“No one but Abbott knows of my trip and he in baldest outline.  Keep my secret for me, old man, as long as you possibly can.  I suppose it will leak out eventually.”

Milton was staring at Enoch.  “Think of all we said and did!” he gasped.

“Especially what we did!  Oh, it was glorious!  Glorious!” cried Enoch.  “It did all for me that you thought it might, Milton.  Do you remember?”

“Yes, I remember.  And I remember telling you my personal ambitions!  I’d rather have cut out my tongue!”

“And once you all told what you thought of Enoch Huntingdon!” The Secretary burst out laughing, and Milton joined him with a great “Ha! ha!”

“So you were the fugitive from justice, that joined my drunken crew,” chuckled Milton, wiping the tears from his eyes.  “And I came over to try to put myself straight as to that with the Big Boss!”

“The best part of it all is that excepting Abbott and Jonas and now you, not a living soul knew it was the Secretary of the Interior who took the trip.”

“Of course, there was Miss Allen!” added Milton.  “Don’t forget her!  But she’s as safe as the Canyon itself at keeping a secret.”

“How about the reporter who’s said to be on my trail?” asked Enoch.

“He’s prowling round on the river, running up an expense account twenty-three hours and making up lies on the twenty-fourth.  Capp told Mr. Cheney that this reporter, whose name is Ames, I believe, was to write nothing until his return to New York.  Mr. Secretary, can’t something be done to shut him off?”

“Yes,” replied Enoch, sternly.  The two men were silent for a moment, then Enoch said with a sudden lighting of his blue eyes.  “Where are you stopping, old man.”

“I haven’t located the cheapest hotel in Washington yet.  When I do, that’ll be where I’ll stop.  You remember we used to speak our minds on the salaries the Department paid.”

“I remember,” chuckled Enoch.  “Well, Milton, the cheapest stopping place in Washington is over at Judge Smith’s place.  I believe you have the address.  By the way, have you seen Jonas?”

“No, but I want to,” replied Milton.

Enoch pressed the button, and Jonas’ black head popped in at the door.  As his eyes fell on Milton, they began to bulge.

“The Lord have mercy!  How come you didn’t tell me, boss—­” he began.  Then he rushed across the room and shook hands.  “Mr. Milton, I’d rather see you than my own brother.  Did you find any pieces of the Na-che?”

“No, Jonas, but I’ve got some fine pictures in my trunk of you shooting rapids in the old boat.”

“No!  My Lordy!  Where’s your trunk, Mr. Milton?”

“Jonas,” said Enoch, “you get Mr. Milton’s trunk check and—­but he says he’s going to a hotel.”

Jonas looked at Milton, indignantly.  “Going to a hotel!  How come you to try to insult the boss’ and my house, Mr. Milton?  Huh!  Hotel!  Huh!”