Diana’s cheeks were a deep crimson.  “Oh, I deserve so little credit, after all!” she exclaimed.  “I was born in the midst of these things.  And the Indians love me for my old nurse’s sake!  But human nature is weak and what you tell me makes me very happy, sir.”

The men glanced at each other and smiled.

“Suppose, Miss Allen,” said the President, “that you had the means to outfit an expedition.  How long would it take you to complete the entire collection you have in mind?”

Diana’s eyes widened.  “Why, I could do nothing at all with an expedition!  I simply wander about canyon and desert, sometimes with old nurse Na-che, sometimes alone.  The Indians have always known me.  I’m as much a part of their lives as their own daughters.  I—­I believe much of their inner hidden religion and so—­oh, Mr. President, an expedition would be absurd, for me!”

“Well, then, without an expedition?” insisted the President.

Diana sighed.  “You see, I’m not able to give all my time to the work.  Mother died five years ago, and father is lonely and, while he thinks his little income is enough for both of us, it’s enough only if I stay at home and play about the desert with my camera, cheaply as I do, and keep the house.  It does not permit me to leave home.  It seems to me, that working as I have in the past, it would take me at least ten years more to complete my work.”

“The patience of the artist!  It always astounds me!” exclaimed the President.  “Miss Allen, I am not a rich man, but I have some wealthy friends.  I have one friend in particular, a self-made man, of enormous wealth.  The interest he and I have in common is American history in all its aspects.  It seems to me that you are doing a truly important work.  I want you to let this friend of mine fund you so that you may give all your time to your photography.”

“Oh, Mr. President, I don’t need funds!” protested Diana.  “There is no hurry.  This is my life work.  Let me take a life-time for it, if necessary.”

“That is all very well, Miss Allen, but what if you die, before you have finished?  No one could complete your work because no one has your peculiar combination of information and artistic ability.  People like you, my dear, belong not to themselves, but to the country.”

Enoch spoke suddenly.  “Why not arrange the matter with the Indian Bureau, Mr. President?”

“Why not arrange it with the Circumlocution Office!” exclaimed the President.  “I’m surprised at you, Huntingdon!  You know what the budget and red tape of Washington does to a temperament like Miss Allen’s.  On the other hand, here is my friend, who would give her absolutely free rein and take an intense pride in providing the money.”

Diana laughed.  “You speak, sir, as if I needed some vast fund.  It costs a dollar a day in the desert to keep a horse and another dollar to keep a man.  Camera plates and clothing—­why a hundred dollars a month would be luxury!  And I don’t need help, truly I don’t!  The mere fact of your interest is help enough for me.”