A sprawling cone in outline, there was nothing extraordinary about it in contour, but its size and color surpassed anything that Enoch had as yet seen.  From base to apex it was a perfect rose tint, deepening where its great shoulders bent, to crimson.  As if still not satisfied with her work, nature had sent a recent snow storm to embellish the verdureless rock, and the mountain was lightly powdered with white which here was of a gauze-like texture permitting pale rose to glimmer through, there lay in drifts, white defined against crimson.

Enoch sat gazing about him while Milton worked rapidly with his note book and instruments.  Finally he slipped his pencil into his pocket with a sigh.

“And that’s done!  What do you say to a return for lunch, Judge?”

“I’m very much with you,” replied Enoch.  “Here!  Hold up, old man!  What’s the matter?” For Milton was swaying and would have fallen if Enoch had not caught him.

Milton clung to Enoch’s broad shoulder for a moment, then straightened himself with a jerk.

“Sorry, Judge.  It’s that infernal vertigo again!”

“What’s the cause of it?” asked Enoch.  “Might be rather serious, might it not, on a trip such as yours?”

“I think the water we have to drink must be affecting my kidneys,” replied Milton.  “I never had anything of the sort before this trip, but I’ve been troubled this way a dozen times lately.  It only lasts for a minute.”

“But in that minute,” Enoch’s voice was grave, “you might fall down a mountain or out of the boat.”

“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.