“Minetta Lane and the Grand Canyon!  What a hideous, what a grotesque coupling of names!  I have never seen the one of them since I was fourteen and the other but once, yet these two have absolutely made my life.  Don’t scold me, Lucy!  I know you have begged me never to mention Minetta Lane again.  But to you, I must.  Do you know what I thought to-night after I left the British Ambassador?  I thought that I’d like to be in Luigi’s second floor again, with a deck of cards and the old gang.  The old gang!  They’ve all except Luigi been in Sing-Sing or dead, these many years.  Yet the desire was so strong that only the thought of you and your dear, faithful eyes kept me from charging like a wild elephant into a Pullman office and getting a berth to New York.”

Enoch dropped his pen and stared long at the only picture in his room, a beautiful Moran painting of Bright Angel trail.  Finally, he rose and turned off the light.  When Jonas listened at the door at half after midnight, the sound of Enoch’s steady, regular breathing sent that faithful soul complacently to bed.

CHAPTER IV

DIANA ALLEN

“If only someone had taught me ethics as Christ taught them, while I was still a little boy, I would be a finer citizen, now.”—­Enoch’s Diary.

It rained the next day and the Secretary of the Interior and the British Ambassador did not attempt the proposed ride.  Enoch did his usual half hour’s work with the punching bag and reached his office punctual to the minute, with his wonted air of lack of haste and general physical fitness.  Before he even glanced at his morning’s mail, he dictated a letter to Frank Allen.

“Dear Frank:  Your letter roused a host of memories.  Some day I shall come to Bright Angel again and you and I will camp once more in the bottom of the Canyon.  Whatever success I have had in after life is due to you and John Seaton.  I wonder if you know that he has been dead for twenty years and that his devoted wife survived him only by a year?

“I will do my best to carry out your request in regard to your daughter.

“Cordially and gratefully yours,

“Enoch Huntingdon.”

After he had finished dictating this, the Secretary stared out of the window thoughtfully.  Then he said, “Let me have that at once, Mr. Abbott.  Who is waiting this morning?”

“Mr. Reeves of Idaho.  I made an appointment yesterday for the delegation to meet you at nine-fifteen.  Reeves has turned up alone.  He says the committee decided it would get further if you saw him alone.”

“Reeves was the short, stout man with small eyes set close together!”

“Yes, Mr. Secretary.”

Enoch grunted.  “Any one else there you want to tell me about before the procession begins?”

“Do you recall the man Armstrong who was here six months ago with ideas on the functions of the Bureau of Education?  I didn’t let him see you, but I sent you a memorandum of the matter.  He is back to-day and I’ve promised him ten minutes.  I think he’s the kind of a man you want in the Bureau.  He doesn’t want a job, by the way.”