"
"That's true," said Enoch, thoughtfully. "Well, I doubt if that is
possible again."
"It is absolutely impossible!" exclaimed Fowler. "I am yours to
command!"
"No, you're not!" laughed Enoch. "Brown is finished and you're your
own man. I look for great things from you, Fowler. I wanted to tell
you that and to tell you that in me you have no rival."
"No," Fowler spoke slowly, "no, because no one can win, no one deserves
to win the place in the hearts of America that you have. Huntingdon,
your kindness and courtesy is the most exquisite punishment you could
visit upon me."
Enoch looked quickly from the Secretary of State to the opposite wall.
But he did not see the wall. He saw a crude camp in the bottom of the
Canyon. He heard the epic rush of waters and the sigh of eternal winds
and he saw again the picture of Harden fighting his way up the menacing
walls to rescue Forrester. It seemed to Fowler that the silence had
lasted five minutes before Enoch turned to him with his flashing smile.
"We are friends, Fowler, are we not?"
The older man rose and held out his hand. "Yes, Huntingdon, as long as
we live," and he slowly left the room.
Enoch sank back on his chair, wearily, and opening the top drawer of
his desk, took out the familiar envelope.
Pages:
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484
485