Echo shuddered. "Dead," she repeated. "By his—"
"No, no," interrupted Slim; "not that way. Indians. Jack found Dick, an' the Indians found 'em both. When I come up with the soldiers from Fort Grant they was havin' the derndest mixup with Indians you ever did see. Both men were bad hurted, an' Dick—well, ma'am—I leaned over him jest in time to hear him say: 'Tell her I know she was true—and not to mind.' Then he gave a little ketch of his breath, and dropped back into my arms."
Echo sighed. The tragedy of the desert was very real to her. In the many months that the two men had been away she had lived through it with them in poignant imagination.
"Great-hearted Dick," she said. "I was not worthy of his love. And Jack, where is he?"
"Wait a minute—he wants to know if you can forgive him—if you will take him back."
"Slim!" was the only word Echo uttered, but the volume of love it contained told him everything.
"You needn't say nothin' more—I see it shinin' in your eyes," cried Slim.
"Jack! Jack!" he shouted, "you derned idiot, come a-runnin—"
Payson hurried up from the arroyo within which he had been waiting.
"Echo, I have not altogether failed in my mission. I have not brought Dick Lane back, but I hope I come from him bearing something of his loyalty and simple faith. If you ever can learn to trust me again—if you ever can learn to love me—" he said to Echo humbly.