“Hotel!  Frank, don’t try to put on dog with me or snub me either!” exclaimed Enoch, dismounting.  “And I am Enoch to you, just as that cowardly kid was, twenty-two years ago!”

“Cowardly!” roared Frank.  “Well, come in!  Come in before I get started on that.”

“This is Jonas,” said Na-che gravely.

“I know who Jonas is,” said Frank, shaking hands.  “Come in!  Come in!  Before I burst with curiosity!  Diana girl, I’ve been worried sick about you.  I swear once more this is the last trip you shall take without me.”

The living-room was huge and beautiful.  A fire roared in the great fireplace.  Indian blankets and rugs covered the floor.  There were some fine paintings on the walls and books and photographs everywhere.  After Enoch and Diana had removed their snowy coats, Frank impatiently forced them into the arm-chairs before the fire, while he stood on the bearskin before them.

“For the love of heaven, Diana, where did you folks meet?”

“You begin, Enoch,” said Diana quietly.

At the use of the Secretary’s name, Frank glanced at Diana quickly, then turned back to Enoch.

“Well, Frank, I was on a speaking trip, and the pressure of things got so bad that I decided to slip away from everybody and give myself a trip to the Canyon.  That was about a month ago.  I outfitted at a little village on the railroad, and shortly after that I joined some miners who were going up to the Canyon to placer prospect.  We had been at the Canyon several days when Jonas and Diana and Na-che found us.  Diana stayed a day or so, then Jonas and I went with a Geological Survey crew for a boating trip down the river.  We had sundry adventures, finally landing at Grant’s Ferry, our leader, Milton, with a broken leg.  Here we found Diana and Na-che.  Jonas and I left the others and came on here because I want to go down the trail with you.  That, in brief, is my story.”

“Devilish brief!” snorted Frank.  “Thank you for nothing!  Diana, suppose you pad the skeleton a little.”

“Yes, I will, Dad, if you’ll let Enoch go to his room and get into some dry clothes.  I told Na-che to help herself for him from your supply.”

“Surely!  Surely!  What a rough bronco, I am!  Let me show you to the guest room, Mr. Secretary—­Enoch, I should say,” and Frank led the way to a comfortable room whose windows gave a distant view of the Canyon rim.

When Enoch returned to the living-room after a bath and some strenuous grooming at Jonas’ hands, Diana had disappeared and Frank was standing before the fire, smoking a cigarette.  He tossed it into the flames at Enoch’s approach.

“Enoch, my boy!” he said, then his voice broke, and the two men stood silently grasping each other’s hands.

Enoch was the first to find his voice.  “Except for the white hair, Frank, the years have forgotten you.”

“Not quite, Enoch!  Not quite!  I don’t take those trails as easily as I did once.  You, yourself are changed, but one would expect that!  Fourteen to thirty-six, isn’t it?”