CHAPTER XXVII

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 right."

They reached the cabin door. Jim dully echoed, "Sleep—sure, sleep, Bill." Then Bill closed the door on him.

"Shorty," he called, "you and Grouchy stand outside of that door, and don't you let him out of there until we can get Bud Hardy away." He meant to hurry and meet the wagon before it could reach the yard, but as he spoke he heard the men and horses and knew that it was useless.

Andy, who had been watching farther down the road, ran towards him. "Bill," he called, "Bud Hardy's here." As he spoke, Bud and his men advanced, followed by Diana and the child, while Sir John and Petrie stood close to them.

"Bud," Bill began, in a quick, low voice, "Jim ain't in any mood to be trifled with to-day. What in hell do you mean by stopping these people when I ordered you off the place?" He blurted out the words as though fearful of the impulse that drove him to do bodily harm to the Sheriff.

With a sneer Bud answered, "I told you I would hold these people as witnesses, and now I want Nat-u-ritch."

Before Bill could remonstrate, there was a hoarse cry from the house. They heard Jim wildly saying, as he rushed to Bill:

"Where is it? Where is it? It's gone—gone! Who took it? Bill, did you put that little gun back in the room as I told you?"

"That I did, boss."

As Jim stood in the yard he failed to see Diana or the child. He saw only the great form of the Sheriff, with his men around him, and he knew that mischief was afoot.

"You here, damn you!" He made a movement to reach Bud, but was restrained by Shorty and Grouchy. Then he saw that the entire party had been taken into custody. Before he could expostulate, a shot rang out.

"What was that!"

Bill ran to the barn. Jim followed him, but was stopped at the door by Bill.

"Jim," he cried, "it's Nat-u-ritch."

Before either of them could reach the tiny form they saw Tabywana lean over and pick up the child-woman in his arms. He had found her, but too late.

Diana, holding the child and followed by Petrie and Sir John, drew back into the corner of the porch. Bud and his men, who had lost their prey, slunk away. Only his faithful men stood by Jim as Tabywana advanced, carrying in his arms the dead Nat-u-ritch. From her hands dangled the tiny baby shoes.

Tabywana held out the lifeless body to Jim. In death as in life, she belonged to her master.

"Poor little mother! Poor little mother!" Jim whispered.