"So Bud thinks Nat-u-ritch killed Cash. Why, there isn’t a scrap of evidence pointing towards Nat-u-ritch. Ask him what makes Bud think so." This time Jim listened intently for the answer. "He says he doesn’t know. But that Bud Hardy is bad medicine, and he wants you to make Bud Hardy move on to the next ranch." Bill grunted his approval at this. "That is impossible. The Chief knows that we cannot refuse shelter to the white man." Bill this time upheld Jim’s attitude in maintaining the laws of the place as he added, "Even though he is a bad man." Tabywana looked from one to the other. There was a piteous look of baffled hope on his face. In his heart he was wishing that they would not take his words of wisdom so lightly, but it was difficult to explain more to them. Despairingly he offered further advice, and Baco repeated it for him, but Jim answered: "The Chief knows that the rights of hospitality are sacred. Besides, I do not anticipate any trouble." He rose to his feet. He would be extremely wary of Bud Hardy, but he felt no great concern. The affair had passed for five years, and it was simply some drunken bravado on the Sheriff’s part that had frightened the old Chief. He laid his hands on Tabywana’s shoulders. For Nat-u-ritch’s father he had a tender regard, and the generous tolerance he had for, and the defence he constantly made of, the red man’s rights, caused Tabywana to lay aside all cunning in his dealings with Jim, and to completely surrender his affections to him and the tiny child. "Baco, tell Tabywana that no harm shall come to Nat-u-ritch while I live, and say to the Chief he is a good friend and I thank him for coming, and I would like him to accept this tobacco." The eternal child in the Indian answered the last words, as Jim handed him the gayly embroidered pouch, with a quick smile and nod of appreciation. He was about to protest further, however, when Shorty interrupted them as he came running in. "A stranger out here wants to see the boss." Ah, this was about the ranch, no doubt, so Jim said, "All right, Shorty, bring him to me." "All right, boss." "Bill, show Tabywana on his way," Jim directed, as the Indian seemed loath to leave him. "Adios amigo," he called to Tabywana, as Bill gently pushed him away. Baco followed him. "I beg your pardon. I am looking for Mr. Carston." Bill amusedly surveyed the new-comer as he answered, "There’s Mr. Carston," and as he disappeared behind the house he muttered to himself, with a backward glance at the visitor, "Looks as though he blew off a comic paper." *CHAPTER XXI*