Diana drew a long breath and her voice was very steady as she answered.  “Don’t let’s lose our grip on ourselves, Enoch.  It only makes a hard situation harder.  Now that we understand each other, let us kiss the cross, and go on.”

Enoch, arms folded on his chest, great head bowed, walked up and down under the trees slowly for a moment.  When he paused before her, it was to speak with his customary calm and decision, though his eyes smoldered.

“Diana, I want to take the trip with you, just as we planned, and go down Bright Angel with your father and you.  I want those few days in the desert with you to carry me through the rest of my life.  You need not fear, dear, that for one moment I will lose grip on myself.”

Diana looked at him as if she never had seen him before.  She looked at the gaunt, strong features, the massive chin, the sensitive, firm mouth, the lines of self-control and purposefulness around eyes and lips, and over all the deep-seated sadness that made Enoch’s face unforgettable.  Slowly she turned from him to the desert, and after a moment, as if she had gathered strength from the far horizon, she answered him, still with the little note of steadiness in her voice: 

“I think we’ll have to have those last few days, together, Enoch.”

Enoch heaved a deep sigh then smiled, brilliantly.  “And now,” he said, “I dare not go back to camp without at least discharging my gun, do you?”

“No, Judge!” replied Diana, picking up her gun, with a little laugh.

“Don’t call me Judge, when we’re alone!” protested Enoch.

Diana with something sweeter than tenderness shining in her great eyes, touched his hand softly with hers.

“No, dear!” she whispered.

Enoch looked at her, drew a deep breath, then put his gun across his arm and followed Diana to the yucca thicket where quail was to be found.  They were very silent during the hour of hunting.  They bagged a pair of cottontails and a number of quail, and when they did speak, it was only regarding the hunt or the preparations for the coming exodus.  They reached camp, just before dinner, Diana disappearing into the tent, and Enoch tramping prosaically and wearily into the cabin to throw himself down on his bunk.  He had not yet recovered from the last days in the Canyon.

“You shouldn’t have tackled that tramp this morning, Judge,” said Milton.  “You should have saved yourself for this afternoon.”

“You saw who his side pardner was, didn’t you?” asked Curly.

“Yes,” replied Milton, grinning.

“Then why make foolish comments?”

“I am a fool!” agreed Milton.

“Judge,” asked Curly, “how about you and me having our conflab right after dinner?”

“That will suit me,” replied Enoch, “if you can drag yourself from Agnew and poker that long.”

“I’ll make a superhuman effort,” returned Curly.