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?”