Enoch grinned, then he began to laugh.  The others looked at him, then joined him, and Homeric laughter echoed for a long minute above the snarl of the water.  Fortunately the hole in the Ida did not open into one of the compartments, so there was no damage done to the baggage.  It was too dark by the time this had been ascertained to attempt repairs that night, so Milton agreed to call it a day, and after supper was over every one but Enoch and Milton went to bed.  These two sat long in silence before the fire, smoking and enjoying the sense of companionship that was developing between them.  Finally Enoch spoke in a low voice: 

“You’re going to have trouble between Forrester and Harden.”

“It certainly looks like it, I’ve tried every sort of appeal to each of them, but trouble keeps on smoldering.”  Milton shook his head.  “That’s one of the trivial things that can wreck an expedition like this; just incompatibility among the men.  What would you do about it, Judge?”

“I’d put it to them that they could either keep the peace or draw lots to see which of them should leave the expedition at the Ferry.  In fact, I don’t believe I’d temporize even that much.  I’d certainly set one of them ashore.  My experience with men leads me to believe that with a certain type of men, there is no appeal.  As you say, they’re both nice chaps but they have a childish streak in them.  The majority of men have.  A leader must not be too patient.”

“You’re right,” agreed Milton.  “Judge, couldn’t you complete the trip with us?”

“How long will you be out?” asked Enoch.

“Another six months!”

Enoch laughed, then said slowly:  “There’s nothing I’d like to do better, but I must go home, from the Ferry.”

Milton gazed at Enoch for a time without speaking.  Then he said, a little wistfully, “I suppose that while this is the most important experience so far in my life, to you it is the merest episode, that you’ll forget the moment you get into the Pullman for the East.”

“Why should you think that?” asked Enoch.

“I can’t quite tell you why.  But there’s something about you that makes me believe that in your own section of the country, you’re a power.  Perhaps it’s merely your facial expression.  I don’t know—­you look like some one whom I can’t recall.  Perhaps that some one has the power and I confuse the two of you, but—­I beg your pardon, Judge!” as Enoch’s eyebrows went up.

“You have nothing to beg it for, Milton.  But you’re wrong when you think this trip is merely an episode to me.  All my life I have longed for just such an experience in the Canyon.  It’s like enchantment to really find myself here.”

Milton smiled.  “Well, we all have our Carcasonnes.”

“What’s yours?” demanded Enoch.

The younger man hesitated.  “It’s so absurd—­but—­well, I’ve always wanted to be Chief of the Geological Survey.”