"And," proceeded Kidd, with a chuckle, "if the redcoats defeat you and you take flight back into Uncle Sam's territory, you can obtain his protection by a handing over of the captives whom you charitably snatched from the wigwam. Well conceived, Captain Dagard!"
"Well or ill conceived, it is not my invention."
"Well, anyway, no fool thought of it."
"That's where you are wrong. It's the idea of a lubberly man of mine, Dave Steelder, 'Daft Dave.' He's an innocent, as we Bretons say, an idiot, if you prefer the word."
"Oh, Daft Dave!" exclaimed Kidd, with a sparkle of the eye under his snow goggles.
"Do you know him?"
"I met him at the Humboldt Washup when the flume burst and carried away his hut and savings. They say that drove him stupid. That was in 1869, or so, but others make out he was cranky before."
"If he is an acquaintance of yours, perhaps you would like to see him. Shall I whistle him over?"
"Well, no, some other occasion! He may have the delusion that I look like one of the awkward cusses that broke a plank in the flume and let the flood spoil the diggings. Astonishing what a family likeness the red flannel shirt, the patched pants, and the high up boots gave us all at the gold mines. I have often been taken for another!" concluded Kidd, with a wink.
"How unfortunate!" said l'Embarrasseur, drolly laughing. "Then, I should not advise you to run against Dave. He's apt to tear when he's mad. Still, his strength makes him useful about a camp, though he's not bright, and though he's not trusted on guard, he throws out valuable hints now and again, as these dullards do. But this is wind work, mere talk. What have you come over to propose?"