Enoch laughed joyfully.

“You’re a new man!” said Diana, softly.

Enoch nodded.  “And now I’m to have the ride back to El Tovar with you and the trip down Bright Angel with you and your father!  For once Diana, Fate is minding her own business and letting me mind mine.”

Jonas approached hesitatingly.  “Na-che said I had to tell you, boss, though I didn’t want to disturb you, she said I had to though she wouldn’t do it herself.  Dinner is on the table.  And you know, boss, you ain’t like you was when a bowl of cereal would do you.”

“I shouldn’t have tempted fate, Diana!” Enoch sighed, as he rose and followed her to the cottonwood.

Try as he would, during the afternoon, he could not bring about another tete-a-tete with Diana.  Finally as dusk drew near, he threw himself down, under the cedar tree, his eyes sadly watching the evening mists rise over the river.  His dark figure merged with the shadow of the cedar and Na-che and Jonas, establishing themselves on the gunwale of the Ida for one of their confidential chats did not perceive him.  He himself gave them no heed until he heard Jonas say vehemently: 

“You’re crazy, Na-che!  I’m telling you the boss won’t never marry.”

“How do you know what’s in your boss’s mind?” demanded Na-che.

“I know all right.  And I know he thinks a lot of Miss Diana, too, but I know he won’t marry her.  He won’t marry anybody.”

“But why?” urged the Indian woman, sadly, “Why should things be so wrong?  When he loves her and she loves him and they were made for each other!”

“How come you to think she loves him?” demanded Jonas.

“Don’t I know the mind of my Diana?  Isn’t she my little child, even if her mother did bear her.  Don’t I see her kiss that little picture she has of him in her locket every night when she says her prayers?”

“Well—­” began Jonas, but he was interrupted by a call from Curly.

“Whoever’s minding the stew might be interested in knowing that it’s boiling over!”

“Coming!  Coming!” cried Jonas and Na-che.

Darkness had now settled on the river.  Enoch lay motionless until they called him in to supper.  When he entered the cabin where the table was set, Curly cried, “Hello, Judge!  Where’ve you been?  I swear you look as if you’d been walking with a ghost.”

“Perhaps I have,” Enoch replied, grimly, as he took his seat.

Harden and Forrester, none too energetic, but shaven and in order, were at the table, where their story was eagerly picked from them.

Forrester had slept the first night in the cavern Enoch had noted.  Harden never even saw the cavern but had spent the night crawling steadily toward the rim.  At dawn, Forrester had made his way to the top of the butte by the same route Enoch had followed, and had seen Harden, a black speck moving laboriously on the southern horizon.  He had not recognized him, and set out to overtake him.  It was not until noon that he had done so.  Even after he realized whom he was pursuing, he had not given up, for by that time he was rueing bitterly his hasty and ill-equipped departure.