Diana did not utter a sound, but Nucky gave a hoarse oath and, before Frank could accomplish it, Nucky had dismounted, had rushed up the trail and stood holding Diana in his lank, boyish arms, while the mule regained his foothold.

“Now look here, Frank, Diana rides either in your lap or mine!” said Nucky shortly, his face twitching.

Frank raised his eyebrows at the boy’s tone.  “Set her down, Enoch!  We’ll all walk to the top.  It’s only a short distance, and the ice is getting pretty bad.”

Nucky obediently set the little girl on her feet, and Diana tossed her curls and followed her father without a word.  And Frank, as he led the procession, wore a puzzled grin on his genial face.

* * * * * *

Exactly ten days after Nucky’s first trip down Bright Angel trail, John Seaton descended somewhat wearily from the Pullman that had landed him once more at the Canyon’s rim.  He had telegraphed the time of his arrival and Nucky ran up to meet him.

“Hello, Mr. Seaton!” he said.

Seaton’s jaw dropped.  “What on earth—?” Then he grinned.

Nucky was wearing high laced boots, a blue flannel shirt, gauntlet gloves and a huge sombrero.

“Some outfit, Enoch!  Been down Bright Angel yet?”

“Three times,” replied the boy, with elaborate carelessness.  “Say, Mr. Seaton, can’t we stay one more day and you take the trip with us?”

“I think I can arrange it.”  Seaton was trying not to look at the boy too sharply.  “I’ll be as sore as a dog, for I haven’t been in a saddle since I was out here before.  But Bright Angel’s worth it.”

“Sore!” Nucky laughed.  “Say, Mr. Seaton, I just don’t try to sit down any more!”

They had reached the hotel desk now and as Seaton signed the register the clerk said, with a wink: 

“If you’ll leave young Huntingdon behind, we’ll take him on as a guide, Mr. Seaton.”

Nucky tossed his head.  “Huh! and you might get a worse guide than me, too.  Frank says I got the real makings in me and I’ll bet Frank knows more about guiding than any white in these parts.  Navaho Mike told me so.  And Navaho Mike says he knows I could make money out here even at fourteen.”

“How, Enoch?” asked Seaton, as they followed the bell boy upstairs.  He was not looking at Nucky, for fear he would show surprise.  “How? at cards?”

“Aw, no!  Placer mining!  It don’t cost much to outfit and there’s millions going to waste in the Colorado!  Millions!  Frank and Mike say so.  You skip, Billy,”—­this to the bell boy,—­“I’m Mr. Seaton’s bell hop.”

The boy pocketed the tip Nucky handed him, and closed the door after himself.  Nucky opened Seaton’s suitcase.

“Shall I unpack for you?” he asked.

“No, thanks, I shan’t need anything but my toilet case, for I’m going to get into an outfit like yours, barring the hat and gloves.”