THE PHANTASM DESTROYED
CHAPTER XV
THE FIRING LINE AGAIN
"When I shall have given you up, Diana, I shall love my own solitude as never before. For you will dwell there and he who has lovely thoughts is never lonely."—Enoch's Diary.
The cabin was built of cedar logs. Frank had added to it as necessity arose or his means permitted, and it sprawled pleasantly under the pines, as if it belonged there and enjoyed being there. Na-che gave her peculiar, far-carrying call, some moments before the cabin came into view, and when the little cavalcade jingled up to the door, it was wide open, a ruddy faced, white-haired man standing before it.
"Hello, Diana!" he shouted. "Where in seven thunders have you been!
You're a week late!"
Then his eyes fastened wonderingly on Enoch's face. He came slowly across the porch and down the steps. Enoch did not speak, and for a long moment the two men stared at each other while time turned back its hands for a quarter of a century. Suddenly Frank's hand shot out.
"My God! It's Enoch Huntingdon!"
"Yes, Frank, it's he," replied Enoch.
"Where on earth did you come from? Come in, Mr. Secretary! Come in!
Or do you want to go up to the hotel?"