon parted from the Englishman, whom he sent on through a valley, where he disappeared. Kidd had not much practice in using snowshoes, for he was a horseman of southern plains life; and the inevitable pain at the instep forced him to reach the higher land of the valley divide or crest, and trudge on with the rackets at his back. Here the wind had left but an inch or two of snow; and he walked for a couple of hours without noteworthy inconvenience. Finally, he came within half a mile of the Red River Half-breeds' ill-fated encampment.
When "Quarry Dick" preceded him there, he found the Canadians still digging out the wagons, and binding up their wounds and frostbites. He was much surprised at seeing so many women and girls; and, at the first words addressed to him, was still further filled with astonishment. Instead of going on to the place where—whether he knew it or not—the Botany Bay convict had prepared an enviable reception, his captain chose an elevated knoll, cut some long sticks with his hatchet knife, laid them upon the snow, and across one another in strata, so as to form a platform, and kindled a fire upon this greenwood, a tolerably familiar act in the winter. Soon the flame sprang up, hot enough to roast a buffalo whole; but he threw a couple of handfuls of stinkwood upon it to cause a black pillar of smoke.
On spying this token that his leader was at hand, the "Sydney Duck" remained in the Bois Brulés' camp as a hostage, according to usage, though the precaution would have been waived, and their captain came forth to confabulate with the other commander. Gliding along over the snow with the Canadians' expertness on what are national footwear to them, the Half-breed speedily hailed the man quietly seated at his fire.
"Who comes?" challenged the latter, cocking his rifle, for form's sake.