"Oh, I don't get it that bad! And anyhow, I haven't gone off alone since these things began. When we get to El Tovar I'll try to locate a doctor."
Enoch looked admiringly at the grim young freckled face beneath the faded hat. "I see I shall have to appoint myself bodyguard," he said. "I'd suggest Jonas, only he's deserted me for the Na-che, and I doubt if you could win him from her."
Milton laughed. "Nothing on earth can equal the joy of puddling about in boats, to the right kind of a chap, as the Wind in the Willows has it. And Jonas certainly is the right kind of a chap!"
"Jonas is a man, every inch of him," agreed Enoch. "Shall we try the descent now, Milton?"
"I'm ready," replied the young man, and the slow and arduous task was begun.
Jonas was just lifting the frying pan from the fire when they slid down the orange sand bank. The rest of the crew was ready and waiting around the flat rock that served as dining table.
"What's the matter with your knee, boss?" cried Jonas, standing with the coffee pot in his hand.
Enoch laughed as he glanced down at his torn and blood-stained overalls. "Of course, if you were giving me half the care you give your boat, Jonas, these things wouldn't happen to me!"
"You better let me fix you up, before you eat, boss," said Jonas.
"Not on your life, old man! Food will do this knee more good than a bandage."