“Ain’t it a pippin!” giving the hat an admiring glance.  “Frank gave it to me.  He has two, and I rented the things for you, Mr. Seaton.  Here they are,” opening the closet door.  “Shall I help you with ’em?  Will you take a ride along the rim now?  Shall I get the horses?  Now?  I’ll be waiting for you at the main entrance with the best pony in the bunch.”

He slammed out of the room.  John Seaton scratched his head after he had shaken it several times, and made himself ready for his ride.  Frank rapped on the door before he had finished and came in, smiling.

“Well, I understand you’re to be taken riding!” he said.

“For the love of heaven, Frank, what have you done to the boy?”

“Me?  Nothing!  It was the Canyon.  Let me tell you about that first trip.”  And he told rapidly but in detail, the story of Nucky’s first two days in the Canyon.

Seaton listened with an absorbed interest.  “Has he spoken of his mother to you since?” he asked, when Frank had finished.

“No, and he probably never will again.  Do you think you can clear the matter up for him?”

“I’ll certainly try!  Do you like the boy, Frank?”

“Yes, I do.  I think he’s got the real makings in him.  Better leave him out here with me, Seaton.”

Seaton’s face fell.  “I—­I hoped he’d want to stick by me.  But the decision is up to the boy.  If he wants to stay out here, I’ll raise no objections.”

“I’m sure it would be better for him,” said Frank.  “Gambling is a persistent disease.  He’s got years of struggle ahead of him, no matter where he goes.”

“I know that, of course.  Well, we’ll take the trip down the trail to-morrow before we try to make any decisions.  I must go along now.  He’s waiting for me.”

“Better put cotton in one ear,” suggested Allen, with a smile.

The ride was a long and pleasant one.  John Seaton gave secondary heed to the shifting grandeur of the views, for he was engrossed by his endeavor to replace the sullen, unboyish Nucky he had known with this voluble, high strung and entirely adolescent person who bumped along the trail regardless of weariness or the hour.

The trip down Bright Angel the next day was an unqualified success.  They took old Funny Face and camped for the night.  After supper, Frank muttered an excuse and wandered off toward the mules, leaving Nucky and Seaton by the fire.

“Frank thinks you ought to stay out here with him, Enoch,” said Seaton.

“What did you say to him when he told you that?” asked Nucky eagerly.

“I said I hoped you’d go back to New York with me, but that the decision was up to you.”

Nucky said nothing for the moment.  Seaton watched the fire glow on the boy’s strong face.  When Nucky looked up at his friend, his eyes were embarrassed and a little miserable.

“Did Frank tell you about our talk down here?”