Enoch’s depression dropped from him as if it had never been.  “Oh, my dearest!” he murmured, “you did not forget, did you!  It is your very self you have sent me, your own whimsical joyousness!”

Jonas tapped softly on the door.

“Come in, Jonas!  Isn’t it fine!  How do you suppose a photograph can tell so much!”

“It’s Miss Diana, it ain’t the camera!” exclaimed Jonas, with a chuckle.  “Na-che says she ain’t never seen her when she couldn’t smile.  That buck looks like that fellow Wee-tah.  Boss, do you remember the night he took me out to see that desert charm?”

“Tell me about it, Jonas.  It will rest me more than sleep.”

Enoch sank back in his chair where he could face the photograph, and Jonas established himself on the hearth rug and told his story with gusto.  “I got a lot of faith in Injun charms,” he said, when he had finished.

“They didn’t get us our trip down Bright Angel,” sighed Enoch, even as he smiled.

“We’ll get it yet, see if we don’t!” protested Jonas stoutly.  “Na-che and I ain’t give up for a minute.  Don’t laugh about it, boss.”

“I’m not laughing,” replied Enoch gravely.  “I’m thinking how fortunate I am in my friends, you being among those present, Jonas.”

“As I always aim to be,” agreed Jonas.  “Do you think you could maybe sleep now, boss?”

“Yes, I think so, Jonas,” and Enoch was as good as his word.

Nearly two weeks passed before the attack on the Department of the Interior was renewed.  This time it was a deliberate assault on Enoch’s honesty.  The Alaskan decision served as a text.  This was held up as a model of corruption and an example of the type of decision to be expected from a gambling lawyer.  Followed a list of half a dozen of Enoch’s rulings on water power control, on forest conservation and on coal mining, each one interpreted in the light of Enoch’s mania for gambling.  A man, the article said in closing, may, if he wishes, take chances with his own fortune or his own reputation, but what right has he to risk the public domain?

Several days went by after the appearance of this edifying story, but Enoch made no move.  Then the President summoned him to the White House.

“Enoch, shall you let that screed go unchallenged?” he demanded.

“What can I say, Mr. President?” asked Enoch.  “And really, that sort of thing doesn’t bother me much.  It is only the usual political mud slinging.  They are feeling me out.  They want more than anything to get me into a newspaper controversy with them.  I am going to be difficult to get.”

“So I see!” retorted the President.  “If you are not careful, old man, people will begin to think Brown is right and you are afraid.”

Enoch laughed.  “I am not afraid of him or any other skunk.  But also, in spite of my red hair, I have a good deal of patience.  I am waiting for our friends to trot out their whole bag of tricks.”