“Dry up, Mike!” returned Frank with a grin.  “What does a Navaho know about horses!  Enoch, this is a sure enough Indian.  Mike, let me introduce Mr. Enoch Huntingdon of New York City.”

The Navaho nodded and smiled.  “You look as if a little Canyon climbing would do you good,” said he.  “I was looking at Tom horse, Frank.  He’s in bad shape.  How much did that tender-foot weigh that rode him?”

“I don’t know.  I wasn’t here the day they hired him out.  I know the cuss would have weighed a good deal less if I’d been here when that saddle was taken off!  Going down to-morrow with Miss Planer?”

“Not unless some one breaks trail for us.  Are you going to try it?”

“Not unless my young friend here gets his nerve up.  Want to try it, Enoch?”

“Try what?” asked Nucky.

“The trip down Bright Angel.”

“Not on your life!” cried Nucky.

Both men laughed, the Indian moving off through the snow in the direction of a dim building among the cedars, while Frank led on to the corral fence.  Fifteen or twenty horses and mules were moving about the enclosure.  Allen crossed swiftly among them, with Nucky following, apprehensively, close behind him.  Frank’s horse was in the stable, but while he seemed to examine the sore spot on the animal’s back, Frank’s real attention was riveted on Nucky.  The boy was obviously ill at ease and only half interested in the horse.

“These are the lads that take us down the trail,” said Allen finally, slapping a velvety black mule on the flank.

“We can’t trust the horses.  A mule knows more in a minute than a horse knows all his life.”

“Will you go with me to take another look at it?” asked Nucky.

An expression of understanding crossed Frank’s weather-beaten face.  “Sure I will, boy!  Let’s walk up the rim a little and see if you can steady your nerves.”

“I’d rather stay by the rail,” replied Nucky, doggedly.

“All right, old man!  Don’t take this thing too hard, you know!  After all, it’s only a crack in the earth.”

Nucky grinned feebly, and trudged steadily up to the rail.  The sun was setting and the Canyon was like the infinite glory of God.  Untiring as was his love for the view Allen preferred, this time, to watch the strange young face beside him.  Nucky’s pallor was still intense in spite of the stinging wind.  His deep set eyes were strained like a child’s, listening to a not-to-be-understood explanation of something that frightens him.  For a full five minutes he gazed without speaking.  Then the sun sank and the Canyon immediately was filled with gloom.  Nucky’s lips quivered.  “I can’t stand it!” he muttered again, “I can’t stand it!” and once more he bolted.

This time he went directly to his room.  Neither Allen nor Seaton attempted to follow him.

“He is some queer kid!” said Frank, taking the cigar Seaton offered him.  “He may be a born crook or he may not, but believe me, there’s something in him worth finding out about.”