in the desert, such a vast, terrible
desert, where the little dust devils eddied and swirled, and the
merciless sun beat down until it shriveled up every growing thing."

Polly nodded her head sagely.

"That's the way the desert looks--and no water."

Echo paid no heed to the interruption. Her face became wan and
haggard, as in her mind's eye she saw the weary waste of waterless land
quiver and swim under the merciless sun. Not a tree, not a blade of
grass, not a sign of life broke the monotony of crumbling cliffs and
pinnacled rocks. Onward and ever onward stretched yellow ridges and
alkali-whitened ravines, blinding the eye and parching the throat.

"Then I saw a man staggering toward me," she continued; "his face was
white and drawn, his lips cracked and parched--now and then he would
stumble and fall, and lie there on his face in the hot sand, digging
into it with his bony fingers seeking for water."

Echo shut her eyes as if to blot out the picture. Its reality almost
overpowered her.

"Suddenly he raised his eyes to mine," she resumed, after a pause. "It
was Dick."

In her excitement she had arisen, stretching out her arms as if to ward
off an apparition.

"He tried to call me. I saw his lips move, framing my name. Dragging
himself to his feet, he came toward me with his arms outstretched.
Then another form appeared between us fighting to keep him back. They
fought there under the burning sun in the hot dust of the desert until
at last one was crushed to earth. The victor raised his face to mine,
and--it was Jack."

Echo buried her face in her hands. Dry sobs shook her bosom.
Awe-stricken, Polly gazed at the over-wrought wife.

"PFEW!" she laughed, to shake off her fright. "That was a sure enough
nightmare. If I'd a dream like that I'd wake up the whole house
yapping like a coyote."

As the commonplace ever intrudes upon the unusual, so a knock on the
door relieved the tension of the situation. It was Slim. He did not
wait for an invitation to enter, but, opening the door, asked: "Can I
come in?"

"Sure, come in," cried Polly, glad to find any excuse to shake off the
depression of Echo's dream.

"Howdy, Mrs. Payson, just come over to see Jack," was the jolly
Sheriff's greeting.

"He's down at the corral," she informed him.

Mrs. Allen hurried in from the kitchen at this moment, calling: "Echo,
come here, and look at this yere cake. It looks as if it had been sot
upon."

Echo clo