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Page 45
Jack hesitated about going into the house. Even if Echo married
him, he knew that she would never forgive him when she learned of
his dastardly conduct from Dick Lane's own mouth. It was better
to sacrifice the life of one to save three lives from being
ruined.
Jack followed Lane up, partly drawing his gun. It would be so
easy to shoot him. No one would recognize Dick Lane in that
crippled figure. Jack's friends would believe him if he told
them the stranger had drawn on him, and he had to shoot him in
self-defense.
Then the thought of how dastardly was the act of shooting a man
in the back, and he his trusting friend, smote him suddenly, and
he replaced the pistol in its holster. "It is worse than the
murder of 'Ole Man' Terrill," he muttered.
Dick walked on entirely unconscious of how close he had been to
death, with his friend as his murderer.
So interested had the two men been in their conversation, that
neither had noticed Buck McKee hiding behind the hedge, listening
to their talk, and covering Jack Payson, when he was following
Dick with his hand on his revolver. McKee heard Payson's
ejaculation, and smiled grimly.
Jack's absence had aroused Jim Allen, who hurried out on the
porch, storming. "Say, Jack, what do you mean by putting the
brakes on this yere weddin'?"
"Jim--say, Jim! I-- want you to do something for me," cried
Jack, as he rushed toward his future father-in-law, greatly
excited.
"Sure," answered Allen heartily.
"Stand here at this door during the ceremony, and no matter what
happens don't let any one in."
"But--" interrupted Allen.
"Don't ask me to explain," blurted Jack. "Echo's happiness is at
stake."
"That settles it--I've not let any one spile her happiness yet,
an' I won't in the few minutes that are left while I'm still her
main protector. Nobody gets in."
"Remember--no one--no matter who it is," emphasized Jack, as he
darted into the house.
Jim Allen lighted his pipe. "Now, what's eatin' him?" he
muttered to himself. Then, "They're off!" he cried, looking
through the window.
The Reverend Samuel Price began to drone the marriage-service.
It is the little things in life that count, after all. Men will
work themselves into hysteria over the buzzing of a fly, and yet
plan a battle-ship in a boiler-shop. A city full of people will
at one time become panic-stricken over the burning of a
rubbish-heap, and at another camp out in the ruins of fire-swept
homes, treating their miseries as a huge joke.
Philosophers write learnedly of cause and effect. In chemistry
certain combinations give certain results. But no man can say:
"I will do thus and so, this and that will follow." All things
are possible, but few things are probable.
Dick Lane had planned to shield Echo by writing to Jack Payson,
letting him break the news of his return. Fate would have it
that she would not know until too late of his escape. A letter
sent directly to her might have prevented much unhappiness and
many heartaches. Not till months later, when happiness had
returned, did Jack realize that his one great mistake was made by
not telling Echo of Dick's rescue.
Both Dick and Echo might have had a change of heart when they met
again. Echo was young. Dick had wandered far. Both had lost
touch with common interests. Jack Payson had entered her life as
a factor. He was eager and impetuous; Dick was settled and
world-worn by hardship and much physical suffering. Now Jack was
at the altar racked with mental torture, while Dick waited in the
garden for his traitorous friend. The innocent cause of the
tragedy was sweetly and calmly replying to the questions of the
marriage-ritual, while Jack was looking, as Allen said to
himself, "darned squeamish."
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