Enoch sat down on a rock and eyed his prospective bosses.  Mackay was a tall, thin man of perhaps fifty.  He was smooth shaven except for an iron gray mustache.  His face was thin, tanned and heavily lined, and his keen gray eyes were deep set under huge, shaggy eyebrows.  He wore a gray flannel shirt and a pair of well worn brown corduroys, tucked into the tops of a pair of ordinary shoes.  Field was younger, probably about Enoch’s own age.  He was as tall as Mackey but much heavier.  He was smooth shaven and ruddy of skin, with a heavy thatch of curly black hair and fine brown eyes.  His clothing was a replica of his partner’s.

Mackay gave his whole attention to the preparation of the supper, while Field unpacked Pablo and hobbled him.

“You’re just in time for a darn good meal, Mr. Smith,” said Field.  “Mack is a great cook.  If he was as good a miner as he is cook—­”

“Dry up, Curly, and get Mr. Smith’s cup and plate for him.  We’re shy on china.  Grub’s ready, folks.  Draw up.”

They ate sitting in the sand, with their backs against the rocks, their feet toward the fire, for the evening was cold.  Curly had not exaggerated Mack’s ability.  The hot biscuits, baked in a dutch oven, the fried potatoes, stewed tomatoes, the bacon, the coffee were each deliciously prepared.  Enoch ate as though half starved, then helped to wash the dishes.  After this was finished, the three established themselves with their pipes before the fire.

“Now,” said Mack, “we’re in a condition to consider your proposition, Mr. Smith.  Just where was you aiming for?”

“I have a two or three weeks’ vacation on my hands,” replied Enoch, “and I’m pretty well knocked up with office work.  I wanted to rest in the desert.  I thought I could manage it alone, but it looks as if I were too green.  I don’t know why John Red Sun thought I could intrude on you folks, unless—­” he hesitated.

“John an old friend of yours?” asked Curly.

“No, I met him on the trail.  He was exceedingly kind and hospitable.”

Curly whistled softly.  “You must have been in bad shape.  John’s not noted for kindness, or hospitality either.”

“I wasn’t in bad shape at all!” protested Enoch.  The two men, eying Enoch steadily, each suppressed a smile.

“Field and I are on a kind of vacation too,” said Mack.  “I’m a superintendent of a zinc mine, and he’s running the mill for me.  We had to shut down for three months—­bottom’s dropped clean out of the price of zinc.  We’ve been talking about prospecting for placer gold up on the Colorado, for ten years.  Now we’re giving her a try.”

He paused, and both men looked at Enoch expectantly.  “In other words,” said Enoch, refilling his pipe, “you two fellows are off for the kind of a trip you don’t want an utter stranger in on.  Well, I don’t blame you.”

“Depends altogether on what kind of a chap the stranger is,” suggested Curly.