Echo laid her hand on the knob to open the door, when she heard the click of the pistol's hammer as Bud raised it. With a prayer in her eyes, she looked at the young man. He was obdurate. Nothing could move him. Turning, she shrieked: "No, I did not call. Go! in God's name, go!" "Good-bye!" was Jack's farewell. The rapid beat of horse's hoofs told of his mounting and riding away. "Gone. Oh, Bud, Bud, what have you done?" "I should have killed him," was Bud's answer, a gazed after the retreating form galloping down trail. Mrs. Allen, hearing Echo's calls, hastened in from the kitchen. She found her daughter sobbing at the table. "What is the matter, child?" Then, turning to Bud, she fiercely demanded of him: "What have you been saying to her?" "Nothin'," he replied, as he left the house. "Oh, mother, mother!" wailed Echo. "Jack--I have sent him away." "Sent him away," repeated the startled Mrs. Allen. "Yes," assured Echo. "You don't mean to say he is guilty--you don't mean--" "No, no!" interrupted Echo. "Oh, I never thought of that--he must come back--call Dad, call Slim." Echo had forgotten Jack's promise to Slim. He, too, in his period of stress had overlooked the fact that he was a suspected murderer. Now he had fled. He must be brought back to clear his good name. Mrs. Allen called her husband and the Sheriff into the room. "What's the row?" shouted the Sheriff. "Jack's gone," cried Mrs. Allen. In amazement the two men could only repeat the news, "Gone!" "Gone where?" crisply demanded the Sheriff. "Don't stand there starin'; do something," scolded Mrs. Allen. "He gave me his word to stay and face this thing out," shouted the bewildered Slim. "It's all my fault. I sent him away." Echo seized Slim's hand as she spoke. "You sent him away?" She fell on her knees before him. Lifting her hands as in prayer, she implored: "I never thought of his promise to you. He never thought of it. Go find him--bring him back to me!" "Bring him back?" howled the excited Sheriff, his eyes bulging, his cheeks swelling, his red hair bristling, and his voice ringing in its highest key. "Bring him back? You just bet I will. That's why I'm sheriff of Pinal County." Slim whirled out of the door as if propelled by a gigantic blast. Echo fell fainting at her mother's feet. CHAPTER XII The Land of Dead Things Forth to the land of dead things, through the cities that are forgotten, fared Dick Lane. Tricked by his friend, with the woman he loved lost to him, he wandered onward. Automatically he took up again his quest for buried treasure. That which in the flush of youthful enthusiasm and roseate prospects of life and love had seized him as a passion was now a settled habit. And fortunately so, for it kept him from going mad. He had no thought of gain--only the achievement of a purpose, a monomania.