CHAPTER V
A PHOTOGRAPHER OF INDIANS
"When I tutored boys I wondered most at their selfishness and theirgenerosity. They had so much of both! And I believe that as men theylose none of either."--_Enoch's Diary_.
Enoch knew what it was to fight himself. Perhaps he knew more aboutsuch lonely, unlovely battles than any man of his acquaintance. Theaverage man is usually too vain and too spiritually lazy to fight hisinner devils to the death. But Enoch had fought so terribly that itseemed to him that he could surely win this new struggle. Nothingshould induce him to break his vow of celibacy. He cursed himself fora weak fool in not obeying Frank Allen's request. Then he gatheredtogether all his resources, to protect Diana from himself.
A week or so went by, during which Enoch made no attempt to see Dianaor to hear from her. The office routine ground on and on. The Mexicancloud thickened. Alaska developed a threatening attitude over her coalfields. The farmers of Idaho suddenly withdrew their proposalsregarding water power. Calmly and with clear vision, Enoch met eachday's problems. But the lines about his mouth deepened.
One day, early in August, Charley Abbott came to the Secretary's desk."Miss Diana Allen would like to see you for a few moments, Mr.Secretary."
Enoch did not look up. "Ask her to excuse me, Mr. Abbott, I am verybusy."
Charley hesitated for an instant, then went quickly out.
"Luncheon is served, boss," said Jonas, shortly after.
"Is Abbott gone?" asked Enoch.
"Yes, sir! He's took that Miss Allen to lunch, I guess. He's suregone on that young lady. How come everybody thinks she's so beautiful,boss?"
"Because she is beautiful, Jonas, very, very beautiful."
The faithful steward looked keenly at the Secretary. He had not missedthe appearance of a line in the face that was the whole world to him.
"Boss," he said, "don't you ever think you ought to marry?"
Enoch looked up into Jonas' face. "A man with my particular historyhad best leave women alone, Jonas."
Jonas' mouth twitched. "They ain't the woman ever born fit to darnyour socks, boss."
Enoch smiled and finished his lunch in silence. He would have given amonth of his life to know what errand had brought Diana to his office.But Charley Abbott, returning at two o'clock with the complacent lookof a man who has lunched with a beautiful girl, showed no intention ofmentioning the girl's name. And Enoch went on with his conferences.But it was many days before he opened the black book again.
Diana's exhibition must have been of unusual quality, for jaded andcynical Washington learned of its existence, spoke of it and went tosee it. It seemed to Enoch that every one he met took special delightin mentioning it to him.
Even Jonas, one night, as he brought in the bed-time pitcher of icewater, said, "Boss, I saw Miss Allen's pictures this evening. Theysure are queersome. That must be hotter'n Washington out there. Howcome you ain't been, Boss?"
"How do you know I haven't seen them, Jonas?" asked Enoch quickly.
"Don't I know every place you go, boss? Didn't you tell me that was myjob, years ago? How come you think I'd forget?" Jonas was eyeing theSecretary warily. "Mr. Abbott, he's got a bad case on that Miss Allen.He's give me at least a dollar's worth of ten cent cigars lately so'sI'll stand and smoke and let him talk to me about her."
Enoch grunted.
"He says she--" Jonas rambled on.
Enoch looked up quickly. "I don't want to hear it, Jonas." Jonas drewhimself up stiffly. The Secretary laid his own broad palm over theblack hand that still held the handle of the water pitcher. "Spare methat, old friend," he said.
Jonas put his free hand on Enoch's shoulder. "Are you sure you'reright, boss?" he asked huskily.
"I know I'm right, Jonas."
"Well, I don't see it your way, boss, but what's right for you is rightfor me. Good night, sir," and shaking his head, Jonas slowly left theroom.
But Enoch was destined to see the pictures after all. One day, afterCabinet meeting, the President, in his friendly way, clapped Enoch onthe shoulder.
"First time in a great many years, Huntingdon, that the Indian Bureauhas distinguished itself for anything but trouble! I saw Miss Allen'spictures last night. My word! What a sense of heat and peace and,yes, by jove, passion! those photographs tell. The Bureau ought to ownthose pictures, old man. Especially the huge enlargement of BrightAngel trail and the Navaho hunters. Eh?"
"Well, to tell the truth, Mr. President," said Enoch slowly, "I haven'tseen the pictures."
"Not seen them! Why some one said you discovered Miss Allen!"
"In a way I did, but I don't deserve any credit for that."
"Not if he saw her first!" exclaimed the Secretary of State, who hadloitered behind the others.
The President nodded. "She is very lovely. I saw her at a distance,and I want to meet her. Now, Mr. Huntingdon, it's very painful for meto have to chide you for dereliction in office. But a man who willneglect those pictures for the--well, the coal fields of Alaska, shouldbe dealt with severely."
"Hear! Hear!" cried the Secretary of State.
The President laughed. "And so I must ask you, Mr. Huntingdon, tobring Miss Allen to see me, after you have gone carefully over thepictures. Jokes aside, you know my keen interest in Indian ethnology?"Enoch nodded, and the President went on. "If this girl has the brainsand breadth of vision I'm sure she must have to produce a series ofphotographs like those, I want to know her and do what I can to pushher work. So neglect Mexico and Alaska for a little while, tomorrow,will you, Huntingdon?"
Enoch's laughter was a little grim, but with a quick leap of his heart,he answered. "A man can but obey the Commander in Chief, I suppose!"
As the door swung to behind him, the President said to the Secretary ofState, "Huntingdon is working too hard, I'm afraid. Does he ever play?"
"Horseback riding and golf. But he's a woman hater. At least, if nota hater, an avoider!"
"I like him," said the President. "I want him to play."
That evening Enoch went to see the pictures. There were perhaps ahundred of them, telling the story of the religion of the Navahos.Only one whom the Indians loved and trusted could have procured suchintimate, such dramatic photographs. They were as unlike the usualposed portraits of Indian life as is a stage shower unlike an actualthunder storm. There was indeed a subtle passion and poignancy aboutthe pictures that it seemed to Enoch as well as to the President, onlya fine mind could have found and captured. He had made the rounds ofthe little room twice, threading his way abstractedly through thecrowd, before he came upon Diana. She was in white, standing beforeone of the pictures, answering questions that were being put to her bya couple of reporters. She bowed to Enoch and he bowed in return, thenstood so obviously waiting for the reporters to finish that theyactually withdrew.
Enoch came up and held out his hand. "These are very fine, Miss Allen."
"I thought you were not coming to see them," said Diana. "It makes mevery happy to have you here!"
"Does it?" asked Enoch quickly. "Why?"
"Because--" here Diana hesitated and looked from Enoch's stern lips tohis blue eyes.
"Yes, go on, do!" urged Enoch. "For heaven's, sake, treat me as if Iwere a human being and not--"
It was his turn to hesitate.
"Not the Washington Monument?" suggested Diana.
Enoch laughed. "Am I as bad as that?" he asked.
Diana nodded. "Very nearly! Nevertheless, for some reason I don'tunderstand, I've had the feeling that you would like the pictures andget what I was driving at, better than any one."
"Thank you," said Enoch slowly. "I do like them. So much so that Iwish that I might own them, instead of the Indian Bureau. ThePresident, to-day, told me the Indian Bureau ought to buy them. Andalso, he asked me to bring you to see him to-morrow."
A sudden flush made roses in Diana's beautifully modeled cheeks.
"Did he!
Mr. Huntingdon, how am I ever going to thank you?"
"I deserve no thanks at all. It was entirely the President's own idea.In fact, I had not intended to come to your exhibition."
"No? Why not? Do you dislike me so much as that? And, after all, Mr.Secretary, if the pictures are interesting, the fact that a woman tookthem should not prejudice you against them."
"Abbott's been giving me a bad reputation, I see," said Enoch. "I'llhave to get Jonas to tell you what a really gentle and affectionate ander--mild, person I am. I've a notion to reduce Abbott's salary."
"Charley Abbott is a dear, and he's a devoted admirer of yours," Dianaexclaimed.
"And of yours," rejoined Enoch.
"He's very discerning," said Diana, her eyes twinkling and the cornersof her mouth deepening. "But you shall not evade me this way, Mr.Huntingdon. Why didn't you want to see my pictures?"
"I didn't say that I didn't want to see them. Women are alwaysinaccurate, or at least, so I have heard."
"I would say that Mr. Abbott had a great deal more data on the generalsubject of women than you, Mr. Secretary. You really ought to get himto check you up! Please, why didn't you intend to come to myexhibition?"
"I have been swamped with extra work of late," answered Enoch.
"Yes?" Diana's eyebrows rose and her intelligent great eyes werefastened on Enoch's with an expression so discerning and sosympathetic, that he bit his lip and turned from her to the Navaho, whoprayed in the burning desert before him. The reporters, who had beenhovering in the offing, closed in on Diana immediately. When she wasfree once more, Enoch turned back and held out his hand.
"Good night, Miss Allen. If you don't mind coming over to my office attwelve to-morrow, I can take you to the White House then."
"I shall not mind!--too much! Good night, Mr. Secretary," repliedDiana, with the deepening of the corners of her mouth that Enoch nowrecalled had belonged to the little girl Diana.
Enoch made an entry in the black book that night.
"I wonder, Diana, how much Frank has told you of me and my unhappyhistory. I wonder how you would feel if a man whose mother was aharlot who died of an unspeakable disease were to ask you to marry him.Oh, my dear, don't be troubled! I shall never, never, ask you. Yourpictures moved me more than I dared try to express to you. It was asif you had carried me in a breath to the Canyon and once more I beheldthe wonder, the kindliness, the calm, the inevitableness of God's ways.I'm going to try, Diana, to make a friend of you. I believe that Ihave the strength. What I am very sure of is that I have not thestrength to know that you are in Washington and never see you."
The clock struck twelve the next day, when Abbott came to theSecretary's desk. Enoch was deep in a conference with the AttorneyGeneral.
"Miss Allen is here," he said softly.
"Give me five minutes!" exclaimed the Attorney General.
"I'm sorry." Enoch rose from his desk. "I'm very sorry, old fellow,but this is an appointment with the President. Can you come aboutthree, if that suits Abbott's schedule?"
"Not till to-morrow, I'm afraid," said the Attorney General.
Enoch nodded. "It's just as well. I think I'll have some privateadvices from Mexico by then that may somewhat change our angle ofattack. All right, Jonas! I'm coming. Ask Miss Allen to meet me atthe carriage."
But he overtook Diana in the elevator. She wore the brown silk suit,and Enoch thought she looked a little flushed and a little more lovelythan usual.
"I'm a marked person, Mr. Secretary," she said, with a twinkle in hereyes. "You'd scarcely believe how many total strangers have asked meto introduce them to you, since you walked up Pennsylvania Avenue withme."
"I'm glad you have an appreciative mind," returned Enoch. "I hope thatyou are circumspect also, and won't impose on me because of mycondescension."
"I'll try not to," Diana answered meekly, as Enoch followed her intothe carriage.
They smiled at each other, and Enoch went on, "Of course, I've beenfeeling rather proud of the opportunity to display myself beforeWashington with you. I've been called indifferent to women. I'mhoping now that the gossips will say, 'Aha! Huntingdon's a deep one!No wonder he's been indifferent to the average woman!'"
Diana eyed him calmly. "That doesn't sound at all like WashingtonMonument," she murmured.
"More like Charley Abbott, I suppose!" retorted Enoch.
"No," answered Diana thoughtfully, "hardly like Mr. Abbott's method. Iwould say that he belonged to a different school from you."
"Yes? What school does Abbott represent?"
"Well, he has a dash, an ease, that shows long and varied experience.Charley Abbott is a finished ladies' man. It almost discourages mewhen I contemplate the serried ranks of women that must havecontributed to his perfect finesse."
"Discourages you?" queried Enoch.
Diana did not answer. "But," she went on, "while Charley is a graduateof the school of experience and you--"
She paused.
"Yes, and I--," pressed Enoch.
"I won't impose on your condescension by telling you," said Diana.
"Pshaw!" muttered the Secretary of the Interior.
Suddenly Diana laughed. Enoch, after a moment, laughed with her, andthey entered the White House grounds still chuckling.
The President did not keep them waiting. "I may not be able to ordermy wife and daughter about," he said, as he shook hands with Enoch,"but I certainly have my official family well under control. Did yousee the pictures, Huntingdon?"
"I saw and was conquered, Mr. President," replied Enoch.
"What would you say, Miss Allen, if I tell you that I had to force thisfellow into going to see your wonderful pictures?" the President asked.
"It wouldn't surprise me," replied Diana, in an enigmatical voice thatmade both men smile.
"I see you understand our Secretary of the Interior," the Presidentsaid complacently. "Sit down, children, and Miss Allen, talk to me.How long did it take you to make that collection of photographs?"
"I began that particular collection ten years ago. Those pictures havebeen sifted out of nearly two thousand prints."
"Did you take any other pictures during that period?" asked thePresident.
"Oh, yes! I was, I think, fourteen or fifteen when I first determinedto give my life to Indian photography. I didn't at that time think ofmaking a living out of it. I had a dream of making a photographichistory of the spiritual life of some of the South-western tribes. Itdidn't occur to me that anything but a museum or possibly a librarywould care for such a collection. But to my surprise there was a readymarket for really good prints of Indians and Indian subjects. So whileI have kept always at work on my ultimate idea, I've made and soldmany, many pictures of Indians on all sorts of themes."
Enoch looked from Diana's half eager, half abashed eyes, to thePresident's keen, hawk-like face, then back to Diana.
"What gave you the idea to begin with?" asked the President.
Diana looked thoughtfully out of the window. Both men watched her withinterest. Enoch's rough hewn face, with its unalterably somberexpression, was set in an almost painful concentration. ThePresident's eyes were cool, yet eager.
"It is hard for me to put into words just what first led me into thework," said Diana slowly. "I was born in a log house on the rim of theGrand Canyon. My father was a canyon guide."
"Yes, Frank Allen, an old Yale man. I know him."
"Do you remember him?" cried Diana. "He'll be so delighted! He tookyou down Bright Angel years ago."
"Of course I remember him. Give him my regards when you write to him.And go on with your story."
"My mother was a California woman, a very good geologist. My nurse wasa Navajo woman. Somehow, by the time I was into my teens, I wasconscious of the great loss to the world in the disappearance of thespiritual side of Indian life. I knew the Canyon well by then and Iknew the Indians well and the beauty of their ceremonies was even thenmore or les
s merged in my mind with the beauty of the Canyon. Theirmysticism was the Canyon's mysticism. I tried to write it and Icouldn't, and I tried to paint it, and I couldn't. And then one day mymother said to me, 'Diana, nobody can interpret Indian or Canyonphilosophy. Take your camera and let the naked truth tell the story!'"
Diana paused. "I'm not clever at talking. I'm afraid I've given youno real idea of my purpose."
"One gets your purpose very clearly, when one recalls your Death andthe Navajo, for instance, eh, Huntingdon?"
"Yes, Mr. President!"
"I suppose the two leading Indian ethnologists are Arkwind and Sherman,of the Smithsonian, are they not, Miss Allen?" asked the President.
"Oh, without doubt! And they have been very kind to me."
The President nodded. "They both tell me that your work is ofextraordinary value. They tell me that you have actually photographedceremonies so secret, so mystical, that they themselves had only heardvaguely of their existence. And not only, they say, have youphotographed them, but you have produced works of art, pictures'pregnant with celestial fire.'"
Diana's cheeks were a deep crimson. "Oh, I deserve so little credit,after all!" she exclaimed. "I was born in the midst of these things.And the Indians love me for my old nurse's sake! But human nature isweak and what you tell me makes me very happy, sir."
The men glanced at each other and smiled.
"Suppose, Miss Allen," said the President, "that you had the means tooutfit an expedition. How long would it take you to complete theentire collection you have in mind?"
Diana's eyes widened. "Why, I could do nothing at all with anexpedition! I simply wander about canyon and desert, sometimes withold nurse Na-che, sometimes alone. The Indians have always known me.I'm as much a part of their lives as their own daughters. I--I believemuch of their inner hidden religion and so--oh, Mr. President, anexpedition would be absurd, for me!"
"Well, then, without an expedition?" insisted the President.
Diana sighed. "You see, I'm not able to give all my time to the work.Mother died five years ago, and father is lonely and, while he thinkshis little income is enough for both of us, it's enough only if I stayat home and play about the desert with my camera, cheaply as I do, andkeep the house. It does not permit me to leave home. It seems to me,that working as I have in the past, it would take me at least ten yearsmore to complete my work."
"The patience of the artist! It always astounds me!" exclaimed thePresident. "Miss Allen, I am not a rich man, but I have some wealthyfriends. I have one friend in particular, a self-made man, of enormouswealth. The interest he and I have in common is American history inall its aspects. It seems to me that you are doing a truly importantwork. I want you to let this friend of mine fund you so that you maygive all your time to your photography."
"Oh, Mr. President, I don't need funds!" protested Diana. "There is nohurry. This is my life work. Let me take a life-time for it, ifnecessary."
"That is all very well, Miss Allen, but what if you die, before youhave finished? No one could complete your work because no one has yourpeculiar combination of information and artistic ability. People likeyou, my dear, belong not to themselves, but to the country."
Enoch spoke suddenly. "Why not arrange the matter with the IndianBureau, Mr. President?"
"Why not arrange it with the Circumlocution Office!" exclaimed thePresident. "I'm surprised at you, Huntingdon! You know what thebudget and red tape of Washington does to a temperament like MissAllen's. On the other hand, here is my friend, who would give herabsolutely free rein and take an intense pride in providing the money."
Diana laughed. "You speak, sir, as if I needed some vast fund. Itcosts a dollar a day in the desert to keep a horse and another dollarto keep a man. Camera plates and clothing--why a hundred dollars amonth would be luxury! And I don't need help, truly I don't! The merefact of your interest is help enough for me."
"A hundred dollars a month for your expenses," said the President,making a memorandum in his notebook, "and what is your time worth?"
"My time? You mean what would I charge somebody for doing this work?Why, Mr. President, this is not a job! It's an avocation! I wouldn'ttake money for it. It's a labor of love."
The chief executive suddenly rose and Diana, rising too, was surprisedat the look that suddenly burned in the hawk-like eyes.
"You are an unusual woman, Miss Allen! Your angle on life is oneseldom found in Washington." He took a restless turn up and down theroom, glanced at Enoch, who stood beside the desk, utterly absorbed incontemplation of Diana's protesting eyes, then said, "This friend ofmine is a disappointed man. He had believed that in amassing a greatfortune he would find satisfaction. He has found that money of itselfis dust and ashes and it is too late for him to take up a new work.Miss Allen, I too am a disappointed man. I had believed that thePresident of a great nation was a full man, a contented man. I findmyself an automaton, whirled about by the selfish desires of apolitically stupid and indifferent constituency. One of the fewconsolations I find in my high office is that once in a while I comeupon some one who is contributing something permanent to this nation'sreal advancement, and I am able to help that person. Miss Allen, willyou not share your great good fortune with my friend and me?"
"Gladly!" exclaimed Diana quickly. Then she added, with a littlelaugh, "I think I understand now, why you are President of the UnitedStates!"
Enoch and the President joined in the laugh, and Diana was stillsmiling when they descended the steps to the waiting carriage. But thesmile faded with a sudden thought.
"The President mustn't think I will take more than expense money!" sheexclaimed.
Enoch laughed again as he replied, "I don't think that need bother you,Miss Allen. I imagine a yearly sum will be placed at your disposal.You will use what you wish."
Diana shook her head uneasily. "I don't more than half like the idea.But the President made it very difficult to refuse."
Enoch nodded. The carriage stopped before the Willard Hotel. "MissAllen, will you lunch with me?" he asked.
Diana hesitated. "I'll be late getting back to the office," she said.
"I'll ask Watkins not to dock you," said Enoch soberly.
"Docking my salary," touching Enoch's proffered hand lightly as shesprang to the curb, "would be almost like taking something fromnothing. I've never lunched in the Willard, Mr. Secretary."
"The Johnstown lunch still holds sway, I suppose!" said Enoch,following Diana down the stairs to Peacock Row.
They were a rather remarkable pair together. At least the occupants ofthe Row evidently felt so, for there was a breathless craning of necksand a hush in conversations as they passed, Diana, with herheart-searching beauty, Enoch with his great height and his splendid,rugged head. The head waiter did not actually embrace Enoch inwelcoming him, but he managed to convey to the dining-room that herewas a personal and private god of his own on whom the public had theprivilege of gazing only through his generosity. Finally he had themseated to his satisfaction in the quietest and most conspicuous cornerof the room.
"Now, my dear Mr. Secretary, what may we give you?" he asked, rubbinghis hands together.
Enoch glanced askance at Diana, who shook her head. "This is entirelyout of my experience, Mr. Secretary," she said.
"Gustav," said Enoch, "it's not yet one o'clock. We must leave here atfive minutes before two. Something very simple, Gustav." He checkedseveral items on the card and gave it to the head waiter with a smile.
Gustav smiled too. "Yes, Mr. Secretary!" he exclaimed, and disappeared.
"And that's settled," said Enoch, "and we can forget it. Miss Allen,when shall you go back to the Canyon?"
"Why," answered Diana, looking a little startled, "not till I'vefinished the work for Mr. Watkins, and that will take six months, atleast."
"I think the President's idea will be that you must get to your ownwork, at once. Some one else can carry on Watkins' researc
hes."
"I ought to do some studying in the Congressional library," protestedDiana. "Don't you think Washington can endure me a few months longer,Mr. Secretary?"
"Endure you!" Enoch's voice broke a little, and he gave Diana a glancein which he could not quite conceal the anguish.
A sudden silence fell between the two that was broken by the waiter'sappearance with the first course. Then Diana said, casually:
"My father is going to be very happy when I write him about this. Doyou remember him at all clearly, Mr. Secretary?"
"Yes," replied Enoch. Then with a quick, direct look, he asked, "Didyour father, ever give you the details of his experience with me in theCanyon?"
Diana's voice was low but very steady as she replied, "Yes, Mr.Secretary. He told me long ago, when you made your famous Boyhood onthe Rack speech in Congress. It was the first word he had heard of youin all the years and he was deeply moved."
"I'm glad he told you," said Enoch. "I'm glad, because I'd like to askyou to be my friend, and I would want the sort of friend you would maketo know the worst as well as the best about me."
"If that is the worst of you--" Diana began quickly, then paused. "Asfather told me, it was a story of a boy's suffering and the finaltriumph of his mind and his body."
Enoch stared at Diana with astonishment in every line of his face.Then he sighed. "He couldn't have told you all," he muttered.
"Yes, he did, all! And nothing, not even what the President saidto-day, can mean as much to me as your asking me to be your friend."
Enoch continued to stare at the lovely, tender face opposite him.
Diana smiled. "Don't look so incredulous, Mr. Secretary! It's notpolite. You are a very famous person. I am nobody. We are lunchingtogether in a wonderful hotel. I don't even vaguely surmise the namesof the things we are eating. Don't look at me doubtingly. Lookcomplacent because you can give a lady so much joy."
Enoch laughed with a quick relief that made his cheeks burn. "And soyou are nobody! Curious, then, that you should have impressed yourselfon me so deeply even when you were a child!"
It was Diana's turn to laugh. "Oh, come, Mr. Secretary! Of course Idon't recall it myself, but Dad has always said that you were bored todeath at having a small girl taking the trail with you."
"Do you remember that your mule slipped on the home trail and that Isaved your life?" demanded Enoch.
Diana shook her head. "I was too small and there were too many canyontrips and too many tourists. I wish--"
She did not finish her sentence, but Enoch said, with a thread ofearnestness in his deep voice that made Diana look at him keenly, "Iwish you did remember!"
There was a moment's silence, then Enoch went on, "Shall you carry onyour work with the Indians alone as you always have done? I believe Ican quite understand your father's uneasiness."
"Oh, yes!" exclaimed Diana, glad of an opportunity to redirect theconversation. "Just as I always have done. I shall have no troubleunless I get soft, living at the Johnstown Lunch! Then I may have towaste time till I get fit again. Have you ever lived on the trail,excepting on your trip to the Grand Canyon, Mr. Secretary?"
"Yes, in Canada and Maine, while I was in college. I used to tutorrich boys, and they had glorious summers, lucky kids! But sincegetting into national politics, I've had no time for real play."
"Some day," said Diana, "you ought to get up an outfit and go down theColorado from the Green River to the Needles. That's a real adventure!Only a few men have done it since the Powell expeditions."
Enoch's eyes brightened. "I know! Some day, perhaps I shall, if Jonaswill let me! How long do you suppose such a trip would take?"
Diana plunged into a description of a recent expedition down thecanyons of the Colorado, and she managed to keep the remainder of theluncheon conversation on this topic. But as far as Enoch wasconcerned, Diana's effort was merely a conversational detour. Theluncheon finished and the Gulf of California safely reached, he said ashe handed Diana into the carriage:
"I've never had a friendship with a woman before," he said. "What do Ido next?"
Diana sighed, while her lips curled at the corners."Well, Mr. Secretary, I think the next move is to think the matter overfor a few days, quietly and alone."
"Do you?" Enoch smiled enigmatically. "I don't know that it's safe forme to rely on your experience after all!" But he said no more.
Enoch spent the evening in his living-room with Senor Juan Cadiz and asmall, lean, brown man in an ill-fitting black suit. The latter didnot speak English, and Senor Cadiz acted as interpreter. The strangerwas uneasy and suspicious, until the very last of the evening. Then,after a long half hour spent in silent scowling while he stared atEnoch and listened to the Secretary's replies to Cadiz's eagerquestions, he suddenly burst into a passionate torrent of Spanish. Alook of great relief came to Cadiz's face, as he said to Enoch:
"Now he says he trusts you and will tell you the names of the Americanswho are paying him."
Enoch began to jot down notes. When Cadiz's translation was finishedEnoch said:
"This in brief, then, is the situation. A group of Americans own vastoil fields in Mexico. They have enormous difficulty policing andcontrolling the fields. The Mexican method of concession making isexceedingly expensive and uncertain. They wish the United States totake Mexico over, either through actual conquest or by mandate. Theyhave hired a group of bandits to keep trouble brewing until the UnitedStates is forced by England, Germany, or France, to interfere. Thisgroup of men is partly German though all dwell in the United States.Your friend here, and several of his associates, if I personally swearto take care of them, will give me information under oath whenever Iwish."
"Yes! Yes! Yes! That is the story!" cried Senor Cadiz. "Oh, Mr.Secretary, if you could only undo the harm that your cursed Americanmethod of making the public opinion has done, both here and in Mexico.Why should neighbors hate each other? Mr. Secretary, tell theseAmericans to get out of Mexico and stay out! We are foolish in manyways, but we want to learn to govern ourselves. There will be muchtrouble while we learn but for God's sake, Mr. Secretary, forceAmerican money to leave us alone while we struggle in our birth throes!"
Enoch stood up to his great height, tossing the heavy copper-coloredhair off his forehead. He looked at the two Mexicans earnestly, thenhe said, holding out his hand, "Senor Cadiz, I'll help you to the bestof my ability. I believe in you and in the ultimate ability of yourcountry to govern itself. Now will you let me make an appointment foryou with the Secretary of State? Properly, you know, you should havegone to him with this."
The Mexican shook his head. "No! No! Please, Mr. Secretary! We donot know him well. He has shown no willingness to understand us. You!you are the one we believe in! We have watched you for years. We knowthat you are honest and disinterested."
"But I shall have to give both the President and the Secretary of Statethis information," insisted Enoch.
"That is in your hands," said Senor Cadiz.
"Then," Enoch nodded as Jonas appeared with the inevitable tinklingglasses, "remain quietly in Washington until you hear from me again."
Jonas held the door open on the departing callers with disapproval inevery line of his face.
"How come that colored trash to be setting in the parlors of thegovernment, boss?" asked he.
"They are Mexicans, Jonas," replied Enoch.
"Just a new name for niggers, boss," snapped Jonas, following Enoch upthe stairs. "Don't you trust any colored man that ain't willing tocall hisself black."
Enoch laughed and settled himself to an entry in the journal.
"This was the happiest day of my life, Diana. We are going to be greatfriends, are we not! And the philosophers tell us that friendship isthe most soul-satisfying of all human relationships. I have been veryvacillating in my attitude to you, since you came to Washington. But Icannot lose the feeling that those wise, wistful eyes of yours haveseen my troub
le and understood. I wonder how soon I can see you again.I'm rather proud of my behavior to-day, Diana, dearest."