"What do you suppose the world at large would say," chuckled Diana, "if it would see the Secretary of the Interior, at this moment."
"I think it would say that as a human being, it was beginning to have hope of him," replied Enoch.
Then they fell silent. The great trees that widely encircled them were motionless. The heavens seemed made of stars. Enoch drew Diana close against him, and leaned his cheek upon her hair. Slowly a jack rabbit loped toward the ancient grave, stopped to gaze with burning eyes at the two motionless figures, twitched his ears and slowly hopped away. Shortly a cottontail deliberately crossed the circle, then another and another. Suddenly Diana touched Enoch's hand softly.
"In the trees, opposite!" she breathed.
Two pairs of fiery eyes moved slowly out until the starlight revealed two tiny antelope, gray, graceful shadows of the desert night. The pair stared motionless at the ancient grave, then gently trotted away. Now came a long interval in which neither sound nor motion was perceptible in the silvery dusk. Then like little gray ghosts with glowing eyes half a dozen antelope moved tranquilly across the amphitheater. Enoch and Diana watched breathlessly but for many moments more there was no sign of living creature. And suddenly a great star flashed across the radiant heavens.
"The magic!" whispered Diana, "the desert magic!"
"Diana," murmured Enoch in reply, "this is as near heaven as mortals may hope to reach."
"Desert magic!" repeated Diana softly. "Come, dear, we must go back to camp."
Enoch rose reluctantly and put his hands on Diana's shoulders. "Those lovers, long ago," he said, his deep voice tender and wistful, "those lovers long ago were not far wrong in their decision. I'm sure, in the years to come, when I think of this evening, and this journey, I shall feel so."
Diana touched his cheek softly with her hand. "I love you, Enoch," was all she said, and they returned in silence to the camp.