The Enchanted Canyon

  E-text prepared by Al Haines

  THE ENCHANTED CANYON

  by

  HONORE WILLSIE

  Author of

  "The Forbidden Trail," "Still Jim," "The Heart of the Desert," "Lydiaof the Pines," etc.

  A. L. Burt CompanyPublishers -------- New YorkPublished by arrangement with William Morrow and Company, Inc.Copyright, 1921, byHonore Willsie MorrowAll rights reserved, including that of translation into foreignlanguagesPrinted in the United States of America

  CONTENTS

  BOOK I

  BRIGHT ANGEL

  Chapter

  I MINETTA LANE II BRIGHT ANGEL

  BOOK II

  THE SECRETARY OF THE INTERIOR

  III TWENTY-TWO YEARS LATER IV DIANA ALLEN V A PHOTOGRAPHER OF INDIANS VI A NEWSPAPER REPORTER

  BOOK III

  THE ENCHANTED CANYON

  VII THE DESERT VIII THE COLORADO IX THE CLIFF DWELLING X THE EXPEDITION BEGINS XI THE PERFECT ADVENTURE XII THE END OF THE CRUISE XIII GRANT'S CROSSING XIV LOVE IN THE DESERT

  BOOK IV

  THE PHANTASM DESTROYED

  XV THE FIRING LINE AGAIN XVI CURLY'S REPORT XVII REVENGE IS SWEET

  BOOK I

  BRIGHT ANGEL

  CHAPTER I

  MINETTA LANE

  "A boy at fourteen needs a mother or the memory of a mother as he doesat no other period of his life."--_Enoch's Diary_.

  Except for its few blocks that border Washington Square, MacDougalStreet is about as squalid as any on New York's west side.

  Once it was aristocratic enough for any one, but that was nearly acentury ago. Alexander Hamilton's mansion and Minetta Brook are lessthan memories now. The blocks of fine brick houses that coveredRichmond Hill are given over to Italian tenements. Minetta Brook, ifit sings at all, sings among the sewers far below the dirty pavements.

  But Minetta Lane still lives, a short alley that debouches on MacDougalStreet. Edgar Allan Poe once strolled on summer evenings throughMinetta Lane with his beautiful Annabel Lee. But God pity thesweethearts to-day who must have love in its reeking precincts! It isa lane of ugliness, now; a lane of squalor; a lane of poverty andhopelessness spelled in terms of filth and decay.

  About midway in the Lane stands a two-story, red-brick house with anexquisite Georgian doorway. The wrought-iron handrail that borders thecrumbling stone steps is still intact. The steps usually are crowdedwith dirty, quarreling children and a sore-eyed cat or two. Nobodyknows and nobody cares who built the house. Enough that it is now thehome of poverty and of ways that fear the open light of day. Just whenthe decay of the old dwelling began there is none to say. But NewYorkers of middle age recall that in their childhood the Lane alreadyhad been claimed by the slums, with the Italian influx just beginning.

  One winter afternoon a number of years ago a boy stood leaning againstthe iron newel post of the old house, smoking a cigarette. He wasperhaps fourteen or fifteen years of age, but he might have been eitherolder or younger. The city gives even to children a sophisticated lookthat baffles the casual psychologist.

  The children playing on the steps behind the boy were stocky, swarthyItalians. But he was tall and loosely built, with dark red hair andhard blue eyes. He was thin and raw boned. Even his smartly cutclothes could not hide his extreme awkwardness of body, his big loosejoints, his flat chest and protruding shoulder blades. His face, too,could not have been an Italian product. The cheek bones were high, thecheeks slightly hollowed, the nose and lips were rough hewn. The suavelines of the three little Latins behind him were entirely alien to thisboy's face.

  It was warm and thawing so that the dead horse across the street, withthe hugely swollen body, threw off an offensive odor.

  "Smells like the good ol' summer time," said the boy, nodding his headtoward the horse and addressing the rag picker who was pulling a burlapsack into the basement.

  "Like ta getta da skin. No good now though," replied Luigi. "Yougotta da rent money, Nucky?"

  "Got nuttin'," Nucky's voice was bitter. "That brown Liz you let inlast night beats the devil shakin' dice."

  "We owe three mont' now, Nucky," said the Italian.

  "Yes, and how much trade have I pulled into your blank blank secondfloor for you durin' the time, you blank blank! If I hear any moreabout the rent, I'll split on you, you--"

  But before Nucky could continue his cursing, the Italian broke in witha volubility of oaths that reduced the boy to sullen silence. Havingeased his mind, Luigi proceeded to drag the sack into the basement andslammed the door.

  "Nucky! Nucky! He's onlucky!" sang one of the small girls on thecrumbling steps.

  "You dry up, you little alley cat!" roared the boy.

  "You're just a bastard!" screamed the child, while her playmates tookup the cry.

  Nucky lighted a fresh cigarette and moved hurriedly up toward MacDougalStreet. Once having turned the corner, he slackened his gait andclimbed into an empty chair in the bootblack stand that stood in frontof the Cafe Roma. The bootblack had not finished the first shoe when apoliceman hoisted himself into the other chair.

  "How are you, Nucky?" he grunted.

  "All right, thanks," replied the boy, an uneasy look softening his coldeyes for the moment.

  "Didn't keep the job I got you, long," the officer said. "What was therip this time?"

  "Aw, I ain't goin' to hold down ho five-dollar-a-week job. What do youthink I am?"

  "I think you are a fool headed straight for the devil," answered theofficer succinctly. "Now listen to me, Nucky. I've knowed you eversince you started into the school over there. I mind how the teachertold me she was glad to see one brat that looked like an old-fashionedAmerican. And everything the teachers and us guys at the policestation could do to keep you headed right, we've done. But you justwon't have it. You've growed up with just the same ideas the youngtoughs have 'round here. All you know about earnin' money is bygambling." Nucky stirred, but the officer put out his hand.

  "Hold on now, fer I'm servin' notice on you. You've turned down everyjob we got you. You want to keep on doing Luigi's dirty work for him.Very well! Go to it! And the next time we get the goods on you,you'll get the limit. So watch yourself!"

  "Everybody's against a guy!" muttered the boy,

  "Everybody's against a fool that had rather be crooked than straight,"returned the officer.

  Nucky, his face sullen, descended from the chair, paid the boy andheaded up MacDougal Street toward the Square.

  A tall, dark woman, dressed in black entered the Square as Nuckycrossed from Fourth Street. Nucky overtook her.

  "Are you comin' round to-night, Liz?" he asked.

  She looked at him with liquid brown eyes over her shoulder.

  "Anything better there than there was last night?" she asked.

  Nucky nodded eagerly. "You'll be surprised when you see the bird I gotlined up."

  Liz looked cautiously round the park, at the children shouting on thewet pavements, at the sparrows quarreling in the dirty snow drifts.Then she started, nervously, along the path.

  "There comes Foley!" she exclaimed. "What's he doin' off his beat?"

  "He's seen us now," said Nucky. "We might as well stand right here."

  "Oh, I ain't afraid of that guy!" Liz tossed her head. "I got thingson him, all right."

  "Why don't you use 'em?" Nucky's voice was skeptical. "He's going downWaverly Place, the blank, blank!"

  Liz grunted. "He's got too much on me! I ain't hopin' to starttrouble. You go chase yourself, Nucky. I'll be round about midnight."

  Nucky's chasing himself consisted of the purchase of a newspaper whichhe read for a few minutes in the sunshine of
the park. Even as he saton the park bench, apparently absorbed in the paper, there was an airof sullen unhappiness about the boy. Finally, he tossed the paperaside, and sat with folded arms, his chin on his breast.

  Officer Foley, standing on the corner of Washington Place and MacDougalStreet waved a pleasant salute to a tall, gray-haired man whoseautomobile drew up before the corner apartment house.

  "How are you, Mr. Seaton?" he asked.

  "Rather used up, Foley!" replied the gentleman, "Rather used up!Aren't you off your beat?"

  The officer nodded. "Had business up here and started back. Then Istopped to watch that red-headed kid over there." He indicated thebench on which Nucky sat, all unconscious of the sharp eyes fastened onhis back.

  "I see the red hair, anyway,"--Mr. Seaton lighted a cigar and puffed itslowly. He and Foley had been friends during Seaton's twenty years'residence on the Square.

  "I know you ain't been keen on boys since you lost Jack," the officersaid, slowly, "but--well, I can't get this young Nucky off my mind,blast the little crook!"

  "So he's a crook, is he? How old is the boy?"

  "Oh, 'round fourteen! He's as smart as lightning and as crooked as heis smart. He turned up here when he was a little kid, with a woman whomay or may not have been his mother. She lived with a Dago down inMinetta Lane. Guess the boy mighta been six years old when she diedand Luigi took him on. We were all kind of proud of him at first.Teachers in school all said he was a wonder. But for two or threeyears he's been going wrong, stealing and gambling, and now this fellowLuigi's started a den on his second floor that we gotta clean out soon.His rag-picking's a stall. And he's using Nucky like a kid oughtn't tobe used."

  "Why don't you people have him taken away from the Italian and a properguardian appointed?"

  "Well, he's smart and we kinda hoped he'd pull up himself. We got asettlement worker interested in him and we got jobs for him, butnothing works. Judge Harmon swears he's out of patience with himand'll send him to reform school at his next offense. That'll endNucky. He'll be a gunman by the time he's twenty."

  "You seem fond of the boy in spite of his criminal tendencies," saidSeaton.

  "Aw, we all have criminal tendencies, far as that goes," growled Foley;"you and I and all of us. Don't know as I'm what you'd call fond ofthe kid. Maybe it's his name. Yes, I guess it's his name. Now whatis your wildest guess for that little devil's name, Mr. Seaton?"

  The gray-hatred man shook his head. "Pat Donahue, by his hair."

  "But not by his face, if you could see it. His name is EnochHuntingdon. Yes, sir, Enoch Huntingdon! What do you think of that?"

  The astonishment expressed in Seaton's eyes was all that the officercould desire.

  "Enoch Huntingdon! Why, man, that gutter rat has real blood in him, ifhe didn't steal the name."

  "No kid ever stole such a name as that," said Foley. "And for all he'shomely enough to stop traffic, his face sorta lives up to his name.Want a look at him?"

  Mr. Seaton hesitated. The tragic death of his own boy a few yearsbefore had left him shy of all boys. But his curiosity was roused andwith a sigh he nodded.

  Foley crossed the street, Seaton following. As they turned into theSquare, Nucky saw them out of the tail of his eye. He rose, casually,but Foley forestalled his next move by calling in a voice that carriedabove the street noises, "Nucky! Wait a moment!"

  The boy stopped and stood waiting until the two men came up. Seatoneyed the strongly hewn face while the officer said, "That person youwere with a bit ago, Nucky--I don't think much of her. Better cut herout."

  "I can't help folks talking to me, can I?" demanded the boy,belligerently.

  "Especially the ladies!" snorted Foley. "Regular village cut-up, youare! Well, just mind what I say," find he strolled on, followed bySeaton.

  "He'll never be hung for his beauty," said Seaton. "But, Foley, I'llwager you'll find that lad breeds back to Plymouth Rock!"

  Foley nodded. "Thought you'd be interested. Every man who's seen himis. But there's nothing doing. Nucky is a hard pill."

  "Maybe he needs a woman's hand," suggested Seaton, "Sometimes thesehard characters are clay with the right kind of a woman."

  "Or the wrong kind," grunted the officer.

  "No, the right kind," insisted Mr. Seaton. "I'm telling you, Foley, agood woman is the profoundest influence a man can have. There's a deepwithin him he never gives over to a bad woman."

  Foley's keen gray eyes suddenly softened. He looked for a moment abovethe tree tops to the clouds sailing across the blue. "I guess you'reright, Mr. Seaton," he said, "I guess you're right! Well, poor Nucky!And I must be getting back. Good day, Mr. Seaton."

  "Good day, Foley!"

  And Nucky, staring curiously from the Square, saw the apartment housedoor close on the tall, well-dressed stranger, and saw a taxi-cabdriver offer a lift to his ancient enemy, Officer Foley.

  "Thinks he's smart, don't he!" he muttered aloud, starting slowly backtoward the Cafe Roma. "I wonder what uplifter he's got after me now?"

  In the Cafe Roma, Nucky sat down at a little table and ordered a bowlof ministrone with red wine. He did not devour his food as the normalboy of his age would have done. He ate slowly and without appetite.When he was about half through the meal, a young Irishman in his earlytwenties sat down opposite him.

  "Hello, Nucky! What's doin'?"

  "Nothin' worth talking about. What's doin' with you?"

  "O, I been helping Marty, the Dude, out. He's going to be aldermanfrom this ward, some day."

  "That's the idea!" cried Nucky. "That's what I'd like to be, apolitician. I'd rather be Mayor of N' York than king of the world."

  "I thought you wanted to be king o' the dice throwers," laughed theyoung Irishman.

  "If I was, I'd buy myself the job of Mayor," returned Nucky. "Comingover to-night?"

  "I might, 'long about midnight. Anything good in sight?"

  "I hope so," Nucky's hard face looked for a moment boyishly worried.

  "Business ain't been good, eh?"

  "Not for me," replied Nucky. "Luigi seems to be goin' to the bankregular. You bet that guy don't risk keepin' nothin' in the house."

  "I shouldn't think he would with a wonder like you around," said theyoung Irishman with a certain quality of admiration in his voice.

  Nucky's thin chest swelled and he paid the waiter with an air thatexactly duplicated the cafe manner of Marty, the Dude. Then, with acasual nod at Frank, he started back toward Luigi's, for his evening'swork.

  It began to snow about ten o'clock that night. The piles of dirty iceand rubbish on MacDougal Street turned to fairy mountains. The deadhorse in Minetta Lane might have been an Indian mound in miniature. Anoccasional drunken man or woman, exuding loathsome, broken sentences,reeled past Officer Foley who stood in the shadows opposite Luigi'shouse. He was joined silently and one at a time by half a dozen othermen. Just before midnight, a woman slipped in at the front door. Andon the stroke of twelve, Foley gave a whispered order. The group ofofficers crossed the street and one of them put a shoulder against thedoor which yielded with a groan.

  When the door of the large room on the second floor burst open, Nuckythrew down his playing cards and sprang for the window. But Foleyforestalled him and slipped handcuffs on him, while Nucky cursed andfought with all the venom that did the eight or ten other occupants ofthe room. Tables were kicked over. A small roulette board smashedinto the sealed fire-place. Brown Liz broke a bottle of whiskey on anofficer's helmet and the reek of alcohol merged with that of cigarettesmoke and snow-wet clothes. Luigi freed himself for a moment andturned off the gas light roaring as he did so.

  "Get out da back room! Da backa room!"

  But it was a well-planned raid. No one escaped, and shortly, Nucky wasclimbing into the patrol wagon that had appeared silently before thedoor. That night he was locked in a cell with a drunken Greek. It washis first experience in a cell. Hitherto, Officer
Foley had protectedhim from this ignominy. But Officer Foley, as he told Nucky, wasthrough with him.

  The Greek, except for an occasional oath, slept soddenly. The boycrouched in a corner of the cell, breathing rapidly and staring intoblack space. At dawn he had not changed his position or closed hiseyes.

  It was two days later that Officer Foley found a telephone messageawaiting him in the police station. "Mr. John Seaton wants you to callhim up, Foley."

  Foley picked up the telephone. Mr. Seaton answered at once. "It wasnothing in particular, Foley, except that I wanted to tell you that thered-headed boy and his name, particularly that name, in Minetta Lane,have haunted me. If he gets in trouble again, you'd better let meknow."

  "You're too late, Mr. Seaton! He's in up to his neck, now." Theofficer described the raid. "The judge has given him eighteen monthsat the Point and we're taking him there this afternoon."

  "You don't mean it! The young whelp! Foley, what he needs is alicking and a mother to love him, not reform school."

  "Sure, but no matter how able a New York policeman is, Mr. Seaton, hecan't be a mother! And it's too late! The judge is out o' patience."

  "Look here, Foley, hasn't he any friends at all?"

  "There's several that want to be friends, but he won't have 'em. He'ssittin' in his cell for all the world like a bull pup the first timehe's tied."

  Mr. Seaton cleared his throat. "Foley, let me come round and see himbefore you send him over the road, will you?"

  "Sure, that can be fixed up. Only don't get sore when the kid snubsyou."

  "Nothing a boy could do could hurt me, Foley. You remember that Jackwas not exactly an angel."

  "No, that's right, but Jack was always a good sport, Mr. Seaton.That's why it's so hard to get hold of these young toughs down here!They ain't sports!" And Foley hung up the receiver with a sigh.

  Mr. Seaton preferred to introduce himself to Nucky. The boy wassitting on the edge of his bunk, his red hair a beautiful bronze in thedim daylight that filtered through the high window.

  "How are you, Enoch?" said Mr. Seaton. "My name is John Seaton.Officer Foley pointed you out to me the other day as a lad who wasmaking bad use of a good name. That's a wonderful name of yours, doyou realize it?"

  "Every uplifter I ever met's told me so," replied Nucky, ungraciously,without looking up.

  Mr. Seaton smiled. "I'm no uplifter! I'm a New York lawyer!Supposing you take a look at me so's to recognize me when we meetagain."

  Nucky still kept his gaze on the floor. "I know what you look like.You got gray hair and brown eyes, you're thin and tall and about fiftyyears old."

  "Good work!" exclaimed Enoch's caller. "Now, look here, Enoch, can't Ihelp you out of this scrape?"

  "Don't want to be helped out. I was doin' a man's job and I'll take mypunishment like a man."

  Seaton spoke quickly. "It wasn't a man's job. It was a thief's job.You're taking your sentence like a common thief, not like a man."

  "Aw, dry up and get out o' here!" snarled Nucky, jumping to his feetand looking his caller full in the face.

  Seaton did not stir. In spite of its immaturity, its plainness and itssullenness, there was a curious dignity in Nucky's face, that made astrong appeal to his dignified caller.

  "You guys always preachin' to me!" Nucky went on, his boyish voicebreaking with weariness and excitement. "Why don't you look out foryour own kids and let me alone?"

  "My only boy is beyond my care. He was killed three years ago,"returned Seaton. "I've had nothing to do with boys since. And I don'tgive a hang about you. It's your name I'm interested in. I hate tosee a fine name in the hands of a prospective gunman."

  "And you can't get me with the sob stuff, either," Nucky shrugged hisshoulders.

  Seaton scowled, then he laughed. "You're a regular tough, eh, Enoch?But you know even toughs occasionally use their brains. Do you want togo to reform school?"

  "Yes, I do! Go on, get out o' here!"

  "You infernal little fool!" blazed Seaton, losing his temper. "Do youthink you can handle me the way you have the others? Well, it can't bedone! Huntingdon is a real name in this country and if you think anypig-headed, rotten-minded boy can carry that name to the pen, withoutme putting up a fight, you're mistaken! You've met something more thanyour match this time, you are pretty sure to find out sooner or later,my sweet young friend. My hair was red, too, before--up to three yearsago."

  Seaton turned and slammed out of the cell. When Foley came to the doora half hour later, Nucky was again sitting on the edge of the bunk,staring sullenly at the floor.

  "Come out o' this, Nucky," said the officer.

  Nucky rose, obediently, and followed Foley into the next room. Mr.Seaton was leaning against the desk, talking with Captain Blackly.

  "Look here, Nucky," said Blackly, "this gentleman has been telephoningthe judge and the judge has paroled you once more in this gentleman'shands. I think you're a fool, Mr. Seaton, but I believe in giving akid as young as Huntingdon the benefit of the doubt. We've all failedto find a spark of decent ambition in him. Maybe you can. Just oneword for you, young fellow. If you try to get away from Mr. Seaton,we'll get you in a way you'll never forget."

  Nucky said nothing. His unboyish eyes traveled from one face toanother, then he shrugged his shoulders and dropped his weight to theother hip. John Seaton, whose eyes were still smoldering, tapped Nuckyon the arm.

  "All right, Enoch! I'm going to take you up to my house to meet Mrs.Seaton. See that you behave like a gentleman," and he led the way intothe street. Nucky followed without any outward show of emotion. Hisnew guardian did not speak until they reached the door of the apartmenthouse, then he turned and looked the boy in the eye.

  "I'm obstinate, Enoch, and quick tempered. No one but Mrs. Seatonthinks of me as a particularly likable chap. You can do as you pleaseabout liking me, but I want you to like my wife. And if I have anyreason to think you've been anything but courteous to her, I'll breakevery bone in your body. You say you don't want sob stuff. You'll getnone of it from me."

  Not a muscle of Nucky's face quivered. Mr. Seaton did not wait for areply, but led the way into the elevator. It shot up to the top floorand Nucky followed into the long, dark hall of the apartment.

  "Put your hat and coat here," said his guardian, indicating the hatrack on which he was hanging his own overcoat. "Now follow me." Heled the boy into the living room.

  A small woman sat by the window that overlooked the Square. Her brownhair was just touched with gray. Her small round face was a littlefaded, with faint lines around eyes and lips. It was not anintellectual face, but it was sweet and patient, from the delicatecurve of the lips to the slight downward droop of the eyebrows abovethe clear blue eyes. All the sweetness and patience was there withwhich the wives of high tempered, obstinate men are not infrequentlyblessed.

  "Mary, this is young Enoch Huntingdon," said Seaton.

  Mrs. Seaton offered her hand, which Nucky took awkwardly andunsmilingly. "How do you do, Enoch! Mr. Seaton told me about your redhair and your fine old name. Are you going to stay with us a littlewhile?"

  "I don't know, ma'am," replied Enoch.

  "Sit down, Enoch! Sit down!" Seaton waved Enoch impatiently toward aseat while he took the arm chair beside his wife. "Mary, I've got totake that trip to San Francisco, after all. Houghton and Companyinsist on my looking into that Jameson law-suit for them."

  Mary Seaton looked up, a little aghast. "But mercy, John! I can't getaway now, with Sister Alice coming!"

  "I know that. So I'm going to take Enoch with me."

  "Oh!" Mary looked from her husband to Enoch, sitting awkwardly on theedge of the Chippendale chair. His usually pale face was a littleflushed and his thin lips were set firmly together. From her scrutinyof Enoch's face, she turned to his hands. They were large and bony andthe thumb and first two fingers of his right hand were yellow.

  "You don't look as if you'd b
een eating the right kind of things,Enoch," she said, kindly. "And it's cigarettes that give your lipsthat bad color. You must let me help you about that. When do youstart, John dear?"

  "To-morrow night, and I'm afraid I'll be gone the best part of threeweeks. By that time, I ought to know something about Enoch, eh?"

  For the first time Enoch grinned, a little sheepishly, to be sure, anda little cynically. Nevertheless it was the first sign of tolerance hehad shown and Mr. Seaton was cheered by it.

  "That will give time to get Enoch outfitted," said Mary. "We'll go upto Best's to-morrow morning."

  "This suit is new," said Nucky.

  "It looks new," agreed Mrs. Seaton, "but a pronounced check like thatisn't nice for traveling. And you'll need other things."

  "I got plenty of clothes at home, and I paid for 'em myself," Nucky'svoice was resentful.

  "Well, drop a line to that Italian you've been living with, and tellhim--" began Mr. Seaton.

  "Aw, he'll be doin' time in Sing Sing by the time I get back,"interrupted Nucky, "and he can't read anyhow. I always 'tended toeverything but going to the bank for him."

  "Did you really?" There was a pleasant note of admiration in Mrs.Seaton's voice. "You must try to look out for Mr. Seaton then on thistrip. He is so absent-minded! Come and I'll show you your room,Enoch. You must get ready for dinner."

  She rose, and led the boy down the hall to a small room. It wasfurnished in oak and chintz. Enoch thought it must have been the deadboy's room for there was a gun over the bureau and photographs of afootball team and a college crew on the walls.

  "Supper will be ready in ten or fifteen minutes," said Mrs. Seaton, asshe left him. A moment later, he heard her speaking earnestly in theliving-room. He brushed his hair, then amused himself by examining thecontents of the room. The supper bell rang just as he opened thecloset door. He closed it, hastily and silently, and a moment later,Mr. Seaton spoke from the hall:

  "Come, Enoch!" and the boy followed into the dining-room.

  His table manners were bad, of course, but Mrs. Seaton found these lessdifficult to endure than the boy's unresponsive, watchful ways. Atlast, as the pudding was being served, she exclaimed:

  "What in the world are you watching for, Enoch? Do you expect us torob you, or what?"

  "I dunno, ma'am," answered Nucky,

  "Do you enjoy your supper?" asked Mrs. Seaton.

  "It's all right, I guess. I'm used to wine with my supper."

  "Wine, you young jack-donkey!" cried John Seaton. "And don't youappreciate the difference between a home meal like this and one youpick up in Minetta Lane?"

  "I dunno!" Nucky's face darkened sullenly and he pushed his puddingaway.

  There was silence around the table for a few moments. Mrs. Seaton,quietly watching the boy, thought of what her husband had told her ofOfficer Foley's account. The boy did act not unlike a bull pup put forthe first time on the lead chain. She was relieved and so was Mr.Seaton when Nucky, immediately after the meal was finished, said thathe was sleepy, and went to bed.

  "I don't envy you your trip, John," said Mary Seaton, as she settled toher embroidery again. "What on earth possesses you to do it? The boyisn't even interesting in his badness."

  "He's got the face either of a great leader or a great criminal," saidSeaton, shaking out his paper. "He makes me so mad I could tan hishide every ten minutes, but I'm going to see the thing through. It'sthe first time in three years I've felt interested in anything."

  Quick tears sprang to his wife's eyes. "I'm so glad to have you feelthat way, John, that I'll swallow even this impossible boy. What makeshim so ugly? Did he want to go to reform school?"

  "God knows what any boy of his age wants!" replied John briefly. "ButI'm going to try in the next three weeks to find out what's frozen himup so."

  "Well, I'll dress him so that he won't disgrace you."

  Mrs. Seaton smiled and sighed and went on with her careful stitching.

  Nobody tried to talk to Nucky at the breakfast table. After the mealwas over and Mr. Seaton had left for the office, the boy sat lookingout of the window until Mrs. Seaton announced herself ready for theshopping expedition. Then he followed her silently to the waitingautomobile.

  The little woman took great care in buying the boy's outfit. The taskmust Have been painful to her. Only three years before she had beenbuying clothes for Jack from this same clerk. But Mary Seaton was agood soldier and she did a good job. When they reached home inmid-afternoon Nucky was well equipped for his journey.

  To Mary's surprise and pleasure he took care of her, helping her in andout of the automobile, and waiting on her vigilantly. He was awkward,to be sure, and silent, but Mary was secretly sure that he was lessresentful toward her than he had been the day before. And she began tounderstand her husband's interest in the strong, immature, sullen face.

  The train left at six o'clock. Mrs. Seaton went with them to the verytrain gates.

  "You'll really try to look out for Mr. Seaton, won't you, Enoch?" shesaid, taking the boy's limp hand, after she had kissed her husbandgood-by.

  "Yes, ma'am," replied Nucky.

  "Good-by, Enoch! I truly hope you'll enjoy the trip. Run now, oryou'll miss the train. See, Mr. Seaton's far down the platform!"

  Nucky turned and ran. Mr. Seaton waited for him at the door of thePullman. His jaw was set and he looked at Nucky with curiosity notuntinged with resentment. Nucky had not melted after a whole day withMary! Perhaps there were no deeps within the boy. But as the trainmoved through the tunnel something lonely back of the boy's hard staretouched him and he smiled.

  "Well, Enoch, old man, are you glad to go?"

  "I dunno," replied Nucky.