Dick clutched madly at the canteen, but Jack drew it back out of his reach. With his handkerchief he moistened lips and neck. When Dick's strength returned, Jack helped him to sit up. "I've been hunting you for months," he told him. "Hunting for me?" echoed Dick. "Yes," answered Jack. "I traced you through the Lost Cities, then to Cooney, then up in the Tularosas. At Fort Grant they put me on the right trail." As the clouds break, revealing the blue of the heavens, so Dick's memory came back to him. He shrank from the man at his side. "Well?" he asked, as he stared at his betrayer. Jack gazed fixedly ahead. He dared not look in the face of him he had wronged so bitterly. "She wants you," he said, in a voice void of all emotion. "Who wants me?" asked Dick, after a pause. "Echo." "Your wife?" gritted Dick. He fingered his gun as he spoke. Huskily Jack replied: "Yes." Bitter thoughts filled the mind of one; the other had schooled himself to make atonement. For the wrong he had done, Jack was ready to offer his life. He had endured the full measure of his sufferings. The hour of his delivery was at hand. Hard as it was to die in the midglory of manhood, it was easier to end it all here and now, than to live unloved by Echo, hated by Dick, despised by himself. "She sent me to find you. 'Bring him back to me.' That's what she said," Jack cried, in his agony. "Your wife--she said that?" faltered Dick. Fiercely in his torture Jack answered: "Yes--my wife--my wife said it. 'Bring him back to me.'" "Back?" Dick paused. "Back to what?" he asked himself. "She's your wife, isn't she?" he demanded. "That's what the law says," answered Jack. With the thought of the evening in the garden when he heard Jack and Echo pronounced man and wife surging over him, Dick murmured: "What God hath joined together, let no man put asunder." "That's what the Book says," answered Jack. "But when hands alone are joined and hearts are asunder, it can't go on record as the work of God." Dick bowed his head in his hands. "I don't understand." Stubbornly Jack pursued his message to Dick. "She doesn't love me. I thought I had won her, but she married me with your image in her heart. She married me, yet all the while you were the man she loved--you--you--and in the end I found it out." Jack's voice sank almost into a whisper as he finished his revelation to Dick, who raised his head and cried: "And yet she broke her faith with me--" Jack arose in his misery. His task was harder than he expected. Dick was forcing him to tell all without concealing even the smallest trifle of his shame. "She thought--you were dead. I never told her otherwise. I lied to her--I lied to her." "She never knew?" asked Dick joyfully. "The letter--?" "I never gave it to her," answered Jack simply.