"That isn't enough. I want your promise, Enoch!"
Nucky stared into Seaton's steady eyes. "All right, I'll promise.
And—and, Mr. Seaton, would you sit with me till I get to sleep?"
Seaton nodded. Nucky had made no attempt to free his hand from the kindly grasp that imprisoned it. He lay staring at the ceiling for a long moment, then his eyelids fluttered, dropped, and he slept. He did not stir when Seaton rose and went back to his own bed.
It did not snow during the night and the train that had brought Nucky and Mr. Seaton up announced itself as ready for the return trip to Williams, immediately after breakfast. Nucky slept late and only opened his eyes when Frank Allen clumped into the room about nine o'clock.
"Hello, New York! Haven't died, have you? Come on, we're going to break trail down the Canyon, you and I."
"Not on your life!" Nucky roused at once and sat up in bed, his face very pale under its thatch of dark red hair.
"John Seaton turned you over to me. Said to tell you he thought you needed the sleep more than you did to say good-by to him."
"He told me last night," exclaimed Nucky; "that I didn't have to go down the Canyon."
"And you don't, you poor sissy! You aren't afraid to get up and dress, are you?" Allen's grin took away part of the sting of his speech. "Meet me in the lobby in twenty minutes, Enoch," and he turned on his heel.
Nucky was down in less than the time allotted. As he leaned against the office desk, waiting for the guide, the room clerk said, "So you're the kid that's afraid to go down the trail. Usually it's the old ladies that kick up about that. Most boys your age are crazy for the trip."