LITMIR.BIZ

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the covers over his head. Seaton pulled the extra blanket at the bed foot over his own shoulders, then he sat down on the edge of the bed and put his hand on Nucky's heaving back.

      "Don't you think, if it's bad enough to make you cry, that it's time you told a friend about it, Enoch?" he said, his voice a little husky.

      For a moment sobs strangled the boy's utterance entirely. Finally, he pulled the covers down but still keeping his head turned away, he said,

      "I want to go home!"

      "Home, Enoch? Where's your home?"

      "N' York's my home. This joint scares me."

      "Whom do you want to see in New York, Enoch?"

      "Anybody! Nobody! Even the police station'd look better'n that thing.

       I can feel it out there now, waitin' and listenin'!"

      Seaton stared blankly at the back of Nucky's head. His experiment was not turning out at all as he had planned. Jack often had puzzled him but there had always been something to grasp with Jack. His own boy had been such a good sport! A good sport! Suddenly Seaton cleared his throat.

      "Enoch, among the men you know, what is the opinion of a squealer?"

      "We hate him," replied the boy, shortly.

      "And the other night when you were arrested, you were rather proud of standing up and taking your punishment without breaking down. If one of the men arrested at that time had broken down, you'd all have despised him, I suppose?"

      "Sure thing," agreed Nucky, turning his head ever so little toward the man.

      "Enoch, why are you breaking down now?"

      "Aw, what difference does it make?" demanded the boy. "You despise me anyhow!"

      "Oh!" ejaculated Seaton as a sudden light came to his groping mind. "Oh, I see! What a chump you are, old man! Of course, I despise the kind of life you've led, but I blame Minetta Lane for that, not you. And I believe there is so much solid fine stuff in you that I'm giving you this trip to show you that there are people and things outside of Minetta Lane that are more worth a promising boy's time than gambling. But, you won't play the game. You are so vain and ignorant, you refuse to see over your nose."

      "I told you, you despised me," said Nucky, sullenly.

      The man smiled to himself. Suddenly he took the boy's hand in both his own.

      "I suppose if Jack had been reared in Minetta Lane, he'd have been just as wrong in his ideas as you are. Look here, Enoch, I'll make a bargain with you. I want you to try the Canyon for a week or so, until I get back from the Coast. If, at the end of that time, you still want Minetta Lane, I'll land you back there with fifty dollars in your pocket, and you can go your own gait."

      Nucky for the first time turned and looked Seaton in the face.

       "Honest?" he gasped.

      Seaton nodded.

      "Do I have to go down the Canyon?" asked Nucky.

      "You don't have to do anything except play straight, till I get back."

      "I—I guess I could stand it,"—the boy's eyes were a little pitiful in their fear.

      "That isn't enough. I want your promise, Enoch!"

      Nucky stared into Seaton's steady eyes. "All right, I'll promise.

       And—and, Mr. Seaton, would you sit with me till I get to sleep?"

      Seaton nodded. Nucky had made no attempt to free his hand from the kindly grasp that imprisoned it. He lay staring at the ceiling for a long moment, then his eyelids fluttered, dropped, and he slept. He did not stir when Seaton rose and went back to his own bed.

      It did not snow during the night and the train that had brought Nucky and Mr. Seaton up announced itself as ready for the return trip to Williams, immediately after breakfast. Nucky slept late and only opened his eyes when Frank Allen clumped into the room about nine o'clock.

      "Hello, New York! Haven't died, have you? Come on, we're going to break trail down the Canyon, you and I."

      "Not on your life!" Nucky roused at once and sat up in bed, his face very pale under its thatch of dark red hair.

      "John Seaton turned you over to me. Said to tell you he thought you needed the sleep more than you did to say good-by to him."

      "He told me last night," exclaimed Nucky; "that I didn't have to go down the Canyon."

      "And you don't, you poor sissy! You aren't afraid to get up and dress, are you?" Allen's grin took away part of the sting of his speech. "Meet me in the lobby in twenty minutes, Enoch," and he turned on his heel.

      Nucky was down in less than the time allotted. As he leaned against the office desk, waiting for the guide, the room clerk said, "So you're the kid that's afraid to go down the trail. Usually it's the old ladies that kick up about that. Most boys your age are crazy for the trip."

      Nucky muttered something and moved away. In front of the fire the woman who had smiled at him the day before, smiled again.

      "Afraid too, aren't you! They can't get me onto that trail, either."

      Nucky smiled feebly then looked about a little wildly for Frank Allen. When he espied the guide at the cigar-stand, he crossed to him hurriedly.

      "Say now, Mr. Allen, listen!"

      "I'm all ears, son!"

      "Now don't tell everybody I'm afraid of the trail!"

      "Oh, you're the kid!" exclaimed a bell boy. "Say, there was an old lady here once that used to go out every morning and pray to the Lord to close the earth's gap, it made her so nervous! Why don't you try that, kid? Maybe the Lord would take a suggestion from a New Yorker."

      Nucky rushed to the dining room. He was too angry and resentful to eat much. He drank two cups of coffee, however, and swallowed some toast.

      "Ain't you going to eat your eggs?" demanded the waitress. "What's the matter with you? Folks always stuff themselves, here. Say, don't let the trail scare you. I was that way at first, but finally I got my nerve up and there's nothing to it. Say, let me give you some advice. There's only a few folks here now, so the guides and the hotel people have got plenty of time on their hands. They're awful jokers and they'll tease the life out of you, till you take the trip. You just get on a mule, this morning, and start. Every day you wait, you'll hate it more."

      Nucky's vanity had been deeply wounded. Greater than his fear, which was very great indeed, was Nucky's vanity. He gulped the second cup of coffee, then with the air of bravado which belonged to Marty the Dude, he sauntered up to the cigar stand where the guide still lounged.

      "All right, Frank," said Nucky. "I'm ready for Bright Angel when you are."

      The guide looked at the boy carefully. Two bright red spots were burning in Nucky's cheeks. He was biting his lips, nervously. But his blue eyes were hard and steady.

      "I'll be ready in half an hour, Enoch. Meet me at the corral. We'll camp down below for a night or two if you hold out and I'll have to have the grub put up. You go over to the store room yonder and get a flannel shirt and a pair of denim pants to pull on over those you're wearing. Mr. Seaton left his camera for you. I put it on your bureau. Bring that along. Skip now!"

      Nucky's cheeks were still burning when he met Allen at the corral. Three mules, one a well loaded pack mule, the others saddled, were waiting. Frank leaned against the bars.

      "Enoch," said the man, "there's no danger at all, if you let your mule alone. Don't try to guide him. He knows the trail perfectly. All you have to do is to sit in the saddle and look up, not down! Remember, up, not down! I shall lead. You follow, on Spoons. Old Foolish Face brings up the rear with the pack. Did you ever ride, before?"

      "I never touched a horse in my life," replied Nucky, trying to curb the chattering of his teeth.

      "You

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