Nat-u-ritch stole down from the loft and crept to where Jim had stood. Unconsciously she repeated the same picture of desolation he had made as he stretched out his arms and strained his eyes to see the wagon disappear down the ravine, which the Indian girl could now see far off, like an ant on a hill, as it crawled up the dun-colored mound. Like him, she folded her arms and stared ahead for a long time—even though the blinding light blurred and made the landscape a chaotic meeting of sky and earth.

But, unlike him, no sobs shook her tiny body; erect and resolute she stood, then turned and noiselessly came down behind the weeping man. In wondering pity she watched him, then crossed to the house and entered it. She quickly returned with the small revolver in her hand; but her soft-shod feet made no sound, and Jim, unconscious of her presence, still sat with his head on his knees. As she caught sight of the tiny moccasins the child had left lying on the bench, she wavered a moment, but she only paused to pick them up and press them against her wildly beating heart. She had but one thought—escape from the pain that gnawed and tormented her.

Without the boy, and with the look she feared she must face daily in Jim\'s eyes, she knew she could not endure life. There was no rebellion, only acceptance of her fate, as she crept close behind Jim, the moccasins covering the steel weapon. Worn out, Jim still remained with head bowed, a physical stupor of fatigue almost dulling his sorrow. Nat-u-ritch\'s quick ear heard the voices of the returning men, and she darted across to the corral and disappeared behind the barn. But even that did not arouse Jim.

Shorty, Andy, and Grouchy hurried after Bill, who was coming back to look after Jim. Shorty grasped Bill\'s arm, wheeled him about, and pointed in the direction the carriage had taken.

"What are they bringing them back for, Bill?" he asked.

Bill swore a mighty oath as he saw the wagon headed for the cabin, with Bud and his posse surrounding it. He must prevent a meeting between Jim and Bud if possible.

"Don\'t say a word," he whispered to the boys as he caught sight of Jim. "We\'ll get him into the house."

He came down to Jim and tenderly laid his hand on his shoulder. "Jim, old man, you haven\'t had any sleep; go in and rest awhile."

Jim looked up at Bill, who pulled him to his feet, then started to lead him towards the cabin. He could fight the physical weariness no longer.

"Oh, I\'ll be all right soon, Bill."

Bill, as though humoring a child, said: "Sure. We\'ve all got to get kind of used to it. Sleep\'s the thing to put you............