"Dagard, the Bois Brulé, one of the leaders of the Red River Rovers!"
"I am the leader of a large band of gold hunters," was the reply. "Glad to see you; come on."
Captain Dagard was one of those independent spirits, who would always be in conflict with the town authorities in civilisation; and also, in the wilds, did pretty much as he pleased, and executed, with delightful nonchalance, many an unjustifiable deed. His mixed blood made him now hate the whites—now scorn the reds—but all the time resist government in general, and the British Colonial one in particular. It is to be borne in mind, too, that never were two more incongruous elements in one country than the Scotch and the French settlers of Canada—the one sober, steady, strict Puritans; the other volatile, indolent for periods out of proportion to their fits of activity, and staunch upholders of the feasts of the Church.
Unprejudiced beholders cannot see any difference in the treatment by the rulers of either people; but still the French Canadians, and principally these Half-breeds, never cease complaining that they do not enjoy the same privileges as the conqueror race.
Kidd and the Manitoban sat down by one another.
"You might as well have come on into my camp," said l'Embarrasseur, reproachfully, "though we are a little upset by the storm. The moment I learnt from your adherent—a stout fellow, eh? Though a bit of a brute!—That you were so kind as to help me when the Crows were in our midst, you could be sure you were as my brother!"
"Yes, of course," stammered Kidd, at a loss to understand the allusion. "I—I came in—in the nick, didn't I?"
"Like a miracle! We thought we were gone under, sure, when you poured in that volley, and made the Crows take the back track. By all that's blue! You gave them such a share that we have seen not a feather of them since! That is one kind thing for which we are all grateful. Now, is it in our power to repay you?"
"That depends."
"You are prospecting; is our local knowledge any use to you?—it is freely yours, captain."