“Why?”

“Why did you dream of a wild trip down the Colorado as the realization of your greatest desire?” asked Milton.

“I couldn’t put it into words,” answered Enoch.  “But I suppose it’s the pioneer in me or something elemental that never quite dies in any of us, of Anglo-Saxon blood.”

Milton nodded.  “The Chief of the Geological Survey’s job is to administer nature in the raw.  I’d like to have a chance at it.”

“I believe you’d get away with it, too, Milton,” Enoch replied thoughtfully.

Milton laughed.  “Too bad you aren’t Secretary of the Interior!  Well, I’m all in!  Let’s go to bed.”

“You go ahead.  I’ll sit here with my pipe a bit longer.”

But, after all, Enoch did not write in his diary that night.  Before Milton had established himself in his blankets, Harden rose and went to a canteen for a drink of water.  On his return he stumbled over Forrester’s feet.  Instantly Forrester sat erect.

“What’re you doing, you clumsy dub foot?” he shouted.

“Oh, dry up, Forr; I didn’t mean to hurt you, you great boob!”

“We’ll settle this right now!” Forrester was on his feet and his fist had landed on Harden’s cheek before Enoch could cross the camp.  And before he or Milton could separate the combatants, Harden had returned the blow with interest, and with a muttered: 

“Take that, you sore-headed dog, you!”

Forrester tried to twist away from Enoch, but could not do so.  Harden freed himself from Milton’s grasp, but did not attempt to go on with the fight.

“One or the other of you,” said Milton briefly, “leaves the expedition at the Ferry.  I’ll tell you later which it will be.  I’m ashamed of both of you.”

“I’d like to know what’s made a tin god of you, Jim Milton!” shouted Forrester.  “You don’t own us, body and soul.  I’ve been in the Survey longer than you!  I joined this expedition before you did.  And I’ll leave it when I get ready!”

“You’ll leave it at the Ferry, Forrester!” Milton’s voice was quiet, but his nostrils dilated.

“And I’m telling you, I’ll leave it when I please, which will be at Needles!  If any one goes, it’ll be that skunk of a Harden.”

Harden laughed, turned on his heel and deliberately rolled himself in his blankets.  Forrester stood for a moment, muttering to himself, then he took his blankets off to an obscure corner of the sand.  And Enoch forgot his diary and went to bed, to ponder until shortly sleep overtook him, on the perversity of the male animal.

In the morning Jonas constituted himself ship’s carpenter and mended the Ida very creditably.  Forrester was surly and avoided every one.  Harden was cheerful, as usual, but did not speak to his adversary.  The sun was just entering the Canyon when the two boats were launched and once more faced the hazards of the river.