Public service? Yes, it had been right for him to make that his life work. And such service from such men as himself he knew to be the only vital necessity in a nation's life. But the one vital necessity in a man's spiritual life he had missed. If he had had this, he told himself, life's bludgeons, however searching, however devastating, he could have laughed at. A man must have the thought of some good woman's love to sustain him. But for Enoch, the thought of any woman's love, Luigi had tainted at its source. He had neither mother nor mate, and until he had evolved some philosophy which would reconcile him to doing without both, his days must be feverish and at the mercy of the mob. Pablo broke into a canter and Enoch roused himself to observe a glow of fire far ahead on the trail. His first impulse was to pull the horse in. He did not want either to be identified or to mingle with human beings. Then he smiled ruefully as he recalled the poverty of his outfit and he gave Pablo his way again. In a short time Pablo had reached a spring at a little distance from the fire. As the horse buried his nose in the water, a man came up. Enoch judged by the long hair that he was an Indian. "Good evening," said Enoch. "Can you tell me where I can buy some food?" "What kind of grub?" asked the Indian. "Anything I can cook and eat," replied Enoch, dismounting stiffly. "What kind of camp is this?" "Navajo. What your name?" "Smith. What's yours?" "John Red Sun. How much you pay for grub?" "Depends on what kind and how much. Which way are you folks going?" "We take horses to the railroad," replied John Red Sun. "Me and my brother, that's all, so we haven't got much grub. You come over by the fire." Enoch dropped the reins over Pablo's head and followed to the fire. An Indian, who was boiling coffee at the little blaze, looked up with interest in his black eyes. "Good evening," said Enoch. "My name is Smith." The Indian nodded. "You like a cup of coffee? Just done." "Thanks, yes." Enoch sat down gratefully by the fire. The desert night was sharp. "Where you going, Mr. Smith?" asked John Red Sun. "I'm an Easterner, a tenderfoot," replied Enoch. "I am very tired and I thought I'd like to rest in the desert. I was on the train when the idea struck me, and I got off just as I was. I bought the horse and these clothes from an Indian." "Where you going?" repeated John's brother. "To see Injun villages?" "No, I don't think so. I just want to be by myself." "It's foolish for tenderfoot to go alone in desert," said John. "You don't know where to get water, get grub." "Oh, I'll pick it up as I go." The Indians stared at Enoch in the firelight. His ruddy hair was tumbled by the night wind. His face was deep lined with fatigue that was mental as well as physical. "You mustn't go alone in desert." John Red Sun's voice was earnest. "You sleep here to-night. We'll talk it over."