"You're right," agreed Milton. "Judge, couldn't you complete the trip with us?"
"How long will you be out?" asked Enoch.
"Another six months!"
Enoch laughed, then said slowly: "There's nothing I'd like to do better, but I must go home, from the Ferry."
Milton gazed at Enoch for a time without speaking. Then he said, a little wistfully, "I suppose that while this is the most important experience so far in my life, to you it is the merest episode, that you'll forget the moment you get into the Pullman for the East."
"Why should you think that?" asked Enoch.
"I can't quite tell you why. But there's something about you that makes me believe that in your own section of the country, you're a power. Perhaps it's merely your facial expression. I don't know—you look like some one whom I can't recall. Perhaps that some one has the power and I confuse the two of you, but—I beg your pardon, Judge!" as Enoch's eyebrows went up.
"You have nothing to beg it for, Milton. But you're wrong when you think this trip is merely an episode to me. All my life I have longed for just such an experience in the Canyon. It's like enchantment to really find myself here."
Milton smiled. "Well, we all have our Carcasonnes."
"What's yours?" demanded Enoch.