Part 42 (1/2)

Slim shook the hands of his comrades, in turn, affectionately.

For each he had his own, particular form of greeting. ”No, boys,” he said, when the group became more orderly, ”I ain't a-goin' to say a word 'till I see Mrs. Payson first.”

Polly had ridden at once to the house to tell the joyful news of Slim's return to Echo, who hurried at once to the boys about the wagon.

Parenthesis spied her riding down the trail. ”She's comin' now,” he cried.

”Boys,” requested Slim, ”would you mind herdin' off yonder a bit?”

The cow-punchers strolled over to the cottonwood, leaving Echo to meet Slim alone.

”Where is he?” was Echo's tearful greeting.

”Well, ma'am, there's a man out yonder that's been through fire and brimstone for you!”

Echo stared over the prairies. Then Jack was still searching for d.i.c.k.

Slim had failed to find him. ”Out yonder,” she moaned, wringing her hands.

”Wait a minute,” says Slim. ”He says to me, says he: 'Break it to her, Slim; tell her gentle--an' if she wants me--call, and I'll come.'

Ma'am, d.i.c.k Lane is dead.”

Echo shuddered. ”Dead,” she repeated. ”By his--”

”No, no,” interrupted Slim; ”not that way. Indians. Jack found d.i.c.k, 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' d.i.c.k--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 d.i.c.k,” she said. ”I was not worthy of his love. And Jack, where is he?”