GRANT'S CROSSING
"Perfect memories! They are more precious than hope, more priceless
than dreams of the future."--_Enoch's Diary_.
"Now, every one of you get into dry clothes as quickly as you can,"
said Diana. "No! Don't one of you try to stir from the cabin! Come,
Na-che, we'll bring the men's bags up and go out to our tent while they
shift."
The two women were gone before the men could protest. They were back
with the bags in a few moments and in almost less time than it takes to
tell, the crew of the Ida was reclothed, Enoch in the riding suit that
Jonas had left with some of his own clothes in Na-che's care. When
this was done, Na-che put on the coffee pot, while Diana served each of
them with a plate of hot rabbit stew.
"Don't try to talk," she said, "until you get this down. You'd better
help Mr. Milton, Na-che. Here, it will take two of us. Oh, you poor
dear! You're burning with fever."
"Don't you worry about me," protested Milton, weakly, as, with his head
resting on Diana's arm, he sipped the teaspoonsful of stew Na-che fed
him. "This is as near heaven as I want to get."
"I should hope so!" grunted Agnew. "Jonas, don't ever try to put up a
stew in competition with Na-che again."
"Not me, sir!" chuckled Jonas. "That gal can sure cook!"
"And make charms," added Enoch. "Don't fail to realize that you're
still alive, Jonas."
"I'm going to bathe Mr. Milton's face for him," said Na-che, with a
fine air of indifference. "I can set a broken leg, too."
"It's set," said Agnew and Enoch together, "but," added Enoch, "that
isn't saying that Milton mustn't be gotten to a doctor with all speed."
Diana nodded. "Where are Mr. Forrester and Mr. Harden?" she asked.
"We lost the Na-che--" said Agnew.
"The what?" demanded Diana.
"Jonas rechristened the Mary, the Na-che," Agnew replied. "We lost her
in a whirlpool six days back. Most of the food was in her. Two of us
had to go out and Harden and Forrester volunteered. We are very much
worried about them."
"And when did Mr. Milton break his leg?"
"On that same black day! The water's been disagreeing with him, making
him dizzy, and he took a header from the Ida, after rescuing Forrester
from some rapids," said Enoch.
"Doesn't sound much, when you tell it, does it!" Agnew smiled as he
sighed. "But it really has been quite a busy five days."
"One can look at your faces and read much between the lines," said
Diana, quietly. "Now, while Na-che works with Mr. Milton, I'm going to
give you each some coffee."
"Diana, how far are we from the nearest doctor?" asked Enoch.
"There's one over on the Navajo reservation," replied Diana.
"Wouldn't it be better to keep Milton right here and one of us go for
the doctor?"
"Much better," agreed Diana and Agnew.
"Lord," sighed Milton, "what bliss!"
"Then," said Enoch, "I'm going to start for the doctor, now."
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Diana, "that's my job. We've been here two days
and we and our outfit are as fresh as daisies."
"I'm going, myself," Agnew rose as firmly as his weak and weary legs
would permit.
It was Na-che who settled the matter. "That's an Indian's job," she
said. "You take care of Mr. Milton, Diana, while I go."
"That's sensible," agreed Diana. "Start now, Na-che. You should reach
Wilson's by to-morrow night and telephone to the Agent's house.
That'll save you forty miles."
Jonas' face which had fallen greatly suddenly brightened. "Somebody's
coming!" he cried. "I hope it's our folks!"
The door opened abruptly and in walked Curly and Mack.
"Here's the whole family!" exclaimed Curly. "Well, if you folks don't
look like Siberian convicts, whiskers and all! Some trip, eh?"
Mack, shaking hands all round, stopped beside Milton's bunk. "What
went wrong, bud? and where's the rest of the bunch?"
Enoch told the story, this time. Mack shook his head as the final
plans were outlined.
"Na-che had better stay and nurse Milton. I'm feeling fine. We just
loafed along down here. I'll start out right away. I should reach
Wilson's to-morrow night, as you say, and telephone the doctor. Then
I'll load up with grub at Wilson's and turn back. Do you find much
game round here?"
Diana nodded. "Plenty of rabbit and quail, and we have some bacon and
coffee."
"I guess I'd better go out and look for the two foot-passengers,"
suggested Curly. "I'll stay out to-night and report to-morrow evening."
"We'll be in shape by morning to start on the search," said Enoch.
Curly turned to his former cook with a grin. "Well, Judge, is your
little vacation giving you the rest you wanted?"
Enoch, gaunt, unshaven, exhausted, his blue eyes blood-shot, nodded
contentedly. "I'm having the time of my life, Curly."
"I had a bull dog once," said Curly. "If I'd take a barrel stave and
pound him with it, saying all the time, 'Nice doggie, isn't this fun!
Isn't this a nice little stick! Don't you like these little love
pats?' he'd wag his tail and slobber and tell me how much he enjoyed it
and beg for more. But, if I took a straw and tapped him with it,
telling him he was a poor dog, that nobody loved him, that I was
breaking his ribs which he richly deserved, why that bull pup nearly
died of suffering of body and anguish of mind."
Enoch shook his head sadly. "A great evangelist was lost when you took
to placer mining, Curly."
Mack had been talking quietly to Milton. "I don't believe it was the
river water, that upset you. I think you have drunk from some poison
spring. I did that once, up in this country, and it took me six months
to get over it, because I couldn't get to a doctor. But I believe a
doctor could fix you right up. Do you recall drinking water the other
men didn't?"
"Any number of times, on exploring trips to the river!" Milton looked
immensely cheered. "I think you may be right, Mack."
"I'll bet you two bits that's all that ails you, son!" Mack rose from
the edge of the bunk. "Well, folks, I'm off! Look for me when you see
me!"
"I'll mooch along too," Curly rose and stretched himself.
"I'm not going to try to thank all you folks!" Milton's weak voice was
husky.
"That's what us Arizonians always wait for before we do the decent
thing," said Mack, with a smile. "Come along, Curly, you lazy
chuckawalla you!" And the door slammed behind them.
"They're stem winders, both of them!" exclaimed Agnew.
"Diana," said Enoch, "I wish you'd sit down. You've done enough for
us."
Diana smiled and shook her head. "I struck the camp first, so I'm
boss. Na-che and I are going out to see that everything's all right
for the night and that Mack and Curly get a good start. While we're
out, you're all going to bed. Then Na-che is coming in to make Mr.
Milton as comfortable as she can. Our tent is under the cottonwoods
and if you want anything during the night, Mr. Milton, all you have to
do is to call through the window. Neither of us will undress so we can
be on duty, instantly. There is plenty of stew still simmering in the
pot, and cold biscuit on the table. Good night, all of you."
"Na-che, she don't need to bother. I'll look out for Mr. Milton," said
Jonas, suddenly rousing from his chair where he had been dozing.
"You go to bed and to sleep, Jonas," ordered Diana. "Good night,
Judge."
"Good night, Diana!"
The door closed softly and Diana was seen no more that night. The rain
ceased at midnight and the stars shone forth clear and cold, but Milton
was the only person in the camp to be conscious of the fact. Just as
the dawn wind was rising, though, and the cottonwoods were outlining
themselves against the eastern sky, stumbling footsteps near the tent
wakened both Diana and Na-che, and they opened the tent flap, hastily.
Forrester was clinging to a cottonwood tree. At least it was a worn,
bleached, ragged counterfeit of Forrester.
"Hard's back on the trail apiece. I came on for help," he said huskily.
"Is he sick or hurt?" cried Diana.
"No, just all in."
"I'll take a horse for him, right off," said Na-che. "You help Mr.
Forrester into the house, Diana."
"Call Jonas!" said Diana, supporting Forrester against the tree. "One
of the men had better go for Mr. Harden."
"Then they got here!" exclaimed Forrester. "Thank God! How's Milton?
Any other accident?"
"Everything's all right! Here they all come!" For Jonas, then Agnew
and Enoch were rushing from the door and amid the hubbub of
exclamations, Forrester was landed in a bunk while Agnew started up the
trail indicated by Forrester. But he hardly had set out before he met
Curly, leading his horse with Harden clinging to the saddle. Both the
wanderers were fed and put to bed and told to sleep, before they tried
to tell their story. The day was warm and clear and Na-che and Jonas
prepared breakfast outside, serving it on the rough table, under the
cottonwoods. Enoch and Agnew, washed and shaved, were new men, though
still weak, Enoch, particularly, being muscle sore and weary. Harden
and Forrester woke for more food, at noon, then slept again. Milton
dozed and woke, drank feverishly of the water brought from the spring
near the cabin, and gazed with a look of complete satisfaction on the
unshaved dirty faces in the bunks across the room.
Agnew and Curly played poker all day long. Jonas and Na-che found
endless small tasks around the camp that required long consultations
between them and much laughter. When Enoch returned after breakfast
from a languid inspection of the Ida, Diana was not to be seen. She
had gone out to get some quail, Na-che said. She returned in an hour
or so, with a good bag of rabbit and birds.
"To-morrow, that will be my job," said Enoch.
"If she wouldn't let me go, she mustn't let you!" called Curly, from
his poker game, under the trees.
"Yes, I'll let any of you take it over, to-morrow," replied Diana,
giving Na-che gun and bag. "To-morrow, Na-che and I turn the rescue
mission over to you men and start for Bright Angel."
"Oh, where's your heart, Miss Allen!" cried Agnew. "Aren't you going
to wait to learn what the doctor says about Milton?"
"And Diana," urged Enoch, "Jonas and I want to go up to Bright Angel
with you and Na-che. Won't you wait a day longer, just till we're a
little more fit?"
Diana, in her worn corduroy habit, her soft hat pulled well over her
great eyes, looked from Agnew to Enoch, smiled and did not reply.
Enoch waited impatiently without the door while she made a call on
Milton.
"Diana!" he exclaimed, when she came out, "aren't you going to talk to
me even? Do come down by the Ida and see if we can't be rid of this
horde of people for a while."
"I've been wanting to see just how badly you'd treated the poor old
boat," said Diana, following Enoch toward the shore.
But Enoch had not the slightest intention of holding an inquest on the
Ida. In the shade of a gnarled cedar to which the boat was tied as a
precaution against high water, he had placed a box. Thither he led
Diana.
"Do sit down, Diana, and let me sit here at your feet. I'll admit it
should be unexpected joy enough just to find you here. But I'm greedy.
I want you to myself, and I want to tell you a thousand things."
"All right, Judge, begin," returned Diana amiably, as she clasped her
knee with both hands and smiled at him. But Enoch could not begin,
immediately. Sitting in the sand with his back against the cedar he
looked out at the Colorado flowing so placidly, at the pale gray green
of the far canyon walls and a sense of all that the river signified to
him, all that it had brought to him, all that it would mean to him to
leave it and with it Diana,--Diana who had been his other self since he
was a lad of eighteen,--made him speechless for a time.
Diana waited, patiently. At last, Enoch turned to her, "All the things
I want to say most, can't be said, Diana!"
"Are you glad you took the trip down the river, Judge?"
"Glad! Was Roland glad he made his adventure in search of the Dark
Tower?"
"Yes, he was, only, Judge--"
Enoch interrupted. "Has our friendship grown less since we camped at
the placer mine?"
Diana flushed slightly and went on, "Only, Enoch, surely the end of
your adventure is not a Dark Tower ending!"
"Yes, it is, Diana! It can never be any other." Enoch's fingers
trembled a little as he toyed with his pipe bowl. Diana slowly looked
away from him, her eyes fastening themselves on a buzzard that circled
over the peaks across the river. After a moment, she said, "Then you
are going to shoot Brown?"
Enoch started a little. "I'm not thinking of Brown just now. I'm
thinking of you and me."
He paused again and again Diana waited until she felt the silence
becoming too painful. Then she said,
"Aren't you going to tell me some of the details of your trip?"
"I want to, Diana, but hang it, words fail me! It was as you warned
me, an hourly struggle with death. And we fought, I think, not because
life was so unutterably sweet to any of us, but because there was such
wonderful zest to the fighting. The beauty of the Canyon, the
awfulness of it, the unbelievable rapidity with which event piled on
event. Why, Diana, I feel as if I'd lived a lifetime since I first put
foot on the Ida! And the glory of the battle! Diana, we were so puny,
so insignificant, so stupid, and the Canyon was so colossal and so
diabolically quick and clever! What a fight!"
Enoch laughed joyfully.
"You're a new man!" said Diana, softly.
Enoch nodded. "And now I'm to have the ride back to El Tovar with you
and the trip down Bright Angel with you and your father! For once
Diana, Fate is minding her own business and letting me mind mine."
Jonas approached hesitatingly. "Na-che said I had to tell you, boss,
though I didn't want to disturb you, she said I had to though she
wouldn't do it herself. Dinner is on the table. And you know, boss,
you ain't like you was when a bowl of cereal would do you."
"I shouldn't have tempted fate, Diana!" Enoch sighed, as he rose and
followed her to the cottonwood.
Try as he would, during the afternoon, he could not bring about another
tête-a-tête with Diana. Finally as dusk drew near, he threw himself
down, under the cedar tree, his eyes sadly watching the evening mists
rise over the river. His dark figure merged with the shadow of the
cedar and Na-che and Jonas, establishing themselves on the gunwale of
the Ida for one of their confidential chats did not perceive him. He
himself gave them no heed until he heard Jonas say vehemently:
"You're crazy, Na-che! I'm telling you the boss won't never marry."
"How do you know what's in your boss's mind?" demanded Na-che.
"I know all right. And I know he thinks a lot of Miss Diana, too, but
I know he won't marry her. He won't marry anybody."
"But why?" urged the Indian woman, sadly, "Why should things be so
wrong? When he loves her and she loves him and they were made for each
other!"
"How come you to think she loves him?" demanded Jonas.
"Don't I know the mind of my Diana? Isn't she my little child, even if
her mother did bear her. Don't I see her kiss that little picture she
has of him in her locket every night when she says her prayers?"
"Well--" began Jonas, but he was interrupted by a call from Curly.
"Whoever's minding the stew might be interested in knowing that it's
boiling over!"
"Coming! Coming!" cried Jonas and Na-che.
Darkness had now settled on the river. Enoch lay motionless until they
called him in to supper. When he entered the cabin where the table was
set, Curly cried, "Hello, Judge! Where've you been? I swear you look
as if you'd been walking with a ghost."
"Perhaps I have," Enoch replied, grimly, as he took his seat.
Harden and Forrester, none too energetic, but shaven and in order, were
at the table, where their story was eagerly picked from them.
Forrester had slept the first night in the cavern Enoch had noted.
Harden never even saw the cavern but had spent the night crawling
steadily toward the rim. At dawn, Forrester had made his way to the
top of the butte by the same route Enoch had followed, and had seen
Harden, a black speck moving laboriously on the southern horizon. He
had not recognized him, and set out to overtake him. It was not until
noon that he had done so. Even after he realized whom he was pursuing,
he had not given up, for by that time he was rueing bitterly his hasty
and ill-equipped departure.
None of the auditors of the two men needed detailed description either
of the ardors of that trip nor of the embarrassment of the meeting.
Nor did Forrester or Harden attempt any. After they had met they tried
to keep a course that moved southwest. There were no trails. For
endless miles, fissures and buttes, precipices to be scaled, mountains
to be climbed, canyons to be crossed. For one day they were without
water, but the morning following they found a pot hole, full of water.
Weakness from lack of food added much to the peril of the trip, one
cottontail being the sole contribution of the gun to their larder.
They did not strike the trail until the day previous to their arrival
in the camp.
"Have you had enough desert to last you the rest of your life?" asked
Curly as Harden ended the tale.
"Not I!" said Forrester, "nor Canyon either! I'm going to find some
method of getting Milt to let me finish the trip with him."
"Me too," added Harden.
"How much quarreling did you do?" asked Milton, abruptly, from the bunk.
Neither man answered for a moment, then Forrester, flushing deeply,
said, "All we ask of you, Milt, is to give us a trial. Set us ashore
if you aren't satisfied with us."
Milton grunted and Diana said, quickly, "What are you people going to
do until Mr. Milton gets well?"
All of the crew looked toward the leader's bunk. "Wait till we get the
doctor's report," said Milton. "Hard, you were going to show Curly a
placer claim around here, weren't you?"
"Yes, if I can be spared for a couple of days. We can undertake that,
day after to-morrow."
"You're on!" exclaimed Curly. "Judge, don't forget you and I are due
to have a little conversation before we separate."
"I haven't forgotten it," replied Enoch.
"Sometime to-morrow then. To-night I've got to get my revenge on
Agnew. He's a wild cat, that's what he is. Must have been born in a
gambling den. Sit in with us, Judge or anybody!"
"Not I," said Enoch, shortly.
"Still disapprove, don't you, Judge!" gibed Curly. "How about the rest
of you? Diana, can you play poker?"
"Thanks, Curly! My early education in that line was neglected." Diana
smiled and turned to Enoch. "Judge, do you think you'll feel up to
starting to-morrow afternoon? There's a spring five miles west that we
could make if we leave here at two o'clock and I'd like to feel that
I'd at least made a start, to-morrow. My father is going to be very
much worried about me. I'm nearly a week overdue, now."
"I'll be ready whenever you are, Diana. How about you, Jonas?"
"I'm always on hand, boss. Mr. Milton, can I have the broken oar blade
we kept to patch the Ida with?"
"What do you want it for, Jonas?" asked Milton.
"I'm going to have it framed. And Mr. Harden and Mr. Agnew, don't
forget those fillums!"
"Lucky for you the films were stored in the Ida, Jonas!" exclaimed
Agnew. "I'll develop some of those in the morning, and see what sort
of a show you put up."
Diana rose. "Well, good night to you all! Mr. Milton, is there
anything Na-che or I can do for you?"
"No, thank you, Miss Allen, I think I'm in good hands."
Enoch rose to open the door for Diana. "Thank you, Judge," she said,
"Good night!"
"Diana," said Enoch, under cover of the conversation at the table,
"before we start to-morrow, will you give me half an hour alone with
you?"
There was pain and determination both in Enoch's voice. Diana glanced
at him a little anxiously as she answered, "Yes, I will, Enoch."
"Good night, Diana," and Enoch retired to his bunk, where he lay wide
awake long after the card game was ended and the room in darkness save
for the dull glow of the fire.
He made no attempt the next day to obtain the half hour Diana had
promised him. He helped Jonas with their meager preparations for the
trip, then took a gun and started along the trail which led up the
Ferry canyon to the desert. But he had not gone a hundred yards, when
Diana called.
"Wait a moment, Judge! I'll go with you."
She joined him shortly with her gun and game bag. "We'll have Na-che
cook us a day's supply of meat before we start," she said. "The
hunting is apt to be poor on the trail we're to take home."
Enoch nodded but said nothing. Something of the old grim look was in
his eyes again. He paused at the point where the canyon gave place to
the desert. Here a gnarled mesquite tree and an old half-buried log
beneath it, offered mute evidence of a gigantic flooding of the river.
"Let's sit here for a little while, Diana," he said.
They put their guns against the mesquite tree and sat down facing the
distant river.
"Diana," Enoch began abruptly, "in spite of what your father and John
Seaton believed and wanted me to believe, the things that the Brown
papers said about my mother are true. Only, Brown did not tell all.
He did not give the details of her death. I suppose even Luigi
hesitated to tell that because I almost beat him to death the last time
he tried it.
"Seaton and I never talked much about the matter. He tried to ferret
out facts, but had no luck. By the time I was seventeen or eighteen I
realized that no man with a mother like mine had a right to marry. But
I missed the friendship of women, I suppose, for when I was perhaps
eighteen or nineteen I made a discovery. I found that somewhere in my
heart I was carrying the image of a girl, a slender girl, with braids
of light brown hair wrapped round her head, a girl with the largest,
most intelligent, most tender gray eyes in the world, and a lovely
curving mouth, with deep corners. I named her Lucy, because I'd been
reading Wordsworth and I began to keep a diary to her. I've kept it
ever since.
"You can have no idea, how real, how vivid, how vital a part of my life
Lucy became to me. She was in the very deepest truth my better self,
for years. And then this summer, a miracle occurred! Lucy walked into
my office! Beauty, serenity, intelligence, sweetness, gaiety, and
gallantry--these were Lucy's in the flesh as I could not even dream for
Lucy of the spirit. Only in one particular though had I made an actual
error. Her name was not Lucy, it was Diana! Diana! the little girl of
Bright Angel who had entered my turbulent boyish heart, all unknown to
me, never to leave it! . . . Diana! Lucy! I love you and God help me,
I must not marry!"
Enoch, his nails cutting deep into his palms turned from the river, at
which he had been staring steadily while speaking, to Diana. Her eyes
which had been fastened on Enoch's profile, now gazed deep into his,
pain speaking to pain, agony to agony.
"If," Enoch went on, huskily, "there is no probability of your growing
to care for me, then I think our friendship can endure. I can crowd
back the lover and be merely your friend. But if you might grow to
care, even ever so little, then, I think at the thought of your pain,
my heart would break. So, I thought before it is too late--"
Suddenly Diana's lips which had grown white, trembled a little. "It is
too late!" she whispered. "It is too late!" and she put her slender,
sunburned hands over her face.
"Don't! Oh, don't!" groaned Enoch. He took her hands down, gently.
Diana's eyes were dry. Her cheeks were burning. Enoch looked at her
steadily, his breath coming a little quickly, then he rose and with
both her hands in his lifted her to her feet.
"Do you love me, Diana?" he whispered.
She looked up into his eyes. "Yes, Enoch! Oh, yes!" she answered,
brokenly.
"How much do you love me, dear?" he persisted.
She smiled with a tragic beauty in droop of lips and anguish of eyes.
"With all there is in me to give to love, Enoch."
"Then," said Enoch, "this at least may be mine," and he laid his lips
to hers.
When he lifted his head, he smoothed her hair back from her face.
"Remember, I am not deceiving myself, Diana," he said huskily. "I have
acted like a selfish, unprincipled brute. If I had not, in Washington,
let you see that I cared, you would have escaped all this."
"I did not want to escape it, Enoch," she said, smiling again while her
lips quivered. "Yet I thought I would have strength enough to go away,
without permitting you to tell me about it. But I was not strong
enough. However," stepping away from Enoch, "now we both understand,
and I'll go home. And we must never see each other again, Enoch."
"Never see each other again!" he repeated. Then his voice deepened.
"Go about our day's work year after year, without even a memory to ease
the gnawing pain. God, Diana, do you think we are machines to be
driven at will?"
Diana drew a long breath and her voice was very steady as she answered.
"Don't let's lose our grip on ourselves, Enoch. It only makes a hard
situation harder. Now that we understand each other, let us kiss the
cross, and go on."
Enoch, arms folded on his chest, great head bowed, walked up and down
under the trees slowly for a moment. When he paused before her, it was
to speak with his customary calm and decision, though his eyes
smoldered.
"Diana, I want to take the trip with you, just as we planned, and go
down Bright Angel with your father and you. I want those few days in
the desert with you to carry me through the rest of my life. You need
not fear, dear, that for one moment I will lose grip on myself."
Diana looked at him as if she never had seen him before. She looked at
the gaunt, strong features, the massive chin, the sensitive, firm
mouth, the lines of self-control and purposefulness around eyes and
lips, and over all the deep-seated sadness that made Enoch's face
unforgettable. Slowly she turned from him to the desert, and after a
moment, as if she had gathered strength from the far horizon, she
answered him, still with the little note of steadiness in her voice:
"I think we'll have to have those last few days, together, Enoch."
Enoch heaved a deep sigh then smiled, brilliantly. "And now," he said,
"I dare not go back to camp without at least discharging my gun, do
you?"
"No, Judge!" replied Diana, picking up her gun, with a little laugh.
"Don't call me Judge, when we're alone!" protested Enoch.
Diana with something sweeter than tenderness shining in her great eyes,
touched his hand softly with hers.
"No, dear!" she whispered.
Enoch looked at her, drew a deep breath, then put his gun across his
arm and followed Diana to the yucca thicket where quail was to be
found. They were very silent during the hour of hunting. They bagged
a pair of cottontails and a number of quail, and when they did speak,
it was only regarding the hunt or the preparations for the coming
exodus. They reached camp, just before dinner, Diana disappearing into
the tent, and Enoch tramping prosaically and wearily into the cabin to
throw himself down on his bunk. He had not yet recovered from the last
days in the Canyon.
"You shouldn't have tackled that tramp this morning, Judge," said
Milton. "You should have saved yourself for this afternoon."
"You saw who his side pardner was, didn't you?" asked Curly.
"Yes," replied Milton, grinning.
"Then why make foolish comments?"
"I am a fool!" agreed Milton.
"Judge," asked Curly, "how about you and me having our conflab right
after dinner?"
"That will suit me," replied Enoch, "if you can drag yourself from
Agnew and poker that long."
"I'll make a superhuman effort," returned Curly.
The conference, which took place under the cedar near the Ida, did not
last long.
"Curly," said Enoch, lighting his pipe, "I haven't made up my mind yet,
whether I want you to give me the information about Fowler and Brown or
not."
"What's the difficulty?" demanded Curly.
"Well, there's a number of personal reasons that I don't like to go
into. But I've a suggestion to make. You say you're trying to get
money together with which to retain a lawyer and carry out a campaign,
so you aren't in a hurry, anyway. Now you write down in a letter all
that you know about the two men, and send the letter to me, I'll treat
it as absolutely confidential, and will return the material to you
without reading it if I decide not to use it."
Curly puffed thoughtfully at his cigarette. "That's fair enough,
Judge. As you say there's no great hurry and I always get het up,
anyhow, when I talk about it. I'd better put it down in cool black and
white. Where can I reach you?"
"No. 814 Blank Avenue, Washington, D. C.," replied Enoch.
Curly pulled an old note book out of his hip pocket and set down the
address:
"All right, Judge, you'll hear from me sometime in the next few weeks.
I'll go back now and polish Agnew off."
And he hurried away, leaving Enoch to smoke his pipe thoughtfully as he
stared at the Ida.