“What sort of timber are you developing among your field men, Cheney?”

“Only so-so!  Young men aren’t what they were in my day.”

Enoch eyed the tired face under the white hair sympathetically.  “Mr. Cheney, you’re letting these people get under your skin.  And that is exactly what they are aiming to do.  You aren’t the man you were a few months ago.  My advice to you is, take a vacation.  When you come back turn over the field work to a younger man and devote yourself to finding who is after you and why.  I have an idea that the gang is not interested in you, personally.”

Cheney suddenly sat up very straight.  “You think that you—­” then he hesitated.  “No, Mr. Secretary, this is a young man’s fight.  I’d better resign.”

“Perhaps, later on, but not now.  After years of such honorable service as yours, go because you have reached the fullness of years and have earned your rest.  Don’t let these fellows smirch your name and the name of the Service.  Clear both before you go.”

“What do I care for what they say of me!” cried Cheney with sudden fire.  “I know what I’ve given to the government since I first ran surveys in Utah!  You’re an eastern man and a city man, Mr. Secretary.  If you had any idea of what a field man, in Utah, for example, or New Mexico, or Arizona endures, of the love he has for his work, you’d see why my pride won’t let me justify my existence to a Congressional Committee.”

“And yet,” insisted Enoch, “I am going to ask you to do that very thing, Mr. Cheney.  I am asking you to do it not for me or for yourself, but for the good of the Survey.  Find out who, what and why.  And tell me.  Will you do it, Mr. Cheney?”

There was something winning as well as compelling in Enoch’s voice.  The director of the Survey rose slowly, and with a half smile held out his hand to the Secretary.

“I’ll do it, Mr. Secretary, but for just one reason, because of my admiration and friendship for you.”

Enoch smiled.  “Not the best of reasons, I’m afraid, but I’m grateful anyhow.  Will you let me know facts as you turn them up?”

Cheney nodded.  “Good day, Mr. Secretary!” and Enoch turned to meet his next visitor.

Shortly before six o’clock Enoch shook hands with Madame Foret in her crowded drawing-room.  He seemed to be quite unconscious of the more than usually interested and inquiring glances that were directed toward him.

“You had a charming vacation, so your smile says, Mr. Huntingdon!” exclaimed Madame Foret.  “I am so glad!  Where did you go?”

“Into the desert, Madame Foret.”

“Oh, into the desert of that beautiful Miss Allen!  She and her pictures together made me feel that that was one part of America I must not miss.  She promised me that she would show me what she called the Painted Desert, and I shall hold her to the promise!”

“No one could show you quite so wonderfully as Miss Allen, I’m sure,” said Enoch.