Arizona -- Fiction; Grand Canyon (Ariz.) -- Fiction; Western stories
Seaton listened with an absorbed interest. "Has he spoken of his
mother to you since?" he asked, when Frank had finished.
"No, and he probably never will again. Do you think you can clear the
matter up for him?"
"I'll certainly try! Do you like the boy, Frank?"
"Yes, I do. I think he's got the real makings in him. Better leave
him out here with me, Seaton."
Seaton's face fell. "I--I hoped he'd want to stick by me. But the
decision is up to the boy. If he wants to stay out here, I'll raise no
objections."
"I'm sure it would be better for him," said Frank. "Gambling is a
persistent disease. He's got years of struggle ahead of him, no matter
where he goes."
"I know that, of course. Well, we'll take the trip down the trail
to-morrow before we try to make any decisions. I must go along now.
He's waiting for me."
"Better put cotton in one ear," suggested Allen, with a smile.
The ride was a long and pleasant one. John Seaton gave secondary heed
to the shifting grandeur of the views, for he was engrossed by his
endeavor to replace the sullen, unboyish Nucky he had known with this
voluble, high strung and entirely adolescent person who bumped along
the trail regardless of weariness or the hour.
The trip down Bright Angel the next day was an unqualified success.
They took old Funny Face and camped for the night. After supper, Frank
muttered an excuse and wandered off toward the mules, leaving Nucky and
Seaton by the fire.
"Frank thinks you ought to stay out here with him, Enoch," said Seaton.
"What did you say to him when he told you that?" asked Nucky eagerly.
"I said I hoped you'd go back to New York with me, but that the
decision was up to you."
Nucky said nothing for the moment. Seaton watched the fire glow on the
boy's strong face. When Nucky looked up at his friend, his eyes were
embarrassed and a little miserable.
"Did Frank tell you about our talk down here?"
Seaton nodded.
"Do you know?" the boy's voice trembled with eagerness. "Was she my
mother?"
"Foley thinks not. He says she spoke with an accent he thought was
Italian. When I get back to New York I'll do what I can to clear the
matter up for you. Queer, isn't it, that human beings crave to know
even the worst about their breed."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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