Nucky grinned uncertainly. "I dunno!" he said.

"Had a look at it?" demanded the guide.

"Yes!" Nucky spoke with sudden firmness. "And I don't like it. I
want to go back to New York."

"Come on out with Frank and me and get used to it," suggested John
Seaton.

"I'm not going near it again," returned Nucky.

Allen looked at the boy with deliberate interest. He noted the pasty
skin, the hollow chest, the strong, unformed features, the thin lips
that were trembling, despite the cigarette stained fingers that pressed
against them.

"Did you ever talk to Indians?" asked Allen, suddenly.

"No," said Nucky.

"Well, let's forget the Canyon and go over to the hogan, yonder. Is
that the best you two can do on shoes? I'm always sorry for you
lady-like New Yorkers. Come over here a minute. I guess we can rent
some boots to fit you."

"I'm going to write letters, Frank," said Seaton. "You and Enoch'll
find me over at one of the desks. Fit the boy out as you think best."

Not long after, Nucky trailed the guide through the lobby. He was