“I’m willing,” said Agnew, finally, as he staggered to his feet after a ducking under the Ida’s side.

“Oh, let’s keep going, as long as there’s any light to see by,” begged Enoch.

As if to reward his persistence, just as dusk settled fully upon them, a little canyon opened from the main wall at the right, a small stream, tumbling eagerly from it into the Colorado.  They turned the Ida quickly into this and managed to push upward on it for several minutes.  Then they put ashore under some dim cottonwoods, where grass was ankle deep.  The mere feeling of vegetation about them was cheering, and the trees, with a blanket stretched between made a partial shelter from the rain.

“I’ll sure cook grass for you all for breakfast!” said Jonas.  “How come folks not to bile grass for greens, I don’t see.  Maybe birds here, too.  Whoever’s the fancy shot, put the gun close to his hand.”

“I’ve done some fair shooting in my day,” said Agnew, “but I never potted a goat in an eagle’s nest.  You’d better give the gun to the Judge.”  He polished off his pie tin, scraped the last grain of sugar from his tin cup and lighted a cigarette.

“I’m trying to bear my blushing honors modestly,” grinned Enoch, crowding closer to the great fire.  “Milton, I’ve a bone to pick with you.”

“Where’d you get it?” demanded Agnew.

Enoch smiled but went on.  “I accuse you of deliberately starving yourself for the rest of us.  It won’t do, sir.  I’m going to set your share aside and by Jove, if you refuse it, I’ll throw it in the river!”

Milton rose indignantly on one elbow.  “Judge, I forbid you to do anything of the kind!  You fellows have got to have food to work on.  All I need is plenty of water.”

“Especially as you think the water is making you sick,” returned Enoch drily.  “You can’t get away with it, Milton.  Am I not right, Agnew and Jonas?”

“Absolutely!” Agnew exclaimed, while Jonas nodded, vigorously.

“So, beginning to-morrow morning, you’re to do your share of eating,” Enoch concluded, cheerfully.

But in spite of all efforts to keep a stiff upper lip, the night was wretched.  The rain fell in torrents.  The only way to keep the fire alight was by keeping it under the blanket shelter, and Milton was half smothered with smoke.  He insisted on the others going to sleep, but in spite of their utter weariness, the men would not do this.  Hunger made them restless and the rain crept through their blankets.  Enoch finally gave up the attempt to sleep.  He crouched by Milton, feeding the fire and trying as best he could to ease the patient’s misery of mind and body.

It was long after midnight when Milton said, “Judge, I’ve been thinking it over and I’ve come to a conclusion.  I want you folks to go on for help and leave me here.”

“I don’t like to hear you talk suicide, Milton.”  Enoch shook his head.  “As far as I’m concerned, I wouldn’t consider such a suggestion for a minute.”