THE COLORADO
"We had a particularly vile place to raid to-day, and as I listened
with sick heart to the report of it, suddenly I saw the Canyon and F.'s
broad back on his mule and the glorious line of the rim lifting from
opalescent mists."--_Enoch's Diary_.
They had been a week on the trail when they made camp one night at a
spring surrounded by dwarf junipers. Mack, who had taken the trip
before, greeted the spring with a shout of satisfaction.
"Ten miles from the river, boys! To-morrow afternoon should see us
panning gold."
And to-morrow did, indeed, bring the river. There was a wide view of
the Colorado as they approached it. The level which had gradually
lifted during the entire week, making each day cooler, rarer, as it
came, now sloped downward, while mesa and headland grew higher, the way
underfoot more broken, the trail fainter and fainter, and the
thermometer rose steadily.
By now deep fissures appeared in the desert floor, and to the north
lifted great mountains that were banded in multi-colored strata, across
which drifted veils of mist, lavender, blue and gauzy white. Enoch's
heart began to beat heavily. It was the Canyon country, indeed! The
country of enchantment to which his spirit had returned for so many
years.
They ate lunch in a little canyon opening north and south.
"At the north end of this," said Mack, "we make our first sharp drop a
thousand feet straight down. She's a devil of a trail, made by Indians
nobody knows when. Then we cross a plateau, about a mile wide, as I
remember, then it's an easy grade to the river. We've got to go over
the girths careful. If anything slips now it's farewell!"
The trail was a nasty one, zig-zagging down the over-hanging face of
the wall. Enoch, to his deep-seated satisfaction, felt no sense of
panic, although in common with Mack and Curly, he was apprehensive and
at times a little giddy. It required an hour to compass the drop. At
the bottom was a tiny spring where men and beasts drank deeply, then
started on.
The plateau was rough, deep covered with broken rock, but the trail,
though faint, held to the edge. At this edge the men paused. The
Colorado lay before them.
Fifty feet below them was a wide stretch of sand. Next, the river,
smooth brown, slipping rapidly westward. Beyond the water, on the
opposite side, a chaos of rocks greater than any Enoch had yet seen, a
pile huge as if a mountain had fallen to pieces at the river's edge.
Behind the broken rock rose the canyon wall, sheer black, forbidding,
two thousand feet into the air. Its top cut straight and sharp across
the sky line, the sky line unbroken save where rising behind the wall a
mountain peak, snow capped, flecked with scarlet and gold, towered in
the sunlight.
"There you are, Curly!" exclaimed Mack. "There's a spring in the cave
beneath us. There's drift wood, enough to run a factory with. Have I
delivered the goods, or not?"
"Everything is as per advertisement except the gold," replied Curly.
"Oh, well, I don't vouch for the gold!" said Mack. "I just said the
Indians claim they get it here. There's some grazing for the critters
up here on the plateau, you see, and not a bit below. So we'll drive
'em back up here and leave 'em. With a little feed of oats once in a
while, they'll do. Come ahead! It'll be dark in the Canyon inside of
two hours."
The cave proved to be a hollow overhang of the plateau ten or fifteen
feet deep, and twice as wide. The floor was covered with sand.
"All ready to go to housekeeping!" exclaimed Curly. "Judge, you
wrangle firewood while Mack and I just give this placer idea a ten
minutes' trial, will you?"
"Go ahead!" said Enoch, "all the gold in the Colorado couldn't tempt me
like something to eat. If you aren't ready by the time the fire's
going, Mack, I shall start supper."
"Go to it! I can stand it if you can!" returned Mack, who had already
unpacked his pan.
From that moment Enoch became the commissary and steward for the
expedition. Curly and Mack, whom he had known as mild and jovial
companions of many interests and leisurely manners, changed in a
twinkling to monomaniacs who during every daylight hour except for the
short interim which they snatched for eating, sought for gold. At
first Enoch laughed at them and tried to get them to take an occasional
half day off in which to explore with him. But they curtly refused to
do this, so he fell back on his own resources. And he discovered that
the days were all too short. Curly had a gun. There was plenty of
ammunition. Quail and cottontails were to be found on the plateau
where the stock was grazing. Sometimes on Pablo, sometimes afoot,
Enoch with the gun, and sometimes with the black diary rolled in his
coat, scoured the surrounding country.
One golden afternoon he edged his way around the shoulder of a gnarled
and broken peak, in search of rabbits for supper. Just at the
outermost point of the shoulder he came upon a cedar twisting itself
about a broad, flat bowlder. Enoch instantly stopped the search for
game and dropped upon the rock, his back against the cedar. Lighting
his pipe, he gave himself up to contemplation of the view. Below him
yawned blue space, flecked with rose colored mists. Beyond this mighty
blue chasm lay a mountain of purest gold, banded with white and
silhouetted against a sky of palest azure. An eagle dipped lazily
across the heavens.
When he had gazed his fill, Enoch put his pipe in his pocket, unrolled
the diary and, balancing it oh his knee, began to write:
"Oh, Diana, no wonder you are lovely! No wonder you are serene and
pure and reverent!
'And her's shall be the breathing balm
And her's the silence and the calm'--
"You remember how it goes, Diana.
"I heard Curly curse yesterday. A thousand echoes sent his words back
to him and he looked at the glory of the canyon walls and was ashamed.
I saw shame in his eyes.
"It was not cowardice that drove me away for this interval, Diana.
Never believe that of me! I was afraid, yes, but of myself, not of the
newspapers. If I had stayed on the train, I would have returned at
once to Washington and have shot the reporter who wrote the stuff.
Perhaps I shall do it yet. But if I do, it will be after the Canyon
and I have come to agreement on the subject. I am very sure I shall
shoot Brown. Some one should have done it, long ago.
"I wonder what you are doing this afternoon. Somewhere between a
hundred and a hundred and fifty miles we are from Bright Angel, Mack
says, via the river. And only a handful of explorers, you told me,
ever have completed the trip down the Colorado. I would like to try it.
"Diana, you look at me with your gentle, faithful eyes, the corners of
your lips a little uncertain as if you want to tell me that I am
disappointing you and yet, because you are so gentle, you did not want
to hurt me. Diana, don't be troubled about me. I shall go back, long
enough at least to discharge my pressing duties. After that, who knows
or cares! Oh, Diana! Diana! What is the use? There is nothing left
in my life. I am empty--empty!
"Even all this is make believe, for, as soon as you saw that I was
beginning to care for you,--beginning is a good word here!--you went
away.
"Good-by, Diana."
Enoch's gun made no contribution to the larder that night. Curly
uttered loud and bitter comment on the fact.
"You're getting spoiled by high living," said Enoch severely. "What
would you have done if I hadn't come along and taken pity on you? Why,
you and Mack would have starved to death here in the Canyon, for it's
morally certain neither of you would have stopped panning gold long
enough to prepare your food."
"Right you are, Judge," replied Curly meekly. "I'm going to try to get
Mack to rebate two bits a day on your board, as a token of our
appreciation."
"Not when his biscuits have to be broken open with a stone," objected
Mack, as he sopped in his coffee one of the gray objects Enoch had
served as rolls.
"They say when a woman that's done her own cooking first gets a hired
girl, she becomes right picky about her food," rejoined Curly.
"I'd give notice if I had any place to go," said Enoch. "What was the
luck to-day, boys?"
"Well, I've about come to the conclusion," replied Mack, "that by
working eight hours a day you can just about wash wages out of this
sand, and that's all."
"You aren't going to give it up now, are you, Mack?" asked Curly, in
alarm.
"No, I'll stay this week out, if you want to, and then move on up to
Devil's Canyon."
They were silently smoking around the fire, a little later, when Curly
said:
"I have a hunch that you and I're not going to get independent wealth
out of this expedition, Mack."
"What would you do with it, if you had it, Curly?" asked Enoch.
"A lot of things!" Curly ruminated darkly for a few moments, then he
looked at Enoch long and keenly. "Smith, you're a lawyer, but I
believe you're straight. There's something about you a man can't help
trusting, and I think you've been successful. You have that way with
you. Do you know what I'd do if I was taken suddenly rich? Well, I'd
hire you, at your own price, to give all your time to breaking two men,
Fowler and Brown."
"Easy now, Curly!" Mack spoke soothingly. "Don't get het up. What's
the use?"
"I'm not het up. I want to get the Judge's opinion of the matter."
"Go ahead. I'm much interested," said Enoch.
"By Brown, I mean the fellow that owns the newspapers. When my brother
and Fowler were in law together--"
"You should make an explanation right there," interrupted Mack. "You
said all lawyers was crooks."
"My brother Harry was straight and I've just given my opinion of Smith
here. I never liked Fowler, but he had great personal charm and Harry
never would take any of my warnings about him. Brown was a
short-legged Eastern college boy who worked on the local paper for his
health. How he and Fowler ever met up, I don't know, but they did, and
the law office was Brown's chief hang-out. Now all three of 'em were
as poor as this desert. Nobody was paying much for law in Arizona in
those days. Our guns was our lawyers. But by some fluke, Harry was
made trustee of a big estate--a smelting plant that had been left to a
kid. After a few years, the courts called for an accounting, and it
turned out that my brother was short about a hundred thousand dollars.
He seemed totally bewildered when this was discovered, swore he knew
nothing about it and was terribly upset. And this devil of a Fowler
turns round and says Harry made way with it and produces Brown as a
witness. And, by the lord, the court believed them! My brother killed
himself." Curly cleared his throat. "It wasn't six months after that
that Fowler and Brown, who left the state right after the tragedy,
bought a couple of newspapers. They claimed they got the money from
some oil wells they'd struck in Mexico."
"How is it the country at large doesn't know of Fowler's association
with Brown?" asked Enoch.
"Oh, they didn't stay pardners as far as the public knows, but a few
years. They were too clever! They gave out that they'd had a split
and they say nobody ever sees them together. All the same, even when
they were seeming to ignore him, the Brown papers have been making
Fowler."
"And you want to clear your brother's name," said Enoch thoughtfully.
"That ought not to be difficult. You could probably do it yourself, if
you could give the time, and were clever at sleuthing. The papers in
the case should be accessible to you."
"Shucks!" exclaimed Curly. "I wouldn't go at it that way at all. I
got something real on Fowler and Brown and I want to use it to make
them confess."
"Sounds like blackmail," said Enoch.
"Sure! That's where I need a lawyer! Now, I happen to know a personal
weakness of Fowler's--"
"Don't go after him on that!" Enoch's voice was peremptory. "If he's
done evil to some one else, throw the light of day on his crime, but if
by his weakness you mean only some sin he commits against himself, keep
off. A man, even a crook, has a right to that much privacy."
"Did Brown ever have decency toward a man's seclusion?" demanded Curly.
"No!" half shouted Enoch. "But to punish him don't turn yourself into
the same kind of a skunk he is. Kill him if you have to. Don't be a
filthy scandal monger like Brown!"
"You speak as if you knew the gentleman," grunted Mack.
"I don't know him," retorted Enoch, "except as the world knows him."
"Then you don't know him, or Fowler either," said Curly. "But I happen
to have discovered something that both those gentlemen have been mixed
up in, in Mexico, something--oh, by Jove, but it's racy!"
"You've managed to keep it to yourself, so far," said Mack.
"Meaning I'd better continue to do so! Only so long as it serves my
purpose, Mack. When I get ready to raise hell about Fowler's and
Brown's ears, no consideration for decency will stop me. I'll be just
as merciful to them as they were to Harry. No more! I'll string their
dirty linen from the Atlantic to the Pacific. His and Brown's! But I
want money enough to do it right. No little piker splurge they can buy
up! I'll have those two birds weeping blood!"
Enoch moistened his lips. "What's the story, Curly?" he asked evenly.
Curly filled and lighted his pipe. But before he could answer Enoch,
Mack said;
"Sleep on it, Curly. Mud slinging's bad business. Sleep on it!"
"I've a great contempt for Brown," said Enoch. "I'm a good deal
tempted to help you out, that is, if it is to the interest of the
public that the story be told."
"It will interest the public. You can bet on that!" Curly laughed
sardonically. Then he rose, with a yawn. "But it's late and we'll
finish the story to-morrow night. Judge, I have a hunch you're my man!
I sabez there's heap devil in you, if we could once get you mad."
Enoch shrugged his shoulders. "Perhaps!" he said, and he unrolled his
blankets for bed.
But it was long before he slept. The hand of fate was on him, he told
himself. How else could he have been led in all the wide desert to
find this man who held Brown's future in his hands? Suddenly Enoch saw
himself returning to Washington with power to punish as he had been
punished. His feeble protests to Curly were swept away. He felt the
blood rush to his temples. And anger that had so far been submerged by
pain and shame suddenly claimed its hour. His rage was not only at
Brown. Luigi, his mother, most of all this woman who had been his
mother, claimed his fury. The bitterness and humiliation of a lifetime
burst through the gates of his self-control. He stole from the cave to
the sandy shore and there he strode up and down like a madman. He was
physically exhausted long before the tempest subsided. But gradually
he regained his self-control and slipped back into his blankets.
There, with the thought of vengeance sweet on his lips, he fell asleep.
Curly was, of course, entirely engrossed the next day by his mining
operations. Enoch had not expected or wished him to be otherwise. He
felt that he needed the day alone to get a grip on himself.
That afternoon he climbed up the plateau to the entering trail, up the
trail to the desert. He was full of energy. He was conscious of a
purposefulness and a keen interest in life to which he had long been a
stranger. As he filled the gunny sack which he carried for a game bag
with quail and rabbits, he occasionally laughed aloud. He was thinking
of the expression that would appear on Curly's face if he learned into
whose hands he was putting his dynamite?
The sun was setting when he reached the head of the trail on his way
campward. All the world to the west, sky, peaks, mesas, sand and rock
had turned to a burning rose color. The plateau edge, near his feet,
was green. These were the only two colors in all the world. Enoch
stood absorbed by beauty when a sound of voices came faintly from
behind him.
His first thought was that Mack and Curly had stolen a march on him.
His next was that strangers, who might recognize him, were near at
hand. He started down the trail as rapidly as he dared. It was dusk
when he reached the foot. For the last half of the trip voices had
been floating down to him, as the newcomers threaded their way slowly
but steadily. Enoch stood panting at the foot of the trail, listening
acutely. A voice called. Another voice answered. Enoch suddenly lost
all power to move. The full moon sailed silently over the plateau
wall. Enoch, grasping his gun and his game bag, stood waiting.
A mule came swiftly down the last turn of the trail and headed for the
spring. The man who was riding him pulled him back on his haunches
with a "Whoa, you mule!" that echoed like a cannon shot. Then he flung
himself off with another cry.
"Oh, boss! Oh, boss! Here he is, Miss Diana! O dear Lord, here he
is! Boss! Boss! How come you to treat me so!"
And Jonas threw his arms around Enoch with a sob that could not be
repressed.
Enoch put a shaking hand on Jonas' shoulder. "So you found your bad
charge, old man, didn't you?"
"Me find you? No, boss, Miss Diana, she found you. Here she is!"
Diana dropped from her horse, slender and tall in her riding clothes.
"So Jonas' pain is relieved, eh, Mr. Huntingdon! Are you having a good
holiday?"
"Great!" replied Enoch huskily.
"I told Jonas it was the most sensible thing a man could do, who was as
tired as you are, but he would have it you'd die without him. If you
don't want him, I'll take him away."
"You'd have to take me feet first, Miss Diana," said Jonas, with a
grin. "Where's that Na-che?"
"Here she comes!" laughed Diana. "Poor Na-che! She hates to hurry!
She's got a real grievance against you, Jonas."
Two pack mules lunged down the trail, followed by a squat figure on an
Indian pony.
"This is Na-che, Mr. Huntingdon," said Diana.
Enoch shook hands with the Indian woman, whose face was as dark as
Jonas' in the moonlight. "Where's your camp, Mr. Huntingdon?" Diana
went on.
"Just a moment!" Enoch had recovered his composure. "I am with two
miners, Mackay and Field. To them, I am a lawyer named Smith. I would
like very much to remain unknown to them during the remaining two weeks
of my vacation."
Jonas heaved a great sigh that sounded curiously like an expression of
vast and many sided relief. Then he chuckled. "Easy enough for me.
You can't never be nothing but Boss to me."
But Diana was troubled. "I thought we'd camp with your outfit
to-night. But we'd better not. I'd be sure to make a break. Are you
positive that these men don't know you?"
"Positive!" exclaimed Enoch. "Why, just look at me, Miss Allen!"
Diana glanced at boots, overalls and flannel shirt, coming to pause at
the fine lion-like head. "Of course, your disguise is very
impressive," she laughed. "But I would say that it was impressive in
that it accents your own peculiarities."
"That outfit is something fierce, boss. I brung you some riding
breeches," exclaimed Jonas.
"I don't want 'em," said Enoch. "Miss Allen, Field calls me Judge.
How would that do?"
"Well, I'll try it," agreed Diana reluctantly. "I know both the men,
by the way. Mack, especially, is well known among the Indians. What
explanation shall we make them?"
"Why not the truth?" asked Enoch. "I mean, tell them that I slipped
away from my friends and that Jonas tagged."
"Very well!" Diana and Jonas both nodded.
"And now," Enoch lifted his game bag, "let's get on. My partners are
going to be worried. And I'm the cook for the outfit, too."
"Boss," Jonas took the game bag, "you take my mule and go on with Miss
Diana and Na-che and I'll come along with the rest of the cattle."
Enoch obediently mounted, Diana fell in beside him, and looked
anxiously into his face. "Please, Judge, are you very cross with me
for breaking in on you? But poor Jonas was consumed with fear for you."
Enoch put his hand on Diana's as it rested on her knee. "You must
know!" he said, and was silent.
"Then it's all right," sighed Diana, after a moment.
"Yes, it's quite all right! How did Jonas find you?"
"It seems that he and Charley concluded that you must have headed
toward Bright Angel. Charley went on to Washington to keep things in
order there. Jonas went up to El Tovar. I had just outfitted for a
trip into the Hopi country when Jonas came to me. He had talked to no
one. He is wonderfully circumspect, but he was frantic beneath his
calm. He begged me to find you for him and--well, I was a little
anxious myself--so I didn't need much urging. We had only been out a
week when we met John Red Sun. The rest was easy. If a person sticks
to the trails in Arizona it's difficult not to trace them. Look,
Judge, your friends have lighted a signal fire."
"Poor chaps! They're starved and worried!" Enoch quickened his mule's
pace and Diana fell in behind him.
Mack and Curly were standing beside the blaze at the edge of the
plateau. Enoch jumped from the saddle.
"I'm awfully sorry, fellows! But you see, I was detained by a lady!"
"For heaven's sake, Diana!" cried Mack. "Where did you come from?"
"Hello, Mack! Hello, Curly!" Diana dismounted and shook hands. "Well,
the Judge gave his friends the slip. Everybody was satisfied but his
colored man, Jonas. He was absolutely certain the Judge wouldn't keep
his face clean or his feet dry and he so worked on my feelings that I
trailed you people. I was going into the Hopi country anyhow."
Curly gave Enoch a knowing glance. "We thought he was putting
something over on us. What is he, Diana, a member of the Supreme
Bench?"
"Huh! Hardly!"
Everybody laughed at Diana's derisive tone and Curly added, "Anyhow,
he's a rotten cook. I was thinking of putting Mack back on his old
job."
"Don't intrude, Curly," said Enoch. "I've been out and brought in an
assistant who's an expert."
"That's you, I suppose, Diana!" Mack chuckled.
"No, it's Jonas, the colored man. He'll be along with Na-che in a
moment. This isn't your camp?"
"Come along, Miss Allen!" exclaimed Enoch. "I'll show you a camp
that's run by an expert."
Mack and Curly groaned and followed Enoch and Diana down to the cave,
Jonas and Na-che appearing shortly. Jonas, hobbling to the cave
opening stood for a moment, gazing at the group around the fire in
silent despair. Finally he said:
"When I get back to Washington, if I live to get there, they'll put me
out of the Baptist Church as a liar, if I try to tell 'em what I been
through. Boss, what you trying to do?"
"Dress these quail," grunted Enoch.
Jonas gave Curly and Mack a withering glance, started to speak,
swallowed something and said, "How come you to think you was a butcher,
boss? Leave me get my hands on those birds. I should think you done
enough, killing 'em."
"No," said Enoch, "I'm the cook for to-night. But, Jonas, old man, if
you aren't too knocked up, you might make some biscuit."
"Jonas looks to me," suggested Mack, "like a cup of coffee and a seat
by the fire was about his limit to-night. I'll get the rest of the
grub, if you'll tend to the quail, Judge. Curly, you go out and unpack
for Diana. We'll turn the cave over to you and Na-che to-night, Diana."
Diana, who was sitting on a rock by the fire, long, slender legs
crossed, hands clasping one knee, an amused spectator of the scene,
looked up at Mack with a smile.
"Indeed you won't, Mack. Na-che and I have our tent. We'll put it up
in the sand, as usual. And tomorrow, having delivered our prize
package, we'll be on our way."
Enoch looked up quickly. "Don't be selfish, Miss Allen!" he exclaimed.
"That's the idea!" Mack joined in vehemently. Then he added, with a
grin, "The Judge has plumb ruined our quiet little expedition anyhow.
And after two weeks of him and Curly, I'm darn glad to see you, Diana.
How's your Dad?"
"Very well, indeed! If he had had any idea that I was going on this
sort of trip, though, I think he'd have insisted on coming with me.
Judge, let me finish those birds. You're ruining them."
"Whose quail are these, I'd like to know?" demanded Enoch.
"Yours," replied Diana meekly, "but I had thought that some edible
portion besides the pope's nose and the neck ought to be left on them."
Jonas, who had been crouching uneasily on a rock, a disapproving
spectator of the scene, groaned audibly. Na-che now came into the glow
of the fire. She was a comely-faced woman, of perhaps forty-five,
neatly dressed in a denim suit. Her black eyes twinkled as she took in
the situation.
"Na-che, you come over here and sit down by me," said Jonas. "If I
can't help, neither can you."
Na-che smiled, showing strong white teeth. "You feel sick from the
saddle, eh, Jonas?"
"Don't you worry about that, woman! I'll show you I'm as good as any
Indian buck that ever lived!"
Na-che grunted incredulously, but sat down beside Jonas nevertheless.
In spite of the gibes, supper was ready eventually and was devoured
with approval. When the meal was finished, Na-che and Jonas cleared
up, then Jonas took his blanket and retired to a corner of the cave,
whence emerged almost immediately the sound of regular snoring. The
others sat around the fire only a short time.
"You'll stick around for a little while, won't you, Diana?" said Curly,
as he filled his first pipe.
"I really ought to pull out in the morning," replied Diana. "There are
some very special pictures I want to get at Oraibai about now."
"There is a cliff dwelling down the river about three miles," said
Enoch. "I haven't found the trail into it yet, but I saw the dwelling
distinctly from a curve on the top of the Canyon wall. It's a huge
construction."
"Is that so?" exclaimed Diana eagerly. "Why, those must be the Gray
ruins. I didn't realize we were so close to them. Well, you've
tempted me and I've fallen. I really must give a day to those remains.
Only one or two whites have ever gone through them."
Enoch smiled complacently.
"How long have you and the Judge known each other, Diana?" asked Curly
suddenly.
Diana hesitated but Enoch spoke quickly. "The first time I saw Miss
Allen she was a baby of five or six on Bright Angel trail."
Curly whistled. "Then you've got it on the rest of us. I first saw
her when she was a sassy miss in school at Tucson."
"Nothing on me!" said Mack. "I held her in my arms when she was ten
days old, and my wife was with her mother and Na-che when she was born.
You were a red-faced, squalling brat, Diana."
"She was a beautiful baby! She never cried," contradicted Na-che
flatly.
Diana laughed and rose. "This is getting too personal. I'm going to
bed," she said. The men looked at her, admiration in every face.
"Anything any of us can do for your comfort, Diana?" asked Curly.
"Na-che seemed satisfied with the place I put your tent in."
"Everything is fine, thank you," Diana held out her hand, "Good night,
Curly. I really think you're handsomer than ever."
"Lots of good that'll do me," retorted Curly.
Diana made a little grimace at him and turned to Mack. "Good night,
Mack. I'll bet you're homesick for Mrs. Mack this minute."
"She's a pretty darned fine old woman!" Mack nodded soberly.
"Old!" said Diana scornfully. "You ought to have your ears boxed!
Good night, Judge!"
"Good night, Miss Allen!"
The three men watched the tall figure swing out into the moonlight.
"There goes the most beautiful human being I ever hope to see," said
Curly, turning to unroll his blankets.
"If I was a painter and wanted to tell what this here country was
really like, at its best, I'd paint Diana." Mack's voice was very
earnest.
"Shucks!" sniffed Curly, "that isn't saying anything, is it, Judge?"
"It's hard to put her into words," replied Enoch carefully. "Curly,
are you too tired to continue our last night's talk?"
"Oh, let's put it over till to-morrow! We've lots of time!" Curly
gave a great yawn.
Enoch said nothing more but rolled himself in his blankets, with the
full intention of formulating his line of conduct toward Diana before
going to sleep. He stretched himself luxuriously in the sand and the
next thing he heard was Diana's laugh outside. He opened his eyes in
bewilderment. It was dawn without the cave. Jonas was hobbling down
toward the river.
"Oh, Jonas, you poor thing! Do let Na-che give you a good rubdown
before you try to do anything!"
"No, Miss Diana. If the boss can stand these goings on, I can. How
come he ever thought this was sport, I don't know. I'll never live to
get him back home!"
"Where are you going, Jonas?" called Curly.
Jonas paused. "I ain't going to turn myself round, unless I have to.
What's wanted?"
"I just wanted to warn you that the Colorado's no place for a morning
swim," Curly said.
"I'm just going to get the boss's shaving water."
"There's a hint for you, Judge," Curly turned to Enoch. "I hope you
plan to give more attention to your toilet after this."
"You go to blazes, Curly," said Enoch amiably. "I haven't got the
reputation for pulchritude to live up to that you have."
"Diana's imagination was in working order last night," volunteered
Mack. "To my positive knowledge Curly ain't washed or shaved for three
days."
"You've drunk of the Hassayampa too, Mack!" Curly ran the comb through
his black locks vindictively.
"What's the effect of that draught?" asked Enoch.
"You never tell the truth again," said Curly.
Na-che's voice floated in. "Jonas, you tell the men I got breakfast
already for 'em. Tell 'em to bring their own cups and plates."
"Sounds rotten, huh?" Curly sauntered out of the cave.
It was a very pleasant meal. To Enoch it was all a dream. It seemed
impossible for him to absorb the fact that he and Diana were together
in the Colorado Canyon. When the last of the coffee was gone, Curly
looked at his watch, then turned severely to Enoch.
"We're an hour earlier than we've ever been, and all because of women!
Aren't you ashamed?"
"Run along and wash dirt," returned Enoch. "For two cents I'd tell how
long it took me to get you up yesterday morning."
"What's your program, Diana?" asked Mack.
"Na-che and I are going over to the cliff dwelling. We'll be gone all
day."
"I'll act as guide," said Enoch with alacrity.
"It's not necessary!" exclaimed Diana. "I don't want to interrupt your
camp routine at all. You just give us directions, Judge. Na-che and I
are old hands at this, you know."
"Oh, take him along, Diana! He'll be crying in a minute," sniffed
Curly. "Jonas, you'll stay and give us a feed, won't you?"
"I got to look out for the boss," Jonas spoke anxiously.
A shout went up. "Jonas, old boy," said Enoch, "you stay in camp
to-day and er--look over my clothes."
"I will, boss," with intense relief, "and I'll make you a stew out of
those rabbits nobody'll forget in a hurry."
Mack and Curly hurried off to the river's edge. Na-che and Jonas went
into the cave. Enoch looked at Diana. She was standing by the
breakfast fire slender and straight in her brown corduroy riding suit,
her wide, intelligent eyes studying Enoch's face. There was a glow of
crimson in the cream of her cheeks, for the morning air held frost in
its touch.
"May I go with you?" repeated Enoch. "I'll be very good!"
Diana did not reply at first. Moonlight and firelight had not
permitted her before to read clearly the story of suffering that was in
Enoch's face. During breakfast he had been laughing and chatting
constantly. But now, as he stood before her, she was appalled by what
she saw in the rugged face. There were two straight, deep lines
between his brows. The lines from nostril to lip corner were doubly
pronounced. The thin, sensitive lips were compressed. The clear,
kindly blue eyes were contracted as if Enoch were enduring actual
physical pain. Tall and powerful, his dark red hair tossed back from
his forehead, his look of trouble did not detract from the peculiar
forcefulness of his personality.
"If you hesitate so long," he said, "I shall--"
Diana laughed. "Begin to cry, as Curly said? Oh, don't do that! I
shall be very happy to have you with me, but before we start, I think I
shall develop some of the films I exposed on the way over. A ten
o'clock start will be early enough, won't it? I have a developing
machine with me. It may not take me even until ten."
Enoch nodded. "How does the work go?" he asked eagerly. "Did you
attend the ceremony Na-che sent word to you about?"
"Yes! Out of a hundred exposures I made there, I think I got one
fairly satisfactory picture." Diana sighed. "After all, the camera
tells the story no better than words, and words are futile. Look!
What medium could one use to tell the world of that?"
She swept her arm to embrace the view before them. The tiny sandy
beach was on a curve of the river so sharp that above and below them
the rushing waters seemed to drive into blind canyon walls. To the
right, the Canyon on both sides was so sheer, the river bed so narrow
that nothing but sky was to be seen above and beyond. But to the left,
the south canyon wall terraced back at perhaps a thousand feet in a
series of magnificent strata, yellow, purple and crimson. Still south
of this, lifted great weathered buttes and mesas, fortifications of the
gods against time itself. The morning sun had not yet reached the
camp, but it shone warm and vivid on the peaks to the south, burning
through the drifting mists from the river, in colors that thrilled the
heart like music.
Enoch's eyes followed Diana's gesture. "I know," he said, softly.
"It's impossible to express it. I've thought of you and your work so
often, down here. Somehow, though, you do suggest the unattainable in
your pictures. It's what makes them great."
Diana shook her head and turned toward her tent, while Enoch lighted
his pipe and began his never-ending task of bringing in drift wood. He
paused, a log on his shoulder, before Curly, who was squatting beside
his muddy pan.
"Curly," he said, "is that stuff you have on Fowler and Brown,
political, financial, or a matter of personal morals?"
"Personal morals and worse!" grunted Curly. "It's some story!"
Enoch turned away without comment. But the lines between his eyes
deepened.