"Carston\'s locoed. He\'s plumb crazy. There can\'t be a jail for whites and a palace for Injins. He don\'t suppose he can stop me, does he?" Bud began, excitedly.

Bill, encouraged by Jim\'s mastery of the situation, chaffingly answered: "After you arrest Nat-u-ritch you\'ll never hold office, Bud. You may hold a harp or a coal-shovel." Then he laughed.

"My! You\'re making a fuss over a squaw," said Bud, who could see no humor in Bill\'s words.

But Bill replied, "Arrestin\' the mother of innocent kids will not be considered a popular form of amusement around here, Bud."

"Kids? What\'s that got to do with it?"

"Well," said Bill. "The kid\'s an influential citizen hereabouts. He\'s our long suit, and there ain\'t a live thing on the ranch that would let you arrest his rag doll. You couldn\'t get away with it, Bud." And as though it were his final word on the subject, Bill said, conclusively, "Better get elected some easier way."

A new idea fermented in Bud\'s brain. If he failed in his scheme to bring to trial the murderer of Cash Hawkins, hundreds of men to whom he had blustered and sworn that he would accomplish the deed would no longer believe in him and he would probably lose the election. Why not try to gain some compensation if this must be the case?

"Git our horses ready, Clarke," he said and watched his assistant leave the yard. Slowly Bud hitched his foot on a log, and, as though he were about to confer a favor upon Jim, spoke with condescension. "Mr. Carston takes this too much to heart, Bill. Perhaps we can come to some understanding."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he\'s come into some money, ain\'t he? Of course I might lose this match-safe crossing Red River." He lovingly fingered the little bag. Bill drew nearer. "And I might"—Bud continued—"be made independent of the job of sheriff, if it\'s worth the boss\'s while." There was no mistaking the intention of his words.

"Bud!" For a moment Bill could say no more. In the past he and Bud had been friends—bar-room friends, it was true—but lately he had begun to suspect much about the Sheriff\'s career that was unsavory. Until to-day, however, he had had no proof that Bud could behave like a blackguard. "Bud," he rejoined, "you\'re goin\' to make me lose my temper, and I \'ain\'t done that for twenty years." As he spoke he raised his foot on the log beside Bud\'s and in deliberate imitation of him leaned his elbow on his knee while he stared straight into the Sheriff\'s face.

"Don\'t be foolish," Bud began. "I can put you to a lot of trouble, and I will. I\'ll arrest these English people and put \'em under bond to appear as witnesses. They were at Maverick that day, and I got my posse ready and waitin\' to obey orders." This, he thought, was the final shot to bring Bill to his senses. He waited.

With a tolerance that did not hide his contempt, Bill spoke. "Except for Jim\'s orders, I\'d throw you off the place. Get agoin\', Bud—get agoin\'—and don\'t stop to pick flowers."

Bud knew that Bill was conveying a threat which, he felt, as he watched his face, it were wiser not to disregard. He walked towards the barn, stopped, ground his teeth, and looked back at Bill; but the big fellow stood motionless and in supreme disgust watched the Sheriff. Bud uttered a low oath, then hurried down to the corral.

Still, Bill did not move. He did not hear Diana as she opened the cabin door and, drinking in the fresh morning air, said, "I feel as though I should suffocate in there." Her looks told that something more than the close air of the cabin room was stifling her. As she came from under the porch she saw the immovable figure of the foreman leaning over the log with his head on his hands, watching several men down the road who were mounting horses and preparing to make a start.

"Oh, Mr.—" She paused.

Bill turned. He saw she had forgotten his name. "Bill, miss," he said.

"Mr. Bill—"

But Bill interrupted as he raised his hat. "Just plain Bill, if you don\'t mind—and there ain\'t anything too good for you at Red Butte ranch, lady."

Impulsively Diana held out her hand to Bill, who took it. "Thank you, Bill. It\'s good to feel that I\'m among friends, because I feel so strange, so bewildered." She had learned of the foreman\'s devotion to Jim and knew that she could trust him. "Bill," she asked, "what do they mean by \'squaw-man\'?" There was so much she could not say to Jim, so much that had puzzled her, and she longed to unburden her heart to some one. This faithful soul would understand her, and would, perhaps, help her to learn more about Jim and the Indian woman, concerning whose fate she was now growing anxious.

Bill seated himself. "Well, it\'s the name some people give a white man who marries an Indian squaw." Then quickly he added: "But I want you to understand, miss, Jim\'s respected in spite of the fact he\'s a squaw man. He\'s lived that down."

"Of course it was a great surprise to us all at first."

"Natural it would be, miss. Of course no ordinary white man would have done it. But you mustn\'t think any the less of Jim for that, miss."

Quickly Diana answered, in sympathetic accord with Bill\'s loyalty to his master: "I think all the more of him, Bill. It\'s only another of Jim\'s glorious mistakes." Then again she thought of the woman. "I wish I could see her. What is she like?"

Bill could not understand this interest in Nat-u-ritch. "Just a squaw," he said, indifferently. "She\'s got two ideas, and I guess only two—Hal and Jim."

He liked the little woman, but he could see where she had been a great disadvantage to Jim.

But Diana\'s voice as she said, "A mother and a wife—that\'s a good deal, Bill," made him realize that perhaps he was not doing the Indian girl justice. He could see the tears in Diana\'s eyes as she spoke. "And her boy goes back home with us."

Bill rose. "Kind of tough on yours truly, lady, bein\' as Hal and me are kind of side-partners, but then I got to recollect it\'s the best for the kid. That\'s about the size of it, ain\'t it?" This time it was Bill who solicited comfort from Diana. The thought of the child\'s leaving them had been a difficult proposition for the boys, and they had discussed it long and excitedly when Jim told them the plan the night before.

Diana understood. "It involves a lot of suffering all around, doesn\'t it, Bill? But it seems to me Nat-u-ritch gets the worst of it."

True to his opinion of ............