Down the hills towards midnight Nat-u-ritch stole, an elf-like creature, with her clinking, beaded robe gleaming in the moonlight. Past the men\'s dwelling she went, and on to the cabin for a last sight of her sleeping boy. From his spying-ground Bill saw her, but made no effort to detain her. He knew that the arrival of Jim\'s kinsmen had caused a strange turmoil in his life, and made him forget that Bud Hardy might still prove a menace to him. So Bill kept his faithful vigil; but once fatigue caught him and he closed his tired eyes for a brief space. It was just the moment that Kid Clarke, the Sheriff\'s watcher, had been waiting for. Unobserved, he slipped away to follow the trail that Nat-u-ritch had taken when she fled from the house in the afternoon. Bud Hardy had cautioned him not to lose sight of the squaw, and to report to him in the early dawn at the cabin. Like Bill, he saw Nat-u-ritch make her way to the cabin and saw her return; then, as he felt secure that she was safely out of the way, he lay in the loft near the cabin and waited for Bud.
But Nat-u-ritch had not succeeded in seeing her child. As she peered into the windows of the cabin she saw a beautiful woman and another stranger seated near Jim. For a long time she watched him as he talked to the woman, who now and then went to the door of the room in which the child lay, and listened as though afraid that their voices might disturb the boy. The woman\'s presence became an added complication in the impending tragedy that engulfed Nat-u-ritch. She longed to creep into the room and kneel beside Jim, to beg to be allowed just to be near him; but she was afraid—afraid of the curious glances of the strangers. Intently she watched the woman and saw the look on Jim\'s face as he talked long and earnestly to her. How he had changed! She remembered him as the young, strong, handsome buck whom she had met at the bear-dance. For the first time she seemed to see the whitened hair, the tired, patient eyes, and the marks of sorrow on his face. Once she saw him lean forward and gently argue with the white woman. She dimly understood the difference between his attitude towards this woman of his own race and to her. Gradually a new pain was added to the hurt that tried her endurance; she could not explain it, but Jim had never looked at her like that. He treated her as he did little Hal, while he regarded the woman with him as his equal. She began to sob piteously, like a child who is suddenly asked to face something it cannot understand. It was useless to remain there longer. Back she hurried to the hills, more desolate than when she started to see her child. Through the long hours that followed she made no effort to reason or to control her emotions, but abandoned herself to her grief.
Just before daylight Tabywana crept silently along the road and hid behind the wagon that stood near the house. He had been following Bud Hardy, whose early visit to the cabin had aroused his suspicions. Although Jim had dismissed his advice yesterday, the Chief was determined to see him again as soon as daylight should come. He was impatient to disclose to Jim the fear that tormented him for Nat-u-ritch\'s safety. As he watched for the first faint streaks of dawn, from his hiding-place Tabywana saw Bud Hardy emerge from the men\'s quarters and steal towards the cabin. Bud tiptoed about the place, then crossed to the loft and gave three short whistles. Almost immediately Kid Clarke appeared and leaned out of the loft door.
"Well?" Bud called, as Clarke, dazed, rubbed his sleepy eyes.
"Nat-u-ritch has disappeared—her trail leads to the hills. Carston hasn\'t been to bed at all. He went away about half an hour ago."
Bud glanced quickly about the place. "No one in the room, then?"
Kid nodded.
"All right—come down," Bud said.
Kid disappeared from the aperture in the loft and Bud went softly into the house.
Silently the Chief slid down under the porch of the cabin. As Bud came out of the house he saw in the Sheriff\'s hand a small thirty-two-caliber revolver which he was smilingly examining. Before he could pocket the weapon Tabywana leaped upon him and clutched the hand that held the gun, but Bud, with a muttered imprecation, deftly threw the hand with the revolver over Tabywana\'s shoulder, but only to feel an iron fist beat his knuckles. Involuntarily he loosened his hold and heard Bill\'s voice say:
"Put up your gun, Clarke."
Kid had reached there just at the end of the struggle, and had started to pull his revolver to assist Bud.
Holding the captured revolver in his hand, Bill said: "Why, what\'s the matter, boys? I don\'t allow no gun-play on this ranch—not while I\'m foreman of it."
In the first faint light of the rising sun the three figures were like ghostly silhouettes against the gray background.
"I want that gun," Bud replied.
"How did you come by it?" Bill demanded.
Before Bud Hardy could speak, Tabywana grasped Bill by the arm and by pantomime indicated that Bud had crept into the house and stolen it.
Bill turned sternly to Bud. "What do you mean by sneakin\' into other peoples\' houses at night an\' takin\' their property? Why"—as he examined the revolver—-"this gun belongs to Nat-u-ritch."
Almost savagely Bud interposed: "Oh, it does, does it? You heard that, Clarke? Well, that\'s all I want to know."
Bill saw that Bud had gained evidence against the little woman. "Well, it ain\'t all I want to know. You\'ll have to show me, Bud—you\'ll have to show me why you\'re combinin\' the trades of burglar an\' sheriff." Then, with a change in his voice, he said, "Better sit down and we\'ll discuss this amicable."
Bud seated himself near Clarke and Bill; Tabywana remained standing near them, eagerly trying to grasp all that was being said. Bud was not averse to taking Bill into his confidence. He felt that with Clarke as a witness to Bill\'s statement he had gained the essential point his case needed.
"You fellers have guyed me for years about Cash Hawkins\'s death, \'ain\'t you? Now it\'s my turn."
So Bud was going to try to make a sensational arrest through Bill, and thus win the county over to him and secure another election to the office of sheriff! Should he call Jim at once, Bill wondered. He determined to wait and see if Bud meant to declare his intentions.
"\'YES, DIANA. MY BOY——MY SON\'" See page 257
"\'YES, DIANA. MY BOY——MY SON\'" See page 257
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