The Enchanted Canyon

  CHAPTER XV

  THE FIRING LINE AGAIN

  "When I shall have given you up, Diana, I shall love my own solitude asnever before. For you will dwell there and he who has lovely thoughtsis never lonely."--_Enoch's Diary_.

  The cabin was built of cedar logs. Frank had added to it as necessityarose or his means permitted, and it sprawled pleasantly under thepines, as if it belonged there and enjoyed being there. Na-che gaveher peculiar, far-carrying call, some moments before the cabin cameinto view, and when the little cavalcade jingled up to the door, it waswide open, a ruddy faced, white-haired man standing before it.

  "Hello, Diana!" he shouted. "Where in seven thunders have you been!You're a week late!"

  Then his eyes fastened wonderingly on Enoch's face. He came slowlyacross the porch and down the steps. Enoch did not speak, and for along moment the two men stared at each other while time turned back itshands for a quarter of a century. Suddenly Frank's hand shot out.

  "My God! It's Enoch Huntingdon!"

  "Yes, Frank, it's he," replied Enoch.

  "Where on earth did you come from? Come in, Mr. Secretary! Come in!Or do you want to go up to the hotel?"

  "Hotel! Frank, don't try to put on dog with me or snub me either!"exclaimed Enoch, dismounting. "And I am Enoch to you, just as thatcowardly kid was, twenty-two years ago!"

  "Cowardly!" roared Frank. "Well, come in! Come in before I getstarted on that."

  "This is Jonas," said Na-che gravely.

  "I know who Jonas is," said Frank, shaking hands. "Come in! Come in!Before I burst with curiosity! Diana girl, I've been worried sickabout you. I swear once more this is the last trip you shall takewithout me."

  The living-room was huge and beautiful. A fire roared in the greatfireplace. Indian blankets and rugs covered the floor. There weresome fine paintings on the walls and books and photographs everywhere.After Enoch and Diana had removed their snowy coats, Frank impatientlyforced them into the arm-chairs before the fire, while he stood on thebearskin before them.

  "For the love of heaven, Diana, where did you folks meet?"

  "You begin, Enoch," said Diana quietly.

  At the use of the Secretary's name, Frank glanced at Diana quickly,then turned back to Enoch.

  "Well, Frank, I was on a speaking trip, and the pressure of things gotso bad that I decided to slip away from everybody and give myself atrip to the Canyon. That was about a month ago. I outfitted at alittle village on the railroad, and shortly after that I joined someminers who were going up to the Canyon to placer prospect. We had beenat the Canyon several days when Jonas and Diana and Na-che found us.Diana stayed a day or so, then Jonas and I went with a GeologicalSurvey crew for a boating trip down the river. We had sundryadventures, finally landing at Grant's Ferry, our leader, Milton, witha broken leg. Here we found Diana and Na-che. Jonas and I left theothers and came on here because I want to go down the trail with you.That, in brief, is my story."

  "Devilish brief!" snorted Frank. "Thank you for nothing! Diana,suppose you pad the skeleton a little."

  "Yes, I will, Dad, if you'll let Enoch go to his room and get into somedry clothes. I told Na-che to help herself for him from your supply."

  "Surely! Surely! What a rough bronco, I am! Let me show you to theguest room, Mr. Secretary--Enoch, I should say," and Frank led the wayto a comfortable room whose windows gave a distant view of the Canyonrim.

  When Enoch returned to the living-room after a bath and some strenuousgrooming at Jonas' hands, Diana had disappeared and Frank was standingbefore the fire, smoking a cigarette. He tossed it into the flames atEnoch's approach.

  "Enoch, my boy!" he said, then his voice broke, and the two men stoodsilently grasping each other's hands.

  Enoch was the first to find his voice. "Except for the white hair,Frank, the years have forgotten you."

  "Not quite, Enoch! Not quite! I don't take those trails as easily asI did once. You, yourself are changed, but one would expect that!Fourteen to thirty-six, isn't it?"

  Enoch nodded. "Will the snow make Bright Angel too difficult for you,Frank?"

  "Me? My Lord, no! Do I look a tenderfoot? We'll start to-morrowmorning and take two days to it. Sit down, do! I've a thousandquestions to ask you."

  "Before I begin to answer them, Frank, tell me if there is any way inwhich I can send a telegram. I must let my office know where I am,much as I regret the necessity."

  "You can telephone a message to the hotel," replied Frank. "They'lltake care of it. But you realize that your traveling incog. will beall out if you do that?"

  "Not necessarily!" Enoch chuckled.

  Frank called the hotel on the telephone and handed the instrument toEnoch, who smiled as he gave the message.

  "Mr. Charles Abbott, 8946 Blank Street, Washington, D. C. The boss canbe reached now at El Tovar, Jonas."

  "But won't Abbott wire you?" asked Frank.

  "No, he'll wire Jonas. See if he doesn't," replied Enoch. "And nowfor the questions. Oh, Diana!" rising as Diana, in a brown silk housefrock, came into the room. "How lovely you look! Doesn't she, Frank?"

  "She looks like her mother," said Frank. "Only she'll never be quiteas beautiful as Helen was."

  "'Whose beauty launched a thousand ships'!" Enoch exclaimed, smiling atDiana. "My boyish memoir of Mrs. Allen is that she was dark."

  "She was darker than Diana, and not so tall. Just as high as mybreast; a fine mind in a lovely body!" Frank sighed deeply and staredat the fire.

  Enoch, lying back in the great arm-chair, watched Diana withthoughtful, wistful eyes, until Frank roused himself, saying abruptly,"And now once more for the questions. Enoch, what started you inpolitics?"

  "Well," replied Enoch, "that's a large order, but I'll try to tell thestory." He began the tale, but was so constantly interrupted byFrank's questions that luncheon was announced by Na-che, just as hefinished.

  After luncheon they returned again to the fire, and Frank, urged on byEnoch, told the story of his early days at the Canyon. Perhaps Frankguessed that Enoch and Diana were in no mood for speech themselves, forhe talked on and on, interrupted only by Enoch's laughter, or quickword of sympathy. Diana, her hands clasped loosely in her lap, watchedthe fire or stared at the snow drifts that the wind was piling againstthe window. It seemed to Enoch that the shadows about her great eyeswere deepening as the hours went on.

  Suddenly Frank looked at his watch. "Four o'clock! I must go out tothe corral. Want to come along, Enoch?"

  "I think not, Frank. I'll sit here with Diana, if you don't mind."

  "I can stand it, if Diana can," chuckled Frank, and a moment later adoor slammed after him.

  Enoch turned at once to Diana. "Are you happy, dear?"

  "Happy and unhappy; unbearably so!" replied Diana.

  "Don't forget for a moment," said Enoch quickly, "that we have twowhole days after to-day."

  "I don't," Diana smiled a little uncertainly. "Enoch, I wonder if youknow how well you look! You are so tanned and so clear-eyed! I'mgoing to be jealous of the women at every dinner party I imagine youattending!"

  Enoch laughed. "Diana, my reputation as a woman hater is going to beincreased every year. See if it's not!"

  The telephone rang and Diana answered the call.

  "Yes! Yes, Jonas is here, Fred Jonas--I'll take the message." Therewas a pause, then Diana said steadily, "See if I repeat correctly.Tell the Boss the President wishes him to take first train East, makingall possible speed. Wire at once date of arrival. Signed Abbott."

  Diana hung up the receiver and turned to Enoch, who had risen and wasstanding beside her.

  "Orders, eh, Enoch?" she said, trying to smile with white lips.

  Enoch did not answer. He stood staring at the girl's quivering mouth,while his own lips stiffened. Then he said quietly: "Will you tell mewhere I can find Jonas, Diana?"

  "He's in the kitchen with Na-che. I'll go bring him in."

 
"No, stay here, Diana, sweetheart. Your face tells too much. I'll beback in a moment."

  Jonas looked up from the potatoes he was peeling, as Enoch came intothe kitchen. "Jonas, I've just had a reply from the wire I sent Abbottthis morning. The President wants me at once. Will you go up to thehotel and arrange for transportation out of here tonight? Remember, Idon't want it known who I am."

  "Yes, Mr. Secretary!" exclaimed Jonas. Hastily wiping his hands, hemurmured to Na-che, as Enoch turned away: "No trip down Bright Angel,Na-che. Ain't it a shame to think that love ring--" But Enoch heardno more.

  Diana stood before the fire in the gathering twilight. "Is thereanything Dad or I can do to facilitate your start, Enoch?"

  "Nothing, Diana. Jonas is a past master in this sort of thing, and heprefers to do it all himself. You and I have only to think of eachother until I have to leave."

  He took Diana's face between his hands and gazed at it hungrily. "Howbeautiful, how beautiful you are!" he said, his rich voice dying in asigh.

  "Don't sigh, Enoch!" exclaimed Diana. "We must not make this lastmoment sad. You are going back into the arena, fit for the fight.That makes me very, very glad. And while you have told me nothing asto your intentions concerning Brown, I know that your decision, when itcomes, will be right."

  "I don't know what that decision will be, Diana. I have given my wholemind to you for many days. But I shall do nothing rash, nor withoutlong thought. My dearest, I wish I could make you understand what youmean to me. I had thought when we were in the Canyon to-morrow I couldtell you something of my boyhood, so that you would understand me, andwhat you mean to me. But all that must remain unsaid. Perhaps it'sjust as well."

  Enoch sighed again and, turning to the table, picked up the flatpackage he had laid there on entering the room.

  "This is my diary, Diana," placing it in her hands. "Be as gentle asyou can in judging me, as you read it. If we were to be married, Ithink I would not have let you see it, but as it is, I am giving to youthe most intimate thing in my possession, and I feel somehow as if inso doing I am tying myself to you forever."

  Diana clasped the book to her heart, and laid her burning cheek againstEnoch's. But she did not speak. Enoch held her slender body againsthis and the firelight flickered on the two motionless forms.

  "Diana," said Enoch huskily, "you are going on with your work, asearnestly as ever, are you not?"

  "Not quite so earnestly because, after I reach the East again, MinettaLane will be my job."

  "Oh, Diana, I beg of you, don't soil your hands with that!" groanedEnoch.

  "I must! I must, Enoch!" Then Diana's voice broke and again the roomwas silent. They stood clinging to each other until Frank's voice washeard in the rear of the house.

  "It's an infernal shame, I say. President or no President!"

  "I'm going to my room for a little while," whispered Diana. And whenFrank stamped into the room, Enoch was standing alone, his great headbowed in the firelight.

  "Can't you stall 'em off a little while?" demanded Frank.

  Enoch shook his head with a smile. "I've played truant too long todictate now. Jonas and I must pull out to-night. Perhaps it's best,after all, Frank, and yet, it seemed for a moment as if it werephysically impossible for me to give up that trip down Bright Angel.I've dreamed of it for twenty-two years. And to go down with Diana andyou--"

  "It's life!" said Frank briefly. He sank into an armchair and neitherman spoke until Na-che announced supper.

  Diana appeared then, her cheeks and eyes bright and her voice steady.Enoch never had seen her in a more whimsical mood and the meal, whichhe had dreaded, passed off quickly and pleasantly.

  Not long after dinner, Frank announced the buck-board ready for thedrive to the station. He slammed the door after this announcement, andEnoch took Diana in his arms and kissed her passionately.

  "Good-by, Diana."

  "Good-by, Enoch!" and the last golden moment was gone.

  Enoch had no very clear recollection of his farewells to Na-che andFrank. Outwardly calm and collected, within he was a tempest. Heobeyed Jonas automatically, went to his berth at once, and toward dawnfell asleep to the rumble of the train. The trip across the continentwas accomplished without untoward incident. Enoch was, of course,recognized by the trainmen, but he kept to the stateroom that Jonas hadprocured and refused to see the reporters who boarded the train atKansas City and again at Chicago. After the first twenty-four hours ofgrief over the parting with Diana, Enoch began to recover his mentalpoise. He was able to crowd back some of his sorrow and to begin tocontemplate his whole adventure. Nor could he contemplate it withoutbeginning to exult, and little by little his spirits lifted and eventhe tragedy of giving up Diana became a sacred and a beautiful thing.His grief became a righteous part of his life, a thing he would notgive up any more than he would have given up a joy.

  Undoubtedly Jonas enjoyed this trip more than any railway journey ofhis experience. Certainly he was a marked man. He wore the broadestbrimmed hat in Frank Allen's collection, and John Red Sun's high lacedboots. Strapped to his suitcase were the Ida's broken paddle and thebattered board with "a-che" on it. These stood conspicuously in hisseat in the Pullman, where he held a daily reception to all the porterson the train. True to his orders, he never mentioned Enoch's name inconnection with his tale of the Canyon, but his own adventures lostnothing by that.

  Enoch did not wire the exact time of his arrival in Washington, as hewished no one to meet the train. It was not quite three o'clock of acold December day when Charley Abbott, arranging the papers in Enoch'sprivate office, looked up as the inner door opened. Enoch, tanned andvigorous, came in, followed by Jonas, in all his western glory.

  Charley sprang forward to meet Enoch's extended hand. "Mr. Huntingdon!Thank the Lord!"

  "All set, Abbott!" exclaimed Enoch, "and ready to steam ahead. Let meintroduce old Canyon Bill, formerly known as Jonas!"

  Charley clasped Jonas' hand, burst out laughing, and slapped him on theback. "Some story goes with that outfit, eh, Jonas, old boy! Say! ifyou let the rest of the doormen and messengers see you, there won't bea stroke of work done for the rest of the day."

  "I'm going to look Harry up, right now, if you don't need me, boss!"exclaimed Jonas.

  "Take the rest of the day, Jonas!"

  "No, I'll be back prompt at six, boss!" and Jonas, with his luggage,disappeared.

  Enoch pulled off his overcoat and seated himself at the desk, thenlooked up at Charley with a smile.

  "I had a great trip, Abbott. I went with a mining outfit up to theCanyon country. With Miss Allen's help, Jonas located me at the placermine, and after several adventures, we came back with her to El Tovar,where I wired you."

  Abbott looked at Enoch keenly. "You're a new man, Mr. Secretary."

  Enoch nodded. "I'm in good trim. What happens first, Abbott?"

  "I didn't know what time you'd be in to-day, so your appointments don'tbegin until to-morrow. But the President wants you to call him at yourearliest convenience. Shall I get in touch with the White House?"

  "If you please. In the meantime, I may as well begin to go throughthese letters."

  "I kept them down pretty well, I think," said Abbott, with justifiablepride, as he picked up the telephone. After several moments hereported that the President would see Enoch at five o'clock.

  "Very well," Enoch nodded. "Then you'd better tell me the things Ineed to know."

  Abbott went into the outer office for his note book and, returning withit, for an hour he reported to Enoch on the business of the Department.Enoch, puffing on a cigar, asked questions and made notes himself.When Charley had finished, he said:

  "Thank you, Abbott! I don't see but what I could have remained awayindefinitely. Matters seem in excellent shape."

  "Not everything, Mr. Secretary. Your oil bill has been unaccountablyblocked in the Senate. The intervention in Mexico talk has begunagain. The Geological Survey
is in a mix-up and it looks as if ascandal were about to burst on poor old Cheney's head. I'm afraid he'soutlived his usefulness anyhow. The newspapers in California arestarting a new states-rights campaign for water power control and,every day since I've returned, Secretary Fowler's office has called andasked for the date of your return."

  "Interested in me, aren't they!" smiled Enoch. "Why is the Presidentin such a hurry to see me, Abbott?"

  "I don't know, sir. I promised his secretary that the moment I heardfrom you I'd send such a message as I did send you."

  "All right, Abbott, I'll start along. Don't wait or let Jonas waitafter six. I'll go directly home if I'm detained after that."

  The President looked at Enoch intently as he crossed the long room.

  "Wherever you've been, Huntingdon, it has done you good."

  "I took a trip through the Canyon country, Mr. President. I've alwayswanted it."

  The President waited as if he expected Enoch to say more, but theyounger man stood silently contemplating the open fire.

  "How about this tale of Brown's?" the Chief Executive asked finally."I dislike mentioning it to you, Huntingdon, but you are the mosttrusted member of my Cabinet, and you have issued no denial to a verynasty scandal about yourself."

  Enoch turned grave eyes toward the President. "I shall issue nodenial, Mr. President. But there is one man in the world I wish toknow the whole truth. If you have the time, sir, will you permit me togo over the whole miserable story?"

  The President studied the Secretary's face. "It will be a painfulthing for both of us, Huntingdon," he said after a moment, "but for thesake of our future confidential relationship, I think I shall have toask you to go over it with me. Sit down, won't you?"

  Enoch shook his head and, standing with his back to the fire, hisburning eyes never leaving the President's face, he told the story ofMinetta Lane. He ceased only at the moment when he dropped off thetrain into the desert. He did not spare himself. And yet when thequiet, eloquent voice stopped, there were tears in the President'seyes. He made no comment until Enoch turned to the fire, then he said,with a curious smile:

  "A public man cannot afford private vices."

  "I know that now," replied Enoch. "You may have my resignationwhenever you wish it. I think it probable that I'll never touch a cardagain. But I dare not promise."

  "I'm told," said the Chief Executive drily, "that you were not withoutgood company in Blank Street; that a certain famous person from theBritish Legation, a certain Admiral of our own navy and an Italianprince contributed their share to the entertainment."

  Enoch flushed slightly, but did not speak.

  "I don't want your resignation, Huntingdon. It's a most unfortunateaffair, but we cannot afford to lose you. Brown is a whelp, also he'sa power that must be reckoned with. That article turned Washingtonover for a while. The talk has quieted now. It was the gambling thatthe populace rolled under its tongue. Only he and the scandal mongerslike Brown gave any but a pitying glance at the other story. The fearsthat I have about the affair are first as to its reaction on you andsecond as to the sort of capital the opposite party will make of it. Ithink you let it hit you too hard, Huntingdon."

  Enoch lifted sad eyes to the chief executive. His lips were painfullycompressed and the President said, huskily:

  "I know, my boy! I sensed long ago that you were a man who had drunkof a bitter cup. I wish I could have helped you bear it!" There wassilence for a moment, then the President went on:

  "What are you going to do to Brown, Huntingdon?"

  "I haven't decided yet," replied Enoch slowly. "But I shall not lethim go unpunished."

  The President shook his head and sighed. "You must feel that way, ofcourse, but before we talk about that let's review the politicalsituation. I'm ending my second term. For years, as you know, a largeportion of the party has had its eye on you to succeed me. In fact, asthe head of the party, I may modestly claim to have been your firstendorser! Long ago I recognized the fact that unless youth andvirility and sane idealism were injected into the old machine, it wouldfall apart and radicalism would take its place."

  "Or Tammanyism!" interjected Enoch.

  "They are equally menacing in my mind," said the older man. "As youknow, too, Huntingdon, there has been a quiet but very active minorityvery much against you. They have spent years trying to get somethingon you, and they've never succeeded. But--well, you understand mobpsychology better than I do--if Brown evolves a slogan, a cleverphrase, built about your gambling propensities, it will damn you farmore effectively than if he had proved that you played crooked politicsor did something really harmful to the country."

  Enoch nodded. "Whom do you think Brown is for, Mr. President?"

  "Has it ever occurred to you that Brown often picks up Fowler'spolicies and quietly pushes them?"

  Again Enoch nodded and the President went on, "Brown never activelyplays Fowler's game. There's an old story that an ancient quarrelseparates them. But word has been carefully passed about that there isto be a dinner at the Willard to-morrow night, of the nature of a lovefeast, at which Fowler and Brown are to fall on each other's necks withtears."

  Enoch got up from his chair and prowled about the great roomrestlessly, then he stood before the chief executive.

  "Mr. President, why shouldn't Fowler go to the White House? He's abrilliant man. He's done notable service as Secretary of State. Idon't think the cabinet has contained his equal for twenty-five years.He has given our diplomatic service a distinction in Europe that itnever had before. He has a good following in the party. Perhaps thebest of the old conservatives are for him. I don't like his attitudeon the Mexican trouble and sometimes I have felt uneasy as to hisentire loyalty to you. Yet, I am not convinced that he would not makea far more able chief executive than I?"

  "Suppose that he openly ties to Brown, Huntingdon?"

  "In that case," replied Enoch slowly, "I would feel in duty bound tointerfere."

  "And if you do interfere," persisted the President, "you realize fullythat it will be a nasty fight?"

  "Perhaps it would be!" Enoch's lips tightened as he shrugged hisshoulders.

  The President's eyes glowed as he watched the grim lines deepen inEnoch's face. Then he said, "Huntingdon, I'm giving a dinner to-morrownight too! The British Ambassador and the French Ambassador want tomeet Senor Juan Cadiz. Did you know that your friend Cadiz is thegreatest living authority on Aztec worship and a hectic fan forbullfighting as a national sport? My little party is entirelyinformal, one of the things the newspapers ordinarily don't comment on.You know I insist on my right to cease to be President on occasionswhen I can arrange for three or four real people to meet each other.This is one of those occasions. You are to come to the dinner too,Huntingdon. And if the conversation drifts from bullfighting and Aztecgods to Mexico and England's and France's ideas about your recentspeeches, I shall not complain."

  "Thank you, Mr. President," said Enoch.

  "I would do as much for you personally, of course," the older mannodded, as he rose, "but in this instance, I'm playing politics evenmore than I'm putting my hand on your shoulder. It's good to have youback, Huntingdon! Good night!" and a few minutes later Enoch was outon the snowy street.

  It was after six and he went directly home. He spent the evening goingover accumulated reports. At ten o'clock Jonas came to the librarydoor.

  "Boss, how would you feel about going to bed? You know we got intoearly hours in the Canyon."

  "I feel that I'm going immediately!" Enoch laughed. "Jonas, what haveyour friends to say about your trip?" as he went slowly up the stairs.

  "Boss, I'm the foremost colored man in Washington to-night. I'minvited to give a lecture on my trip in the Baptist Church. Theyoffered me five bones for it and I laughed at 'em. How come you tothink, I asked 'em, that money could make me talk about my life blood'sescape. No, sir, I give my services for patriotism. I can't have thepaddle nor the name
board framed till I've showed 'em at the lecture.I'm requested to wear my costume."

  "Good work, Jonas! Remember one thing, though! Leave me and MissDiana absolutely out of the story."

  Jonas nodded. "I understand, Mr. Secretary."

  When Enoch reached his office the next morning he said to CharleyAbbott: "When or if Secretary Fowler's office calls with the usualinquiry, make no reply but connect whomever calls directly with me."

  Charley grinned. "Very well, Mr. Secretary. Shall we go after thoseletters?"

  "Whenever you say so. You'd better make an appointment as soon aspossible with Cheney. He--" The telephone interrupted and Abbott tookthe call, then silently passed the instrument to Enoch.

  "Yes, this is the Secretary's office," said Enoch. "Who iswanted? . . . This is Mr. Huntingdon speaking. Please connect me withMr. Fowler. . . . Good morning, Mr. Fowler! I'm sorry to have madeyour office so much trouble. I understand you've been calling medaily. . . . Oh, yes, I thought it was a mistake. . . . Late thisafternoon, at the French Ambassador's? Yes, I'll look you up there.Good-by."

  Enoch hung up the receiver. "Was I to go to tea at Madame Foret's thisafternoon, Abbott?"

  "Yes, Mr. Secretary. Madame Foret called me up a few days ago and wasso kind and so explicit--"

  "It's quite all right, Abbott. Mr. Fowler wondered, he said, if I wasto be invited!"

  The two men looked at each other, then without further comment Enochbegan to dictate his long-delayed letters. The day was hectic butEnoch turned off his work with zest.

  Shortly after lunch the Director of the Geological Survey appeared.Enoch greeted him cordially, and after a few generalities said, "Mr.Cheney, what bomb are they preparing to explode now?"

  Cheney ran his fingers through his white hair and sighed. "I guess I'mgetting too old for modern politics, Mr. Secretary. You'd better sendme back into the field. Neither you nor I knew it, but it seems thatI've been using those fellows out in the field for my own personalends. I have a group mining for me in the Grand Canyon and anothergroup locating oil fields for me in Texas."

  Enoch laughed, then said seriously: "What's the idea, Mr. Cheney? Haveyou a theory?"

  Cheney shook his head. "Just innate deviltry, I suppose, on the partof Congress."

  "You've been chief of the Survey fifteen years, haven't you, Mr.Cheney?"

  "Yes, too long for my own good. Times have changed. People realizedonce that men who go high in the technical world very seldom arecrooked. But your modern politician would believe evil of theAlmighty."

  "What sort of timber are you developing among your field men, Cheney?"

  "Only so-so! Young men aren't what they were in my day."

  Enoch eyed the tired face under the white hair sympathetically. "Mr.Cheney, you're letting these people get under your skin. And that isexactly what they are aiming to do. You aren't the man you were a fewmonths ago. My advice to you is, take a vacation. When you come backturn over the field work to a younger man and devote yourself tofinding who is after you and why. I have an idea that the gang is notinterested in you, personally."

  Cheney suddenly sat up very straight. "You think that you--" then hehesitated. "No, Mr. Secretary, this is a young man's fight. I'dbetter resign."

  "Perhaps, later on, but not now. After years of such honorable serviceas yours, go because you have reached the fullness of years and haveearned your rest. Don't let these fellows smirch your name and thename of the Service. Clear both before you go."

  "What do I care for what they say of me!" cried Cheney with suddenfire. "I know what I've given to the government since I first ransurveys in Utah! You're an eastern man and a city man, Mr. Secretary.If you had any idea of what a field man, in Utah, for example, or NewMexico, or Arizona endures, of the love he has for his work, you'd seewhy my pride won't let me justify my existence to a CongressionalCommittee."

  "And yet," insisted Enoch, "I am going to ask you to do that verything, Mr. Cheney. I am asking you to do it not for me or foryourself, but for the good of the Survey. Find out who, what and why.And tell me. Will you do it, Mr. Cheney?"

  There was something winning as well as compelling in Enoch's voice.The director of the Survey rose slowly, and with a half smile held outhis hand to the Secretary.

  "I'll do it, Mr. Secretary, but for just one reason, because of myadmiration and friendship for you."

  Enoch smiled. "Not the best of reasons, I'm afraid, but I'm gratefulanyhow. Will you let me know facts as you turn them up?"

  Cheney nodded. "Good day, Mr. Secretary!" and Enoch turned to meet hisnext visitor.

  Shortly before six o'clock Enoch shook hands with Madame Foret in hercrowded drawing-room. He seemed to be quite unconscious of the morethan usually interested and inquiring glances that were directed towardhim.

  "You had a charming vacation, so your smile says, Mr. Huntingdon!"exclaimed Madame Foret. "I am so glad! Where did you go?"

  "Into the desert, Madame Foret."

  "Oh, into the desert of that beautiful Miss Allen! She and herpictures together made me feel that that was one part of America I mustnot miss. She promised me that she would show me what she called thePainted Desert, and I shall hold her to the promise!"

  "No one could show you quite so wonderfully as Miss Allen, I'm sure,"said Enoch.

  "Now, just what did you do to kill time in the desert, Huntingdon?"asked Mr. Johns-Eaton, the British Ambassador. "Why didn't you gowhere there was some real sport?"

  "Oh, I found sport of a sort!" returned Enoch solemnly.

  Johns-Eaton gave Enoch a keen look. "I'll wager you did!" heexclaimed. "Any hunting?"

  "Some small game and a great deal of boating!"

  "Boating! Now you are spoofing me! Listen, Mr. Fowler, here's a manwho says he was boating in the desert!"

  Fowler and Enoch bowed and, after a moment's more general conversation,they drew aside.

  "About this Mexican trouble, Huntingdon," said Fowler slowly. "I saidnothing as to your speaking trip, until your return, for variousreasons. But I want to tell you now, that I considered it an intrusionupon my prerogatives."

  "Have you told the President so?" asked Enoch.

  "The President did not make the tour," replied Fowler.

  "Just why," Enoch sipped his cup of tea calmly, "did you choose thisoccasion to tell me of your resentment?"

  "Because," replied Fowler, in a voice tense with repressed anger, "itis my express purpose never to set foot in your office again, nor topermit you to appear in mine. When we are forced to meet, we will meeton neutral ground."

  "Well," said Enoch mildly, "that's perfectly agreeable to me. But,excepting on cabinet days, why meet at all?"

  "You are agreed that it shall be war between us, then?" demanded Fowlereagerly.

  "Oh, quite so! Only not exactly the kind of war you think it will be,Mr. Secretary!" said Enoch, and he walked calmly back to the tea tablefor his second cup.

  He stayed for some time longer, chatting with different people, takinghis leave after the Secretary of State had driven away. Then he wenthome, thoughtfully, to prepare for the President's dinner.

  The chief executive was a remarkable host, tactful, resourceful, andwitty. The dinner was devoted entirely at first to Juan Cadiz and hiswonderful stories of Aztec gods and of bullfighting. Gradually,however, Cadiz turned to modern conditions in Mexico, and Mr.Johns-Eaton, with sudden fire, spoke of England's feeling about thechaos that reigned beyond the Texan border lines. Monsieur Foret didnot fully agree with the Englishman's general attitude, but when Cadizquoted from one of Enoch's speeches, the ambassadors united in praiseof the sanity of Enoch's arguments. The President did not commithimself in any way. But when he said good night to Enoch, he added inthe hearing of the others:

  "Thank you, old man! I wish I had a hundred like you!"

  Enoch walked home through a light snow that was falling. And althoughhis mind grappled during the entire walk with th
e new problem at hand,he was conscious every moment of the fact that a week before he hadtramped through falling snow with Diana always within hand touch.

  Jonas, brushing the snow from Enoch's broad shoulders, said casually:"I had a telegram from Na-che this evening, boss. She and Miss Dianastart for Havasu canyon to-morrow."

  Enoch started. "Why, how'd she happen to wire you, Jonas?"

  "I done told her to," replied Jonas coolly, "and moreover, I left themoney for her to do it with."

  Enoch said nothing until he was standing in his dressing-gown beforehis bedroom fire. Then he turned to Jonas and said:

  "Old man, it won't do. I can't stand it. I must not be able to followher movements or I shall not be able to keep my mind on matters here.I shall never marry, Jonas. All the charms and all the affectionatedesires of you and Na-che cannot change that."

  Jonas gave Enoch a long, reproachful look that was at the same timewell-tinctured with obstinacy. Without a word he left the room.