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. [Illustration: "’YES, DIANA. MY BOY——MY SON’" See page 257] "Ancient history that, Bud," he said, "Forgotten long ago." But Bud answered, "Not by his friends and relatives about Jansen." "Oh, they’re still looking for somebody to scalp, eh? Better let sleeping dogs lie, Bud." Perhaps he could reason the Sheriff out of this scheme; perhaps convince him that it was not a profitable move on his part, and that he would in such case have the other party against him if he ever attempted to use these unfair means.