Sun-up found them on the trail again.  All day the way wound through country that had been profoundly eroded.  Na-che led by instinct, it seemed, to Enoch, for when they were a few miles from the spring, as far as he, at least, could observe, the trail disappeared, entirely.  During the morning, they walked much, for the over-hanging ledges and sudden chasms along which Na-che guided them made even the horses hesitate.  They were obliged to depend on their canteens for water and there was no sign of forage for the horses and mules.  Every one was glad when the noon hour came.

“It will be better, to-night,” explained Diana.  “There are water holes known as Indian’s Cups that we should reach before dark.  They’re sure to be full of water, for it has rained so much lately.  The way will be far easier to-morrow, Enoch, so that we can talk as we go.”

They were standing by the horses, waiting for Jonas and Na-che to put the dishes in one of the packs.

“Diana, do you realize that you made no comment whatever on what I told you yesterday?  Didn’t the story of Lucy seem wonderful to you?”

“I was too deeply moved to make any very sane comment,” replied Diana.  “Enoch, will you let me see the diary?”

“When I die, it is to be yours, but—­” he hesitated, “it tells so many of my weaknesses, that I wouldn’t like to be alive and feel that you know so much about them.”  He laughed a little sadly.

“Yet you told Lucy them, didn’t you?” insisted Diana with a smile.  “Don’t make me jealous of that person, Enoch!”

“She was you!” returned Enoch, briefly.  “To-night, I’ll tell you, Lucy, some of the things you have forgotten.”

“You’re a dear,” murmured Diana, under her breath, turning to mount as Jonas and Na-che clambered into their saddles.

All the afternoon, Enoch, riding under the burning sun, through the ever shifting miracles of color, rested in his happy dream.  The past and the future did not exist for him.  It was enough that Diana, straight and slender and unflagging rode before him.  It was enough that that evening after the years of yearning he would feel the touch of Lucy’s hand on his burning forehead.  For the first time in his life, Enoch’s spirit was at peace.

The pools were well up on the desert, where pinnacles and buttes had given way at last to a roughly level country, with only occasional fissures as reminders of the canyon.  Bear grass and yucca, barrel and fish-hook cactus as well as the ocotilla appeared.  The sun was sinking when the horses smelled water and cantered to the shallow but grateful basins.  Far to the south, the chaos out of which they had labored was black, and mysterious with drifting vapors.  The wind which whirled forever among the chasms was left behind.  They had entered into silence and tranquillity.

After supper and while the last glow of the sunsets still clung to the western horizon, Na-che said,