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.