Slim watched McKee from the window until he disappeared through the gate of the corral. Then walking down to Jack, he took him by the hand. "It'll be all right in an hour--thank you, boys," Payson assured them. "We all know you are the whitest man on the Sweetwater," assured Sage-brush, speaking for the punchers, as they left Jack a prisoner with Slim. Speaking in a low tone, Jim asked Jack: "Where did you get that money?" "Don't you know?" he asked, in surprise. "From--" Jack nodded his head. "I'll wait for you in the other room," said Slim. "Maw, Polly, we all better leave 'em alone." As the woman and the girl left the room, the old ranchman paused at the doorway, leading to the kitchen, to advise his son-in-law earnestly: "I 'low you better tell her; it's best." The two young people were left alone in the room in which they had passed so many happy hours to face a crisis in their lives. The day which had begun sunnily was to end in darkest clouds. The awful accusation was incredible to Echo. Her faith in her husband was not shaken. Jack, she felt, could explain. But, no matter what the outcome might be, she would be loyal to the man she loved. On this point she was wholly confident. Had she not pledged her faith at the marriage altar? "Jack?" a volume of questions was in the word. Taking her hands in his and looking searchingly in her eyes, he said: "Before I tell you what's been on my mind these many weeks--I want to hold you in my arms and hear you say: 'Jack, I believe in you.'" Echo put her arms about his neck and, nestling close to his breast, declared: "I do believe in you--no matter what circumstances may be against you. No matter if all the world calls you guilty--I believe in you, and love you." Jack seated himself at the table, and drew his wife down beside him. Putting his arms about her as she knelt before him, he murmured: "You're a wife--a wife of the West, as fair as its skies and as steadfast as its hills--and I--I'm not worthy--" "Not worthy--you haven't--it isn't--" gasped Echo, starting back from him, thinking that Jack was about to confess that under some strange stress of circumstances he had slain the express-agent. "No, it isn't that," hastily answered Jack, with a shudder at the idea. "I've lied to you," he simply confessed. "Lied to me--you?" cried Echo, in dismay. "I've been a living lie for months," relentlessly continued Jack, nerving himself for the ordeal through which he would have to pass. "Jack," wailed Echo, shrinking from him on her knees, covering her face with her hands. "It's about Dick." Echo started. Again Dick Lane had arisen as from out the grave. "What of him?" she asked, rising to her feet and moving away from him. "He is alive." Jack did not dare look at his wife. He sat with his face white and pinched with anguish.